Round 5 of the Baby Game is coming to a close on Monday (or Wednesday depending on my cycle length this month) and I'm filled with so many emotions that I can't even begin to sort them all out. Last night my mom called and we had a nice (and rather strange) conversation about the trials and tribulations of couple trying to conceive. Mom has birthed two babies in her lifetime, me and my younger brother Stumpy. (That's not his real name, but due to a tragic skill saw accident, that's his new name.) Anyhow, I came to be during a playful weekend in the snow during the winter of '74. I wasn't planned and the end result was a shotgun wedding. Two years later, my parents decided that I was such a pleasure that they wanted to add one more bundle of joy to their little family. Imagine moms surprise when, expecting to get knocked up on the first try, she was left holding a negative pregnancy test. Three months of "marital relations" ensued before she finally succeeded.
Last night, during our lovely conversation, mom recounted a heart warming little story with me. I'll spare you the details, but apparently my mother wore out my father in the bedroom trying to bring little Stumpy into this world. He actually yelled at her one night, screaming, "But we did it last night!"
While that story is a frightening bit of insight into my parents now defunct marriage, I did laugh uncontrollably when my mother shared it with me. It helps to know that Bruno and I are not alone in our frustrations, fears and hopes. I've always been close with my mother, but this new twist in life has brought us even closer.
Mom and I haven't had much time to talk lately. It's hard with the 3-hour time difference, but last night we really got to catch up. I poured my heart and soul out to her last night and then we laughed and it felt really good. I shared a fair amount of my gripes with her and, in recounting them, realized the humor in our situation. It's not all funny, but I choose to focus on the funny side because that makes it bearable. So, I will now share with you some of the highlights of the Baby Game. Think of it as a comedy sitcom episode where the network wants one extra show so the producers string together a series of their favorite clips and then market the hell out of it. You know, like a cheap imitation of the real thing...
Pre-Conception Doctor's Visit
While in California this summer I met with my doctor to discuss my soon to be pregnant state. This is what she told me: I am a bit old to be trying for my first kid and it will be much harder for me get pregnant. I'm 30. And apparently old. While I was busy focusing on my career and establishing myself as an adult, my ovaries were shriveling up and dying. My eggs are now few and far between. I squandered my fertile years on responsibility.
I left her office feeling as if I was on the verge of menopause and that osteoporosis should be my major concern now- not starting a family. When I stepped off the elevator into the lobby, I tripped and swore that I heard the brittle bones of my ankle snapping. I caught my reflection in the pharmacy window and wondered if I was starting to shrink. When I couldn't remember where I parked my car, I was sure that it was senility settling in.
Fertility Supplements
Because of my geriatric state, the good doc gave me some fertility supplements to fool my reproductive system into believing it was young again. On the airplane trip back to Michigan, I guarded these precious dolls with my life. They sat nestled in my carry-on bag under the seat in front of me and every few minutes I would glance at them and make sure that they were safe. Bruno caught me looking a couple of times and squeezed my hand to assure me that we were in this together. I was so certain of the magical powers that these pills had, that I believed if I opened up one of the bottles a fertile light would shine out of the top and all who made contact with the light would become pregnant before they got off the plane.
When I got home, I looked at the ingredients listed for each supplement. One word? DISGUSTING! Apparently, in order for me to get pregnant, it's necessary for me to ingest, "Bovine ovary, bovine uterus, bovine pituitary and bovine thyroid." If I do ever give birth to a baby, it better be human! And you better believe that I am going to remind him/her on a daily basis that mommy ate cow organs just so that he/she could come live with us. This is like Survivor: Conception Island.
The Pregnancy Test
When we first started "making baby" as my husband says, I was armed with a survivalist-type stockpile of ovulation predictor kits and pregnancy tests. Every morning I got to pee on a stick. It didn't help me get pregnant, but it did make me feel like I was doing everything possible to get there. The first morning that I took a pregnancy test, I went into the bathroom, unwrapped the foil and got to work. I sat there for a few minutes staring at the test when, low and behold, two lines formed. I almost had a heart attack. My pulse was racing, sweat had broken out on my forehead and I was trying to savor the wonderful moment when I first found out that I was pregnant. To be absolutely certain that I had read the test right, I pulled out the instructions to compare my results with the handy "your pregnant" illustration. That's when all of my excitement came to a crashing halt. I wasn't pregnant. I took the wrong damn test. And for that matter, I wasn't even ovulating either. Not that I was supposed to be, but I had inadvertently taken the ovulation predictor test. That was a dark day.
Positive Affirmations
I called the good doc a few weeks ago to find out if I should try to schedule an appointment with a local doctor to find out why I wasn't getting pregnant. She told me to wait until December, when I will be in California again, to meet with her if I'm still not pregnant. "This is absolutely normal at your age," she says. And then she gives me a word of professional advice: "You need to say positive affirmations every day." She went to 7 years of college for this?
So now every night when I go to bed, I repeat the following affirmations:
Your uterus is fertile. Your eggs are strong. Bruno's sperm is virile.
F-ing lame if you ask me. And it's probably that bad attitude that is resulting in my lack of conception, month after month.
And finally....
You’re Trying Too Hard
This is my personal favorite, as I hear it on a regular basis from my landlord/gal pal. Apparently, if I didn't care so much I would be pregnant by now. I am trying too hard. Should I be trying less hard? Like not have sex? I don't get it, but this is from a woman who got pregnant at 37 on her first try. And she didn't even really want a baby. She's happy that she did it now, but she could have cared less either way. She did it for her husband. So maybe, if I didn't give a sh*t, I would already have 5 kids. If there is any truth in this theory, it explains a lot about the state of the world today.
So there you have it. A nice, packaged-to-fit-in-a-half-hour-time-slot version of The Baby Game. Thank you for playing. Door prizes will be handed out as you leave. For the women, I have a lifetime supply of ovulation predictors. You can use them to determine your most fertile days, or to make Christmas ornaments. Either way, it's hours of endless fun. For the men, I have a lifetime supply of condoms. I have no use for them. Have guilt free sex into the wee hours or make balloon animals for your kid’s birthday party. You'll see that they come in a variety of colors and textures. Go crazy!
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