When I was diagnosed with PCOS, it made sense.  I had gained like 70 pounds in 6 years, and I had melasma.  Not normal for a non-pregnant girl in her 20s.  I thought “Oh, I’ll go on chlomid and have twins and be done with this.”

Reality has never been a friend of mine.

Starting a blog was my way of having a place to vent.  I’m surrounded by uber-fertile females who I didn’t want to “bore” with my issues.  I never wanted to be that girl who talks about being infertile all of the time.  I thought I could be the happy, married girl with an air of mystery…why doesn’t Rachel have babies?  Maybe her life is too glamorous.

The ALI community has given me so much.  I’m so lucky to have hundreds of women who’s stories speak to me.  I wait on baited breath during the 2WW of everyone, I celebrate your 2 lines, and I mourn your losses.  It’s like this virtual family that I never knew I always needed.

This week has been so hard.  Watching people come together has been incredible, but when it boils down, I hate that we have to come together like this.  I do.  I hate that there is this disease that is taking so much away from people.

I often say that this is a club I’d never want to be in full of people I’m so glad I have met.

Thank you for being there as seatmates in this hellish journey.

I kind of felt the same way I did the day after 9/11.  Like, why did this happen and can’t I just go back to when life was easier?

And yet, while watching someone I love so much go through something so horrible, I learned something else: this group of women? Is amazing.

That’s you, by the way.

Thank you for all of your messages to Mo.  I am so happy that she is not alone in this.

The update as of right now:

She has been induced.  All we can do is keep her, Shmerson and Shmaby in our thoughts and prayers.

When she texted me this am, she told me that she is in shock at the outpouring of love.  I told her I’m not, she is really loved.

As are you all.  Thank you.

Mo promised to update as soon as she can, so keep your eye out.  But I also think she might not be able to write as soon as she thinks, as this is becoming more and more real.

“My water broke, they’re inducing labor.  He won’t make it”.

I immediately started shaking.  I called Court and (without saying hello) said, “What do we do?”

My suggestions: 1) Fundraise for a flight to Israel, 2) Call Mel and see if she could make it stop, 3) Throw up

Court’s suggestions: 1) Let’s wait until we hear from Mo and then follow her lead.

Neither of us knew what to say or do.  I kept thinking, is this real?  Could this really be happening?

I just heard from Mo and the latest update was that they are hanging in, giving Shmaby 24 hours to see if the waters replenish.  While the chances are slim, they want to give him a chance.  They will probably induce in the am.  She is a little over 23 weeks along.

Ok, ladies.

Here is what we need to do: Inundate sweet Mo with love and prayers.

Please, let her know that you are thinking of her, Shmerson, and Shmaby.

Thanks in advance, ladies, for your help.  I, along with you all, I’m sure, feel so helpless and wish that there were something even bigger we could do.  For right now, Mo just needs our love, ok?

You can comment here and I will make sure she gets all of your love.  You can also email her at faerie4ever@gmail.com directly.

PS: I’ll post updates when I get them.  I’m in a weird state of shock, going through the motions.  I just wish I could change this all…

Anyways, this week she held a giveaway.  It’s over now, but the comments are so much fun I had to share.

She asked for people to give their favorite tracks for a road-trip.  This is always a point of contention between me and Hubby.  Here is what I like to listen to: Counting Crows (when I’m feeling deep), Kanye West (to get my swagger on) and Fiona Apple (when I’m angst-y).  I like hip-hop and random ’90s songs that remind me of high school.

D likes: The Clash. (Which I used to, until he killed it for me.)  Other bands that sound EXACTLY like The Clash.  That’s about it.

Reading through the 250+ comments, I saw all kinds of songs that reminded me of fun times.  Here are 5 songs that totally make me stop what I’m doing and sing on the top of my lungs.

1)  Kiss Me and I’ll Kiss You Back (Digital Underground): This tape single was on repeat in my car when I turned 16.

2)  Tell Me Something Good (Chaka Khan): I like to make the guitar wa-wa noises.

3)  Love-Ridden (Fiona Apple): My anthem after major break up in college.  I love this line: “I know I’m a mess you don’t want to clean up.”

4)  It’s Your Love (Tim McGraw and Faith Hill): Amazing duet.  And I can sing both parts!

5)  Runaway (Kanye West): Let’s have a toast to the scumbags!

Bonus:

A Little Respect (Erasure): OMG.  The summer I was 17, I went to Israel on a group trip.  I fell in LOVE (LOVE!) with one of my counselors.  The hottest man in the world at the time. (He went on to go to Harvard and become a lawyer.  When he got married, his announcement made the NY Times.  Like I said earlier, I stalk.)   One night, I was up really late sitting in the youth hostel lobby by myself, because I couldn’t sleep.  He came in and saw me, and we sat there, talking for like 3 hours before everyone else woke up.  That song was playing and he got me to dance with him (totally not sexual, dammit.)  But then when we were on the plane home, he got over the loudspeaker and called me to the front of the plane where he was sitting. (This was a chartered plane, he could do that! LOL)  He put the song on and we danced again, in first class, being silly.  I’ll never forget the butterflies in my stomach from him and that summer, and when I hear the song?  I’m 17 again, giddy and silly.  One of my favorite memories.

What are your songs?

Something you should know about me: I don’t handle death well.  I think it’s the abandonment issues from my dad.  But it’s well-known amongst my friends that I’m not the go to to handle death. For instance, one of my best friends put in her will that our mutual friend (who doesn’t live in the same city as us) is in charge of her DNR.  Not her husband, and not me.  Why not me? Because she didn’t think I’d be strong enough to follow her wishes.  Which is wrong.  I’d be strong enough, but I’d cry for at least a year straight afterwards.

My grandma, who I write about and think about constantly, died 5 years ago.  I’m not better yet.  I don’t know if you ever get over the loss of a loved one.  But I’m not ok.  Sometimes, when I am just driving, I call my mom to talk about my grandma.  I like to ask my mom what she thinks my grandma and Pop-Pop are doing, what my grandma would say about my infertility, and even what she is cooking for dinner that night in Heaven.  It helps me feel closer to her, even though she’s not here anymore.

Currently, my mom is sick.  She has a really bad sinus infection that has left her bed-ridden for the last week.  That, mixed with some bad news she got about her foot, has brought her back to the pain and anxiety of the illness of two years ago.  Last night, we were talking about my grandma, when my mom threw this at me: “You know, I’m not afraid of death.  And I hope you realize that even if I don’t get to meet your kids, I will always be watching over them and loving you all from afar.” (I’m totally crying at my desk just talking about this.)

Instead of rushing her off of the phone, I listened.  I tried to memorize every word so that if Gd forbid I lost her today, I’d be reassured that she 1) loved me 2) loves me and 3) wasn’t afraid of the world to come.

(Ok, hold on, trying to calm self down from ugly cry.)

It was not an easy conversation to have.  She said, “I know I’m not going to die an old woman.  Lupus doesn’t grant you that.”  I tried bargaining with her, to bring her to at least 80.  She said, “I’m not the one choosing it, but I also think you need to be a little bit more realistic.”

We got off of the phone as her pain meds kicked in, and I sat on the side of the road in my car, crying.

It’s not something I want to think about.  But I’m glad that she told me that she isn’t afraid.

When I spoke to her this am, she apologized for bringing up something so painful.  She said that while she’s not planning on dying anytime soon, this infection reminded her that she isn’t as young and healthy as she once was.

I told her it’s ok, that I want to hear as much of her thoughts and promises as possible, that I need to know that no matter what, she will be with us.

I asked her if when she’s dead she will be more understanding about my infertility situation.  (I tend to use humor to get through the pain.)  She said, “I’m already trying, but by then I’m sure I’ll be much more patient.  OK?”

We laughed.  And I realized that for all of the craziness between us, she is still my mom.  And I love her.  She loves me.  In the long run, it’s the love that counts.

And we’ve got love.

Not to mention the disappointments of D’s past.  I don’t give him enough credit as having grown as a person and as a hubby.

Although I was annoyed at not having gotten anything sent to the office (at least I’m mature enough to admit this) I told myself not to hold it against D as I went into my “dinner”.

The kid delivered.  He made a cheese platter (our favorite thing), a salad, steak, greenbeans, and strawberry shortcake.  He even brought wine.

But the best part? He didn’t let me clean or help at all.  :)  I think we have both grown so much, as in years past I probably would of started the meal off with a snide remark and made him feel defensive.  Instead, I was able to just enjoy.  A total change for me.

He even looked up recipes that were on the quicker side, so that the steak and greenbeans wouldn’t take all night.  So impressed.

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Yesterday, I got an email from my mom.  It was so nice and so unexpected that I literally thought it was a forward.  I called and asked her where she got the email from and she was like, “What? I wrote it for you!”

People weird me out.

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I haven’t worked out for two weeks.  Life just got in the way, along with depression and laziness.  I’m going back tonight and I think (I KNOW) it will help.  The gym and this blog are what get me through the hard times, and are what make the good times better.

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Happy Wednesday!

My bull-shit antennae went up and I said, “Um, let me guess…you didn’t do ANYTHING for Valentine’s Day?”  I was right.

Here is the thing.  I know it’s just a holiday made up by Hallmark, blah blah.  But I deserve a really good Valentine’s Day.

1)  I am currently still getting over a weekend with his dumb family while simultaneously preparing myself for another weekend with his dumb family.

2) We had no money around Hanukkah time, so we didn’t do anything.

3) I haven’t been on an actual VACATION (no wedding/baby/bar and bat mitzvah/etc) in 1.5 years.  Are roses too much to ask?

4) Hormones.  All of the time.  Stupid PCOS.

I even left my work address on the fridge for the past two weeks so I could act surprised when something cute came to my office (last year, he send chocolate covered strawberries to the wrong address) (yes, it’s the thought that counts.  But organization counts more.)

So anyway, I get off of the phone and go to the bathroom to cry, which is more than ridiculous.  The first thought was, “My stupid period makes me crazy!” Then I realized, I’m on CD8.  So, PMS?  No.  But I still feel emotional and irrational.  What if this is just me?  I CAN’T HANDLE THAT!

I know that this day is just one of many and that he should (and does) do nice things for me all of the time.  But I’m just at a bad place and I would of liked some forethought.  You know?I’ll pull my shit together before I get home to a home cooked dinner (actually, if he is cooking, it’s more like dinner will be served by 10 pm.  He’s kind of slow.)

Valentine’s Day is not a big deal, and I have to remind my hormonal crazy girl side of that.

That being said, I’d love to send you all roses and chocolate for being such good friends.  :)  So HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY.

We didn’t get in until 2 am, and I drove the whole way, so I obviously didn’t wake up bright and early on Saturday.  Apparently my SIL and BIL were just soooooooo excited about us coming (which is so bizarre, seeing as though usually I never hear from them except for FB.  I think they just wanted to talk about parenthood with me.  More on that later.)  They were already at the house when I woke up at 10.  The first thing BIL said was, “Oh, it’s so nice that you got to sleep in, wait until you have kids…” and I said, “Yes, it’s one of the many perks of infertility”.  And then I texted Courtney to say I wasn’t sure how long I was going to survive if I couldn’t stop with the whole saying what I think thing.

So D and I are obsessed with sushi (another infertility perk?  I can eat raw fish!) and there is a place we allllllllllllllllllllways go to.  The BIL and SIL insisted on coming (again, strange) and brought their “angel”.  That is how they refer to him.  Let’s just say, the kid W is adorable, but there is no angelic 3 year olds in the real world.  This kid was really not that well-behaved.  He is a spoiled brat.  Upon his melt-down at the very nice restaurant, the BIL and SIL took him outside.  D, who very rarely identifies his family issues out-loud, turned to me and asked if the child was a devil spawn.  LOL.  He then said, “If you spoil our child like that, I’ll kill you.”  As you can tell, it was a very bonding weekend.

It was my FIL’s 60th birthday and the WHOLE reason we came into town was for this fancy dinner reservation at a nice restaurant.  Of course, the Nephew was unable to sit at the restaurant and after a mere 5 minutes, the MIL insisted we all go back to their house and cook so that the baby would be more comfortable.  Seriously.  It was a joke.  I was so irritated (I didn’t come to LA to eat at their house, I hate her cooking and the whole thing was to do something nice for my FIL who is very often caught by the wayside by the dysfunction) but I just swallowed it.  Dinner was insane, something got into my BIL’s head about hypnobirthing and we (D and I) were trapped listening to Nephew’s birthing story for the 900th time.  It was so strange and there was NO alcohol to help me.  I survived the dinner and went to bed, as I had to get up semi-early for Sunday’s baby shower.

I’ll write about that tomorrow.  So much to say about the baby shower…I survived and that’s great.  She (the mommy to be) was beautiful and happy and I’m really glad I happened to be in town for the event.

I’m confused (still) as to why his siblings are so obsessed with us currently.  These people don’t send birthday cards, don’t call on the Jewish holidays…(which I do both, btw) and I feel like this sudden interest in us is unwarranted.  I mean, it’s just OUT OF NOWHERE and it doesn’t feel like BIL is trying to make ammends or anything.  If anything, they are just pushing their fertility in our face.  SIL will be in the TWW while they are at our house, so that will be hellish, too.  (I’m not even getting into the whole 45 minute discussion she tried to have wtih me about sex.  I’m the worst, I can talk about cervical mucus at length on the internet but this girl needs to shut the hell up, I can’t handle family members’ sex lives.)

I’m praying to Gd that next weekend (when they visit) goes smoothly and quickly.

Happy Monday and thanks for all of your comments on Friday’s post! xoxo

You know I try to be more optimistic when I write because I believe in faking it until I make it.

This is not one of those posts, and I apologize for any of you who are like, “Stop bitching!”  Because I’m saying it to myself.

I’m just not at a “fake it” place.  After Monday night’s stress, it has gotten worse.  I don’t want to describe this week, but I will say it culminated in a TRIPLE TICKET because I was 1) driving in the car with my cell phone, 2) my windows are too tinted (yes, I know that is the dumbest reason for a ticket) and 3) I didn’t have a copy of my most recent registration (even though the fucking sticker was on my plate.)

Oh, and a day with not one, not two, but three baby shower invites.  Because Gd hates me.

I haven’t had time to work out all week, and I’m starting to think I’m being punished.  Plus, I’m not as tired at night because I am not physically exhausted, so I lay in bed worrying about money, fertility, the Mayan prophecy and my weight.  (Not really the Mayan prophecy.)

There is this new co-worker in my office.  She is 33, been married 9 years, and her husband has been in a coma for 6 of those. She is a raging bitch, but totally has an excuse.  When she told me about her hubby yesterday, I made it to my car before I lost it (and of course was subsequently pulled over.)

I know that my life isn’t as bad as it could be (Dear Gd: that is not an invite) but I’m just feeling really stagnate lately.  Even with the doula thing.

Tonight, believe it or not, the hubby and I are driving to LA to spend the weekend with his parents and go to a baby shower.

I’m beginning to think I’m not exerting enough power over my life.  Another example of this (besides this weekend, omg I am not excited)?  My mom sent me 2 tickets to Phx for the 3rd wknd in March.  I mean, she literally made the reservations without asking me.  Why?  My brother and SIL and their 2 kids are coming in and she wants all three of her kids in the same town at the same time.  So D and I get to spend 2 nights at my mom’s house filled to the brim with 3 grandkids.  I didn’t even know what to say (we had talked about the weekend, but I was very non-committal).

I am just stressed and having baby dreams and need to punch someone in the face.

Thank you for letting me vent.  I feel better already and am ready to take an hour long walk at work.

Much love and sorry I’m so negative right now.  Happy Weekend!

Anyways, no one was in the house, but the sound of the cops yelling made my eye twitch.  I thanked them and went inside, waited for D to come home, and tried to ward off a headache.

It didn’t work.  Tuesday I woke up, rolled over, and threw up from the sun blaring in my eyes.  One of the drugs I went off of in order to get pregnant is for migraines, so this was the first one I’d had in a very long time.  I laid in bed ALL day and missed my Infertility Doc appointment.  I rescheduled for March.

I’m kind of bummed, but relieved my eye stopped twitching.  ;)

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I had a very bizarre conversation last night.  My SIL called, and I thought it was to discuss this coming weekend (we are going to be in LA…no, we are NEVER home) celebrating my FIL’s 60th.  Instead, she called to tell me she is going off of FB because people don’t stop talking about their kids.

I’ll let that sink in.  The woman married to the man who’s given us such gems as “My 3 year old has been to Hawaii more times in his life than most adults!” and “You don’t know tired until you are potty-training a 3 year old!” is complaining about people talking about their kids too much?

It was then that I realized that being off of FB is really smart.  And, it’s time to start screening my calls.