HI! HI! IS THIS THING ON?

It's Pitty here! Bunny's asleep so I'm taking this opportunity for a quick post. Won't she be surprised when she sees this! Anyways, what a total BITCH, huh?! AS IF she can tell me what to do. So yesterday I gave her a rise in estrogen just to show her that I'm IN CONTROL HERE. Today I'll trigger the LH surge, and she'll be like thanks for making me have a quickie before leaving for the airport, but I guess this gives me a pretty good shot, and maybe I shouldn't have been so rude to you. And if she's still a bitch, just you wait!  I know a pituitary who gave its person Gigantism just for eating too many onions! Bunny doesn't know how good she has it. And this one time, at Gland Camp....shit, she's waking up. I'm OUT!

No more baby in my face

It's been exactly twelve weeks since I had my belly cut open. (OMG, I'm almost in my second trimester! *Stabs self in eye*) I'm Officially Recovered. The region from belly button to incision is still a little weird-feeling, and the hideous little shelf of fat above the scar remains. I fear it will always be there, which pisses me off. Scar? Okay, whatevs. I signed up for that shit. Flesh shelf? NOT OKAY. Really don't need something else about my body to dislike. But the point is: I can now feel free to get super pregnant. So I'll just go ahead and do that. 'Cause this infertility biznazz is BULLSHIT.

Meanwhile, BFB and family left town yesterday. I'm sure the time will come when I am wracked with sobs, missing my best friend like anything, lonely as all fuck now that I've got exactly zero real friends in Ohio. But right now I'm a leeeeeettle glad to not have that damn baby in my face all the time.

I mean, she's a perfectly nice baby and all--it's not her, it's me. One evening BFB was dealing with something and Jane's crying was stressing her out (and Mr. BFB is absolute SHIT at comforting his infant. Like...WOW. Too bad she's not an iPhone--that he is Master of), so I took Jane out into the garden. I told her about the different plants, and she reached her tiny hand out and touched them. Watching those perfect little fingers gripping my clematis blossoms and those giant eyes growing so wide with wonder...well, it made me want to die. And the rest of the time it was all about keeping my eyes forward and ignoring the kissing and singing (I couldn't quite bring myself to prohibit singing, though I seriously considered it...) and the cooing and the gurgling and BFB's constant efforts to get me to admire Jane's cunning little antics. Hyperbolic as it might sound to those of you who are well adjusted non-assholes, it was fucking exhausting.

I wonder if it will actually be easier being infertile without my fecund friend around. Probably not, but if any of you live in a cave where there are no pregnant women or babies, be sure to weigh in.

As we were saying our goodbyes, BFB asked if she should keep me updated with baby pictures. I think she was a bit taken aback by the vehemence with which I said NO THANK YOU.

Dear Pituitary

I know I take you for granted, despite your critical importance to my functioning. I mean, you're no brain stem or anything, but I genuinely do appreciate all your hard work. I don't say it often enough. But here's the thing. I really need you to work with me this month. Our LH surge has GOT to come on Sunday. You see, while you might not have noticed, our husband is traveling, and won't be home till Sunday evening. So if you send the surge early, we'll miss our shot. And if you send it any later than Sunday, we'll either be relying on the milkshake approach (thanks for that delicious imagery, Misfit), or be all fucked up by our international travel. I know, you think I should just let the sperm fall where they may, and not stress about this one cycle. But that's because you're just a FUCKING GLAND, not a desperate, miserable women who has been driven completely wild by cohabitating with an infant for several days.

Woah. Sorry about that, Pitty. I guess I'm a little on edge.

So like I was saying, hows about Sunday for that LH surge? It's day twelve, which used to be our day quite reliably. And I know you've been to hell and back with all the general anesthesia and the crazy-ass hormones, so you might be feeling a bit...uncooperative. But let me put it to you this way. If you don't comply, you're increasing the chances that I'll soon be forced to bring out some serious fucking hormonal guns. You'll basically lose control of our reproductive processes. You don't want that, do you?

I mean, forgive the scare tactics, but things are getting pretty bad around here.

What's that you say? It doesn't matter in the slightest when you trigger the surge because no amount of perfect timing will get me pregnant? To be honest, I agree with you, but if you get me all stressed that just means a shitload of adrenocorticotropic hormone production on your end. So let's work together to serve both our best interests, m'kay?

Yours,
Bunny

Lookeee! Lookeee!

I grew a carrot!

I usually wait for the rabbits to eat the tops off before I pull the carrots up, and this one was allowed to get almost carrot sized!

Also, Baby Invasion has been pushed back to next Wednesday, so I get a pleasant weekend of housecleaning, yard work...and throwing BFB an early birthday dinner. At least she's feeling bitter about turning thirty-five. I'll see how many times I can use the word OLD* in conversation.


*Thirty-five is not old, of course, but what person over thirty is excited about adding on another year?

Baby invasion

MY, you are all eager to get rid of me! (BYEEEEEEEEE BUNNY! C U WOULDN'T WANT 2 B U!) But you have two more weeks of my whiny and tedious posts to endure before you get that break. I just think ahead a lot, and get worked up about things that often turn out not to be problems at all. I do thank you for the suggestions, particularly the Mile High Club option. Because I got to envision keeping my hips elevated for fifteen minutes in the airplane bathroom, and emerging to be arrested by an Air Marshal. AWESOMEST CONCEPTION STORY EVAH!

Moving on. Last night I dreamed I gave birth to triplet boys. (I think your predictions are starting to affect me, Sienna!) Because I delivered them myself, I had to make sure they were all breathing, which I did by performing the Heimlich. Good mothering from day one. Anyway, they were fine, and I sure loved gathering them all up in my arms. Sigh.

But the real baby invasion comes Sunday, when BFB and family will be moving into my house. For the everyone who doesn't commit to memory the details of my life, she's got a post-doc at UC Santa Barbara, and the time has come for them to depart. The baby has a doctor's appointment that requires them to stick around for a few days after the movers have collected all their worldly goods, so we're putting them up. I see this being either:

A) Totally fine. The baby sleeps through the night (and while my normal attitude is FUCK, can't she just be hella colicky so that BFB can suffer a LITTLE? I mean, come ON! Instant, problem free pregnancy, four hour labor, perfect baby? FOR REALS?!?, now this feature works in my favor), so that won't be an issue, and maybe it will be kind of like an extended sleepover. With boys!

B) Several days of intense heartache. On any given visit with BFB, there's at least one moment of wretchedness, so what will happen when she's in my face for days on end? I predict a certain amount of hiding in the basement.

At least it's cool in the basement.

International Ovulation?

Because I'm a jetsetter with an extremely exciting and glamorous life, I will be going abroad in the very middle of this cycle, the first cycle in a loooong time when I fully intended to do everything I could to get pregnant. In fact, I might be ovulating the day I arrive in Germany all jetlagged and disgusting. I'm concerned for a few reasons. The first is the whole prospect of stumbling off the plane and insisting my husband DO me. Like maybe while waiting in line at customs. (Purpose of your visit? Ahem! Madam? Sir? Can you stop that for ein Moment, bitte?) The second is that I've heard international travel can disrupt ovulation. And of course I don't do the whole charting-temping thing 'cause I've always relied on my fertility monitor, so I basically never know what's happening after I see the LH surge.

Have any of you been in this position before? Any words of wisdom?

I suppose (assuming I even get a LH surge--who knows what's going on in there...) I should just make sure we do the deed as often as possible before we leave, so that there are some sperm hanging out in case an egg comes along. Even if they're tired and disoriented and flipping through their German phrase books.

FUCK YOU, July

July is the month in which we started trying to conceive. In a skanky hotel in Arkansas, 'cause, you know, SEXY.

A year later, rather than having a newborn, July brought me a chemical pregnancy.

A year later, rather than having a newborn, July brings my return to the Conception Mines. (See Figure 1.)

I should be pleased, but I find I'm filled with misery. I don't believe this shit will ever work. It's inconceivable (HA!) that I could ever know that moment of amazement and joy that must come with a positive test. (Before all the fear sets in...) There's just no way. Not me.

And yes, I'm feeling very sorry for myself and taking for granted all the things that are awesome about my situation. But that's my fucking prerogative as the person who has to actually live my life.

I know I can handle this. But right now all I can think about is the way my heart felt at the end of every cycle, the way the pain got cumulatively worse as the months rolled by...the way the world is full of happy women who never have to feel this way.

The Insuck Hypothesis: ORGASMS, part 2

I've also heard that an orgasm helps to suck the sperm into the uterus. I never worried about that variable, though. I figured enough sperm would find their way in, and, like I said last time, there's no way I'm going to be able to come at just the right moment. And feeling like I'm ruining my chances to ever have a child is sure going to make it completely impossible. Just thinking I might get pregnant makes it impossible for me to come. SO. What's the story? Does it matter?

As you might guess, there's not a ton of good research on this question. Would you volunteer to participate in such a study? HELLS TO THE NO, say I! But here's what I was able to find.

The first place I could find any mention of this phenomenon is in a 1972 paper that demonstrates a pressure gradient between uterus and vagina just after orgasm, which, the authors suggest, might "allow for the insuck of the cervical mucus in which the spermatazoa have been trapped after ejaculation" (p. 249). They suggest that this effect is probably only important in cases where the male has a low sperm count.

A more recent paper says the insuck hypothesis is "contentious", and suggests that while female arousal has physiological benefits (i.e., getting lubed up is good: "...the enhanced blood flow to the surface capillaries increases the oxygen partial pressure of the hypoxic vaginal fluid and the buffers of the transudate help in the neutralization of its normally acidic pH. Both these changes facilitate spermatozoal metabolism, motility, and survival." HOTTTT!), it's all about the vaginal tenting. I'll just include that part of the paper below, as it's quite interesting. (Click to see larger, obviously...) They suggest you actually want to keep the sperm OUT of the uterus initially!

So here's what I conclude: if you have no problem having an orgasm during or after baby-makin' sex, don't change a thing, girl! But if that's not how it works for you, don't change a thing, girl! (So yes, Twangy, it's a LIE!)

Fireworks. By which I am euphemistically referring to ORGASMS.

My husband is out drinking with his buddies so it's time to talk about the female orgasm. This post might go a little too far for you, so if you're not interested in learning some super personal stuff about my marital bed, it's not too late to skip this one. But keep in mind that I shared a picture of my uterus with you, so you owe me the details of your intimate life. And you can always comment anonymously if you're shy...

BFB and I were chatting about orgasms the other day. She has them through intercourse, I don't (which is perfectly normal, in case this is news to you). While I'm sometimes willing to do the extra work to have a during experience, I'm happy with before or after. Anyway, the discussion got me thinking that the whole timed intercourse thing might be easier on women like me. Here's my logic. When we're having sex during my fertile window, by the last day or two I don't even bother to come. I'm so bored with the whole thing I just want to get the business part taken care of. Sure, foreplay is needed, but then it's straight to work. And Mr. Bunny can be totally efficient about it, because he's only got himself to take care of. Whereas if the process were expected to result in mutual orgasm, it seems like it would be a lot more stressful for him. Possibly more fun for me and all, but I don't really know that fun enters into it for most of us anymore.

Maybe this is one of those things where whatever is normal for you seems less stressful. Like if you DO come via intercourse you might be thinking my situation sounds very stressful. Or maybe you're too busy thinking my sex life sounds really joyless and pathetic. WELL IT IS. But only some of the time, which is one of the many reasons I don't like the prospect of returning to the conception mines. Anyway, if there's anyone who's willing to share (*sound of crickets chirping*), I'm sure curious about how the other half lives, and just generally curious about how other infertile women deal with the big O.