infertility – Sconnie Molly

At Last

*At Last was the song our bridal party walked down to at our wedding and it also feels appropriate now!

So yeah. ICYMI…I’m gonna have a baby. I’m going to be a mom and V is going to be a dad and we’re going to be parents. You know…real adults!

Just kidding, I know far too many parents with and without their shit together to believe that parenthood makes anyone an actual grownup. “Real adults” is quite relative.

It’s a heady thing, pregnancy! And it’s why I haven’t blogged most of the summer – I had no idea how to talk about what was going on with me without mentioning THE biggest thing. So to catch you up, here’s how it’s been thus far…

Finding out: V and I both took off work on the day that we would find out if our embryo had successfully implanted. We wanted to be together for the news, whether it was good or bad. And as soon as the fertility clinic nurse called, I knew – her voice was too cheerful to be bad news.

Weeks 5-7: My main pregnancy symptoms were super painful boobs, super painful constipation, exhaustion, and nausea. During week 7 I went to Disneyland for beloved Michelle’s bachelorette party, and that was Quite. A. Day. I had a great time despite not being able to ride a lot of the cool stuff, and the sandals I wore (researched exhaustively before purchasing to ensure quality and comfort) held up, but I was BEAT by the end of the night.

Weeks 8-10: The bad symptoms started to wane. We visited family in Fresno and brought V’s mom back to Seattle with us. She spoiled us with homemade food and I took video of her making dosas so I could potentially attempt it myself at some point. I was still very tired most of the time and took lots of naps.

Weeks 11-now: I had my first real OB appointment, after “graduating” from the fertility clinic. I had no idea how to pick an OB and obviously we haven’t lived here long enough to know very much about the local medical scene. That does make me wish we were home in Madison, where I had the same insurance company and system of care for literally my whole life and everything was familiar. But anyway, I liked my doctor, and we got to see an ultrasound where Baby’s head was discernible (and not much else). They did a bunch of blood tests (11 vials worth!), all of which have come back normal, much to our relief. After that, we finally felt ready to “go public”, even though some of our close friends and family already knew.

Cravings I have had: Nothing exotic. There’s nothing in this world that could make me crave, like, pickles – not even pregnancy. I’ve wanted Egg McMuffins (sans meat, and besides, who really wants Canadian bacon anyway, even if you do eat meat), potatoes in all their glorious forms, and this French brioche bread I found at Trader Joe’s that is just magical. So, you know, nutrition is…something we are working on. The Egg McMuffins have been funny, because while we’ve lived in Seattle we’ve eaten very, very little fast food and anyway, there’s not much on those menus that we can eat even if we wanted to. That has changed!

Things I did not know about pregnancy but do now: maternity jeans are weird-looking!! I never knew that they didn’t actually have zippers or buttons – or POCKETS! That really pisses me off. A lady needs pockets, for God’s sake. Also, pregnancy brain is a very real thing. I’ve accidentally left my phone at home when going out more times in the last few weeks than ever before in my life. Relatedly, I have gotten rather clumsy, like *nearly* tripping or knocking something over a lot, just not really looking where I’m going. I think it’s driving V crazy.

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The amount of love we’re getting from people who are happy for us and celebrating with us is so, so appreciated and kind of cathartic, also, because everyone knows what a long struggle this has been. I’ll definitely be writing about it, but because I’ve been there, I want to tell anyone for whom this subject is painful that it is ABSOLUTELY FINE to block me, mute me, unfollow me, do whatever you need to do for as long as you need to do it. I’m going to write about my pregnancy because I write about my life and because I want to fully absorb and be able to remember how all of this felt. And I 100% understand if you don’t want to hear it. Only pretty recently have I unblocked/unmuted/re-followed a number of the new parents among my friends. Do what you need to do, chin up, I love you.

img_20190904_095638 — September 4, 2019 (week 11)

jaggery & neem

Last week was Ugadi, which is the New Year celebration in Karnataka (where my husband is from). He and I don’t usually do much to celebrate festivals or holidays, though I wish we did. We happened to have made dinner plans with a good friend of V’s mom, who lives in Seattle. She actually introduced V’s parents and is the sister of V’s dad’s brother’s wife – so, she’s family, and really the only family we have here.

Prema Aunty made us a classic thali-style feast of sambhar, pappadum, rasam, chapatis, black eyed peas, and kaseri bath. I wished her happy Ugadi and she told me that traditionally the holiday is celebrated by ceremoniously eating a combination of jaggery, which is sweet, along with some neem leaves, which are bitter. Sometimes in your own random portion, you get a larger amount of jaggery and sometimes you get a larger amount of neem. This is symbolic of what we should expect, and greet with equanimity, from life: a mix of sweet and bitter circumstances. (I’m sure I didn’t explain this very well, but Google is there for you if you’d like to learn more.)

This year is not even half gone, but it’s already brought a bounty of both ingredients. It’s hardly a novel idea, and most cultures have idioms to the same effect – “look on the bright side!” “there’s a silver lining in every cloud!” – but given recent events, it sort of resonated with me more strongly than I would have expected. The “greet with equanimity” part reminded me of V’s dad; he was always the picture of Zen, no matter what. It could have been a year full of nothing but neem and he would still find things to be joyful about. And in the jaggery times, no one smiled bigger or laughed harder. It wasn’t just an attitude of “be positive”. He carried himself like a person who understood that neither good times nor bad times last forever, and who possessed the sort of spirit that could withstand any bitterness while relishing every sweetness. I aspire to be such a person.

***

I’m going back to Wisconsin a week from tomorrow for 5 days and I can’t wait to see my family, biological and otherwise.

***

We switched insurance providers beginning April 1, so there are officially no real barriers standing between us and starting IVF, except of course my own fear of picking up the phone and getting the ball rolling. I need to get over myself and just do it. By the time I blog again I will have at least made the call, and then we’ll be on our way to daily injections and super fun side effects and embryo testing and major anxiety and all that jazz. CAN’T WAIT.

***

After that great meal at Prema Aunty’s, we were craving more Indian food, so on Saturday we went to a dosa place in Issaquah. It was…magnificent. As much as it pains me that paneer is not really a big thing in south India, dosas come very very close to making up for it. V’s mom is visiting in August, and this time I SWEAR TO GOD I will finally really learn how to make them. We BOTH will.

dosas jaggery, personified

What I’m Reading:

I gave up on King Leopold’s Ghost and spent a few days on Miriam Toews’ Women Talking. It was okay, but sort of tedious.
I’ve moved on now to Shane Bauer’s American Prison, which is the book-length story that grew out of his Mother Jones article of a few years ago. Surprise: prisons are fucked up! Private prisons are *really* fucked up!

What I’m Eating:

Crap, mostly, tbh. I’ve made one or two genuinely healthy meals in the last several days but mostly it’s been cereal, bread, pasta, and sugar. God that looks even worse in print than in my Fitbit log. Who am I kidding…I haven’t been actually logging anything for weeks.

What I’m Watching:

We bought the current season of Schitt’s Creek since it isn’t streaming anywhere yet because we really missed it. David and Patrick are everything.
The last season of Game of Thrones, for obvious reasons.

What I’m Fuming About:

Our landlord, or more specifically, the property manager. It is too stupid to even get into but I am on the warpath.
Why is basic economy even a thing?? Airlines are like “this is for our more cost-conscious customers” like that isn’t fucking everybody but the .01%. Your cost-conscious customers don’t want to pay $315 to fly from Seattle to Madison without getting a seat assignment OR any overhead space because it’s not like $315 is any kind of bargain when you can pay $50 more to have the goddamn overhead space! You know I’m going to spend that extra $50! Why are you like this????

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#Snowmageddon2019

We’re on day 4 of #SeattleSnowpocalypse2019. V and I left the house on Saturday by foot to get supplies at Trader Joe’s (sugar, mainly – forgot the goddamn milk) but other than that, we’ve been totally housebound. I learned my lesson from the first snowstorm a week ago, when I tried driving to one of my Wag walks in Fremont. I eventually made it there, but not without some seriously scary sideways spinning down 4th Avenue North. On the hills that don’t get much sun, you’re pretty much screwed.

It’s not normally like this here, or so I’ve gathered from stalking various Seattle weather blogs over the last week or two. Figures the most snow in 50 years would occur in our first Seattle winter.

I don’t know if I’m stir-crazy or if I’ve already drained any talent I had or what, but I’ve had a really hard time writing just about anything for like a month. I’ve applied for a couple of full-time writing-adjacent jobs, one of which I learned today I didn’t get. So I kind of just moped around the apartment and did laundry and made oatmeal Raisinet cookies, because sugar is my preferred coping mechanism. The first couple of days into #snowpocalypse I started Marie Kondo-ing the shit out of everything I could: my bookcases, the kitchen cabinets, my clothes. I replaced my janky mismatched collection of plastic and wire hangers with a sleek matching set that takes up less space and now my closet looks like a dream. But there’s only so much decluttering and tidying one can do before one looks around and feels very very spent. Satisfied, but spent.

The stir-craziness has also led me to keep fantasizing about the solo trip I want to take. I can’t decide where to go, but I want to do it fairly soon. There are so many people I’d love to visit, but honestly, I don’t really want this trip to be about visiting friends or family. Kind of defeats the purpose of going solo and trying to be independent. So I’ve been brainstorming places where I don’t really know anyone. I’m currently considering Santa Fe, NM; Savannah, GA/Charleston, SC; and San Diego. Warm places. Sunny places.

We are probably going to begin IVF in a couple of months. We’ll be fortunate enough to have some insurance coverage for it soon, so it sort of makes sense to give it a shot (oh and there will be shots). I’ve given more thought to adoption as well. Today I finished Nicole Chung’s All You Can Ever Know, which was a super popular and highly celebrated memoir last year, about her experience growing up as a Korean adoptee to white parents. It’s all so very complicated, the questions of identity and belonging that come with adoption, especially when it is transracial. I expect that if we do adopt someday, it will be from India, but who knows. There are so many variables and questions and hazards – ethical adoption is not necessarily the default.

What I’m Reading:

Before Nicole Chung’s book, I read and loved Abbi Jacobson (Broad City)’s I Might Regret This. Her essays are actually centered around a solo road trip, which has obviously been inspiring some of my daydreaming. I don’t particularly want to drive across the country for my journey, but she did make it sound like a lot of fun and adventure. I’m not even the biggest Broad City stan, but I like Abbi and her voice a lot.

What I’m Watching:

We’ve begun Schitt’s Creek, which is so far pretty good, but neither V nor I can really see where it’s going to go for the 5 seasons we know it has. Maybe that’s a good thing? Nonetheless, I’ll take most any excuse to watch Catherine O’Hara, Eugene Levy, and Eugene Levy’s eyebrows play fishes out of water.

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Also watched the first episode of Russian Doll, because I keep hearing great things, but it didn’t really *grab* me so I don’t know if we’ll continue. Again though, any excuse to listen to Natasha Lyonne’s gravelly voice.

What I’m Buying:

These are the hangers I bought for my closet. They’ll change your life. They’re on clearance. They are not paying me to say this. You can thank me later.

What I’m Listening To:

Isis snoring. And V watching some video on his phone. And the high-pitched humming sound that comes from Lake Union a couple times per hour for no clear reason and whose origin has been hotly debated on our neighborhood’s NextDoor. And the very, very quiet sound of snow turning into sleet.

balcony snow — our balcony, around 3:00pm today

20-shine-teen, let’s do this

*Big hug from me to you if you get the title reference.

What can you even say about 2018 that hasn’t already been said?

First of all, I suppose I can address a personal failing: I did not meet my Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 70 books. I managed 57, which is definitely lower than most recent years. But…I kind of had some other shit going on? I’d like to say my count was lower because I read a bunch of really long, Serious Books, but that wouldn’t be true. I was just busy.

Busy doing what, Molly? YOU HAVEN’T EVEN HAD A FULL TIME JOB FOR OVER A YEAR NOW.

Well, that is correct. But I have nonetheless had a fulfilling year…

I visited France in February, Door County in May, India in July, and Seattle a couple times in July and August before the move.

I helped out Sabrina Madison for awhile in the spring, pitching in to organize the Black Women’s Leadership Conference and other Progress Center for Black Women initiatives. She is a brilliant dynamo and exactly what the city of Madison needs.

I was given the opportunity to begin contributing to BRAVA Magazine and have had three pieces published so far, with one hopefully coming soon. I framed the first story and my first check from them and it’s on the wall in our living room right in front of the chair I sit in to write.

When a bunch of dumbass Baraboo boys made international news for being dumbass racists, I was fucking mad, and wrote about it for Refinery29. As shitty as that whole situation was and is, the article is probably my proudest accomplishment of the year.

I took a few writing classes at Seattle’s Hugo House that definitely improved my skills and introduced me to a vibrant community of talented local wordsmiths.

I maintained another year of vegetarianism and welcomed V to the meatless tribe, though the credit for that really goes to his mother and not me.

I bought a *lot* of books, despite there being no more bookshelf space in our apartment, and despite my flirtation with minimalism that occurred post-move.

Yeah, I moved. I moved to the West Coast, to a city I’d vacationed in twice but didn’t really know that well, because my husband got the kind of job opportunity that you don’t turn down. Even though we’d bought a house just two years ago, and probably 85% of all the people we loved in the world were in Wisconsin or the greater Midwest, and we loved Madison…we took the chance, and I’m glad we did. If we hadn’t, I know we’d be wondering What If and kicking ourselves for being too chickenshit to make a change. Seattle is sometimes amazing and sometimes bleak, but honestly, so is Madison – so is pretty much everywhere.

I haven’t actually discussed this on Facebook or anything yet, but a month or so ago I started walking dogs with Wag. It began to seem kind of like a no-brainer: I was always going for walks, and swooning over dogs wherever we went, and Seattle literally has more dogs than children, and I wanted to earn a little money again without going back to a 9-5. It’s been…interesting! Largely positive. I love that I get to do it whenever I want to, and never when I don’t want to. I’ve met a lot of adorable puppers and some real characters among them – an elderly blind and deaf terrier named Oliver who refused to let me put on his sweater when it was pouring rain; a sorta sharpei/pug mix named Wally who puked three times and had diarrhea once on our first walk; a nervous little Maltese boy named Henry who was deathly afraid of the black tiles in his building’s lobby and required being carried over them. And I’ve found a few favorites that I try to walk whenever they show up on the app.

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As it’s been over a year now since losing my job, I have begun to get slightly more comfortable with the idea that I do not have to have a 9-5 full time job to be a Worthwhile and/or Normal Person. There are lots of ways to live life. I’m not saying I’ll never have one again – I really hope I do, if only for my retirement’s sake, Jesus – but I’m working through all my ~feelings~ surrounding being pretty much the only non-parent I know that doesn’t have full time employment.

Ah yes, the non-parent thing. Infertility has remained an unwelcome presence in our lives. My body thus far stubbornly refuses to get pregnant naturally or…technologically. I don’t remember how many cycles of IUI we did in 2018, but we are taking a different path in 2019. As much as I wanted to avoid it, our best option at this point appears to be in vitro fertilization, which we will probably begin in the spring. More on that to come later, surely.

Let’s talk about 2019. I have goals.

Take a solo trip, or trips. I sort of have one planned – AWP in Portland in March – but V is joining me there after the conference is over so I’m not sure it totally counts. Regardless, I’m going to do that and I’d like to plan another.
Begin and maintain a yoga practice. Maybe just once a week, but regularly.
Buy less stuff.
Eat less dairy and less sugar. Notice I said “eat less” not “eliminate”…I’m just not ready to do that and I don’t want to set myself up for failure. But I don’t think my body appreciates my very very frequent consumption of those two things, and it has been letting me know via new bouts of cystic acne and digestive pain! I don’t know how I’m going to measure this, exactly. I already track my meals and stuff with the Fitbit app, but it’s not really set up for anything but a basic food diary. Suggestions welcomed.
Pitch at least one piece every month.
Go somewhere warm and sunny in the spring when Seattle Bleakness reaches its grayest apex.

A lot of people are annoyingly too cool for the ritual of setting goals at the beginning of a calendar year – as if it is somehow news to those of us who participate that January 1st is entirely arbitrary and calendars are arbitrary and time is meaningless. It’s as good a time as any to set new goals. I enjoy it, and I like seeing other people do it too.

Halloween twenty eighteen

All I am doing to celebrate Halloween today is eating a few more Dove dark chocolates than usual. A normal day I have 3 or 4. Today it’s been maybe 7? I know. The wildness.

I guess I liked Halloween enough as a kid; I dressed up in different years as Raggedy Ann, a princess, a “fifties girl” wearing a poodle skirt and my dad’s high school letter jacket – that one I recycled at least twice, I loved it so much. In college I did the slutty thing, one year as a French maid and one year as a “sexy gangster” – although looking back at the photos, honestly, neither costume was terribly risqué and I have no regrets.

But since then I’ve only dressed up and/or gone to a party a couple of times. And now that we’re firmly in our 30s, it’s obviously more about people’s kids now. Halloween is one of the few days a year that parenting looks genuinely fun. Of course I know a lot of work goes into some of those elaborate costumes, but really, you can put a cute kid in anything and people will gush. So, I don’t know, I guess Halloween is a little sad for me lately. I haven’t said much in recent months about our infertility issues because well, duh, we’ve kind of had some other shit to deal with. But now that we’re somewhat “settled in” here, we’re going to check out some of the Seattle-area fertility clinics and talk about maybe doing (yet another – like the 4th or maybe 5th) IUI or perhaps starting in vitro. IVF is so scary. I don’t want to do it. But maybe that’s what it’s going to take.

We are developing our new routines. Once a week we take the bus to eat breakfast at the Belltown Biscuit Bitch and have ourselves each an egg cheese & vegetarian sausage Bitchwich. V usually can’t finish his so I kindly help him out. Every Saturday we try to go for a walk around Green Lake, which is a beautifully peaceful 2.8 miles populated with a truly insane number of adorable doggos. (Seriously, Seattle has a TON of dogs, but at Green Lake it is on another level.) I’ve been exploring different neighborhoods on foot and via public transit, including the very nice (and simple) light rail. I go to coffee shops a lot and order Diet Cokes (though today I tried a delicious blood orange and hibiscus tea) and attempt to write.

Speaking of coffee, after agreeing we were both feeling pretty lonely, on Monday V and I joined a Meetup group that does trivia all over the city. It was us and three other dudes, very friendly and cool guys. One of the trivia rounds was “coffee” and wouldn’t you know, we’d somehow managed to assemble the only five people in the city of Seattle who do not drink coffee. We bombed that round, but actually ended up winning the night and leaving Mama’s Kitchen $11 richer. So maybe Meetup is all right.

What I’m Reading:

Just started “Calypso” by David Sedaris. I used to read his books as soon as they came out but I’m quite late on this one. It’s predictably great thus far.

What I’m Watching:

V keeps saying we’ll start Man In the High Castle soon. Tonight we watched the pilot of Bodyguard on Netflix, and I can’t say I hate Richard Madden (Robb Stark!) in a suit, but I’m hoping more happens in the next episode.

What I’m Listening To:

I made a playlist specifically for the hills and sets of stairs I must climb whenever I leave the apartment. Highlights include “Apes***” by Beyoncé and Jay-Z, some Cardi B, some of The Donnas, and “Cupid Shuffle” because damn if that bop doesn’t get you moving.

What I’m Fuming About:

White Nationalists. People who don’t vote. Writer’s block. Isis’s incessant overgrooming for which we are seeing a vet on Friday and for which maybe we will try curing with some CBD oil or something. And maybe Isis will share.

Thanks, National Infertility Awareness Week; I Am Aware

Last week was National Infertility Awareness Week. This meant lots of articles in my social media feeds about the trials and tribulations of trying and failing to make a baby, a process with which I am all too familiar. It was bizarre timing; this month, we attempted IUI for the third time, and today learned it failed.

So last week I read those articles and hoped and hoped that the third time was going to be the charm. Every article I read ended with a happy result of some kind; eventual, really hard-won success in biological procreation (most commonly) or perhaps coming to terms with that just not being possible and choosing to adopt. I felt (and am still feeling) a lot of ugly feelings, stuff I’m not proud of. There were several articles or comments from women experiencing secondary infertility, that is, women who have successfully gotten pregnant and given birth once before but who are now having trouble conceiving a second time. I know it is a pain just as valid as mine, but I have trouble sympathizing. You have had A BABY. You wanted more, maybe one or two or three or God knows how many more, but it hasn’t worked out that way and I know, I know that must be a difficult and agonizing journey all its own. I just…I’m sorry. Do you know how many people would be thrilled to have what you already have?

Like I said, it’s ugly and I’m not proud.

I don’t know what’s next. Trying not to dwell, I guess. I made the fudgiest, chocolatiest brownies in the whole world today and that was truly a comforting balm. I don’t know what tomorrow’s coping mechanism will be.

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I do like that idea.

People used to tell us a lot, back when we looked like this, that we would make such cute babies! Because you know how ape-shit people go over mixed babies. It’s a whole (problematic AF) thing. That is all really neither here nor there, I guess. Just something that makes me sad, something my silly vanity has always enjoyed thinking about.

Our doctor quoted me a slick $20,000 for one cycle of IVF. (The difference between IUI and IVF, explained.) Look. I ASK YOU. Who among us can afford that? It would have been one hell of a reach if both of us were fully employed. In our current situation it’s just a joke. I know people empty their 401(k)s and go into all kinds of debt to make this happen – and sometimes still come up empty. Imagine. Imagine throwing tens of thousands of dollars down the drain for meds that fuck you up, daily injections, tons of invasive doctor visits…to be right back where you started. A failed IUI is painful and sad, but a failed IVF? Jesus, I don’t know what I’d do.

If you are a friend on social media who is pregnant, or who has recently given birth, or just posts about your kids a lot regardless of their age – I have probably temporarily unfollowed you. Not because I don’t love you and your progeny. I really genuinely do and normally their cute pudgy messy faces are a welcome, happy sight to see in the ol’ gloom and doom of my news feeds. But not right now. Just not right now. I hope you understand.

Donald Trump Makes Me Not Want To Get Pregnant

My internal clock is all kinds of screwed up. Normally I would be in bed right now, reading a few pages before turning out the lights. Ever since I became unemployed, time has basically no meaning. I go to bed late and get up…sometimes when Shak leaves, sometimes later, sometimes earlier. The days have little to no structure. I try to go for walks and write when the muse strikes (not often enough). I work on keeping the house presentable and cuddle with Isis and read – although we’re eleven days into 2018 and I’ve only finished one book.

Unemployed, yes. For the first time since college and it’s weird as hell. The circumstances, to put it mildly, are not ideal. My highly supportive loved ones have rallied around me and encouraged me to think of this unexpected work hiatus as a chance to get my writing career off the ground. So I’m working on that, in fits and starts.

And today the president called the countries of origin of some (brown) immigrants “shitholes” and apparently somehow people are surprised…? He noted that he would prefer more (white) immigrants from, say, Norway. Today and tonight in particular he seems exceptionally unhinged, but I know I’ll be saying the same thing a week or two weeks from now when the next previously unfathomable thing happens. If there’s anyone on Earth whose stream of consciousness should not be broadcast to the billions, it’s the one who has both the nuclear launch codes and the mental health of a drunken racist dotard. I don’t like blaming his all-around abject terribleness on senility – he doesn’t deserve that kind of a pass – but I think there is a strong case to be made that he is not a well man.

I don’t know if this is normal to do or not – and I’d love to hear from anyone else who has had similar thoughts – but honest to God, the current occupant of the White House is affecting the feelings I have about getting pregnant. I’ve been open about that not being an easy road for us, and it’s kind of a mind fuck to be taking all these extra (expensive) steps to try to get pregnant when I’m simultaneously really freaked out about the world into which I’d be bringing a kid. You’d think that a couple who undergoes fertility treatments would be like, really 1000% sure about the desired outcome. Unvarnished truth be told, it’s a little murky sometimes. Because I don’t know how I feel about ultra-deliberately bringing a child into a world where nuclear war is a more realistic fear than ever and climate change is severely fucking up our environment in ways that are increasingly difficult to work around and oh yeah, brown kids in the US aren’t super safe.

When I get really stressed out about the current state of things, I try to remember some Bible verse (for real) about there being nothing new under the sun. I’ve always found that idea comforting. The world’s been a hot mess forever, but it’s all cyclical, it will not be like this forever, etc.

I swear to God if anyone comments on this blog saying anything to the effect of “just adopt!!” they will be dead to me. I mean maybe we will, I don’t know, but don’t act like it’s just that simple.

I got myself a pint of Halo Top chocolate chip cookie dough and while it’s not unenjoyable, the cookie dough pieces are about the size of a baby ant and that’s a real downer. People hate on Halo Top but I think it’s decent.

That’s my stream of consciousness for tonight. I did spare you my thoughts on the season 5 episode of 90210 I had on while writing this. So you’re welcome for that, and also for this.

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