The Fat Pant Intervention

I haven’t written about this because it’s one of those events that are not even slightly humorous in the moment. I have gained 20lbs or so since January.

To set the scene: We are at the very end of a long day, of which we have spent at least 5 of the last 4 hours together. I am in my work clothes.

H: Babe, you don’t look comfortable. I think you need to buy new pants this weekend. I am just concerned about your comfort.

Me: (Rage and humiliation swirling in my head and heart, but trying to keep cool because I have foolishly asked for his honesty if ever an intervention such as this was needed) I am not very comfortable, does it look like I am smuggling Christmas hams in my pants?

H: Mmmm…. (biding time because he is afraid to answer)

Me: (losing it) OH MY GOSH. HOW BAD DO I LOOK? AND HOW LONG HAVE A LOOKED THIS RIDICULOUS AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME. HOW LONG!!!

H: You don’t look bad, you just don’t look very professional. I don’t really want men to see you.

Me: What the hell!

Me: (Calming down, again recalling that at some crazed point I thought marital honesty about my body was a good thing) So are you saying I look like a mall worker?

H: Yes

End scene.

Epilogue: I bought new big girl pants. Was very upset about it at first. Have now discovered that buying new, looser fitting clothing is almost as good as losing weight. I am indeed more comfortable now. And I am still married.

And here we go...

I think I have mentioned before how the shared risk plan really takes the edge off of a failure, because you still have another chance. Well I second and third that now. We are starting again, already, with another water ultrasound on Tuesday Nov. 16th, then Lupron injections to begin shortly thereafter, everything being over by the 15th of December, and prego test before the end of the year.

I will have one more try (if I want it) after that, and then that is it.

I feel equal hope and peace about the prospects of being finished with this misery as I do about the prospect of getting pregnant. And that isn't even coming from a bitter place.

H asked why we hadn't done more praying or hoping or had more faith, and he said he thought maybe we just weren't doing enough in that department to warrant a baby. I don't feel that way at all. I know for the first IVF I was a miserable heap of terror and doubt, and weeks after it was over I thought - "I am not pregnant. And though I couldn't have done a thing to change that, I may have had more peace today if I had decided not to be so scared during the whole process." Yet I knew with compassion on myself that I had given all I could at the time. So I just let it go. And the second time I did remarkably better, but still with so much room for improvement in the faith department, and yet I know full well I was giving 100% of what I had at the time, and I feel like my meager offering was enough. The God I know does not have a baby waiting for me in heaven that will never be mine if I can't pull my act together. He knows, because I know, that I really have two more chances to have biological kids if I am to have biological kids. I know that good things are in store for me and they include children and the final end to infertility treatments.

Negative

October 27th was the day of my second pregnancy test. They take two, two days apart, freeze the first and run them together. I was really on pins and needles just hoping that if it were a no, I would get some sign of my period before the results just so I could prep myself, like I had back in February. When you are waiting you take every little thing to be a sign - positive or negative, and it is sort of a slow torture. During my wait I had not had one single sign of a positive, nor one single sign of a period either, so the buildup to test day was huge, and I wailed but pulled myself together really quickly when I inserted my morning endometrin and discovered my period had come. I felt a lot more empowered walking into the doctor's office knowing even before they did that our team science experiment had failed. Hope still makes me feel like a chump. When the nursed asked how I was feeling about my odds, I told her "I think my period came this morning so I am not expecting a positive." She offered the fact that she sees a lot of pregnant women have periods, but that holds no meaning until you discover you are one of those woman, so we thanked everyone and left. I felt so good that I had kept things together, showing some control over at least one element of myself on a day where I may have had an excuse to let it all go. I got the negative over the phone while I was at work, drove home, and spent the afternoon and evening lying in bed with H. There is indescribable comfort in knowing at least one other person on earth knows that awful state of sad/numb. H's brother called with news that a new little niece had been born, and hearing H sincerely and kindly share in their joy made me want to evacuate my pained body, but kept me planted right here because now I had yet another reason to love him like I do.

Pee lesson #2

Oct. 25, 10Pee lesson #2: When taking a blood pregnancy test you do not have to hold your pee

I woke up this morning for my first of two pregnancy tests absolutely dying to pee, but I know (once again because I am a huge know it all) that morning pee is the strongest pee of all so if I am even a teeny tiny bit pregnant, I want that the good stuff going on my tests. Only the best for me man. My appt was at 9:45 am and I did the incredible feet of only peeing out a small bit and stopping mid stream, just so I wouldn’t pee my pants on the drive to the clinic, but still saving that great, nasty early morning stuff so I could be an A plus student for my tests. I did take the pleasure of bragging to H about my amazing mid-stream pee stopping discipline several times along the drive. We pull up to the office 45 minutes later and H says, “You do know this is a blood test today, right?”

I swear I saw a little smirk on his face.

User Error

Oct 17,10

I have a positive pregnancy test sitting in my cupboard at home. It is the one and only positive I have ever had in the last six years, so it a novelty, and I don’t want to chuck it just yet. It does not mean I am pregnant, it's just the test I had to take the day after my HCG trigger shot to ensure that the HCG was really in my system. And even that was not a positive on the first go round.

The morning of the test I woke up full of first morning pee, took out the test and hosed it, then set it on the countertop, then read the directions. Yes. Exactly opposite of what any smart, careful person would do. But I am not careful. I think I know it all, especially about peeing on sticks. The directions did not even have words, just pictures - Pictures clearly showing a woman peeing in a cup then putting 3 tiny drops of urine on the test window. BAH. So I never got a positive or a negative, just three completely flooded out windows staring back at me. I told H it was inconclusive, and went on my merry way to work. Like a smart careful person, H called the nurse to tell her the inconclusive status. She said I’d have to just go buy an over the counter pregnancy test and try again. She was baffled why it didn’t work and asked if H thought it was the test or if it was user error – likely a polite way of saying is your wife a heathen who ruined my test by hosing it down like a Labrador to a fire hydrant? H called me back and asked me if it was user error, and I confessed. He laughed so hard I had to cover the earpiece of my work phone so my whole office didn’t hear about the urine antics. All I can think is “wow” – pregnancy tests are sort of gross and un-lady like in the first place, but I even thought I was Joe Cool about that – and had to have a humbling pee lesson. Oh man. Please tell me this is bottom.