Infertility: The Sitcom!

Yesterday morning, I met with my nurse to go over IVF #3. Have I mentioned that I can’t believe I’m doing this again? The shots, the patches, the money, the stress. Oy. It’s not that I think I’m above it or anything. It’s more that I’m simply over it.

I always think of my life as a sitcom. I have wacky downstairs neighbors, the sarcastic yet adorable husband, a gay best friend and at times, if you listen carefully, you can even hear the faintest laugh track… especially after the failure of my first two IVF’s. Sometimes, even though I’m alone at the time, I’ll even turn to look into the camera and say, “Infertile! I’d rather be out-fertile!” before we cut to a commercial break.

This week’s episode included an incident with the wacky downstairs neighbor’s dog. She’s an adorable puppy who is, to put it nicely, a total pain in the ass. She jumps on everyone, poops in the hallway, and most recently, she’s taken to eating our mail. Despite how incredibly cute this dog is, I hate her. She’s well-intentioned but ultimately, she is a hassle I really don’t need right now.

As you may know, I’ve been on the hunt for some fertility medications in the hopes that it could save us some money. For the past few weeks, a few generous souls have been sending me estrogen patches, Menopur, etc. So, this past Friday, when I came home to find the dog looking guilty surrounded by shreds of a fed ex box with my name on it, I feared the worst; that she had eaten one of my fertility related medications. My first thought was, “If this dog gets pregnant before I do, I may shoot myself.” Luckily, it was just a moisturizer I had ordered but for one second, I seriously thought this dog ate my estrogen.

If we do end up having to order some of the medications I need, my insurance company said they will fill the prescription and will even ship it but they made it clear they won’t cover it. That being said, I sincerely don’t think they will respond well if I ever have to tell them, “A dog ate my hormones.”

Another amusing part of this week’s episode was my mother calling me at work to inform me that I’m cursed. When she called, thinking it was a client, I answered the phone and said, “This is Jay. How may I help you?” Without even saying hello, she said, “I think you’re cursed.” If it wasn’t for her New Jersey accent, I would have thought this client was an asshole.

Apparently, she had Googled what signs there are of someone putting the “evil eye” on you. She advised that the only way I could undo this curse is to forgive the person (my “curser” I suppose) through Jesus Christ.

First, if I don’t know who put a curse on me, how do I forgive them? Should I randomly start asking people, “Hey there, did you happen to put a curse on me recently? If so, I forgive you through Jesus Christ.”

Second, for the record, I don’t know if actually would forgive the person who put a curse on me. In fact, I think I would wish that a swarm of angry hornets took up residents in their anus. I’m just saying.

Third, I pretty certain Jesus Christ isn’t going to take my call. If he and I were in touch, I’d be the mother of two kids at this point and I’d be ignorant of what it’s like to worry about my uterine lining.

When I told a friend of mine this story expecting her to crack her up, she laughed appropriately but then quickly added, “That IS crazy! The reason you’re not getting pregnant is because your chakras are blocked!” I have blocked chakras? Is that the equivalent of being spiritually constipated?

Then, when I told my acupuncturist this series of events, she also laughed and said, “I hear what she’s saying but really, you’re not cursed and you I don’t think it’s that your chakras are blocked. It’s that your chi is stagnant.“

So, to review, someone has put a curse on me that has blocked my chakras creating stagnant chi. This is shocking to me as none of the three reproductive endocrinologist I’ve been to at this point mentioned it! I’m sure at least one of these things would have come up in my sonogram, right?

Like a sitcom, there is a story arc. Characters progress, plot lines develop and at the end of each season, there’s either a cliffhanger that’s resolved next season or a happy ending that will satisfy you for the summer. My sitcom however is stuck in the same f*cking storyline: Funny (and cursed) woman who can’t get pregnant keeps doing IVF’s while trying to keep animals from eating her hormones.

If I were a viewer, I’d have stopped watching by now. It’s a good thing I suppose that my cast of characters are so endless entertaining.

Any which way, it looks like mid-May, we’ll be doing another IVF. No, it’s not a rerun. It is new episodes but with the same story line. Hopefully this time though, we’ll have a happy ending for sweeps week.

Small Side Note: I had written an article for the Fertility Authority this week that I’m particularly proud of. It’s called “Infertility Etiquette” and it’s an amusing little list of things to send to friends and family of an infertile to help them know what to say and what not to say. And no, the woman in the picture included in the article is not me. She’s perfectly lovely, but I’m sure she’s more fertile than I am. Anyway, if you’d like to check it out, please go here: http://www.fertilityauthority.com/blogger/jay-bronte/2011/04/04/infertility-etiquette