That was my first post, technically. That day I decided to post my struggle with infertility out on Facebook, coming clean with, like, a ton of people that SURPRISE! Those comments of “Oh, I’m still in school, and we’re so busy that we’re waiting until we both graduate before starting a family” or, “Oh yeah, we just started trying! We’ll see what happens!” weren’t really true. I was lying. I was actually frantically screwing my husband every night and crying into my ovulation sticks trying desperately, albeit unsuccessfully to get knocked up.
It’s been a long time you guys. Almost six years of trying to get pregnant and two years spent blogging about it. And I’m finally writing this post, because it’s been on my mind a lot lately, and you know how I like to overshare every aspect of my personal life and make a total jerk out of myself.
I know there are a lot of infertility bloggers out there. When I started blogging, I got in this sort of group of bloggers that all commented on each others posts and organized sock exchanges. Down the road, I realized I was commenting less and less as I started a more demanding job that basically left me at 20% battery once I got home and I decided to use that time sprawling spread eagle on the couch staring at the TV and eating Pizza Rolls rather than reading blogs. When I came back to it a few months ago, I realized almost all of them had gone and gotten pregnant. Now, my feed is filled with blogs on teething, on which stroller to buy. The bloggers I became friends with on Facebook suddenly had pictures of their babies.
Here’s the thing. I am so happy for them. I have seen them struggle. I have seen the defeat, the negative tests, the virtual tears shed that infertility sucks and they felt like giving up. I am so happy that they have their babies. But it brings with it, this thought of, God what am I still doing here? It’s like being picked last in gym class. I’m so infertile you guys. Like, three failed IUIs, three failed IVFs, three miscarried babies, and a failed donor cycle with one more on the way- infertile.
I love blogging. And I know that even if no one read my blog anymore, and all my friends have babies except me… I’m still going to want to blog. About my sonofabitchwhore uterus that keeps insisting on being non-pregnant at all hours of the day. Because I don’t know any other way. But I wonder sometimes what the fate of this blog will be. When will I stop blogging?
Do I see myself as a mommy blogger? I don’t know. Talking about how I make my own baby food isn’t nearly as fun as talking about my vagina and how I threatened to take away my husband’s PS4 if he hit a nerve in my butt giving my PIO shots, gawddamnit!
But what if I don’t have kids? What happens then? I’ve read so many blogs on how infertility doesn’t define someone. Hell, I probably wrote about too at one point.
But you guys. Somewhere along the way, I became an infertility blogger. You take away the shitty reproductive organs and all you’re left with is… me. And trust me. I’m not that interesting. My husband got me this hand-made pot thing, sort of like a dutch oven for Christmas this year? I took pictures of it and told anyone who would listen that I couldn’t wait to make my mother-in-law’s famous baked beans in there. Really. Am not. That interesting.
I love blogging and sharing my story. There are days though, where I want to fling myself down on the floor and have a legit toddler tantrum that this is so unfair, every one around me is getting pregnant and I’m on my second donor cycle with a bank account that is emptying at an alarming rate. When is it going to be MY turn!?
And even reading that, I see how ridiculous that sounds. But seriously I want to be such a cry baby about it. I even thought to myself: self, do you realize how much of a cry baby you’re being, and I want to roll my eyes at you.
I thank you, if you’re still reading this. And if all of you quit reading, thinking, gawd what a pathetic loser, and it’s just my mom reading this… Hi Mom. I just finished a really good book I think you would like.
This is a jumbled mess and it’s late at night, and… thank you for reading this. For sticking by me and reading this blog, even though it’s been two darn forsaken years and I’m still no closer to a baby.