Target practice

Today flat stunk. No other way to put it. Our adoption has reached a new low, and I am emotionally and physically exhausted. However, I now know the meaning of a mother's love and will fight to get our little boy out of Vietnam. They have no idea who they are dealing with.

So, I had to make a run to one of my very favorite stores this afternoon - Tar.get, and while I can usually spend a good hour in there as happy as can be, two separate incidents made me more depressed than when I entered the red bullseyed door.

First, whether I need clothes or not, it's downright irresponsible not to check out the 50% clothing racks when shopping there. I was flipping through the racks - found a super cute dress that will look great with leggings this fall for $10! Then, I found a darling top for $6. When I looked to check the size, I discovered that it was maternity. WTF?

Then, as I was traipsing down the aisles, trying to forget my near miss with a prego shirt, I was accosted on all sides by Halloween costumes, cute toddler t-shirts with "Mommy's little monster" on the front, onesies with "my first Halloween" and Frankenstein socks. It totally crushed me --I felt like I had a bullseye logo on my stomach and an arrow shot me right in the gut.

Luckily, they had plenty of Twizzlers in stock. I have already eaten about a mile's worth.

No flu shot for you

Last year I wrote a post about the fact that swine flu shots were at a premium and pregnant women were at the top of the list, while those of us unfortunates with flat stomachs weren't important enough.

While we're still waiting to hear what the latest flu is - sheep, peacock or moose - the first people eligible for the once-again tight supply of vaccine are pregnant woment.

Side bar: Because the death rates for pregnant women is much higher than other sections of the population, I totally get the reason why and I encourage them to get their vaccines, but let me have a little fun for a second while I rant about my infertility. But what about those of us who want to be pregnant, but can’t. -- can’t we get inoculated?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly freaked out about getting the flu. I just think it’s discriminatory to give a vaccine to someone just because she is lucky (and let’s face it, so much of it is sheer luck) enough to conceive.

I mean am I not worthy of getting a flu shot just because my womb won't cooperate? It’s not like I chose to have fertility issues or did something to inhibit my fertility. I pay more than my fair share of taxes and have contributed way more out-of-pocket expenses to the healthcare system than the average 37-year old woman.

I think trying as hard as I have, as well as the millions of others of infertiles, should count for something. Heck, after the six cycles on fertility drug injections, I could probably even give myself the shot. I wouldn’t have to wait in line. The nurses could just throw me the vial and syringe and I could do my own. I could probably even help them inoculate the masses.

False Advertising

I'm totally hacked off my the name of a fertility clinic in town -- it's called: Family Beginnings IVF.

I'm not an expert on the ethics of advertising or brand names, but unless these doctors have some kind of 100% guarantee, I'm pretty sure that's considered false advertising. The words "family" and "beginnings", particularly together, denote that a pregnancy will occur after visiting their clinic. With IVF rates being about 33%, I"m pretty sure that there are plenty of women walking out of there who aren't knocked up.

I'm guessing that it's some ploy by some sneaky reproductive endos who decided to prey on our weak minds after we've been beaten down by the throes of infertility. The name evokes a sense of hope and a future that we dream of. And, they've smartly figured out that The Schmo Center for Reproductive Medicine doesn't do anything but sound clinical. Of course, having a name like "No Guarantees Fertility" or "Can't Promise Pregnancy Center" won't get anyone to come in off the street, either.

I still think that it's a pretty crappy tactic.

In related news, there was a Dr. Hyman in my hometown who was an OB/GYN, everyone thought that was pretty hilarious, and on that one, I have to agree.

Find your bliss, in spite of your infertility

Common logic says that if you know you're infertile, you want to have a child. And, for many of us, we have dreamed of having a baby for years and years, so it puts quite a crimp, to say the least, in our plans when we can't get pregnant.

I usually don't throw out advice through my blog, but I feel pretty adamant about this small nugget of info: Find your other bliss(es).

Part of the reason this topic is on my mind is because I did something today that makes me happier than just about anything - horseback riding. I occasionally ride in events put on by a local hunt club and today we road through creeks, woods, and pastures playing a horsey version of Clue. The weather was gorgeous, my horse was a prince, and I was with good friends -- two hours of pure joy.

And, when I'm riding, I am totally focused on just riding. I'm not thinking about my faulty uterus or my adoption that's going poorly. It's very liberating not to have those obsessions on my mind during that time.

My therapist has even encouraged me to do things I enjoy. Of course, I do have the caveat that the things you do shouldn't involve bodily harm to you or anyone else.

My list includes said horseback riding, running trails with my dog, doing just about anything with Jack, writing, hanging out with my niece and nephew, among others.

How about you? What do you love to do? Are you currently participating in it? If not, why? Get out there and do something you love.

One of my least favorite days of the year, but not for the reason you might think

I had my annual OB/GYN exam yesterday, and unlike most women who dread that day of the year because they hate having to spread their legs for the doctor, go through the personal questions, etc. For me, that part is a piece of cake. I figure that I’ve probably been to the fertility doc and/or OB/GYN 100 times over the last five years, so one more time doesn’t shake me at all.

What does bother me is seeing all of the pregnant gals lovingly rubbing their bellies and trading gazes with their husbands. I mentioned in a post last year that I think there should be a walled off area for the baby bump blessed, so that the rest of us don’t have to come into contact with them.

And, apparently I am shrinking. The med assistant who checked me in, measured me a good ½” shorter than I actually am – I am not 85 with osteoporosis.

The other thing that irked me was that I had to explain to TWO people, the medical assistant and my GYN, that “No, I’m not using birth control.” And, “No, I’m not trying to get pregnant.” I am now on my third GYN in three years because they keep moving to New England, so I’d never met this new one, but come on, “Check my effing file! You’ll see more than your fair share of documentation of all the ways I tried to get pregnant.” I hate having to relive all that.

And, they had me listed as being on Estrogen. Yeah, that was like two years ago when I was going through fertility treatments, and people my age really shouldn't be taking it for more than a few days to get the uterine line forming anyway. I'm not going through menopause.

It’s bad enough that my doctor’s office is in the same building and on the same floor, just steps away from my fertility doctor. Even the hallways smell the same – and it makes me think back to the days of when I actually had hope that I could get pregnant. Weird how smells will do that.

Actually, the only highlight to this experience was my drop-in at my old fertility doctor’s office. Unfortunately, he and his wife who is the head nurse, were at their other office, but the office/insurance manager ran out from behind her desk and gave me a big hug. Now that’s the kind of practice I like: hugs instead of getting harangued by people about birth control.