Thursday, July 30, 2009

Infertility Etiquette

I found this on another woman's blog. While it is lengthy, reading it was somewhat comforting to me -- realizing that my reactions (whether aloud or in my head) to certain things were not unreasonable or abnormal.


Infertility Etiquette
By Vita Alligood

Chances are, you know someone who is struggling with infertility. More than five million people of childbearing age in the United States experience infertility. Yet, as a society, we are woefully uninformed about how to best provide emotional support for our loved ones during this painful time.

Infertility is, indeed, a very painful struggle. The pain is similar to the grief over losing a loved one, but it is unique because it is a recurring grief. When a loved one dies, he isn't coming back. There is no hope that he will come back from the dead. You must work through the stages of grief, accept that you will never see this person again, and move on with your life.

The grief of infertility is not so cut and dry. Infertile people grieve the loss of the baby that they may never know. They grieve the loss of that baby who would have had mommy's nose and daddy's eyes. But, each month, there is the hope that maybe that baby will be conceived after all. No matter how hard they try to prepare themselves for bad news, they still hope that this month will be different. Then, the bad news comes again, and the grief washes over the infertile couple anew. This process happens month after month, year after year. It is like having a deep cut that keeps getting opened right when it starts to heal.

As the couple moves into infertility treatments, the pain increases while the bank account depletes. Most infertility treatments involve using hormones, which alter the user's moods. (That statement is like calling a lion a cat-my husband would tell you that the side effect is insanity!) The tests are invasive and embarrassing to both parties, and you feel like the doctor has taken over your bedroom. And for all of this discomfort, you pay a lot of money. Infertility treatments are expensive, and most insurance companies do not cover the costs. So, in addition to the pain of not conceiving a baby each month, the couple pays out anywhere from $300 to five figures, depending upon the treatment used.

A couple will eventually resolve the infertility problem in one of three ways:

• They will eventually conceive a baby.
• They will stop the infertility treatments and choose to live without children.
• They will find an alternative way to parent, such as by adopting a child or becoming a foster parent.

Reaching a resolution can take years, so your infertile loved ones need your emotional support during this journey. Most people don't know what to say, so they wind up saying the wrong thing, which only makes the journey so much harder for their loved ones. Knowing what not to say is half of the battle to providing support.

Don't Tell Them to Relax
Everyone knows someone who had trouble conceiving but then finally became pregnant once she "relaxed." Couples who are able to conceive after a few months of "relaxing" are not infertile. By definition, a couple is not diagnosed as "infertile" until they have tried unsuccessfully to become pregnant for a full year. In fact, most infertility specialists will not treat a couple for infertility until they have tried to become pregnant for a year. This year weeds out the people who aren't infertile but just need to "relax." Those that remain are truly infertile.

Comments such as "just relax" or "try going on a cruise" create even more stress for the infertile couple, particularly the woman. The woman feels like she is doing something wrong when, in fact, there is a good chance that there is a physical problem preventing her from becoming pregnant.

These comments can also reach the point of absurdity. As a couple, my husband and I underwent two surgeries, numerous inseminations, hormone treatments, and four years of poking and prodding by doctors. Yet, people still continued to say things like, "If you just relaxed on a cruise . . ." Infertility is a diagnosable medical problem that must be treated by a doctor, and even with treatment, many couples will NEVER successfully conceive a child. Relaxation itself does not cure medical infertility.

Don't Minimize the Problem
Failure to conceive a baby is a very painful journey. Infertile couples are surrounded by families with children. These couples watch their friends give birth to two or three children, and they watch those children grow while the couple goes home to the silence of an empty house. These couples see all of the joy that a child brings into someone's life, and they feel the emptiness of not being able to experience the same joy.

Comments like, "Just enjoy being able to sleep late . . . .travel . . etc.," do not offer comfort. Instead, these comments make infertile people feel like you are minimizing their pain. You wouldn't tell somebody whose parent just died to be thankful that he no longer has to buy Father's Day or Mother's Day cards. Losing that one obligation doesn't even begin to compensate for the incredible loss of losing a parent. In the same vein, being able to sleep late or travel does not provide comfort to somebody who desperately wants a child.

Don't Say There Are Worse Things That Could Happen
Along the same lines, don't tell your friend that there are worse things that she could be going through. Who is the final authority on what is the "worst" thing that could happen to someone? Is it going through a divorce? Watching a loved one die? Losing a job?

Different people react to different life experiences in different ways. To someone who has trained his whole life for the Olympics, the "worst" thing might be experiencing an injury the week before the event. To someone who has walked away from her career to become a stay-at-home wife for 40 years, watching her husband leave her for a younger woman might be the "worst" thing. And, to a woman whose sole goal in life has been to love and nurture a child, infertility may indeed be the "worst" thing that could happen.

People wouldn't dream of telling someone whose parent just died, "It could be worse: both of your parents could be dead." Such a comment would be considered cruel rather than comforting. In the same vein, don't tell your friend that she could be going through worse things than infertility.

Don't Say They Aren't Meant to Be Parents
One of the cruelest things anyone ever said to me is, "Maybe God doesn't intend for you to be a mother." How incredibly insensitive to imply that I would be such a bad mother that God felt the need to divinely sterilize me. If God were in the business of divinely sterilizing women, don't you think he would prevent the pregnancies that end in abortions? Or wouldn't he sterilize the women who wind up neglecting and abusing their children? Even if you aren't religious, the "maybe it's not meant to be" comments are not comforting. Infertility is a medical condition, not a punishment from God or Mother Nature.

Don't Complain About Your Pregnancy
This message is for pregnant women-Just being around you is painful for your infertile friends. Seeing your belly grow is a constant reminder of what your infertile friend cannot have. Unless an infertile women plans to spend her life in a cave, she has to find a way to interact with pregnant women. However, there are things you can do as her friend to make it easier.

The number one rule is DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT YOUR PREGNANCY. I understand from my friends that, when you are pregnant, your hormones are going crazy and you experience a lot of discomfort, such as queasiness, stretch marks, and fatigue. You have every right to vent about the discomforts to any one else in your life, but don't put your infertile friend in the position of comforting you.

Your infertile friend would give anything to experience the discomforts you are enduring because those discomforts come from a baby growing inside of you. When I heard a pregnant woman complain about morning sickness, I would think, "I'd gladly throw up for nine straight months if it meant I could have a baby." When a pregnant woman would complain about her weight gain, I would think, "I would cut off my arm if I could be in your shoes."

I managed to go to baby showers and hospitals to welcome my friends' new babies, but it was hard. Without exception, it was hard. Stay sensitive to your infertile friend's emotions, and give her the leeway that she needs to be happy for you while she cries for herself. If she can't bring herself to hold your new baby, give her time. She isn't rejecting you or your new baby; she is just trying to work her way through her pain to show sincere joy for you. The fact that she is willing to endure such pain in order to celebrate your new baby with you speaks volumes about how much your friendship means to her.

Don't Treat Them Like They Are Ignorant
For some reason, some people seem to think that infertility causes a person to become unrealistic about the responsibilities of parenthood. I don't follow the logic, but several people told me that I wouldn't ache for a baby so much if I appreciated how much responsibility was involved in parenting.

Let's face it-no one can fully appreciate the responsibilities involved in parenting until they are, themselves, parents. That is true whether you successfully conceived after one month or after 10 years. The length of time you spend waiting for that baby does not factor in to your appreciation of responsibility. If anything, people who have been trying to become pregnant longer have had more time to think about those responsibilities. They have also probably been around lots of babies as their friends started their families.

Perhaps part of what fuels this perception is that infertile couples have a longer time to "dream" about what being a parent will be like. Like every other couple, we have our fantasies-my child will sleep through the night, would never have a tantrum in public, and will always eat his vegetables. Let us have our fantasies. Those fantasies are some of the few parent-to-be perks that we have-let us have them. You can give us your knowing looks when we discover the truth later.

Don't Push Adoption
Adoption is a wonderful way for infertile people to become parents. (As an adoptive parent, I can fully vouch for this!!) However, the couple needs to work through many issues before they will be ready to make an adoption decision. Before they can make the decision to love a "stranger's baby," they must first grieve the loss of that baby with Daddy's eyes and Mommy's nose. Adoption social workers recognize the importance of the grieving process. When my husband and I went for our initial adoption interview, we expected the first question to be, "Why do you want to adopt a baby?" Instead, the question was, "Have you grieved the loss of your biological child yet?" Our social worker emphasized how important it is to shut one door before you open another.

You do, indeed, need to grieve this loss before you are ready to start the adoption process. The adoption process is very long and expensive, and it is not an easy road. So, the couple needs to be very sure that they can let go of the hope of a biological child and that they can love an adopted baby. This takes time, and some couples are never able to reach this point. If your friend cannot love a baby that isn't her "own," then adoption isn't the right decision for her, and it is certainly not what is best for the baby.

Mentioning adoption in passing can be a comfort to some couples. (The only words that ever offered me comfort were from my sister, who said, "Whether through pregnancy or adoption, you will be a mother one day.") However, "pushing" the issue can frustrate your friend. So, mention the idea in passing if it seems appropriate, and then drop it. When your friend is ready to talk about adoption, she will raise the issue herself.

So, what can you say to your infertile friends? Unless you say "I am giving you this baby," there is nothing you can say that will erase their pain. So, take that pressure off of yourself. It isn't your job to erase their pain, but there is a lot you can do to lesson the load. Here are a few ideas.

Let Them Know That You Care
The best thing you can do is let your infertile friends know that you care. Send them cards. Let them cry on your shoulder. If they are religious, let them know you are praying for them. Offer the same support you would offer a friend who has lost a loved one. Just knowing they can count on you to be there for them lightens the load and lets them know that they aren't going through this alone.

Remember Them on Mother's Day
With all of the activity on Mother's Day, people tend to forget about women who cannot become mothers. Mother's Day is an incredibly painful time for infertile women. You cannot get away from it-There are ads on the TV, posters at the stores, church sermons devoted to celebrating motherhood, and all of the plans for celebrating with your own mother and mother-in-law.

Mother's Day is an important celebration and one that I relish now that I am a mother. However, it was very painful while I was waiting for my baby. Remember your infertile friends on Mother's Day, and send them a card to let them know you are thinking of them. They will appreciate knowing that you haven't "forgotten" them.

Support Their Decision to Stop Treatments
No couple can endure infertility treatments forever. At some point, they will stop. This is an agonizing decision to make, and it involves even more grief. Even if the couple chooses to adopt a baby, they must still first grieve the loss of that baby who would have had mommy's nose and daddy's eyes.

Once the couple has made the decision to stop treatments, support their decision. Don't encourage them to try again, and don't discourage them from adopting, if that is their choice. Once the couple has reached resolution (whether to live without children, adopt a child, or become foster parents), they can finally put that chapter of their lives behind them. Don't try to open that chapter again.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Gold Star for J!

Finally, some good news from the doctor! J had a semen analysis a few months ago (with our old RE) and while his results were decent (and in some cases, off the charts!), there were one or two areas, including motility, that were slightly iffy. I brought this up to one of the nurses recently and she agreed that it might be a good idea for him to be tested again. If his results were better this time, the plan would be to continue with "timed intercourse." If not, we would need to consider moving on to IUI (intrauterine insemination).

The nurse called this morning with good news! J passed his test with "flying colors" in all areas, including binding, which measures the maturity of the sperm and its ability to bind with the female egg. What a relief!

Monday, July 27, 2009

PCOS -- Anyone out there?!

When I was first diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, I felt very alone and isolated. I'd never heard of PCOS before and had to learn about it mostly through the good ol' internet. I should mention that my doctor didn't even think to diagnose me! My Dad, a Family Doctor, mentioned that it was something I should check into. Thank GOD for this. If he hadn't said something to me, who knows how long it would have taken me to figure it out. My doctor ran some tests, determined that I didn't have PCOS, and that was that. Luckily, J and I made an appointment with a Reproductive Endocrinologist to get a second opinion. She did a more thorough check, including an ultrasound, and determined that there was no question: I definitely had it. This was frustrating for me, because PCOS is something that girls acquire around puberty, so why had no one thought to check into this earlier? Are doctors properly educated about this condition? Had I just been seeing the wrong doctor? Should my doctor have been asking better questions earlier on? I wonder how many women out there suffer from PCOS and don't even know it.

Even though about 5% of women have PCOS, I've only met one or two of them. I feel like because some of the symptoms of PCOS are less than flattering (and somewhat embarrassing), no one talks about it. I've searched high and low for some sort of PCOS support group nearby and have found nothing. I think it would be very beneficial for women suffering from PCOS to be able to meet with others for the purpose of education and comradery. Why does this not seem to exist?

I caught a bit of NPR's "Tell Me More" on the way home today. Michel Martin was interviewing a man and a woman who have both (separately) gone through the heartbreaking reality of stillbirth. They both noted that their doctors had not prepared them for this possibility, the hospital staff didn't seem to know what to do with them or how to hep them afterwards, and their friends and family had no idea what to say to them. So, most of what they received from all parties was silence. Now, I'm definitely not equating infertility with the tragedy of stillbirth or miscarriage, but I think they all carry a similar problem. I'm still trying to figure out why it is so taboo to discuss any of these things in our country. I, myself, have been fairly private about J and my struggles with infertility, and yet I yearn for others who have gone through similar journeys. How can we retain the amount of privacy that we need, but at the same time find other people like us to talk to? I guess the jury is still out on that one.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Looking Forward

J and I went home (well, my parents' home...my old home) this weekend for the engagement party. I got a chance to speak with a family friend who has gone through similar struggles. Finding and talking to others that know what we're going through seems to really help (...and I'm hoping to find more of those people through this blog!). She echoed my intermittent feelings of anger -- she said there were times when she would shut her car doors and just scream. I told her that I fantasize from time to time about throwing dishes against the wall, and she seemed to think that was perfectly normal. Let me be clear: I don't usually feel this way, just now and again when I'm at the height of frustration. It truly is a rollercoaster, and my feelings about things ebb and flow.

I spoke to my family about J and I planning to take a couple of cycles off in order to (hopefully) avoid not being able to attend my brother's wedding. They were all against this and encouraged us to keep plowing ahead. Which is very sweet, when you think about it -- even my brother and his fiance couldn't stand the thought of us putting a hold on things for their sake. I think they misunderstood and have overestimated our kindness. We're not being selfless, we just really want to go to that darn wedding!

The tentative plan is to take 3 cycles off and resume in October, or whenever that would fall. If I have exactly 28 day cycles (which is rare, although less so when I ovulate), that would put our due date at the end of July 2010, if we were lucky enough to get pregnant. My prayers as of late have been for timing. The right timing, which isn't necessarily going to be sooner rather than later. If I gain anything out of this experience, it will be patience.

You know, it might be nice. Almost nice, at least. Since we began this process we've lost the ability to lose track of time. We no longer say things like, "Wow, the last couple of weeks have just flown by!" It's impossible, as we are constantly aware of every passing day. Every day means something different: A pill to swallow, a shot to administer, a test to take. I'm more in tune with my body than I ever wished to be. The fact that I'm blogging about something as personal as my cycles is something I really never thought would be happening, and yet, here I am. So, really, it might be a nice breath of fresh air to let the next few months pass us by without being so absurdly aware of the calendar. And to enjoy them! I think it is very easy to deal with something like this on such a regular basis that you forget to live the life that is going on around you. I don't want to miss out on months, even years of our lives together because we are too busy planning and hoping for the future.

To my family & friends who may be reading: I should have included a side note when I told you about this blog. I wanted you to know about it so that you could be as in-the-know as you want to be about our plans and experiences, but obviously I will be ranting from time to time. Please don't think I "asked you here" so that you would feel sorry for us. The venting just helps me to cope!


Thursday, July 23, 2009

Plan E

One of the nurses (have I mentioned yet how much we love them?) called this morning with her ever-chipper, always-empathetic voice and our new plan. We're going to try Femara (pills) and Follistim (injections) again, but at a higher dosage. This is was J and I were hoping for. We saw decent results with this last time, and we're hoping that a higher dosage will kick them into high gear. She told me that our new dose is 100 and our old dose was 75, although I'm not sure if she was referring to the Femara or Follistim. She's sending a packet out to us today so that we can get all of our medications, syringes, etc. ordered in plenty of time.

We still haven't completely decided when we want to start again. Well, correction: We WANT to start 5 minutes ago. But, I couldn't bear to miss my brother's wedding. It would really be devastating to me if I couldn't be there -- your little brother only gets married once! She said we could start as soon as one month from now, but we're strongly considering waiting until September, or even October. We don't have to decide right now, luckily. With me having to jump-start my periods with Provera about 1/2 the time, it's highly possible that 4 weeks would turn into 6 weeks. I think we'll just need to sit down and examine (read: obsess over) the calendar. As the nurse reminded me, some women have to go on bed rest or can't travel ridiculously early into their pregnancies, so we only have so much control over the timing.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Empathy Deficiency

I'm sorry to report that I've become completely unsympathetic to other people's problems. For instance:

Friend: My grandmother just died.
Me: Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. J and I have been unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant for a year and a half, have flushed countless dollars down the drain, and have endured months upon months of an emotional rollercoaster that has, so far, always ended in heartache. I WIN!

Okay, so that didn't actually happen, and I'm not QUITE that insensitive. But I'm afraid that I'm about one BFN away from bitter. I'm having real, actual trouble empathizing with loved ones (people I REALLY love! and care about!) when they are having problems that I don't think measure up to my problems. This isn't fair! I shouldn't be acting this way! I've always been a firm believer in people's right to complain to friends and feel upset, even if someone else can trump their problems. I mean, there is always someone out there that has you beat -- that doesn't make your troubles less important to you. I need to keep this in perspective. (I should also mention that the grandmother example was a complete exaggeration -- obviously a death in the family is a very serious, sad thing).

I admitted how badly I've been mentally behaving to my dearest friend, R, today. She (unlike me) was very understanding and assured me that I have a right to feel this way sometimes. Very sweet of her. And I know that I have the right to feel upset/angry/frustrated with everything that J and I are dealing with right now, but I do need to remember that my friends & family have that same right. They are dealing with things, too. Must. Remember. This.

On a lighter note, today was Day 2 of J-teaches-M-tennis. I'm not quite as terrible as I thought I would be! My forearm is very sore; I'm not sure I've ever used that muscle before. S'riously. But, for now, I'm enjoying it. I'm not sure how much exercise I'm getting, but hey, it beats sitting on the couch, right? And I must report that J is an excellent, incredibly patient coach.

J and I are going home this weekend for my brother and future-sister-in-law's engagement party at my parents house. It should be a rockin' good time! I like to think of my Mom's side of the family as a slightly less crazy (albeit just as loud) version of the family in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," and I mean that in the most endearing way possible. Cliche, but true. It will be great to spend some time with them and take my mind off things for a couple of days. Plus, my brother and his fiance live far, far away, and we only see each other 2-3 times/year, so, icing on the cake.

TTC Speak

I suppose I should clear up some of the abbreviation confusion, for all of you non-TTC people out there!

TTC = trying to conceive
PCOS = Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (or, "huge load of crap")
AF = Aunt Flow (yuck, I know)
BFN = Big Fat Negative
BFP = Big Fat Positive
OPK = Ovulation Predictor Kit
CD = cycle day
RE = Reproductive Endocrinologist

BFN #4

Well, there it is. BFN followed only hours later by an unwelcome visit from AF. The good news is, I prepared myself for this yesterday and already went through the mourning phase. The bad news is, it still sucks.

And now, a word about lying. I've actually started to avoid catching up with old friends because I h-a-t-e dealing with the, "Soooo, when are you two going to have kids?!" question. How can I answer that? I don't want to delve into our fertility story with anyone outside of very close friends and family. But, I've also never been much for lying. So, it always creates a bit of an awkward situation. I usually shrug and say something like, "Dunno! We're not quite there yet." When, in my head, I'm screaming, "WE'VE BEEN THERE FOR AGES! WE'RE DOING EVERYTHING WE CAN!" Of course, this well-intentioned friend has no idea what we're going through and means no harm. It's a simple question. We've been married for almost 4 years; it's time, right?

And it is time. We've always known that we want a family. J is EXCELLENT with kids. I know he's going to make an exceptional father. Neither of us can see a chubby little baby without making an obnoxious noise, noting how cute he or she is. We casually discussed when we wanted kids back in early 2007. We were so arrogant. We had it planned down to the month. "Well, if we have a baby between X-month and X-month, that will be perfect for your work schedule!" Ha. Little did we know. Although, somewhere in my head, I always knew I would be an issue. I knew my periods were irregular, and I knew that couldn't be good.

So, here we are. I'm off to call the nurse and deliver the news. Plan the next step. Then wait.

Darn that PCOS...

Like many other women out there, I suffer from PCOS. And it sucks. I was diagnosed about a year and a half ago, but looking back, I should have known all along. I am a walking poster child. I have it all: weight woes (especially in my mid-section), acne past the age of 20, the threat of insulin resistance, and, you guessed it, issues with infertility.

When my husband, J, and I found out about my having PCOS, my emotions were mixed. Was I to feel relieved to be able to put a name with a face, or scared for the infertility road ahead? I suppose a mixture of both was in order. My fasting blood sugar was a bit high, at 107, and I have always had irregular periods, but mostly, I mean, LOOK at me!

The first fertility doctor we went to (and I say "first" because she didn't last long with us) immediately put me on Metformin. 2000mg/day, which I have been told is a lot. My sugars almost immediately dropped 10 points. My periods became a bit more regular, but I've still had to jump-start them with Provera about 1/2 the time.

After 3 months of ovulation kits (and no luck), we tried Clomid (100mg). No luck. No luck, and NO support from our doctor or her staff of cranky nurses. J and I decided to take a family friend's advice and try a different doctor. We have no idea how long this road will be, so we'd like to be on it with someone we like!

This turned out to be a wonderful decision. The doctor is great and his staff is even better. They are so kind and nurturing -- we couldn't be happier with them!

We tried Clomid twice more. Nada. My follicles got up to around 18mm at the largest, but still no BFP.

So, onto bigger, better, more expensive, more painful things. Femara and Follistim, to be exact. Follistim sounds so innocent until you realize it is an injection that goes into your abdomen for 5-6 days straight. Yikes. Although, turned out not to be as terrifying as I originally thought. We went in on CD12 for the big ultrasound. My largest follicles were 17.5mm and 18mm, which wasn't the size I had hoped for. J tried to console me and convince me that these results were decent, if not good, as I had a minor breakdown at McDonald's after our appointment. Should I be eating McDonald's? Probably not. Anyway. Next day, hCG trigger shot, administered beautifully by J. Then, timed intercourse (doesn't that just sound sexy?). Then, the dreaded two-week-wait.

You know, every cycle I CONVINCE myself that I'm going to behave. I'm not going to obsess over every "symptom" of early pregnancy. I'm not going to scour the internet for clues. Well, folks, this never seems to work out. Here I am, once again, obsessing. What does that entail? Well, I'll tell ya:

- Checking my breasts constantly. Are they sore? A little? How about now?
- Cramps: Like PMS, or early pregnancy?
- Wait, is that NAUSEA I feel? Must be, right?
- *Yawn* I could use a nap. I guess I know what that means.

And so on, and so forth. Embarrassing, really. But, after all of that internet-scouring, I'm starting to realize that this is actually perfectly normal TTC behavior.

By yesterday (CD26), I had myself completely convinced that I was pregnant. I did the due date calculator. I fantasized about how we would tell our family and friends. I even joked with J about whether or not we should sign up to be on "A Baby Story" (this is a joke, as we would NEVER consider such a ridiculous thing).

We were instructed to test tomorrow, but I have a rotten feeling about it. I started spotting a bit today, and I'm fairly sure (based on every period I've ever had in my life) that means tomorrow is going to be CD1 all over again. I spent about an hour in mourning, sobbing to J that "it isn't fair" and "it shouldn't be this hard." And it shouldn't be! Look at all those people out there getting knocked up in what must be record time! I think half of my Facebook friends have either a picture of their newborn or their baby-belly as their profile picture (which makes me want to vomit, until I realize that, someday, I'll probably do the same). How is it possible that we have spent nearly $3,000, gone through months and months of heartache, and have nothing to show for it?

This wouldn't be so bad, except for the fact that we will now have to take 1-3 months off. Our doctor told us that after a cycle as intense as Femara & Follistim, a month off is necessary. Then, we really have to take 1-2 additional months off to make sure I'm not 9 months pregnant (or worse, bed-ridden) during my younger brother's wedding next summer. 3 months off?! How will I keep my sanity? I am not a go-with-the-flow kind of person. Not even a little bit. I enjoy control, which is part of what makes this so hard.

So, after my mini-breakdown tonight, I decided to do a few things:

1. Start a blog. Perhaps it will be therapeutic for me.
2. Order "Fertility Foods" and vow to start cooking more/eating better.
3. Learn to play tennis. J used to play and has agreed to teach me. Hey, I could use the exercise.