Category Archives: the big guns

One Year Ago, Yesterday

I was at the end of my TTC rope.

I was ready to give up.

Maybe I would try one more time without drugs with a yet-unidentified fresh donor, but that was it.

I was ready to start begging my straight friends for just a little bit of their husbands’ baby juice.

I was so happy I already had Cakie.  Thinking about him being an only child.  We could send him to private school.  We could buy him fancy things.  I could get rid of all those clothes and baby things taking up space in the closet.  I was preparing myself to rationalize giving up.

One year ago yesterday, I had an insem with the doctor I didn’t much like.  I went alone.  My honey was skating on thin employment ice with the amount of time she’d taken off while we were TTC.

I was forced to take the whole day off from work.

I left the doctor’s office and bought some green tea from a coffee truck.

I walked through Central Park drinking my green tea, even though I was wearing new, rather uncomfortable shoes.  I walked to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I stared at Gala Eluard. I felt the cramps the whole time.  My ovaries had maybe even already released that egg.  My last-ever paid-for donor sperm was swimming swimming.  Some time during that walk through the museum or the park (at least I prefer to think it happened there, than on the subway) egg did finally meet sperm.  Finally.

Maybe only people like us celebrate the anniversary of conception.

I, for one, will never forget it.



Filed under IUI, NYC What is it about you?, the big guns, TTC

Happy Birthday to….

…my blog!  And my mom!

I won’t say how old my mother is.  She looks almost as young as me and her spirit is that of a twenty-year-old while I still sometimes trip over into worried grandma mode.  So happy happy, My Mama.

My blog is one year old today.  I thought I’d do what I’ve seen some folks do before.  I’ll give you my favorite posts by month.

One year ago I was getting impatient with trying to get pregnant at home.  I was a lot younger, I feel, than I am today.  Not in a good or bad way.  I just feel like a lot has happened in a year.  I decided to blog about it.  I think it was a good decision.  This blog and the folks who read it have become an important part of my life.  Though I’ve managed to pis$ some people off (including myself) with the blog, overall I’m glad I decided to show what I own.

In May I went to my first appointment with Dr. Mug– the man who eventually knocked me up, so to speak.  One post that comes up a lot from May was about how my neighbor and I were both on Clomid, so we called ourselves the WonderTwins.  For some reason beyond my ken, there are folks–lots of them– who want to know if Clomid will give them twins, or more nuttily, how they can get twins by taking Clomid.  So they google “Clomid Twins” and come up with that blog  entry.  But my favorite post from May was about Biology.  I had run out of my Cakie donor sperm.  I mused about why biology seems so important to so many of us.

In June I wrote my most popular post ever.  It gives me an ego boost, my dears.  And it really makes me happy that I’m writing my book finally.

In July I found my babydaddy…er — donor.

August found me driving back and forth from Wildwood, NJ to Manhattan several times while on “vacation” to get my blood-tests and an IUI.  Then, I soon found out that just because I act like a martyr, does not mean I get to be a  pregnant martyr.  You guys cheered me up.  Thanks for that.

September was a little crazy.  I did my first round of injectionables.  The timing was off, so I only had one good egg.  In other words, I gave myself an injection in the stomach every day for two weeks for no reason at all.  Then I got even crazier and became conVINCED I was pregnant because my b0obs hurt.  I mean, they hurt just like a pregnant lady’s b00bs hurt.  Now I know.  So I was walking around as though I were pregnant, touching my belly, talking to the “embryo,” etc.  Of course when the blood came that month it was a really bad scene.  I was cheered up, however by the arrival of a certain blessed star.

October was a very lucky month indeed.  Egg met sperm at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  How cool is that?

I didn’t find out about the eggy/spermy rendezvous until November.  It was weird.  I didn’t really want to tell people, once I knew for sure and I had gotten the pink ghost and the beta.  But you all were checking and checking and checking, so I had to let you know.  That’s when I pissed myself off. I’d blogged myself into a corner, so to speak.

This post is taking about a year to write.  I need to go lie down.  I’ve covered the TTC portion of the year.  Tomorrow I’ll write part II about my pregnancy.

Thanks for reading.  Have some cake.


Filed under blogitty blog blog, First Trimester, IUI, LGBT, My Book, NYC What is it about you?, sperm shopping, the big guns, TTC, Waiting and waiting and...

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

I’m almost getting used to the taste of my feet.  They have spent a lot of time in my mouth.

But I have to take some effort, perhaps minor surgery, to remove both of them this time.

You see, I compared a wonderful person and good friend to a kind of gross and crazy character on a sitcom.  In order to clarify, I will now compare and contrast my neighbor and former TTC buddy, Gwen, to the tall and bizarre Seinfeld character, Cosmo Kramer.

There are two and only two ways the Gwen is like Kramer, which is the only reason I ever put my foot in my mouth in the first place, the first way is why I said it in a prior post:

1. If my doorbell rings when I’m not expecting anyone, it is probably Gwen.

2. She’s a little crazy.  But she’s only crazy insomuch as all New Yorkers are crazy.  First, you need to be crazy to spend so much money to live in such a cramped, dirty city with millions of other crazy people.   Plus, if you weren’t crazy when you got here, it makes you kind of crazy.  She is no more crazy than me.  She is waaaaaaay less crazy than any Seinfeld character.

3.  (Oops, I just thought of one more.  Sorry, Gwen.)  Ok, Kramer is my favorite character on Seinfeld.  He is my favorite character because he is entertaining and he doesn’t care what other people think.  Gwen is that way, too.  But she’s that way in a Gwen way, not a Kramer way.  That’s why I like her.  I don’t think she has ever made me bored.

Here are some of the MANY ways Gwen differs from Kramer:

1. She rings the doorbell. Kramer just walks in.

2. She’s not tall and goofy looking, she’s petite and pretty.

3. She’s a girl.  A pregnant girl. A pregnant with two girl twins girl.

4. Kramer is a mooch.  Gwen is the opposite of a mooch.  She is addicted to sharing and giving.   We call each other’s kitchens, “The Other Pantry.”  She always pays back and replaces things, like, threefold.  Once she broke one of my wine glasses and bought me four new ones.  I hadn’t even remembered that she broke one.

5. Kramer never watches my kid. But Gwen is occasionally referred to as Cake’s third mom.  In fact, after she watched, fed, bathed and pajama-ed him tonight while we were at our midwife orientation (all despite the fact that I compared her to Kramer in a blog post), he was running up to her, hugging her legs and yelling, Mommy!  Mama! Mommy! Mama.  She watches him a lot.  I will pay her back when those little girls get here, for reals.

6. Gwen has a job.  You know?  She earns money and stuff.

7. Did I mention she’s pretty?

8. Gwen never gets me into strange predicaments.  The closest she got was when we had our book club, and I knew she was pregnant with twins, but no-one else did.  And the book involved a birth of twins.  Everyone started telling these twin birth horror stories, however I was too drunk after just getting my period to think of a clever way to stop the conversation without revealing her secret.  She ended it pretty quickly by saying, “Ummm, guys?  I’m pregnant with twins.”

9. I trust Gwen with a needle to my belly.  How many people would you let stab you in the stomach night after night?  She gave me all of my Menopur shots. (And Ovidrel) Pretty much all of them.  That’s how much she kicks ass as a friend.

10.  As far as I know, Gwen has never housed Japanese tourists in her dresser, comandeered a firetruck, or published a coffee table book about coffee tables.  But that’s only as far as I know.

There are a zillion other ways she differs from Cosmo.  Too many to list here.  I hope someday she could see it in her humongous heart to forgive my sorry ass.  Until then, I’m going to go whip myself with a wet noodle… er, fusilli.


Filed under family, the big guns, TTC

A Little Better

Today I felt a little less mean.

I was a little less stressed.

I also felt crampy like I’m going to get my period.  I actually checked when I went to the bathroom.

I’m trying not to twinge, so I’m thinking that it is an injectionable thing.

Thanks for telling me I don’t look old.  Especially my mom, who is thirty years older than me and doesn’t actually look old.  I do look a bit ragged after a long crying jaunt, however.

Thanks everybody!


Filed under the big guns, Waiting and waiting and...

Thanks to the Injectionables

Day 5 po

I have lost my ever-loving mind.

I will cry and hate myself over the dumbest things.  This morning I couldn’t find five spelling tests that I actually took home in my jeans pocket last week.  I left the house calling myself an idiot and weeping.  I cried myself to sleep last night for no good reason.  A big part of it was because I don’t feel pregnant.  AND when I glanced in the mirror, I looked old.

I’ve pretty much lost all control of my emotions.  I don’t envy my honey.


Filed under the big guns, Waiting and waiting and...

Well, duh.

TS Eliot has some great quote about once you’ve looked long and hard for something, you’ll find that you already found it when you started.  Here it is:

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

I found something yesterday. It made me chuckle a bit and almost cry a little, too.

Sitting atop one of the many piles of crap that has accumulated in my bedroom since construction on my kitchen started was a paper from the nurse at my RE’s office. The heading read, “Your Ovarian Stimulation Cycle.” Hmmm. I just did that. Maybe I should look this over one more time. I’ll copy for you word-for-word the third paragraph. It answers a lot of questions I had last cycle (and actually last night):

The common side effects of these medications may include exaggerated symptoms of your menstrual cycle: abdominal bloating, breast tenderness, mood swings, slight nausea or fatigue.

There you have it, folks. I am the kind of person who reads things when they are given to me. Especially when they are in regard to my health or financial well-being. Apparently, I don’t retain much. I have known all along why my boobs hurt. And now I know why this cycle I am tired, cranky, bloated and have tender brea$ts. All of those symptoms were not as bad today, though, since I knew why I was having them.

PS I found a bunch of other Eliot quotes that tickled my fancy.  Even though he was anti-semetic, I just can’t help but appreciate the guy.  Here are my two favorites:

As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug’s game. No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: He may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing.


The most important thing for poets to do is to write as little as possible.

PPS Can you tell that I discovered the block quote function on my blog today?


Filed under blogitty blog blog, the big guns, Waiting and waiting and...

Day 3 po: Not Twinging, Just Whining

A general feeling of yuck has washed over me.

My boobs hurt and every time they get elbowed by my son or accidentally bumped into, I am reminded of how last month I fell for that pain hook, line and sinker.  I am reminded of the positive pregnancy test dreams I had one after the other the night before I got my period.  It doesn’t help the pain in my boobs feel any better.

My back hurts.  My feet hurt.  I’m bitchy.  I may as well already have my period.  OOOooh, and get this… this might be TMI, but if you’re reading my blog you must already be prepared for TMI.  You know when you hold your  too-full bladder for a really long time?  And then you finally get to go?  And it hurts as though your bladder had been stretched out of shape?  My ovaries feel that way.  They’ve felt that way for the last three days.  The poor dears.  I hope I didn’t do any permenent damage to them.

I have a theory about the bitchiness as well.  For me, the Menopur injectionables make me nice.  I’m happy and it is hard to piss me off when I’m taking them.  I think maybe I’m having Menopur WDs.  I just need one more fix.   My poor students have a hormone junky for a teacher.

11 more days of whining.  To top it all off, I’m trying to eat well because I have to write everything down for my nutritionist.  Eating well just makes me hungry.  I’m hungry.  No amount of nuts or oats seem to be filling me up, either.

I will conclude the whine-fest as I am even annoying myself.  It does feel good to say all of that, though and I even feel a little better. Thanks for listening.


Filed under teaching, the big guns, Waiting and waiting and...