Um, ICLW

So, I just realized today that ICLW has been going on for two days, and hurriedly made the rounds tonight. Ugh, I'm terrible. And it's been a while since I've done ICLW. Forgive me?

For anyone who's new here, I'm the frequently-traveling parent of a 10-month-old Chicklette, conceived after 2+ years of trying. We were successful after a few rounds of Clomid and an IVF cycle.

If you look back a couple of posts, you'll see that I am currently experiencing some Marital Discord. I'm told this is normal for parents of newborns, but I will say (without revealing too much, because I am crazy paranoid about anyone in my family reading this) that we have some issues that are a bit beyond what I think is the scope of "typical" new parent stress. BUT, we are in counseling and working at it.

The immediate ramification of all of this is that I think our original plan to get back on the horse (or, I guess more accurately, back in the stirrups) in January has been delayed indefinitely. Not TOO indefinitely, because I'll be 35 in a couple of months, but I can't really imagine bringing another baby into the current situation.

So, here I am. Incredibly blessed by my beautiful, perfect baby girl. Struggling to keep my marriage together. Working like crazy to stay in my employer's good graces in this crazy economy. Taking it, as they say, one day at a time.

Welcome!

IComLeaveWe: All apologies, and where do I go from here?

(For the short version of my history, please visit the sidebar. And be forewarned: lots of baby talk in these here parts.)

I had a quiet moment the other day while the Chicklette was napping, and I didn't have anything urgent to do (translation: I had nowhere to be that day so didn't have to race to the shower/fold a load of laundry/pump frantically), so I hopped onto Stirrup Queens to check in. And realized that I hadn't done so in, oh, the amount of time between that moment and when I checked into the hospital three days before Christmas. And then I realized how behind I am on news from around the ALI blogosphere, outside of the folks whose blogs I hurriedly check via my Google reader.

And I felt horrible. And selfish. How much support did I get from this community during my infertility struggles? A TON. How much did it mean to me to feel connected with other people who understood our screwed up little world? More than I can express. And now I sit here and basically complain about how hard it is to have a baby. Nice, hunh?

And so, I offer an apology. Without excuses. I'm just sorry.

And then I got to thinking -- where does this blog go from here? I imagine at some point it will detail the fun world of secondary infertility, but until then I have a feeling that anything I write will be pretty singularly focused on those things which consume my days -- diapers, boobs, crying jags, and the occasional glimpse of cute, happy baby. In a couple of months, I'll write about going back to work. I know that there are many, many people for whom this is either too painful or uninteresting to read. But I'll likely still plug away. I'll keep signing up for IComLeaveWe, with fair warning about the content of my blog. But I know that on some level I'll continue to suck, and occasionally (or more than occasionally) rub someone the wrong way when the annoying mom lady comments on their blog.

So. I've tweaked the name of my blog, and made a few changes here and there, but I'll still be around in some form or another. And will try harder to do more than just talk about myself.

And with that wonderful introduction....welcome! And happy ICLW! I look forward to getting to know more of you and your blogs this week.

In which Barefoot complains about public transportation

[Happy ICLW! For new visitors, here's the brief scoop -- I'm 32 weeks pregnant after 2.5 years of infertility and an IVF cycle. I talk about pregnancy a LOT -- it's kind of all I have going on right now -- so please beware if you're not into that. If you would like to read more about my cycle, you can find all kinds of blather on that in the archives between March and May of 2009.]

I know, it's like shooting fish in a barrel. (BTW, does anyone actually do this? I use this phrase all the time and the thought of actually taking a gun to a barrel of fish is simultaneously amusing and horrifying.) Public transportation, while often preferable to sitting in traffic for hours on end, generally sucks. Especially now that every time someone coughs on the train, you can feel a stiff breeze from all of the heads turning and eyes narrowing. It's easy to complain.

As public transportation goes, I'm pretty lucky. I live in the SF Bay Area and ride BART, which all in all is a pretty comfy ride. Padded seats, not too many bumps, etc. But let's face it: when you've got a watermelon strapped to your front, there is no "fun" in, um, public transportation.

Now that I'm visibly pregnant, people for the most part have been pretty great about the whole giving up the seat thing. Which is nice, because feel like such an a**hole asking that I'll just stand and bear it. Usually after a few minutes, I smack enough people with my belly that someone notices. Or, if I'm really desperate, I'll give the bump a couple of "absentminded" rubs. And honestly, it's less about having to stand (which is not such a big deal yet), and more about having a little extra space so that the chicklette's not getting an accidental elbow to the head.

But wouldn't you know it, the few times when I'm super-tired or having lower back pain or general crampiness are the times when no one will give it up. And you know what? It's always some 25-year old clean-cut guy in business gear, sitting in the "reserved for seniors or people with disabilities" seats, tapping away on his BlackBerry. Not that I have anything against corporate preppy guys -- heck, I married one -- but COME ON. Are you really going to avert your eyes and ignore me for a half-hour?!? Are you really going to make me ask? DO YOU REALLY ENJOY HAVING MY BELLY SIX INCHES AWAY FROM YOUR FACE? (And on a related note, Mr. Gap Man, did you really just cut me off to sneak into the LADIES room at the BART station?)

I know I probably just need to sack up and ask for a seat when I need one. Nothing less attractive than a passive-aggressive preggo.

But I don't liiiiiike to. Wah.

[New visitors, aren't you glad you stopped by this whine-a-thon?]

Is it ICLW again?

Apparently it's ICLW once again! I'm not sure if it's arriving more quickly, or if my brain has just further deteriorated. I'm betting on the latter.

So, for newcomers, welcome to Barefootland. As you can probably glean from the title of my blog, I am pregnant. 19 weeks pregnant, in fact. It took 2.5 years, a bunch of Clomid, a bunch of tears and an IVF cycle to get here, but we're thrilled. And we're having a girl, which I hope to reflect more completely in my toenail color when I go for a pedi this weekend.

As a warning for those of you who might not want to read about pregnancy-type things, this blog is these days mostly about being pregnant. But I'm still an infertile, and that is touching this journey in more ways than I ever could have imagined.

For those of you thinking about or embarking on an IVF cycle, there are a slew of posts in March and April detailing that exciting rollercoaster ride.

Welcome to the blog, and happy ICLW!