Posts Tagged ‘Facebook’

Sorry–I Can’t Like Your Status and I Don’t Want a Number


Maybe it’s all over your Facebook newsfeed (or has been at one time):

“Like my status and I’ll give you a number!”

In case you have no idea what I’m talking about, in this scenario one of your Facebook friends lists a predetermined number of random facts about his or her self on his wall such as:

“I met my fiancé on a blind date and we knew it was love at first sight even though I was already engaged.”

“I don’t like for my socks to match and I try to hide it from the world.”

“I like barbecue sauce on my French fries; please don’t judge me.”

“I like to eat toothpaste.”

You get the idea. Then you “like” his/her status and he/she assigns you a number, say 9, and you post 9 random facts about yourself. From there, others like your status and you assign them a number and the process repeats itself. All over Facebook.

I am actually very fortunate because no one in my newsfeed  has posted excessive facts about their babies, children, or reproductive abilities. For this I am grateful.

I have yet to participate in this game. I can’t help but wonder which random facts I would post about myself if I did join in the fun.

Maybe, the run-of-the-mill: “I absolutely hate waking up early” or “My favorite restaurant is Cheesecake Factory–I really like the Chicken Marsela”?


Here are mine:

“It took my husband and I two and a half years to conceive our first child. The pregnancy lasted seven and a half weeks.”

“God works in mysterious ways. After our first miscarriage, we conceived just five months later with our rainbow baby. That pregnancy lasted about two weeks though the feeling that I lost who I am remains to this day.”

“No, my allergies don’t make my eyes water all the time like I say they do. At any given time of the day, I fight back tears when I think of how my dreams may never come true.”

“I am completely emotionally spent. Just having a simple conversation with any one of you takes a considerable amount of energy on my part. Bear with me.”

“I don’t go to church anymore. The weekly baby dedications make me cry. Every. Single. Time.”

“Through the years of infertility and loss, I have cut a lot of people out of my life. Chances are, you’re one of them. I’m sorry. I miss you and who we were together.”

Something tells me that these random facts about me might put a damper on someone’s game. I think the point is to be random and light. I don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable, so you can see why I’m not playing.

In other news, our WTF appointment with our RE isn’t until next Tuesday. Next, not this coming Tuesday. I am both curious and frightened to hear what she will have to say about what went wrong during our IVF.

What was so damning wasn’t that our two retrieved embryos didn’t make it. It was the fact that we only retrieved two eggs out of the eight that were supposed to be there. I have no idea if they were truly empty or if the eggs were too difficult to get out or what. Hell, for all I know they didn’t even try. All I know is that I was in and out of there in a hurry and didn’t feel very different physically after I left.

I’m not blaming our RE. I like her a lot (though she does seem to be rushed) and her staff is compassionate and very well-organized . Chances are, it is just me and my eggs. I am trying my hardest to prepare myself for the donor egg talk that could be coming.

I really don’t know if there is much that can be done about egg quality. Yes, I’ve heard about DHEA but never asked the doctor about it and she didn’t recommend it. There is something to be said about acupuncture helping egg quality as well. I like acupuncture.

Still, part of me keeps going back to where I had my procedure done. The office is a quality facility and when I originally selected it, it was because the success rates for my age bracket were decent, about 43%. However, after I had all my prescreening testing done, the latest success rates for my age bracket came out and they were down considerably to about 29% (actually they were down for all age groups, even those under 35). I remember crying on the phone that day to my husband telling him that we made a mistake and should back out right then and there and go someplace else. Now, I wish we would have.

From what I understand, RE fees are based on their success rates. We paid a huge sum of money (this clinic charges considerably higher than others) for services that  yielded a marked decrease in success for its patients. Why didn’t I do something about this red flag that was waving in front of me? I ignored that little nagging voice and it may have cost me a child.

If there is any point in doing any IVFs in the future and if I am financially able to do so and choose to, I may go elsewhere. There is a new clinic that has branched off from another one that boosts a success rate of about 67% for ages 36-40. I don’t know if these statistics are too good to be true or misleading, but it sure beats a 29% success rate. Yes, I’d have to travel to another city and meet another team of doctors and go through all of this again, but at least that option is out there. Not really an option, just an idea at this point.

That’s it for now. Now, go out and like some FB statuses!







Protected: Guess What Happens When You Put Your Hand in the Fire?

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You Are Invited! (No Thanks,You Clueless Fertile!!)

Lately, I’ve been putting my hand in the proverbial Facebook cookie jar.  I am empowered.

I know FB is full of crappy insensitive posts.   I scroll through and see the same garbage and my reaction is “So F-ing what!” 

As infertility continues to dominate my life, I’ve learned how to anticipate the ways of social media and some social interactions as well.  See an old acquaintance in a store who you know is going to ask “Are You pregnant yet (moron)?  Duck down another aisle!   Got a “friend” who is always going on about her adorable tow-headed tot?  Start an intense game of Angry Birds on your phone while she babbles away!

Yep, I’ve toughened myself up these last couple of days.

Then, why did my day go straight to hell when I opened this email at work?:

As I checked my work emails, I got this one from a co-worker that said “You are invited.”   I innocently thought that someone was sending me an invitation to yet another jewelry/purse/cookware party.  But no, I get this glaring, loud, in-your face  reminder about what I don’t have. 

Besides the obvious reasons, this email sucked for three additional reasons.

1)  I have always wanted a little girl.  I dream about her always and wonder if I will ever get the chance to be her mother.

2) Work is a place I can go to get away from obsessing over RE visits, time, and finances (well, I try).  When I open an email, I expect it to be work-related.  If you’re going to drop a bomb like this, at least have the courtesy to warn me in the damn subject line.

3) The shower is for a guy (his wife works someplace else), who I will call Sir You’re So Vain.  Sir You’re So Vain and his wife, from my calculations, literally got married, got pregnant the same month and are delivering a baby precisely 9 months later.   A girl.  That would suck on its own but Sir You’re So Vain, for lack of better terms, is an ass.

Despite prepping myself to be a savvy, yet tough social media user, I fell apart after I opened this email.  Maybe it’s the fact that I want a little girl, maybe it was the colorful graphics and pink lettering, or maybe it’s hormonal.

After I called my husband who convinced me to postpone my huge, down-and-out monthly meltdown (which isn’t necessarily associated with PMS), I felt better.  I was sad, but then I got angry.  I get it.  I know that it is perfectly acceptable to send non-related work emails to your colleagues at your job.   I know that it is trendy and cute to have a baby shower and invite everyone you know  I know that others do not know about my personal situation.  I just wish, for the sake of all that is holy, that people would just think about their actions before they do them.  At work, there is at least one other infertile who is very open about her condition.  Wonder how she felt when she opened that email?



What I would like fertiles (and the world at large) to know. . . part 1

As I was driving home yesterday, I got to thinking (no smoke coming out of my ears; like many of you I do some of my best thinking driving). Typically, I get very upset/angry when infertility is misrepresented and stigmatized.   If I had the privilege (and courage) to educate the general masses about infertility (particularly mine), what would I say?  I made a mental list (God, I love lists). 

1.  I did not choose this.

I did not sign up to be infertile.  I did not ask for it.  I did not go looking for it.  It happened to me.  It could have happened to you (though I would never wish it on you or anyone for that matter, even though I am turning into a bitter shrew).  Do not take your fertility for granted–ever!

which leads me to. . .

2.  Infertility is a medical condition. 

Yep, meaning it has a biological and physiological basis.  Since it is a medical condition,  relaxing on a vacation will not cure it.  Instead, I have to take endless and expensive rounds of medication in hopes that I will become reproductively normal like you are.   

which also leads me to. . .

3.  No, I cannot “just get IVF”.

IVF is an expensive, time-consuming and involved process.  Even if I qualified, I would probably have to take out a second mortgage on my home, even though I have good medical insurance.   I never saved up for infertility, because like you, I assumed I would be able to reproduce with relative ease.  Don’t even talk to me about savings or a “nest-egg” (ironic use of words you’re using, huh)!  Any savings I once had are long gone to cover medications and treatments.  At this stage in the game, I chastise myself for merely splurging on a $5 tube of lipstick.

so naturally. . .

4.  No, I cannot “just adopt”.

Nope, I can’t run down to the grocery store and just pick up a baby or child.  Yes, I’m aware that there are thousands of children “out there” who need a good home.  Would it surprise you to know that adoption isn’t easy as it sounds?  I take anti-depressants (sorry to make you uncomfortable).  An adoption agency could turn me down for this reason alone.  What did you say?  Oh, your cousin’s mother sister’s aunt adopted and she got pregnant the next month?  Great–but what does this have to do with me?  Are you suffering from ADHD or something?  Stay focused.

5.  Your Facebook ultrasound photos make me want to cry, so I just get angry instead.

Did you know that when I see your image, I am once again reminded of the giant hole I have in my life?  Even though I’ve seen numerous posts like these (sometimes in the course of a week) I can’t just get over it or blow it off.  I know it is natural to want to share your good news with the world, but don’t you think some things are meant to be kept to yourself?  I mean, this is a picture of your uterus after all!    How would you feel if I showed you the xrays from my HSG?  Trust me, that was not a pretty experience.

6.  No thank you, but I do not want your eggs, reproductive parts, or your husband’s sperm.

So, you’re getting a hysterectomy?  Er, that’s good. . .I guess.  Not trying to be mean, but I’ve only met you twice and it’s awkward enough being at this baby shower, so can we, um, just talk about something else?  Better yet, would you mind go standing on the other side of the room?

7. Yes, I will be missing work, sometimes many days in a month, and you will have to pick up my slack and start to do your own job as well.

I dread telling you that I will not be in–again.  No, I cannot always give you advance notice.  We are dealing with my menstrual cycle.  Maybe I’ll start early, maybe I won’t.  Maybe I’m ovulating, maybe I’m not.  Maybe I got bad news at my appointment and I’m sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot crying my eyes out.  Please give me time to pull myself together emotionally before I return.  Oh, and please refrain from telling everyone that I “have another doctor’s appointment”.  I do not feel comfortable discussing such a personal topic with people I barely know.

8.  No, my infertility was not caused by choosing to go to graduate school and having a career.

Even I use to get fooled by this one.  Trust me, I wallowed in my own sea of guilt for a long time.  But, did you know that I only chose the education/self-improvement/career path so I could one day be a great mother for my children?  Silly me!  I was actually planning ahead.  What?  You were smart enough to have children first?  Aren’t you clever? 

9.  Yes, I know God has chosen to bless you with children (yeah, I heard you the first time you told me).

Yes, your children are a blessing, but don’t go spouting that stuff that God gave you children because you are a wonderful person, have awesome virtues, or because you are superior to 99% of the population.  God chooses who he wants to bless, pure and simple.  And, he loves me just as much as he loves you, even if I do not have the children to show for it.

10.  Infertility is not contagious.

Did you know that when I tell you I’m infertile you get a slight look of disgust and bewilderment on your face?  No, I didn’t think you did, but just wanted to let you know.  Dont worry,  you won’t catch it from me!  In reality, I’m not the only person in the world who has this condition.  Did you know that as many as 7 million couples have trouble conceiving?  No, of course you didn’t.  See?  I’m not just purposely witholding children from the world.  In fact, I bet you have other friends who are in the same boat as I am.  They probably don’t share this information with you because of the reaction you just gave me.     

In my head, the list goes on, but I believe I have made a start.  Stay tuned for part 2.