Happy Thanksgiving, blog world.  

I spent 8 hours on my feet in the kitchen last night.  I'm in charge of dessert for our family dinner tonight, and nothing was turning out like it should.  The dough for the pie crust was too sticky.  The flourless chocolate roll cake fell apart.  And I mean it REALLY fell apart:



Dessert made a recovery though, and I am now one workout and shower away from heading off to my in-laws for pre-Thanksgiving dinner followed by actual Thanksgiving dinner with my own family.  

We've had a lot of ups and downs this year, but today I am forcing myself to put my disappointment in this family planning process on hold and take time to remember how lucky I am to even be here in the first place.  Things have not worked out according to plan, but if everything in my life to date had worked out according to plan, I'd probably be miserable and married to my high school girlfriend.  

Instead, I get to be here with Catch.  Life is just better with her in it, and I am so thankful that it's her by my side through everything.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a treadmill.  Enjoy your day, everyone!

Good Things

  1. Progressive called and my poor car is ready.  $7k worth of damage from the accident a few weeks ago has supposedly been repaired, and I get to turn in my stupid rental car today.  I can’t wait to get rid of that thing!  It had nice amenities (leather, Bluetooth, XM…), but man it drove like crap. 
  2. I finished Rolo’s Christmas stocking, and I’m in love with the damn thing.  Rolo, on the other hand, is less than thrilled.  Photo 2
  3. I finished knitting a beanie for Catch and she LOVES it.  She picked out the yarn while we were in Cambria with the request that I make it long enough to cover her ears and then some.  Success!  I didn’t even bother with a pattern. Photo
  4. We had our first Weight Watchers weigh in on Monday and I lost 5.8 lbs.  I set a hopeful goal of 28 lbs by March—2 lbs a week—so we’ll see how it goes.  So far, so good.  We’ve both been working our asses off (literally.)  It was nice to get my little gold 5 lb star. 🙂 Star
  5. Finally, despite this round of Clomid coursing through my veins, we’ve decided to cancel this cycle.  We think.  I’m holding strong today to the idea that I just want to put all of this on hold until March.  It gives me time to meet with doctors and do further testing to explore the extent of the PCOS, and to hopefully get my body back on the right track.  I feel good about the decision.  Mostly.  It’s a Catch 22 for me.  I’m sad but determined.  I know it’s the right thing to do, but the knowledge that I should be ovulating any day now is certainly weighing on me.  I’m still calling it a good thing.

I hope your day is filled with good things today, too.


My sister in law is in town from Colorado this week with her husband and their two dogs.  The plan is for us all to spend the weekend at my in-laws new place a few hours south of here.  6 adults and 4 dogs under one roof all weekend.

I have a few concerns about the togetherness.  My in-laws don’t know that we’ve been trying to get pregnant, and since it has been the primary focus of our lives for months, that’s tough.  I am not a good secret keeper, and keeping this particular secret has made me a shadow of my former self when I’m around them.  I don’t know what to talk about anymore.  I’ve become very reclusive around groups of people lately in general.  I find myself observing rather than participating.  I’ve been very caught up in what’s going on inside my head, and my head really just wants to be left alone in the corner with some knitting and an audiobook. 

I know my hormones are partially to blame, but I also blame my own shortsightedness.  I really never thought that I wouldn’t be pregnant by now, and it hit me like a ton of bricks this month.  My body has let me down.  I’ve let my body down.  I’ve lost all enthusiasm for this process.  More than anything, I just want to close my eyes and wake up in the spring with a new outlook on life.  Instead, I’m going to plaster a fake smile on my face and act as if all is right with the world.

There’s also the drinking.  This is a drinking family.  When we’re all together like this (which is not often), it’s mimosas in the morning, beer by lunch and cocktails with dinner.  That’s just how they are, and I have always been a willing participant.  Until now.  My MIL noticed that I wasn’t drinking at a BBQ last week and commented to Catch several times.  Normally, the only way I’d survive a weekend like this is with a cocktail (or 3) in hand.  Now I can’t even hide behind the warm glow of a bit of vodka.

I know I need to get my head in a better place before we leave tonight.  I’m going to Costco at lunch with my work BFFs.  It’s always great to combine good company with retail therapy.  Plus, I have enough weight watchers points today to have Costco frozen yogurt for lunch.  The nutritional value is zilch, but it’ll make me happy and I deserve that bit of happiness, damnit.


I am the head of marketing for my company, which means that I am also the person who is targeted by every marketer on the planet.  I think there's some karmic If a product or service exists, chances are good that I have a direct mail postcard or flyer in my inbox right now.  SO. MUCH. JUNK MAIL.

I am also the (un)grateful recipient of samples and leave-behinds.  Yesterday, I got a box of samples from our promotional products company.  It contained a pen (always a pen), a magnet and these:


The drawstring duck bag?  I have no words.  And the beanie?  Would anyone want to traipse about town in a beanie with their promo vendor's logo on it?  I sure wouldn't!  I'm not even sure Goodwill would want that beanie.

This morning, I arrived to work to find that the lovely folks from the Marriott had stopped by to attempt to convince me that we need their meeting space. They left me this beautiful mug, which I'm fairly certain was stolen from a bankrupt 1970s diner.  Or maybe they found a stash of them in the basement from the room service of decades long forgotten. 


I wish people would stop trying to win me over with crap and start thinking more along the lines of designer handbags and gift cards for fertility services.  (What?  Don't they sell those at the supermarkets now, too?)

The Pause Button

As I prepare to pop the last two clomid tablets from their packaging, I have a confession to make: My heart really isn’t in it this cycle. 

I had a long talk with Catch in the midst of last cycle about whether we’d proceed with the next round or not.  She was worried that this is my busiest time of year at work and that the added stress would be troublesome.  One of my good friends at the office said the same thing.  I was all caught up in things though, and I couldn’t imagine it all coming to a screeching halt.  I assured them both that I’d be fine.  Then, when we got our BFN last week, the only thing that made me feel better in that moment was securing my clomid and preparing for another round.

Today, I regret that decision.  Maybe not completely, but I’d be lying if I said that this was absolutely positively the best call to make.  If I didn’t already have 400 mg of clomid floating through my system, I would consider calling it all off. 

I have this gut feeling that something is off, and this cycle will be a waste.  Usually, my gut feelings are pretty spot on.  I called my doctor yesterday hoping to get in before we inseminate again, but the earliest appointment I could get was December 26th.  Clearly, I have to stop referring people to my gynecologist.  What a pain. 

Catch and I have decided that after this round we’re going to take some time off until March-ish.  We’re going to spend the time doing what we need to do to de-stress and get healthier.  Knowing that PCOS is an issue changes a lot of things, and there are lifestyle changes we can make that can help.  Psychologically, I can’t get over the significantly increased risk of miscarriage with PCOS, and I know I will blame myself if it happens and I haven’t done everything I can to try to control it.

We both re-joined Weight Watchers.  Our fridge is  stocked with broccoli and kale.  I dug out the treadmill from beneath a pile of clothes and a layer of dust and actually used the thing for the first time in months.  (Not that we’re not active—we do have 2 dogs to walk every day.)  I even have two referrals to acupuncturists, and I might just give it a shot. 

Taking a break will also give us some time to replenish the savings account a bit and to consider what direction we want to take once March does roll around.  It’s very likely that we’ll move away from PRS and find an RE.

It’s not an easy call to make.  We are SO READY to start a family.  When we first started planning all of this in February, I didn’t even consider that I might not be pregnant by the holidays, and yet here we are.  Every negative OPK since March has inched me closer to the edge of a cliff.  I’m having a hard time seeing pregnant women and babies around.  I’m bitter when someone announces a pregnancy instead of being happy for them.  This is just not me, and I don’t like it.

So, it’s time to step back and regroup.  Time to focus more on my health and less on double lines.  We’re still moving forward with this round, but after this I’m shocked to be truly looking forward to hanging up the baby making hat for a few months.

Strike One

It seems excessively evil that you find out you are absolutely positively not pregnant the moment your period starts. It takes this moment that’s already emotionally charged and throws it into the mix with cramps and mood swings. There is nothing fair about this moment. It’s the ultimate mindfuck.

So, here we are–only 11 days since IUI and I have my period. I held it together remarkably well this morning, but the moment Catch closed the door and headed to work, I lost my shit. One second I was sipping my tea and watching the morning news. The next second I was sobbing into the fur of a very concerned basset hound. Naturally, Catch forgot something and caught me in the act when she returned home a few minutes later.

This is the part where I confess that I was so sure it had worked. So sure. It was only our first real attempt, but it’s taken us half a year to even get that far. I experienced so many physiological things over these 11 days that I never experience when waiting for my period, but now I know I can just blame the Clomid and the HCG.

I am giving myself today to be sad. There’s no use faking it. I am really freaking sad.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

When Catch and I first started dating, I had a sex dream about Tom Petty.  It totally came out of nowhere and shocked the hell out of me.  I think I will likely always remember the time I had that sex dream about Tom Petty.  I’m scarred for life. 

Having trouble trying to get pregnant is a bit like that, I think.  Shocking.  Scarring.  Disorienting.

After 7 months spent trying to get my body to ovulate, this is only our first two week wait, and man it is EXCRUTIATING.  (I am resisting the temptation to make that word  bold, underlined, and a size 72 font.)  I have honestly never experienced anything like this before. 

I have also never been so in tune with my body.  I notice every twinge.  And mind you, I was in a car accident last week that resulted in $7,000 of damage to my car, so there have been a lot of twinges.

What I’ve noticed most—and I attribute this to the HCG trigger shot—is the crazy dreams.  Every night, I have the most bizarrely vivid dreams.  Last night, I was a marine biologist being hunted by a couple of thugs hired by my family.  MY FAMILY.  In the 30-ish minutes this morning between when Catch woke up and when she got out of the shower, I had a dream that my assistant told me she’s pregnant.  I woke up upset with my heart pounding and had to lie there for a few minutes taking deep breaths and reminding myself that it’s just a dream.

9 DPO and counting.

TWW – Day 7 – Sunday

Catch was already on the couch watching a movie when I crawled out of bed at 6:17 this morning. She asked why I was up, and I told her that I just couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind. Hers too, apparently. When she asked if there was anything I wanted to talk about, I shook my head and told her it’s the usual. She said it was the same for her.

In some ways, the week has flown by. Looking back, it’s hard to believe that it’s Sunday again. It’s the hours that kill me. They drag. Yesterday felt like 3 Saturdays, but on Monday morning, it will seem like the weekend went by in the blink of an eye.

I’m pretty sure that this two week wait is making me crazy. I am hyper sensitive to every twinge in my body. I over analyze everything. I google everything. I know I should stop. All it does is feed my anxiety, and I don’t want to feel anxious. I want to feel pregnant. I want to stop inputting every last symptom–real or imaginary–into my Fertility Friend chart to see if their pregnancy analyzer thingy gives me more points for waking up crampy.

I just want this to be over. I want to know. Yes or no. I want to move on to the next thing I can obsess over, because this is getting old.

7 more days.


I left work early yesterday because I was starting to feel sore from the accident and I was totally exhausted from the rush of adrenaline.  I crashed HARD.

As I walked to the parking structure, an unwelcome thought popped into my head.  Bad things happen in threes.  The accident was one.  What would the remaining two be?  Would one of them be a failed IUI?

As I drove home, Catch texted me to tell me that one of her sister's horses had been found dead in their meadow.  It was sudden and unexpected.  At the time, we weren't sure which horse it had been, but the evening revealed that it was my favorite horse, Cher. 

Cherface4 copy

Don't get me wrong–her other two horses are nice enough, but they're shy.  Not the biggest fans of people.  Cher was a people horse.  She wanted to be a part of the action.  If you let her, she'd walk right into the house. 

Cher could smell an apple or a carrot from half a mile away.Her personality was bigger than she was. 


Cher, you will be missed. 

After the news of Cher, I logged on to facebook to learn that the basset rescue group we work with lost little Spotty yesterday.  He'd been ill for a few weeks but was totally rebounding.  It was very unexpected.  So sad.  Poor little Spotty.  I'm just thankful that he had a great foster home in his last days. 


So there's our three bad things.  We're done, now.  No need for any more bad.  We're pushing it all aside in favor of thinking positive, cell multiplying thoughts. 

We will now resume our regularly scheduled State of Fertility Address.