When I first started this blog, I think I had about three followers. I can’t recall how long that lasted, but I do recall that my blog felt quite a bit like a personal diary for quite some time. Now, about a year and eight months after I started blogging, this space has changed. I have an audience. I almost always have at least some sort of conversational interaction in the comments section. I want to continue to use this space as a space for me to document my life, but I am also deeply appreciative of you all, my audience, and I can’t help but feel a little obnoxious when posting about, for example, pregnancy symptoms, knowing that many of my readers are in a lot of pain right now, and struggling. The last thing I want to be is insensitive. On the other hand, I love having this outlet for releasing my emotions and synthesizing my experience. I’m going to continue to use this space in ways that I feel are healthy for me, but just know that if what I am posting is annoying you, there are no hard feelings if you “unfollow” me or ignore me, of course. Isn’t it an odd situation? We all join this tribe, at first, in an effort to find our way out of the maze of infertility. It’s kind of like joining a club with the sole purpose of being able to someday leave it. But then we find out that we can never leave it, and we never want to. I love this community. I want each and every one of you to become the amazing mothers you were meant to be. I’ve been so delighted to stumble across such vibrant, intelligent, thoughtful, sarcastic, hilarious, spiritual, science-geek, resourceful, strong, nurturing, motherly women—really, you blow me away, and even though this journey has been part-hellish, the part that includes you has been a gift.

It feels good to be able to write a decent post today! I have not had my full faculties for a little while, but this morning I woke up feeling better. Yesterday was killer, as was the day before that. And the day before that. As always, I am very grateful to baby for reassuring me—and oh, baby, aren’t you just reassuring me so thoroughly. 

I think what it comes down to is that I have to commit to having six mini-meals a day, with snacks in between, if I want to keep the nausea and indigestion at bay. Sometimes all I can manage is the simplest, blandest food. Other times, I’m able to eat Korean beef bulgoki (!), tacos, dosas, lentil soup. I still wish it were okay to eat nothing but cereal with bananas and vanilla-flavored almond milk.

The fatigue is what it is—it will come, like a giant ocean wave, and pummel me, and there is nothing I can do about it! I’m assuming once I stop the progesterone supplementation I will get a little bit of my kick back. We went for a walk in our favorite park Saturday, and I could do only a quarter of what I usually do. I have very little motivation. Going to the store, exercising a tiny bit, picking up the house, even writing a blog post: these are all events I need a little time to recover from.

I’m usually a pretty pleasant, if somewhat noisy (moaning, grunting, breathing heavily) person, but I have noticed irritability on the increase. I find myself thinking irrationally irritable thoughts toward DH, and I inwardly coach myself, “These are your hormones being stupid. Do not release these thoughts. Do not speak.” But this morning, I got it in my head that he was being “cold” toward me, and when he kissed me goodbye before leaving for work, I blurted out: “What’s wrong?!!” He looked at me, genuinely astonished, and I watched his expression as it dawned on him what was going on.

“You’re being so cold!” I cried.

“What? What do you mean?” he asked, and then he was smiling, laughing, holding his face in his hands. “Come here,” he said, and hugged me. “Who’s a sensitive baby? Hm? Hm?” And I couldn’t help but laugh.

I find myself wanting him to be happier, more amazed, more in awe of our good fortune. But maybe, for him, that won’t come until a little later. We all deal with, and heal from, past trauma differently. He’s fairly confident, as he put it, that “this is the one,” but I think he is holding back a little piece of his heart.

Am I? No, not really! I mean, in the back of my mind, I do recognize that we are only halfway through the first trimester. I recognize that anything can happen. But I don’t feel that sense of foreboding that I usually feel while pregnant. The baby keeps showing me that he or she is there, and I do worry a little that if I have an abatement of symptoms I will do a little freaking out, but for the most part, I am feeling pretty confident. Strange, isn’t it? I just needed to get past that milestone of last week. Of course, as Thursday’s ultrasound approaches, we’ll see how steadily I hold on. But at this moment, I feel very connected to baby, I feel pregnant and in it for the long-haul.

It was important to me to revisit my Self of last Easter yesterday, and so I did, via this blog post: Easter bunny wailing under the gray scrim/The Scarf Technique. That was a hard Easter. How dark it was there. When I looked at the calendar this treatment cycle, I knew that I could either be having a repeat of last Easter, this year, or a new beginning. So much gratitude that it is the latter. My springs of the past three years have been harrowing—made all the more harrowing because the world is coming alive with flowers and green grass and scented breezes and cute baby outfits. I give thanks that I’m not having to endure excruciating pain right now, and give thanks to the life making changes inside me.


Leave a comment


  1. wtfovaries

     /  April 21, 2014

    I feel like we are all in a state of potential transition. Don’t ever feel bad because you got out of this crazy world of TTC! Post updates & whatever you want! Nothing but happiness for you!

  2. L

     /  April 21, 2014

    I haven’t posted a comment because I am trying to take a break from the blog world, but I wanted you to know that I am over-the-moon excited for you. I find myself anticipating when the next US is and cheering for joy when it’s good news. I appreciate your though-fullness in this post, but I also want to encourage you to feel your joy! You waited so long for this– it’s yours– live it!

  3. It took my husband much longer than I anticipated to bond with this current pregnancy. It wasn’t until after our 1st trimester scan when he could SEE a baby shaped bean floating around that he started to relax and get excited. But it wasn’t until he could see and feel her kicking from the outside that I think he *really* started to bond. Now he’ll stroke my belly and talk to the baby and tell her jokes and ask her to kick for him. It took a bit longer than I anticipated, but I think that’s because pregnancy is so obviously centered on the mom. I could feel her way before him, my body is doing the changing etc. I’d think he’ll get there, it just might be slower.

    • That’s really interesting—I wondered about just that. I have a feeling that once he knows the sex of the baby that, along with more human-shaped (and less amphibian) scans, will also influence him. I feel the differences of this pregnancy compared to the others, but he doesn’t feel anything different at all. I bet that to him, looking at me from the outside and not feeling what I’m feeling, he has more reason to worry that this could be another short-lived beginning. Delightful to hear about the bond your husband is now forming, that’s really endearing.

  4. I can understand your feelings and DH’s. After our first and for my partner most devastating loss in 2010 (stretched into 2011), it took a very long time for him to become “confident” – translated into excited, enthusiastic, willing to even discuss with others about our one successful pregnancy. Case in point: he didn’t tell anyone at his job – where he has been for 3 decades until I was >7 months and went to their christmas party uber pregnant (his friends and long-time colleagues were a little hurt but they didn’t know our history).

    It was a real leap for my guy to name our failed IVF embryo in January. And the blow when “Francine” didn’t make it was crushing for him, far worse than for me. Still is. I cannot judge his heart’s need to keep a little of its armour in place during whatever happens next. I don’t even think he can control it, really, and I don’t want to push him to try. Hell, I don’t know if I can get excited anymore – there is a weight of fear and defeat that seems almost immovable now. Perhaps your DH needs some of that latitude? Sounds like you’re stretching to give him that, which is fantastic, though at times a challenge when you want to shout from the rooftops (or from wordpress, as the case may be ;-)).

    We’re tied at 7 pregnancies and one success (this one being yours – YAY!!!) so I’ll just share one other thing – I was nauseous until about 22 weeks. Not as bad after about 16 weeks, but it felt like forever. A friend was deathly nauseous until delivery so I consider myself lucky. I’m throwing out my wishes to the universe that your baby’s current reminders are replaced by more enjoyable ones – roundhouse kicks to your bladder, jabs to your ribs and the like – in a couple of months and you’ll be regaling us all with stories of the alien invasion of your body.

    • Thanks for this! Yeah, I can understand our guys trepidation…waited til 7 mos! Aw. DH has been much more excited in the past couple of days, for some reason—maybe it was talking to his friend that did it. I’ve actually been pretty nausea-free the past couple of days, too! But I’m not worried, I know it’s normal. I still feel exhausted and a bunch of other stuff. 22 weeks is such a long time! Poor you.

      • It’s okay. It was all worth it. I know you know what I mean and you’d suffer 38 weeks if it meant holding your little lovebug at the end. Glad you’re having a few days’ respite. Enjoy it while it lasts!

  5. Post away about those pregnancy symptoms! It’s your story, and I for one am thrilled that this is where you are. I am rooting for you and this bean and hoping that as you progress in your pregnancy DH will let the guard down a bit, but I get it. If I’m having a tough day and my good news truck is broken down on the side of the road, then I just wait a day or two to read or comment…that’s my coping mechanism. I absolutely feel that after all you’ve been through to get to this point, this hungry, tired, and cranky point (tee hee), you deserve to chronicle everything about it. Lord knows I will want to share all about my hard-won pregnancy when it decides to get here. So share! Update! I want to know what I’m in for! :) So glad things are going so well, and I am crossing everything for another hurdle cleared on Thursday. Grow, bean, grow!

    • You really are the sweetest, Jess (my fellow Midwesterner with that Midwestern brand of kindness!). I like your method of just waiting a day or two; I do that, too. Keep sending the growey vibes. Baby is heading into 9 weeks now!

  6. I love seeing your posts and your happiness, how great this lil tyke is doing, makes me happy. Don’t you worry that I will be here along for the entire beautiful ride!

  7. Hey, listen–a blog needs to morph and adapt to the life it documents. Appreciate the blessing (to “unfollow”) but it’s really beautiful to see good things happen to you.

  8. Hi! I love reading your updates and hearing about all your pregnancy symptoms. Gives me hope to know that you shared my path and you’ve found your way to the other side – one day I will too. I look forward to sharing this journey with you :)

  9. Tess

     /  April 22, 2014

    Don’t feel bad — I love your updates. I think you are so brave and inspire hope.

  10. You know, it’s one of the weird things about infertility blogging. You start off doing it to get support from others like you, and (as people start finally having success) you end up surrounded by pregnant people. Some days it’s too much, but those are the days I just take a little break. I would never dream of telling someone to censor themselves or worry about little old me when they are deciding what to write. It’s tough sometimes, but very inspiring too. We all want to get there!

    • Thank you Aramis! I remember how tough it would be for me sometimes, and I’d have to take breaks, ugh. But you’re right—these blogs are not about censorship, they’re about expression. I want you to get here soon as possible.

  11. Aw, thank you all so much for your support. I’m really really glad you don’t want to check out. I’m also happy to hear that my story can inspire hope—that’s what I want.

    And any reader who has miscarried a euploid embryo: hold onto hope in spite of what the doctors say. 50% of miscarriages are euploid and unexplained. It’s not the end!

  12. I love that you care enough to think about everyone that has been through all the ups and downs with you. I completely agree…we are all like one big tribe! I for one, am so so happy for you and can’t imagine not continuing to follow along with your pregnancy. You give me hope. So if it’s okay with you…I’ll keep reading. :)

  13. Let yourself feel what you feel, there’s no right or wrong in any of it. I believe the sooner we accept what our feelings really are (even if they aren’t how we would like), it helps us move beyond them.

    Still cheering you on, my friend.

  14. Isabelle

     /  April 27, 2014

    That was a very thoughtful post – but I am sure everyone who has been following your story genuinely wants you to have this joy. I, for instance, visited the blog this morning just to ‘check in’ on you. I did so, even though I miscarried two weeks ago (our DE treatments were in sync and I got pregnant at exactly the same time as you). I’ve been reading your blog for the last two years, following your roller-coaster as I was struggling through my own. Being able to read about what you were going through brought me the comfort I could not get from anyone else around me, and I’m thankful to you for that. I am sure you have helped indirectly many women since you started blogging and I have no doubt you will be able to help many more in future if that’s what you want to do (perhaps in a more direct and personal way as you were alluding to in your latest post). For now, please embrace the joy and happiness, for all of us.

    • I love your comment. Thank you deeply for following my story, and I am beyond happy that it has been a help to you, brough you any comfort. Your blessing means the world to me. I’m so sorry that you lost your DE baby, so, so sorry! Was it your first DE treatment? My heart goes out to you—there just aren’t enough words to say how much. Take good care. It’s not over. Hang on tight. Much love.


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