Team Edward and Team Fertility
One thing I’ve always had is a sense of humor. My mom told me that even when I was a baby, she would hear me lying in my crib telling myself jokes and then hysterically laughing. What can I say? I was always my best audience.
Throughout the whole trying to conceive debacle (or T.T.C.D. for fans of acronyms), I’ve maintained my sarcasm, wit and sense of irony. When I realized that IVF didn’t stand for “I’m Very Fertile”, I went with the flow and changed it to “I’m Very Funny”. However, this past Saturday night, I apparently misplaced my flair for the funny.
My husband was on the road this weekend so I was on my own. Although I missed him, I always find a way to enjoy “alone time” in the apartment. I lived on my own for almost ten years so when Sam’s gone, it’s like I’m revisiting my old self. The old self that would eat cereal for dinner, Nair her mustache and then give herself a pedicure while watching a bad Lifetime movie.
C’mon ladies… we’ve all been there.
Friday night, I went out with a friend and had a nice time and Saturday day, it was all about beautifying (tweezing, exfoliating, self-tanning, etc.) It’s takes a lot of work and expensive crap to look naturally attractive. In general though, the weekend was going well; I was feeling fine and doing my best to not think about anything having to do with babies, pregnancy or lack thereof.
Saturday night, I was invited to a family function. Even though I had anticipated relatives asking me when we were going to start having kids, I guess I didn’t realize how uptight I was about it until I started heading over to my uncle’s house. I had my stock answers ready to go (“No idea but we’re having a lot of crazy monkey sex” was a personal favorite). I felt confident I’d be able to handle any inquisitions, but I was growing more and more anxious the closer I got to the party.
When I arrived, my uncle’s house was packed with both people and food. Typically, I enjoy our family gatherings immensely but on this night, I immediately felt self conscious. Do you ever think you look great when you’re home looking at yourself in a full length mirror and then you get to where you’re going to and realize, “Maybe this brightly colored floral wrap dress kinda looks like sh*t. I should have worn spanx. Who cares if I can’t breathe! And what was I thinking with these shoes?!?”
That’s how I felt. I suddenly hated my outfit, hated my hair and hated that I was surrounded by people I know would love a new family addition, and that I couldn’t deliver one. All without a single person saying anything about my having children, I somehow managed to upset myself without any assistance. I felt like a big fat failure… both literally and figuratively.
Sam and I only had two days in between learning our recent IVF didn’t work and my mother-in-law’s visit. During the week she was here, I was too focused on her stay that I think I never fully processed what I was feeling. I was particularly distracted from our fertility issues when she told me she had someone come to the house and give her a massage in our bed. Repeat: Some mystery woman came to our house and massaged my mother-in-law in my bed. She explained that this masseuse didn’t have a massage table, hence our bed. And yes, we changed the sheets and booked appointments with our therapists immediately.
After she left, we had an additional day or so before Sam had to go out of town on business; still not enough time to process. While I was stuffing my face with baked ziti on Saturday night and feeling like a loser, it occurred to me that some of the feelings I’ve been pushing aside might be catching up to me. I guess it had to happen sometime. Who knew it would happen surrounded by my family and enough carbohydrates to ruin any person’s Atkins diet.
I stayed at the party a respectable two and a half hours before returning home. I adore my family and they are all truly loving, wonderful, supportive people but I just needed to go home. I needed to be sad. I needed my pajamas. I also, as I decided on the ride home, needed to watch Twilight again. I’m not saying vampires completely cure the blues but Robert Pattinson definitely provides the loveliest of diversions.
So, I had a good cry, put the Twilight DVD on, drooled over Edward and fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up and thought to myself, “I wonder if IVF could stand for ‘I’m a Vampire Fan?”
It would appear my sense of humor had returned.
Throughout the whole trying to conceive debacle (or T.T.C.D. for fans of acronyms), I’ve maintained my sarcasm, wit and sense of irony. When I realized that IVF didn’t stand for “I’m Very Fertile”, I went with the flow and changed it to “I’m Very Funny”. However, this past Saturday night, I apparently misplaced my flair for the funny.
My husband was on the road this weekend so I was on my own. Although I missed him, I always find a way to enjoy “alone time” in the apartment. I lived on my own for almost ten years so when Sam’s gone, it’s like I’m revisiting my old self. The old self that would eat cereal for dinner, Nair her mustache and then give herself a pedicure while watching a bad Lifetime movie.
C’mon ladies… we’ve all been there.
Friday night, I went out with a friend and had a nice time and Saturday day, it was all about beautifying (tweezing, exfoliating, self-tanning, etc.) It’s takes a lot of work and expensive crap to look naturally attractive. In general though, the weekend was going well; I was feeling fine and doing my best to not think about anything having to do with babies, pregnancy or lack thereof.
Saturday night, I was invited to a family function. Even though I had anticipated relatives asking me when we were going to start having kids, I guess I didn’t realize how uptight I was about it until I started heading over to my uncle’s house. I had my stock answers ready to go (“No idea but we’re having a lot of crazy monkey sex” was a personal favorite). I felt confident I’d be able to handle any inquisitions, but I was growing more and more anxious the closer I got to the party.
When I arrived, my uncle’s house was packed with both people and food. Typically, I enjoy our family gatherings immensely but on this night, I immediately felt self conscious. Do you ever think you look great when you’re home looking at yourself in a full length mirror and then you get to where you’re going to and realize, “Maybe this brightly colored floral wrap dress kinda looks like sh*t. I should have worn spanx. Who cares if I can’t breathe! And what was I thinking with these shoes?!?”
That’s how I felt. I suddenly hated my outfit, hated my hair and hated that I was surrounded by people I know would love a new family addition, and that I couldn’t deliver one. All without a single person saying anything about my having children, I somehow managed to upset myself without any assistance. I felt like a big fat failure… both literally and figuratively.
Sam and I only had two days in between learning our recent IVF didn’t work and my mother-in-law’s visit. During the week she was here, I was too focused on her stay that I think I never fully processed what I was feeling. I was particularly distracted from our fertility issues when she told me she had someone come to the house and give her a massage in our bed. Repeat: Some mystery woman came to our house and massaged my mother-in-law in my bed. She explained that this masseuse didn’t have a massage table, hence our bed. And yes, we changed the sheets and booked appointments with our therapists immediately.
After she left, we had an additional day or so before Sam had to go out of town on business; still not enough time to process. While I was stuffing my face with baked ziti on Saturday night and feeling like a loser, it occurred to me that some of the feelings I’ve been pushing aside might be catching up to me. I guess it had to happen sometime. Who knew it would happen surrounded by my family and enough carbohydrates to ruin any person’s Atkins diet.
I stayed at the party a respectable two and a half hours before returning home. I adore my family and they are all truly loving, wonderful, supportive people but I just needed to go home. I needed to be sad. I needed my pajamas. I also, as I decided on the ride home, needed to watch Twilight again. I’m not saying vampires completely cure the blues but Robert Pattinson definitely provides the loveliest of diversions.
So, I had a good cry, put the Twilight DVD on, drooled over Edward and fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up and thought to myself, “I wonder if IVF could stand for ‘I’m a Vampire Fan?”
It would appear my sense of humor had returned.
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