Back in the blogging saddle....for the moment, anyway

I don't even know what to say about the fact that it's been 9 months since my last post. It's, um, been a long time!

Life has been crazy. My marriage has been to the brink and back....I won't elaborate too much on the specifics, but let's say we are both in recovery and leave it at that. Things are good -- not great, but stable. And that is more than I would have hoped for a year ago.

The Chicklette turns 2 tomorrow. I could just eat her up -- she is so cute and fun. And challenging. But mostly fun. Being a parent is so much more than I expected it to be -- in all sorts of ways.

What prompted me to post today, mostly, is that it's my 36th birthday. Which reminds me that time and my ovaries are marching on. We have been charting and "trying" and generally living life with the goalie pulled for the last year or so. Unsurprisingly, this has not resulted in anything resembling a pregnancy (despite the numerous suggestions that It! Could! Happen!). It hasn't happened. And that's OK for now (see above re: marital brink).

But I think what this means is that, come January, we (meaning mostly I) will be back in the stirrups. I have so many mixed feelings about this that I don't know where to start. So I might try and start to sort them out here.

Happy holidays to anyone who is still reading this sorry excuse for a blog....may magic and joy be the biggest part of the season for you and your family.

Distracted

I just realized that the last time I posted was right before our marathon Thanksgiving trip, which seems like it happened about a hundred years ago. Not because it was bad -- actually, it went pretty well, if exhaustingly -- but because I have been in full holiday swing since we got back. Putting up the tree, putting up the lights outside the house, shopping, party planning, menu planning, wrapping, etc. etc. Just the normal holiday stuff, plus a little first birthday stuff thrown in. It's crazy.

And you know what? Thank GOD for that. Because there is a whole lot of stressful stuff to think about after January 1, and one of those things is Trying for Another Baby. First, there's the whole "We're in counseling, should we really be having another kid?" question, coupled with the "Eek! I'm turning 35 -- do we really have the luxury of talking about this for more than 5 minutes?" question. Oh, and the "Our house is small, can we fit another kid in without destroying everyone's sanity?" question. All questions any "normal" couple would have to consider in our circumstances.

But, of course, we're not reproductively "normal," so there's more! Will my insurance cover IF treatments after next year? Does an FET with only one frozen embie have any hope? What happens if the FET cycle doesn't work and we do a fresh cycle and get too many eggs for one cycle? Do we try for a third baby if we're lucky enough to have a second? Do we donate embryos? When do we stop if we're unsuccessful after multiple cycles?

And THEN, there's the fact that I feel so guilty because I'm lucky enough to have this amazing baby, and yet still manage to spend so much time dwelling on negative stuff.

With all this in mind, getting distracted by the holiday season seems like a FANTASTIC idea. So, here I am, drowning myself in shopping, baking, cooking, eating, decorating and dressing my child in all manner of ridiculous holiday outfits.

Who's with me?

So totally worth it

As much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I thought it would never be possible, there are times when I forget about the struggle to get (and stay) pregnant. I sometimes find myself, what with the Marital Discord and sleep deprivation such, a bit mournful for my "old life." Which, of course, was SO FANTASTIC (as you can tell from my archives).

This forgetfulness really bothers me. I mean, sure, I have a twinge when I get my period after a month of rampant unprotected sex (and by "rampant," I mean, "twice a week," which I think is sort of impressive although the Mr. would not agree), or when a friend or family member announces a pregnancy (will I ever be pregnant again?), or basically any time I see an episode of Private Practice. But I'm not going to pretend that living with infertility once you have a child is the same as living with it without one. It's just not. For me, anyway.

BUT. The point of this post was not to wax philosophic about what an unappreciative asshat I can be. It was to relate a moment of pure joy that happened yesterday.

We decided that it would be fun to take a few early pictures of the Chicklette in her Halloween costume (not just any butterfly, but a monarch butterfly). And while I am too paranoid to post any pictures here (despite the fact that probably 20,000 kids across America have the same costume), I will tell you that she was so adorable that my heart just about exploded in my chest. I turned to the Mr. and said, "I don't care what we went through to get here, or how long it takes us to work through all of our issues, but seeing her in that costume makes it all totally worth it."

He agreed.

And then the girl's wet diaper exploded all over the inside of the costume.

Hey, it was good while it lasted!

6 weeks

Despite pushing a small bowling ball out of my hoo-hah six weeks ago, I was still VERY WOUND UP about my 6-week postpartum OB/GYN appointment yesterday. You'd think that after all my lady bits had been through, the prospect of a speculum and maybe a finger or two would be no big deal. But, nevertheless, I was scared. What if I was scarred for life down there?

The good news is that I'm not. Things are healed up just fine, and the exam didn't hurt a bit. (Which of course then made me worry that I've been stretched to infinity and will never feel anything -- good or bad -- down there again, but I'm not prepared to really think about that yet.)

And then we commenced the birth control conversation, which I found highly amusing. I mean, seriously? But, because my infertility urban legend friend is expecting in June, I listened. My choices are basically the mini-pill (which concerns me because of the milk supply issue -- the doctor says it shouldn't affect things, but I know a handful of people who had trouble), condoms (which honestly would be fine with me, but not with my husband), and a whole host of other options that don't really appeal to me for various reasons (sticking things up the chute right before trying to get romantic doesn't really do it for me).

So, I don't know. Maybe we'll strike a compromise and use condoms for a couple of months until I go back to work, and then try the pill since I'll probably have to supplement with formula at that point anyway.

Part of me is just tempted to throw caution to the wind -- I mean, really? We're going to get pregnant? And if we did, would that be so bad? We want to have another, and it's not like we're going to let non-ideal timing get in our way after waiting so long for #1.

What holds me back is the embie in the freezer. We need to give that little guy a chance, and then suddenly we're looking at the possibility of three kids. Would that be OK? Yeah, probably, but it's just not something we've ever seriously considered.

Yes, yes, I'm getting way ahead of myself. The chances of our one embie surviving a thaw and a transfer are not great, and the chances of us getting knocked up the old-fashioned way are even less great. Chances are, we'll decide to start trying, go through the whole rigamarole again, and probably not be lucky enough to be successful on the first try of IVF. But these are the things I think about, waiting for the Chicklette to fall asleep at 4 in the morning with "19 Kids and Counting" on in the background.

Maybe I should just stick to SportsCenter.

On Complaining

Edited to add: I realized in reading some of the comments that my post might have come across as a total indictment of infertiles complaining during pregnancy. I sincerely apologize if I offended anyone -- I mean heck, pregnancy IS hard, and so different from any other physical experience that it's hard to prepare. Upon reflection, I think my post was more about my particular relationship with this particular person, in which there are clearly other things going on. I probably should just have kept my thoughts to myself on this one. Apologies again.

Let me preface this post by saying that I know I can complain with the best of them -- this blog is certainly evidence of that (although I do try to keep it lighthearted -- the various indignities of pregnancy still seem more amusing to me than anything else). But I just need to get a little something off of my chest -- although of course NOTHING relating to my chest is little these days.

I have a friend -- actually more like an acquaintance -- who is pregnant with twins, and due around the same time as I am. She is one of those people that I don't know super-well, but we somehow discovered that we were both struggling with infertility, and bonded over that. She's done 7 IVF cycles, and had been trying for many, many years before that. Her last cycle was a sort of "Hail Mary" -- she knew it would be the last time, both for financial and emotional reasons, that she would try for a biological child. And it worked!

BUT. The complaining. Oh, the complaining. At first, it was because of the morning sickness. And to be fair, it was bad enough that she was on bedrest and fluids for a part of her first tri. But things have been going well since then -- the babies are healthy, she's mostly healthy (dealing with a mild case of gestational diabetes), and most importantly, she's having the babies she's waited so long for.

I want to be understanding. I want to be supportive. But sometimes I just want to throttle her. And the endless Facebook updates.....just for kicks this morning, I took a look at her news feed for the last few weeks, and she averages about 4 updates a day with NOTHING POSITIVE IN THEM. Nothing super-negative either, but just a lot of noise of the "oh, I'm so big and life's not fair" variety. I mean, really?

I guess I should simmer down and recognize that maybe she truly is having a hard time. Maybe she doesn't have a good support system and the complaints are her only outlet. I know her well enough to know that she's got a pretty solid network, so I don't really think this is the case, but I also don't really know her well enough to ask. I guess I'm just surprised after all she's been through to get to where she is, and the fact that she knew that a twin pregnancy was a possibility, that she's acting so completely surprised that there's some discomfort involved in this whole pregnancy thing. And that the joy isn't seeming to outweigh the discomfort.

So, bottom line -- I just don't know how to be there for her when I can't understand where she's coming from. And I'll probably just let it lie and try to ignore the negativity, because I'm all about avoiding the negativity in all aspects of my life right now.

And so concludes MY complaining for the day. ;)

The New "Normal"

This morning I woke up, refreshed and ready at 6:15, and commented to my husband:

"Wow! What a great night's sleep. I only got up to pee 3 times!"

At which point he snorted, rolled his eyes, turned over, and went back to sleep.

Obviously, infertility, treatments and pregnancy have changed me in countless important and fundamental ways. But this morning's episode got me thinking about the countless, semi-trivial ways in which I've changed over the last 3 or so years (beyond the constant need to pee and the ability to fall asleep immediately afterwards -- and OK, sometimes during).

To wit:

• I'd never gotten blood drawn before my first infertility workup, and was so grossed out/scared that I had to shut my eyes and do deep breathing. Now I avidly watch and discuss things like the color of my blood and needle technique with the lab tech.
• Pelvic exams and other occasions where medical professionals insert things in my hoo-ha are no longer a big deal.
• I've come to appreciate work as a distraction from disappointment.
• I've come to realize that I can indeed live without red wine for extended periods of time.
• I've learned how to ask for help lifting my suitcase into the overhead bin (sort of -- this is a work in progress).
• I've always been sensitive about my weight, and people commenting on it. Now I find comments about the growing size of my belly reassuring, and actually enjoy when people touch my belly.
• On a related note, I used to perish the thought of walking around in my bathing suit. Now being in the water feels SO GOOD, I let it all hang out and don't even really think about it (except when my giant boobs occasionally pop my suit open).
• I crave sweets.
• I have hair growing in odd places.
• When my husband tells me I look beautiful, I don't fight it -- I just smile and appreciate the compliment.
• Have I mentioned the size of my boobs?

What about you? Anyone care to share in what crazy ways this whole roller coaster ride has changed you?

Baby Basics

We took our first prenatal class -- Baby Basics -- over the weekend. It was definitely basic, which was a good thing for this only child with very limited baby experience. Although I have to imagine that changing a dry diaper on a doll is going to be wee bit less complicated than changing a squirming baby with poop running down her leg with a cat on the changing table and the phone ringing on 2 hours of sleep. But I suppose those would be hard conditions to simulate.

Now, I'm always the eager beaver in class-type situations -- lots of questions, and notes, and probably annoying the crap out of everyone else -- but I couldn't help noticing that a lot of the couples in the room looked very unhappy. Or at least seriously disinterested. The classes aren't mandatory, so I don't really get it. But it made me kind of sad for them. I guess you never really know what people are going through. And honestly, maybe they were all just in food coma or something since the class was right after lunch.

But it did remind me, once again, that while infertility sucks the big one, it's certainly removed any ambivalence I thought I had about becoming a parent. I guess I'll have to wait and see if poop sucks worse than Lupron, but I'm pretty sure I'll be happy to go with the poop.

Infertility Urban Legends

OK, OK, enough about my bodily functions. I'm feeling much better this week and can now focus on much more interesting topics.

I got a call over the weekend from my childhood best friend ("S"), as we've been plotting over her plans to fly in for my baby shower at the end of the month. As a bit of background, S and her husband started trying to have a baby soon after they got married in 2003, went through 5 (or maybe 6?) rounds of IVF, suffered multiple miscarriages (including an ectopic pregancy that cost S one of her tubes), and were never able to get an explanation from any of their three specialists as to why she wasn't able to carry a pregnancy past 8 weeks. About two and a half years ago, they decided to find a surrogate, and last October they were blessed with two beautiful, healthy twin girls.

After the expense of going the surrogate route and the heartbreaks of the preceding years, S and her husband decided they were done. All three of their specialists agreed that since she was not able to get pregnant without IVF, there was no need to have her remaining tube tied or worry about birth control.

You know where I'm going with this, right?

S is pregnant. The old-fashioned way. No timed intercourse, no drugs, no nothing. She's not even sure how many weeks along she is, because her cycle's been so irregular with the one tube and the multiple IVFs -- a total change for those of us used to knowing and obsessing over every cycle day! They are totally in shock.

At the end of our conversation, S said: "You know what's the weirdest part? I hate that we're the infertility urban legend....you know, the couple who tried and tried and ended up using a surrogate and then just RELAXED and got pregnant. Because it was so devastating to hear that particular piece of advice from countless people during our struggles."

Personally, I'm thrilled for them, and am happy to be friends with an urban legend. It gives me hope that the next time around, maybe a good sperm will find its way to a good egg and we can make a baby just like "normal" people do. Maybe not, but maybe. What can I say, I'm a hope junkie.

What do you all think? Are you personally acquainted with an infertility urban legend? Does hearing their stories give you hope or drive you crazy?

Still a miracle, even if it makes me miserable

My co-worker, who is 41 weeks pregnant and scheduled to be induced tomorrow, gave me a copy of Pregnancy Sucks: When Your Miracle Makes You Miserable last week. Because it is my wont to semi-obsessively research every major purchase/event in my life, I tore into it over the weekend. Overall, it's pretty good -- similar in content to The Girlfriends' Guide to Pregnancy, but a bit more, I don't know, mature in tone. (I don't know if anyone else reacted similarly, but I found the Girlfriends' Guide to be a little, well, silly. And full of some bad advice, such as not worrying about exercising because you might hurt the baby and you're going to gain so much weight that you might as well give up. But anyway.)

Now, perhaps it is because I am in the "honeymoon" of my pregnancy (so they say), or maybe it's the whole infertility thing, but I'm having a hard time being truly miserable about anything this pregnancy has thrown my way. Even when I was bleeding during the first tri, and yes, even when we lost the twin (which was terrible), I have been so incredibly grateful. And usually hopeful. And endlessly fascinated by the things my body is doing.

Don't get me wrong -- I will continue to make fun of my giant knockers and the fact that my thighs are rubbing together and that I have sex dreams about Sacha Baron Cohen and that I am GROWING LONG, DARK HAIR ON MY BELLY. But I'm totally not miserable. So I think I'll keep to reading the book at home, lest anyone spotting me on the train think that I am a pregnancy ingrate.

Now watch me gain 37 pounds in my third trimester. Then I guess we'll have to revisit the topic of misery.

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!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Elle over at Baby Bunts wrote an amazing post earlier this week that pretty much sums up everything I've been feeling about this blog's transition from infertility to pregnancy blog. I've been thinking for a while now about how this blog has changed, and how I feel about that change. I mean, obviously I'm happy about the underlying reason, but there are other emotions there too -- sorrow (for those who are still fighting), discomfort (at not knowing what heck I'm talking about), suspicion (that I'm jinxing everything by talking about it), and guilt (that it only took me 2.5 years and 1 IVF cycle to get knocked up).

It's that last emotion -- guilt -- that makes me realize just how connected I still feel to the IF community. I mean (and I'm borrowing another thought from Elle here) who else but an infertile would think that 30-ish failed cycles, endless tests, needles, thousands of dollars of drugs and monitoring, and a miscarried twin would be getting off easy?!? But I do know how lucky I am, and that in the grand scheme of things, anxiety over change is a very very small problem to have. I would take every single step all over again in a heartbeat. And I probably will!

Anyway, sorry to deviate from my regularly scheduled programming of making fun of my boobs, drooling over Adam Lambert, and relating my journey from relatively in-shape woman to small sea vessel. Change has just been on my mind.

Now, back to scrounging through my desk drawers for a cookie.

Yep, still infertile

Every once in a while, some little thing happens that reminds me that even though I'm supposed to be a happy normal pregnant person, I'm still an infertile and will always see some pieces of life through that lens.

Last night, I went to a friend's house for dinner and a movie (pizza and ice cream and a movie -- it was like a 2nd grade slumber party without the sleeping-over part). She rented Bride Wars, which we thought would be a nice piece of fluff. She's got a toddler and a newborn, and I'm, well, pretty much useless after 2 p.m., so we figured it would be perfect.

And for the most part, it was. But for those of you who have seen the movie (or for those who don't mind getting spoiled), there was a scene at the end that de-fluffified things for me. The whole movie is about these two best friends who become frenemies after accidentally booking the same wedding date at the same venue. At the end of the movie, after they've miraculously made up after doing all sorts of horrible things to each other, they meet up and discover that they're both (barely) pregnant, and due on the same day!!! OMG how wonderful!!! And one of them has just come from her honeymoon!!! Squeeeee!!

I realize that Bride Wars was not meant to be a commentary on any kind of realistic marriage and/or childbearing situation, but it just annoyed me. Let's go ahead and perpetuate the misconception (pun intended) that it's easy-peasy to get knocked up on your honeymoon, or anytime you feel like it.

I don't mean to be a Debbie Downer -- for a lot of people it is that easy, and I'm not saying that every movie conception story should feature infertility -- but it would be nice if we saw a little more struggle and a little less instantaneous (or accidental) pregnancy storyline. Maybe then it wouldn't come as so much of a shock to those of us who are destined to struggle.

But that probably wouldn't make for a very exciting movie, would it?

Let's talk about sex, baby.......

and how I'm not getting any. WARNING: this post could venture into TMI territory.

For those of us who have spent a long time trying to conceive, it's a fact of life: sex stops being fun. Not just in the "OMG, we have to do it AGAIN?!?" way, but also in the "Why do we need to be reminded so often that we're broken?" way. And also in the heartbreaking "Maybe we'll defy the odds and tonight will be the night since we're in Hawaii and it's our anniversary and we're COMPLETELY RELAXED" way. I could go on, but you get the picture.

For those of us who have been through IVF (and this might be true for IUI as well to some extent, but I've never done one so I don't know), there's the whole irony-mixed-with-relief thing -- the irony being that you're trying to make a baby using a method completely devoid of sex, the relief being that you can take a break from the sex without feeling like you're not doing anything to Advance The Cause. In fact, the odds make you somewhat giddy -- you mean we have a 50% chance of making a baby WITHOUT HAVING SEX? Sign me up!

(Of course, you don't really feel all that sexy when your ovaries are the size of navel oranges and you feel like a big fat hen about to lay a 12-pack of eggs. And you're not supposed to do it in case something goes awry with the trigger and you end up in a Jon and Kate-type situation, and also because you're not supposed to jostle the oranges.)

And finally, for those of us who somehow manage to get pregnant -- particularly if we start with twins and lose one and there's a bunch of bleeding -- there's still no sex. Prostaglandins in sperm are bad, jostling is bad, any strenuous physical activity is not recommended. Oh, and you know what else? Taking care of one's own business is also not allowed -- orgasms (I can't believe I'm writing that word on my blog and I hope my mother never ever finds it) cause uterine contractions, uterine contractions in the first trimester can be bad, etc.

The problem? Suddenly, no sex is NOT OKAY. I'm kind of astounded -- I really haven't had a sex drive in six months, and suddenly I feel like a 15-year-old boy. EVERYTHING tempts me. Movies, TV shows, books, even my dreams are out to get me. As are the pregnancy books, which tell you that sex is perfectly OK during pregnancy.......unless your doctor recommends otherwise.

Don't get me wrong -- I would gladly give up sex for a year if that's what it took to have a healthy baby. I'm so so happy and grateful to be pregnant. I'm not REALLY complaining, it's just....well....challenging. Unexpectedly challenging.

It's no wonder I've gained 13 pounds. Carbs are the only craving I can follow through on right now.

Well played, Barnes & Noble

I was in Barnes & Noble over the weekend, hoping to find some sort of grandmother-to-be book for my mom. (I didn't find one, by the way -- at least not one that wasn't full of sappy kissy photos and vapid poems.) It was a different and much larger B&N than the one I typically frequent, and as such I was a little disoriented. I headed to the Women's Health section, figuring that the pregnancy books would be there, as per usual. But nope -- plenty of trying-to-get-pregnant and infertility tomes, but no pregnancy.

So, off I went to the handy little search computer, and plugged in "What to Expect When You're Expecting." Because every bookstore has that one, right? Turns out it was sitting in the Children's section, along with all of the other pregnancy books, all the way across the store.

Barnes & Noble, I applaud you. I have bought, I don't know, ten books on infertility in the last 18 months or so, and nothing has made me feel more crappy than having to pull a copy of "Infertility for Dummies" (yes, I do have that one) out from between a copy of "What to Expect" and "The New Age Baby Name Book." I mean, you wouldn't put books about fighting alcoholism next to books about mixology, would you?

I'm usually not much of an activist type, but I think this is one of those things I might start asking to "speak to a manager" about when I see it happening. You know, just a gentle suggestion. Because a trip to the bookstore shouldn't have to be a blow to the gut.

The things people say (and a foot confession)

Sort of like the day before my beta, I am feeling pretty zen today about tomorrow's ultrasound. This could be because I was up until 12:30 last night (a full 3 hours past my bedtime, thankyouverymuch), or maybe because I'm excited to see the fabulous Ms. Britney Spears in concert tonight. I hope it will be train wreck-alicious. It seemed like a good idea at the time when my friend bought the tickets six months ago.....

I did have one extremely annoying work interaction today. One of the lawyers in my office is unexpectedly expecting identical twins. I hadn't seen her in a while, and asked how she was feeling. I got a 10-minute diatribe on how pregnancy is "awful," how "people should really know that twins can happen and it's such a curse," and how no one in the family (including her 2-year-old daughter) is happy about the pregnancy. Seriously? Not even a little bit happy? No one?

I know I can't understand her circumstances -- obviously, having never been accidentally pregnant myself -- so I'm trying to reserve judgement. But it will be pretty funny if it turns out tomorrow that I'm having twins (not likely, but still within the realm of possibility). Do I get to tell her how mother-effing happy I am about it?!? For 10 minutes?!?

Now on to the feet. I've had several lovely comments about my toes in recent blog posts. Thank you. As someone who grew up with a stepmother who regularly told her how ugly her feet were, it's nice to now have feet that I can take a picture of and post for all of the world wide web to see.

But, I have a confession. I do not paint my toes myself. I spend an ungodly amount of money on pedicures -- they're even factored into my monthly budget. And I don't just get a regular old pedicure -- I get the super spa pedicure with the sea salt scrub, paraffin wax, and extra leg massage. My big concession to the tanking economy has been to stretch my pedis to every 3 weeks (instead of every two).

The Mr. thinks I'm ridiculous, and he's probably right. I try to justify that I work really long hours, that I deserve a bit of relaxation in the midst of all of the infertility crap, that I'm supporting the economy and am a good tipper, and that it's good for my feet (probably the lamest justification ever). But it's my little ritual and I love it.

I blame my stepmother. And have her take me for a pedicure whenever I'm in town.

Welcome ILCW-ers!

Another ICLW is upon us. For those of you who are here for the first time, a disclaimer: despite the title of my blog, I am actually pregnant (6w on Thursday). But I am feeling a little too superstitious to change my blog title just yet, so apologies for being misleading. I won't be offended if you don't hang around.

My infertility story: I'm a little bit pregnant after 2.5 years of trying, including 4 Clomid cycles and 1 IVF cycle. I'm 33 years old, hypothyroid, and married to a wonderful man with not-quite-so-wonderful amounts of sperm. I started this blog just as we were starting our IVF cycle, so if you're curious about how that went down you can read the whole sordid tale right here.

Other things about me: I love food and wine, and write about them here (although the wine not so much right now). I've also been known to consume a bit of TV programming, including such cultural gems as American Idol and Gossip Girl. I live in Northern California. I've got a high-stress job that honestly seems a lot less stressful after dealing with the stress of trying to get knocked up.

I'm amazed by the ALI blog community, and can't imagine getting through the last couple of months without the support, stories and strength of all of the women (and men!) who put the most sensitive parts of their lives out on the internets. I'm looking forward to getting to know even more of you this week!

And Barefoot would like to nominate.....

Heartfelt thanks to my bud Carrie for tagging me with the Sisterhood Award. Not only is it an incredibly touching gesture (and a reminder of just how much support I've gotten in the last few weeks from Carrie and so many others of you), but it's also great distraction from my twice-hourly panty-checking routine. Thanks, Carrie. :)

Here are the rules:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate 10 blogs with great attitude and/or gratitude.
3. Be sure to link to your nominees in your post.
4. Let your nominees know they have received the award by leaving them a comment on their blog.
5. Be sure to link this post to the person who nominated you for the award

Here's my list -- you guys have been such a support and source of good humor and inspiration. And so strong!

A Little Hope
baby, interrupted
Invitro Veritas
life is good
Listening for little steps
MoJo Working
Mustard Seed Baby
My Journey with Endometriosis
My Reality
Parenthood for Me
Sayler, Am I Pregnant Yet?
With God, All Things Are Possible

Yes, yes, there are 12. Sorry. And I probably would have kept going, if Carrie hadn't done such a good job of picking her list!

Then She Found Me

Life is funny. I went to Blockbuster on Monday night to rent a pile of movies for my two days at home. I was a totally selfish renter, and pretty much stuck with the chick flicks (except "Milk," which I'm hoping the Mr. will watch with me tomorrow night).

I had read Elinor Lipman's novel Then She Found Me a few years ago, and loved her story of a woman in her late thirties being found by her birth mother. It was unusual and quirky and funny (as Elinor Lipman's books tend to be). I heard a couple of years ago that Helen Hunt was producing a directing a movie adaptation, and had been meaning to see it. It passed through theaters quickly, and I kind of forgot about it.

Fast forward to Monday, when I was doing a lap around the "New Releases" section -- and there it was. A perfect addition to my chick flick fest!

I watched the movie yesterday (randomly picked it from the pile), and it can't be a coincidence that I ended up watching a poignant movie about love, loss, adoption, miscarriage, IUI and getting older on the day after my transfer. Although parts of it were a little tough to watch, I though it was a beautiful little movie and I really admired Helen Hunt for taking it on and allowing herself to look so, well, old. I'm not sure I would recommend it to anyone struggling with fertility -- like I said, a little hard to watch in places -- but I found it to be kind of grounding.

Oh, and it had Colin Firth in it. Yum. I might recommend it after all!

What to wear when you look like you're pregnant but you're actually not

As anyone who has ever ingested infertility meds can tell you, that shit can wreak some serious havoc on your girlish figure. Mine wasn't exactly girlish to begin with, as I emotionally ate my way through the first two years of our infertility, but the last five months of Clo.mid and stims have certainly not helped the situation.

Not that this came as any surprise. The swelling and bloat potential of infertility treatment have been well-documented. As has the sweet, sweet irony of appearing knocked up when NOTHING COULD BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH. So I went into the stims phase of IVF prepared.

Prepared to SHOP.

In case my shopping adventures can be of any help to those on the brink or in the midst of bloat-dom, I hereby present my five favorite (and mostly newly acquired) articles of clothing for the Pregnant-Looking Woman Who Isn't Pregnant (PLWWIP).

#5 -- The Flowy Dress

It's a good thing that the last week has been sunny and warm in Northern California, because I have worn these two dresses all week. The beauty of them (other than the obvious coverage capabilities) is that they can be mixed and matched almost infinitely. My boss, a major clotheshorse, even complimented me on my outfits this week.

Bonus on the J.Crew dress -- it's convertible and can be a dress or skirt or shirt or really anything you want it to be (except a baby).

#4 -- Scarf, Scarf Baby

Scarves -- they're not just for Hollywood waifs! They are also for us PLWWIPs. What else can cover both enlarged ta-tas and engorged abdomen for under 20 bucks? My favorites have actually been from Target.


Is there anything Target can't do, particularly if you avoid the baby department?

#3 -- The New Cardigan

What do you call these newfangled garments, that are part-cardigan, part-shrug? I don't know. I call them the New Cardigan, and I love them dearly. They work particularly well with a scarf, particularly if your arms aren't making you happy (as mine certainly are not). My two favorites came from a Banana Republic outlet, but they're everywhere. The best ones for our purposes have sort of a widening cowl that drapes inwards at the stomach -- I can't for the life of me find a picture that depicts this, but if you want to come over and take a tour of my closet I'd be happy to show you.

#2 -- The Mom Jeans

OK, I'm a little embarrassed about this. And I SWEAR I'm not wearing these because I really really really want to be a mom (although I do). I was at Ross (Dress for Less!) a couple of weeks ago and found these beauts -- jeans with a magic hidden panel that sucks in both your tum-tum and the dreaded muffin top. And you can't even tell they're mom jeans when you're fully outfitted -- although you might not ever be able to escape the shame.

#1 -- The Yummie Tummie

I know I've sung its praises before, but I really can't gush over this contraption enough. I've got both the tank and boyfriend tank in the long version, and I just feel like the hottest infertile on the block when I'm wearing them. They are expensive ($62 for the basic model), but I'm not even a little bit sorry I bought them.

Of course, I haven't gotten my credit card bill yet.

So, there's my list. I'm sure there are many, many other fantastic clothes for us PLWWIPs. Please share if you've discovered any!

IComLeavWe

Hello to anyone who might be wandering over here for IComLeavWe! It's my first one -- very exciting. I'm looking forward to getting to know so many of you through your blogs!

My story in a nut shell: I'm 33, have been happily married to my husband for 5 years, the last 2.5 of which have been a little less happy as we've struggled with trying to get pregnant. We're currently going through our first IVF cycle, which seemed the best course of action given our male factor issues. I have a high-stress job, which I've mostly avoided talking about here and which makes all of the appointment-juggling a bit challenging. But most of the time, I feel very blessed to be able to be doing something to make our most fervent wish a reality.

Other things you'll see on this blog -- talk of food, shopping, wine (at least for a little while longer) and the occasional American Idol episode. It can't be all-IVF all the time!

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.