10 Shopping Days

I can't believe Christmas is 10 days away. I've started working at the mall for the holidays -- back at Bath & Body Works. One of those places that I would hate to shop in because of how overly attentive their salespeople are, but it's fun to go back once a year, get my discount and little extra money.

On the baby front, it's still a "resting" month, taking the higher level estrogen pills -- which have been delightful on my already fragile emotions. Take that and add in the fact that I'm literally retaining 5 pounds of water (according to the body comp at the nutritionist the other day) and my body is preparing to get pregnant. I've grown out of a few pairs of jeans because of the extra "padding" around my middle. Carolyn told me that there is really nothing she or I can do about this stage, that it may mean me gaining as much as 30 pounds during this process because of all the hormones. Once I get pregnant, she feels that we can have a better handle on the weight gain.

Getting dressed in the morning has not been fun. It usually takes two or three attempts at trying something on, deciding if I fell comfortable in how it fits and how it looks. For someone who just lost 50 pounds and was able to wear anything in her closet (whether is fell over my hips or fit fine), this is very frustrating. I just have to remember that it will be worth it in the end.

And I know that the added weight is only going to my middle, which makes me realize that it really is related to the hormones. My rings are still big and my tops all fit. Its just at the hips and waist.

So is it worth it?

It's a hard question to answer. Right now, not pregnant, six months into the process, who knows how many pounds added...in the moments when I'm most vulnerable, most emotional, feel the most alone -- yea, I want to give up. I want to say it's not worth it. And then the moment I admit that to myself, I know -- immediately -- that I'm wrong.

It's so worth it. And it will be when I have that baby growing inside of me. Who cares of much I weigh at that point (as long as I'm healthy)? And that's what I have to keep remembering. And so I went to Steve & Barry's and bought really cheap pants that fit me or are even a little big. And those will be my post-pregnancy, post-maternity pants.

Because in the end, it doesn't matter what number is on the inside tag of my jeans. A healthy baby, with 10 fingers and 10 toes, will be the only number I care about.

The Rabbit May Never Die

This month was supposed to be an IUI month. But I went in for my blood work on Monday and my estrodial level was high, but they said that they would wait to see if that meant anything when I got my ultrasound. This morning, I went in.

The good news -- the cyst from my right ovary last month is gone. The bad news -- there's an even bigger one on my left ovary. After talking to the doctor, the nurse practitioner called me this afternoon to say that they wanted to put me on birth control pills to clean out my ovaries. Another month down, without any real attempt. She mentioned things like ovarian failure and egg donor. I'm trying not to think about that, because I can't afford to do anything beyond IUI until the insurance kicks in. And that won't happen until after six failed attempts. Not six months, byt six failed attempts. So these past five months only count as two.

I picked up the BCP at Wegmans tonight and almost cried to the pharmacist when he asked me about the pills, if I was familiar with them. When I explained that I was only going on them for a month, he said, "oh you're trying out this kind to make sure you have no side effects."

"No, I'm trying to get pregnant and I have cysts, so I'm hoping the estrogen will clean out my ovaries." Bite lip.

"Oh, so you're using them for hormone therapy." Yes, that would have been another way to put it.

I skipped the gym, came home and laid on my couch, crying, while I watched Days of Our Lives from today. I couldn't really tell you what happened. It was sort of background noise.

My body is failing me -- again. And there is really nothing more I can do. I eat well, I exercise, I drink rarely (and when I do, it's moderately), I don't smoke (never have), don't do drugs (a couple of joints in college) -- and still.....my body is not only failing me, it's betraying me.

Sake and Herbs

I realized tonight as I started reading "Knock Yourself Up: A Tell-All Guide to Becoming a Single Mom," that I haven't really written in much detail about the process I've been going through in trying to get pregnant. And while I promise to not be too graphic, I think this is something I'm going to want to remember.

I received a list of nationally accredited sperm banks from my doctor's office way back in June when I had my first appointment. The appointment consisted of your general pelvic exam and then bloodwork on very specific days of my cycle, to measure my FSH level (to know if I had good eggs left), and my estrodial and progesterone levels (to know if every other part of my cycle would work).

After requesting literature from each place and looking at their website, I waited for the official literature. I had it narrowed down to two places -- one in San Francisco and one near Boston -- mostly because they had experience in working with single women. It wasn't just an infertility issue, but they seemed to be sensitive to the other clients they could serve.

I hate to say it came down to money, but part of my final decision came down to money. New England was a little cheaper, and I also reasoned that being on the East coast could prevent potential shipping issues. Now that I had my umbrella supplier, I needed to find my main supplier, my baby daddy.

What was I looking for? And how superficial is this whole process? Honestly, I just want someone healthy, I just want a baby. But I have to choose, and I get to choose, so why not put thought into this?

And so, for no reason other than it is appealing to me, I chose blond hair, blue eyes, and ethnicity similar or near mine (Scottish, Irish, German, French). And from there, it was about their chosen professions and their personality traits that would appeal to me if this person were in front of me. Ultimately I chose a music student at Berklee, an avid runner and reader.

I've had two tries with him. In August, I went to work in the morning and left early for the appointment. Again, like a pelvic exam, except a little more intrusive to get the cervix open -- and a long thin tube, hooked up to the thawed sperm. After I was "squirted" as my nurse practitioner referred to it, I laid on the table, flat, for 30 minutes. I read a magazine and held onto my good luck charm.

I was absolutely convinced that I would get pregnant. 100%, there was no chance that this wouldn't work. Ten million sperm, six egg follicles. But guess what? It didn't.

September's ultrasound showed that I had some residual cysts from all the follicles, so I rested. October gave me another chance. This time, I'd been getting acupuncture treatments and I took the day off. I rested and had a friend drive me.

And when it didn't work this time, I was much more prepared. And less disappointed when the ultrasound revealed, yet again, that I had a cyst.

When I went for acupuncture yesterday, my doctor sent me home with a bottle of herbs -- different from the herbs I'm supposed to drink twice a day (not a tea drinker, I shoot for once a day) -- these herbs get mixed with Sake (rice wine), made into a paste. I put them on my stomach, over my right ovary (where the cyst is) and then cover with a heating pad for 30 minutes.

It sounds like a bit of voodoo, but if nothing else it's relaxing. And the whole mind/body thing is definitely something I believe in. So tonight, for my second night, I got home, made my sake and herb paste, and sat in my chair with the heating pad on my abdomen.

And so another daily thing that goes towards the process of getting pregnant:

* herb drink
* basal body temperature each morning
* charting my temperature and cervical mucus
* moxa stick on specific pulse points
* and now sake and herbs

Will it be worth it? Absolutely, no question about it.

Ovarian Resting

I went in for my baseline ultrasound this morning -- I have two cysts. One is small and the tech thought that one wouldn't be a problem, but in the other ovary, a bigger one. Too big to allow to go through the cycle this month and attempt insemination. So I'm resting my ovaries this month.

It's frustrating. And at the same time, feeling the frustration makes me feel as if I'm not entitled to feel this bad. Women with serious fertility issues go years of this, I've had two failed attempts over four months. And I've been told by professionals that I'm going to get pregnant eventually. I'm doing everything they are telling me to do -- I'm eating as organically as I can; I've cut out caffeine, artificial sweeteners, alcohol; I'm cutting stress out of my life as best I can; I'm exercising and resting; I'm doing to acupuncture and doing everything she tells me to do.

I have to keep remembering that all of this -- all the frustration, the roller coaster of emotions, the impatience, the sadness and fear -- all of it will make the end result that much sweeter. All of it will make that baby that much more worth it. I have to remember that.

Not Knocked Up

As I knew would happen, as I suspected would be the case, I woke up with my period this morning. The test on Friday night was right. I'm kind of numb but not surprised, I think because this time around, I knew the disappointment so as best I could, I kept my hopes in check.

I haven't told anyone yet. I don't want to say it out loud, I'm afraid that if I actually say it and hear the sympathy in the other person's voice, I will break. So I'm spending my Sunday keeping busy -- doing bills even though I don't get paid until Wednesday, grocery shopping, football and Law & Order marathon (thank goodness for picture in picture) -- and not talking to anyone. I know this can't go on all day, but I'm going to keep it this way as long as I can.

I know this is only my second try, but it is so counter-intuitive to everything we've been talk, everything we were brought up hearing. "Don't have sex -- even just once, and you'll get pregnant." They never tell you that the chances are so slim, the window of when everything is lined up has to be so exact...but somehow it happens.

And so I have to believe that it will happen, somehow, it will happen. For today, I get to be sad. Tomorrow, I'll put on my happy face and positive spin.

All Good Signs

I had my doctor appointment today, my second attempt at getting pregnant. I try not to read into signs, but I can't help myself:

* today is my mom's birthday
* my would-be due date is my niece's birthday and my friend's anniversary
* if I don't get my period, I get my blood work done on same friend's birthday
* at the time of my appointment, my friend in Baltimore saw an Ithaca College bumper sticker, a New York state license plate, and a pregnant woman


I had two really good acupuncture appointments, yesterday and today, and I have two different fertility meditation CD's to listen to. Here's hoping I'm knocked up.

Thinning

I spotted last week, about four days before I was supposed to get my period. I think I mentioned that. I had an ultrasound on Monday (the day before I should have gotten it) and all the cysts were gone. Yeah! So we just needed to wait for my period.

Everything goes from day 1. Day 2, I get blood work done. Days 4 through 8, I take Clomid. Day 13, I get an ultrasound and a shot of hCG. day 14, insemination.

Day 31 of my cycle...and still nothing. I called the doctor's office. After reviewing my ultrasounds images, with the new information that there was nary a sign of my period, the doctor said that my walls were too thing, I probably wouldn't get a period. So I started to take the Clomid today (on what could be viewed as day 5).

I'll get an ultrasound -- follicle check -- next Monday. And if all looks good, order the baby batter for the next day. I'm not getting too excited about it. Given that this is a weird month, I'm preparing myself for the ultrasound to not be an "all systems go."

Acupuncture has been going well. The herbs taste awful -- even in hot apple cider. It's so relaxing, I even fall asleep while I'm on the table.

Jenn (my friend who had to successful IVF's) suggested fertility meditation CDs. I've found some, but they all have to do with IVF treatment. I did find one preparing the body for insemination, but it's in the UK. There has to be one in the US.

Wishing, Hoping, Praying

This has been the longest month of my life -- and I still have another week (or three) to go. I've been trying to focus on me and trying to stay stress-free and stay occupied with my acupuncture treatment (and the things she's been having me do between appointments).

I've tried to take this time to work out, to work out hard, until I get pregnant. But I'm so tired. The rational part of me knows that it is all the hormones they have given me. I have no motivation at the gym -- I can barely work out for 20 minutes on the treadmill or the bike. And squatting -- forget it. The past few days, I've actually come home from work and taken a nap and then gone for a walk. Last night, I was asleep by 8pm. For the night.

And so the wishful hopeful part of me is wondering....am I? Could I be? There were six eggs and not all of them expelled themselves last month. Maybe one got fertilized and hid somewhere? Maybe I am pregnant? That's why I'm so tired.

I know, I know -- it's not that. I can't kid myself. I can't wish for the impossible. And I can't get all worked up about not getting pregnant on the first try. Or even the second try. I've got lots of options, lots of time, lots of support.

And so, I should get my period in a week, and then hopefully I can try again in October.

Update

So I'm not as sad about not getting pregnant on the first month, though when I talked to a friend yesterday, I did feel myself welling up a little. I've taken some positive steps to get ready for next month, namely trying acupuncture.

She (the acupuncturist) wants to see me once a week (more around insemination), I have herbs to drink twice a day (I hate tea -- but I've been able to manage drinking the herbs with hot apple cider), and I have "moxa" sticks (cigar-like incense sticks) to hold over specific pressure points. When I first met with her, I explained my situation, we talked about my hormone level issues, the fertility drugs they have been using and when. We talked about my period, my energy level, whether I feel cold all the time -- lots of random things. But when she connected them all together, it made so much sense.

I am "yang" deficient, I have no fire. What this means, and how it connects to western medicine is....my hormone levels are off from the middle of my cycle. What she's saying is, my temperature spikes (as it should) when I ovulate, but doesn't stay high, it drops again. I need to work to improve my fire, so that my temp stays up and can nurture a fertilized egg.

OK, so maybe it's a little hocus pocus, but I'm willing to try anything. It's not going to have an adverse effect on things. And the actual acupuncture procedure is very relaxing. And unwanted stress is known to be a deterrent in fertility treatment.

I couldn't get inseminated in September, because I had cysts on my ovary. That was frustrating news to hear on top of not being pregnant last month. Not only was I not pregnant, but now I have to wait six weeks instead of two.

The acupuncture has given me something else to focus on so that I'm not obsessing so much on when I can try again. That, and her having my chart my body temperature every morning.

I've tried not to think ahead, tried not to see signs in things, but....if all works out for me to try again next month, I would be inseminated on my mom's birthday and then be due on my niece's birthday next July.

Sometimes, I can't help myself -- I have to look for signs and hope for the best. I'm going to be disappointed anyway, so why not have a little hope, right?

.

It hit me Friday. Hard. I got my period. I'm not pregnant. The rational part of me said, why are you so upset? It's not like you had a miscarriage. This was only your first try. Did you really think you were going to get pregnant on the first try? Did you really?

But with emotions, there is no logic. There is no rational thought -- only pain and diappointment, for what could have been, what was never but still feels lost.

I tried to take it in stride the first day. I was initally numb. And even confused by my lack of feelings. And then disappointment. And then the over-whelming need to curl up and cry. I have very supportive friends and family, but I am essentially dealing with this alone. At the end of the day, it's just me.

By Friday, I was an emotional wreck. By not dealing with it right away, or maybe not accepting it right away, it hit me hard two days later. I cried on my drive home from work. Skipped the gym completely, and slept for an hour on the couch.

I felt sad and I needed to mourn. And I felt like no one understood.

What I didn't realize was, there were people who understood, people who were empathetic, people who wanted to help me through this disappointment. What I didn't realize was, I was projecting my rational thought, my logic, onto everyone else, which only compounded my loneliness.

Strike One

Not that I only get three strikes -- with the money that I have saved and then insurance kicking in after six failed attempts, I do have at least two at bats, maybe three. Baseball analogy aside, I got my period this morning.

I was numb when I saw it, and then it kind of sank in as the morning as progressed. And then one well-meaning friend said, "well, the good news is you know for sure, you don't have to wait anymore."

What?! I wanted to slap her. The good news? Oh right, because waiting for another three days was oh so terrible. Yes, I was impatient, but at least with waiting, there was hope.

I called the doctor's office to let them know. She said she'd call me back -- she'll figure out the next round of hormones, the timing of it, etc. I've also heard that acupuncture helps -- I've heard two success stories. And I do live in a hippie town, so there is no shortage of alternative practices.

D-Day

No sign of anything tonight. Could I really be pregnant? Am I ready for this? It's very surreal. Like I don't know if it could really be happening to me.

What will it feel like when I hear the test results? How will I react if I wake up with my period tomorrow morning?

To try to counteract the disappointment, I have created a "celebration" plan for my period. If I get my period, I'm having the biggest diet Pepsi I can find. I've been without caffeine and aspartame for nearly a month.

The odds are that I'm not pregnant. What are the chances that it took the first time? But really 10 million sperm against six total eggs (three mature, three immature)? What kind of better odds do those little guys need? It would be amazing, especially given where I was on June 25, laying on my couch, crying my eyes out, thinking that I would not be able to get pregnant with my own eggs.

And how about being excited that my period is late!? No freaking out, no praying, no making deals, no midnight runs to the grocery store for a pregnancy test to just get it over with, no staring at the stick for an hour to make sure that it hasn't changed its mind and gives you a different result.

Stay tuned.

Am I?

I've been whaffling back and forth -- I "feel" that I'm pregnant...I don't know...I don't want to get my hopes up. I'm trying not to get obsessed about it and I think, for the most part, that I've been pretty patient and haven't been dwelling on it.

With the exception of constantly being light headed, all my other symptoms could just be PMS.

But is being pregnant and having that intuition about it like being in love? If you have to ask what it feels like, you're probably not.

D-6110

I had an ultrasound this morning - three mature egg follicles! My hormone levels were good, so today I was inseminated. When I got to the doctor's office, Jodi told me to get undressed while she thawed the sperm. When she came back, we talked about my do not eat/drink list, cleaning the litter box (use a mask and rubber gloves) and when I could take a test.

She was very sweet and saved the vial the specimen came in for me.

I got in the usual position in the stirrups and she inserted the speculum. After she injected the sperm into my uterus, I had to lie flat and still for about 20-30 minutes.

Because I had an injection of hCG yesterday (to induce ovulation today), any home pregnany tests I take could read false positive. So I have to wait for my period to show or not on September 4. And if I don't get it, I'll get blood work done on September 8.

It's going to be a long 16 days.

It's going to happen...

...as long as my body cooperates. I started taking Clomid today -- day one of five. Next week when I get back from vacation, I will have an ultrasound. If it looks good -- if the Clomid does what it's supposed to -- then I'll be inseminated as early as Thursday.

I looked through the catalog for the final -- or near final -- time. I thought long and hard about an anonymous donor vs. a donor willing to be known someday. I thought about calling my oldest sister -- to ask her opinion, her feelings on not knowing who her biological father is. But the more I thought about it, if given a choice, she'd probably want just that -- the choice.

And so I want to give this baby the option. He/she may want to know, may not -- but the option will always be there. And while I totally believe that most of the baby's personalities traits will be nuture over nature, I think it says a lot of this man that he's willing to be known. That he's thought enough about what he's doing to make himself available, even if just once, in 18 years. To disrupt his life to meet the miracle he helped make happen.

I filled out the paperwork for New England -- I'll probably get some Red Sox genese. Another good reason for believing in nuture over nature. :)

Jenny is giving me all of her maternity clothes. I hop eI'm not jinxing myself by taking them before I need them. I need all the good luck I can get for this.

Erica T. told me that I should bring a good luck charm when I get inseminated -- I thinking my 3-6 month sized Derek Jeter t-shirt. I've had it for at leat six years. Holding onto it and waiting. And hoping. And maybe someday, I'll get to use it.

To my pre-conceived notion...

I need to continue writing this, to keep a record, so I always remember what I went through, what I was feeling, so you know without a shadow of a doubt, how much I love you already.

I don't know how -- or when exactly -- you'll come to me. I only know that I won't stop until I have you in my life. No obstacle will stop me. I've already faced one, with the hormone level problems, but I have such an amazing support system. When I worry about bringing you into my life without a real dad, I remember how many aunts and undles (by blood and by choice) you will have to love you.

In December, when I was in Virginia, I told Debbie that I wanted to start getting pregnant by my 38th birthday. She asked me tough questions, which I answered confidently. And finally saying it out loud, and giving myself a time line, made it real for me for the first time.

In April, I went to the doctor for my check-up and told him. Dr. C was so suuportive, but not full of a lot of information. So I asked a co-worked, who is part of a lesbian couple that had been pregnant, for advice. She suggested Planned Parenthood (not just for pregnant teenagers). I spoke with Pat, who saved me a trip to their office and the $50 fee. After talking on the phone for about 20 minutes, she sent me to Jan and Jodi at Ivy.

Both ladies are fabulous and supportive. When my initial bloodwork came back with the not great results, I could hear the empathy in Jan's voice. They've called me in the middle of weekly tests with questions they thought I should ask my insurance company. And after a month of observations -- ultrasounds and bloodwork and ovulation predictor sticks -- they will have a plan of action for me at the start of my next cycle.

Will it be fertility drugs? Or will it be adoption? Will it be another woman's eggs? The bottom line is, I'm going to be your momma -- no matter what. And after doing what it takes to get you, whatever it takes, I will love you more than life, and I will give you the best life I can.

Happy Birthday, Andrew

By the time I went to bed last night, I was feeling a little better. I, at least, was all cried out. I started to make a list of questions to ask the doctor when I go in next week.

And I pushed aside my feelings today, for a few hours, to go to the hospital to meet my brand new great-nephew, born at 7:39am. He’s beautiful and when I was holding him, I started to feel a little sad. But I remembered that it wasn’t about me today, it was about him. It was his day and I didn’t want to ruin this first moment with him.

I wished, however, that I had told more people in my family about my plans. I thought that I was being premature in telling anyone, but now, in hindsight, I wished I had. I could use the support as I deal with the ever growing list of questions about infertility and possibly adoption.

I could have used a hug today, a tight hug, from someone who would have known how difficult it was for me to even think about heading up to the maternity ward just hours after my niece gave birth. And it wasn’t just a trip up to the hospital, it was an hour-plus drive to Syracuse. And I know I could have faked a sore throat or something, but no matter how bad I was feeling about my own situation, I would never have missed that experience of meeting Andrew Jordan on his very first birthday.

Flashes of thoughts went through my mind as I held him — would he ever have a cousin from me? How great it’ll be, they’ll only be a few years apart. When I would think about my baby, I would imagine that I would have had him or her in later 2008 or early 2009. Just a couple years between my little one and Andrew, and with Ryan five years older than mine — they would have been the same number of years apart as me and my niece. That was a comforting thought.

And then the phone rang...

And then the plan went to hell.

I got back from a meeting this afternoon with a message from the OB/GYN. I called back and told them to call my cell phone. I wondered what it it could be about — I already have my consultation scheduled for next week. I thought the worst for a second; they’re going to tell me I can’t get pregnant. And then I shook that thought out of my head. It was probably something about my test results from my earlier pap or mammogram.

About a half hour later, the phone rang. “We got the blood work back, and I’m afraid I don’t have very good news.”

She said something about hormone levels, and the doctor looking at the results, and the very real possibility that I look into getting an egg donor. And she gave me numbers — levels that should have been under 50, and mine is at 123. I stammered something about cancelling the appointment for next week, and she said absolutely not. That she called to tell me so I could absorb the shock, so I could process it, so I could go into the appointment next week with questions.

My voice cracked, I heard the sympathy in hers and we said good-bye. And then I started to cry. This can’t be happening. I’m healthy. I’ve done things the right way. I don’t smoke, I hardly ever drink, I work out, I eat right. I’ve planned.

I cried hard for 10 minutes, after summoning Hope from down the hall on IM. She cried. She gave me good advise. “This is just one person’s opinion. This is not the end of the world. This is not a death sentence.”

I blew my nose, wiped my eyes, and got ready for my meeting in three minutes. It was the longest hour of my life, but I made it through. I shut my conputer down and went home. I talked to my sister-in-law, and started crying all over again. Harder this time, with the comfort of my own house around me. She said all the right things, didn’t try to sugar-coat it.

I tried to read but the words blurred. I tried to watch TV, but nothing made sense. I laid on the couch and fell asleep to back-to-back episodes of Law & Order (thank you, TNT). I felt a little better when I woke up, like it was a dream.

And even now, it seems surreal. Could this really be happening? Why can’t anything be easy, in relative terms, of course? If I was married and had to deal with infertility, I feel like it would be a little easier. I would have someone else going through the same things with me. I’m not married, I came to terms with that because I could still have a baby.

What possible thing could I have done in my past lives to warrant this? I talked to a girlfriend tonight, and she said the one thing no one else had, the one thing that I was afraid to say out loud, but needed to hear: “This is so god-damn unfair.”

It is unfair. And wrong on so many levels. I know fertility is a big issue, but it always seems to effect the wrong people. Not the 16-year-olds in Wal-mart with their three kids. But the adult professionals who work to get to this point in their life, when they are financially and emotionally stable to make this happen.

And now the binder, the planning, the pre-natal vitamins, even the Target registry, seem like a big cruel joke. Did I jinx myself?

Nesting

Or purging, in preparation for nesting. I’ve been cleaning all weekend. And planning — because, let’s face it, I’m a planner. Obsessively so.

I pulled all my Christmas stuff out from the closet — five big Rubbermaid bins. Unwrapped every ornament or knick-knack, and managed to purge out enough stuff (things I haven’t seen in 10 years) to get rid of two bins worth. And then I went through my books, CDs, tapes and DVDs.

I planned how the second bedroom will look as the nursery. I’ll keep one wall of all my bookshelves, because those won’t fit anywhere else; rip up the carpet, put down some flooring, and paint the walls a nice sage green (and then Piglet pink accents if I’m having a girl, and Eeyore blue for a boy).

And most exciting of all (yes, I’m a big nerd!), I made up my binder. I even typed up the tab dividers — doctor visits, insurance, pregnancy, nursery/fun stuff. I read through some articles and made questions for my next appointment.

It’s all about having a plan and being organized. I started to work on a budget — the big things I will need to buy — and priced the crib, changing table, etc at Target. I even started a registry so I could keep track of the prices.

And most importantly, I thought long and hard about how to ask my parents for some help. Everything fits into the budget, except the cost of sperm and the medical costs associated with trying to get pregnant. I’m going to ask them for whatever money they would have given me for my wedding.

And really, at this point, if I do ever get married, I’m over the huge lavish fancy wedding. At my age, I feel it would be inappropriate anyway.

I really feel like I’ve made peace with that. I’ve accepted that it may not ever happen, and now I’m moving on to what I can control.

The Baby Box

I know, I know. I’m not even pregnant yet. I haven’t even chosen my sperm donor yet. But I’ve started to collect things. I have a big Rubbermaid container in the closet of the second bedroom — what will someday, I hope, be the nursery.

I have a Babe Ruth night-light, and children’s sized small Yankees/Ruth shirt. A light purple teddy bear. Some onesies and cute little outfits I’ve found on sales racks. In both sexes. Some books. Some pajamas from Old Navy. There is a baby name book and a pregnancy/exercise book for dummies. Most things I have bought myself, but I have had help with things that are just too cute to pass up by my sister-in-law and niece.

And when I went to the OB last week, she gave me a new magazine. In it was a contest (also several drawings that I’ve already entered) — to win the editor’s registry. $5,000 worth of very cool baby stuff. And not silly, cute extra stuff. But really useful things — a bassinet, a nursing system, car seat and stroller, baby backpack carrier, etc.

My entry was really the start of this column (you say blog, I say column — someday I will fulfill my dream to be Carrie Bradshaw!) so I won’t bore you with the details of my entry. It’s the same stuff you’ve heard.

But here’s my question — the little thing niggling at the back of my brain. Am I jinxing myself? Am I buying stuff too early? Am I getting ahead of the game, counting my eggs before I even know if they’re viable, so to speak?

I do worry about that. And I worry that I’m setting myself up for a colossal disappointment. But I have to remember that if it’s meant to be…. Someone wise once told me that God doesn’t make mistakes. He isn’t going to suddenly look down and say, “oh my….Laurie is still single and childless….how did I let that happen?” And so maybe the single thing is all part of the master plan. I have to believe that. And I have to believe that I’m meant to be a mom…someday…somehow.

Mixed Reactions

When I was in Baltimore (on my way to Richmond) last month, I stopped to see friends. Part of me was considering asking Tim to be the sperm donor — but was really nervous about asking. It is kind of a personal thing.

Over beers, I told him about my decision. That I was going to be looking into getting pregnant by my next birthday. I was expecting a “that’s great, Red,” or “wow, how exciting.”

Instead, I got, “why would you want to do that on your own? You just need to get your hooks into some guy — you’re just not trying hard enough.”

I was stunned and shocked. Later, after I had time to digest it, it just made me really sad. I tried to make a joke out of it. “So I’m guessing if I need you to be a sperm donor, the answer is no.”

Well, I accomplished what I needed to. I asked about him giving me some baby batter — and got a definitive answer. What was most surprising was his attitude. I know that from some people I will hear things like this. I will get the negative response, when what I really want is positive and supportive. It is something I am going to have to live with, something I will need to develop a thick skin about. And something I will need to come up with a response to. I expect this kind of response from other people — I was completely off guard to hear it from Tim.

My family — I am the youngest of a large brood. Even now, at 37, I am still treated like the baby. I completely feel like they see me as less of an adult because I am unmarried, still single, childless. My niece, with her house, husband, three-year-old and baby on the way, is much more an adult than I am – at least that is how I see their perception of me. Short of marrying the next man I see, I don’t know how to change it. I just live with it.

So, I was pleasantly surprised — more than pleasantly — when I told one of my sisters (previously mentioned niece’s mom) of my plans. I needed to. I needed to know that I would have some family support.

She was excited. Truly excited to hear my news. And she got teary-eyed, and I got teary-eyed — and we hugged, and I told her I was so glad to hear that she was happy, that I didn’t know how much support I would get. She has no idea how much is entailed with that one sentence, but she hugged me tighter. And that one moment more than made up for Tim’s reaction.

The Master Plan

For as long as I can remember, I knew that I wanted to have a baby. And even way back when it seemed foolish to have such thoughts, I always knew that by a certain age, I would do it on my own if I never got married. Did I jinx myself? Or was it merely a foreshadowing to future events?

In my early 20’s, I said if not married by 32, then pregnant by 33. As my 30’s crept closer and closer, so too did my target age move up and up. Part of it was because I wasn’t in a strong enough financial situation to do it on my own. (Since graduation, I had always worked in the non-profit world. What I didn’t understand then, was that non-profit organizations make a profit. How would they survive otherwise? No, the non-profit part refers to its employees. No profit for me. It was all about paycheck to paycheck. Even now, three years removed from a non-profit, I am still paying on it — paying off credit cards that helped supplement my income.)

Enough of that….back to my pregnancy plan. So part of the decision to hold off was financial. The other part — the romantic optimist in me thought that if I did it on my own, I would be giving up on finding love. And I believed that for a long time. Part of me still does, but the need to be a mom (and the ever closing window on that opportunity) has grown stronger and squelched most of those thoughts.

Do I hope to someday get married? Absolutely. It’s just that now the whole image of the big wedding and the fancy dress and the 10 bridesmaids….it has been replaced by something much more subtle and age appropriate.

This past year, I finally made the decision to “shit or get off the pot.” And to do that, I needed to share my plan with people. That made it real. At Christmas, I told my sister-in-law. She was the right amount of happy, excited and cautious. She asked questions, and once satisfied that I truly had thought this out, gave me her unconditional support. Unfortunately, I don’t anticipate that coming from everyone in my family. So we’re keeping them in the dark for right now.

Next I told my closest friends. And really through the spring, it was nothing more than that — just talk of the plan — until I had my annual exam, and I had the talk with my doctor, who immediately prescribed prenatal vitamins. Suddenly, it seemed very real. And very exciting. And very scary.

I started thinking of baby names. That eased a little of the fear. Jack. Mason. Oliver. Sophie. Madeleine. Olivia. Thinking of my pre-conceived peanut’s name is calming. It makes me realize why I’m going through all of this on my own. I love this baby already, before it even exists. Having a name — even if I end up hating all of those by the time I deliver — makes it a real entity.

I took the next step last week — I had a physical at the office of a new OB/GYN. One who specializes in infertility. My situation is unique in that I won’t necessarily be infertile, but will be going through the process of a woman with fertility issues in how I try to get pregnant.

I met with Jan, an RN, who was so empathetic to my situation and so understanding, I knew I was in the right hands for this process. She glossed over stats and numbers, and told me not to get preoccupied on them, which I appreciated. She sent me home with two new magazines about pregnancy and conception. I’ve stopped taking the pill, and this month during my cycle will get blood work done to measure hormone and egg levels. And next month, I go back for a consultation.

If all looks good — if they determine that medically I should have no problem getting pregnant (minus the percentages because of my age) — we will chart my ovulation for a few months, so that after the holidays I can start shopping for some “baby batter.”

By the spring, my credit cards will be mostly paid off. My savings will have been built up to a safe cushion. And I will have gone through this thought process, talking through this plan with multiple professionals, for over a year. And then, I will spring it on my family. Can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that!

A Goal without a PLan is Just a Wish

I’ve been wishing for a baby since I was 16. Had I been a less-responsible girl, I would have a kid in college by now. But I waited, I did things the “right” way. I finished high school, I went to college. I got a job. I got a better job. I moved away from home for my dream job. And after five years of that, I wanted to be closer to my family.

And so I’ve been back in New York for three years. In all this time — the time between graduating college and moving back to New York, I’ve been in love exactly two times. Both were unrequited. This isn’t a pity-party — just the facts, ma’am.

All in all, in the course of doing things “right” I forgot that there are some things that are out of my control. The husband thing. Making the perfect man — or even the less than perfect man – fall madly in love with me.

And so here I am, three years from 40. Seriously planning, seriously about to have a baby. Well….seriously about to try to get pregnant.

This is my quest and my journey. I know it’s the right one for me. It would be so wrong if I were never a mom. It will suck completely and totally if I’m never a wife, but I can handle that. The world will be wrong — my life will be incomplete if I’m never a mom. Even if that means doing it on my own.

And it feels so right. And when I tell friends of my plans, nine and a half times out of 10, I hear, “you’re going to be an amazing mom.” (We’ll discuss the half a time, I haven’t heard that at a later date — remind me.)

I’ve started collecting things — a Babe Ruth night light, a purple teddy bear, “Good Night Moon,” and penguin jammies. All these things in a box for my not-yet-conceived little one, my pre-conceived notion.