Warning: TMI post. And me whining. Like a lot.
I went to a baby shower today.
At this point, I really should be banned from things like that.
Because somewhere near the end, the expectant mother unwrapped this tiny blue sailor dress (similar to one Carolyn had) and I just lost it.
There's pretty much nothing as awesome as bawling in front of a group of people when you're not supposed to be bawling.
And several people at the table said, "Oh, Erin, looks like it's time for another baby!"
I know they don't know the situation and bless them, they are the sweetest girls EVER, but good grief, it hurt.
I never thought I'd be the girl that felt that way...and I can see now why some ladies avoid baby showers like the plague.
Here it is by the numbers:
18: Number of "Day Ones" that have come and gone
13: Number of times I've sat on the floor of the bathroom on Day One and sobbed
5: Number of months spent on hormone therapy
5: Number of months spent on fertility drugs
10: Number of months I've felt irritable, nauseated, and had hot flashes like a menopausal woman
3: Number of times I've fainted at the gym while on said medication
18: Number of doctor's visits
9: Number of blood draws
6: Number of ultra sounds to make sure my ovaries aren't going to explode
11: Number of months I've peed on ovulation sticks ten days running
11: Number of "positive" OPKs
241: Number of times I've been asked if we want more children
1: Number of times I've told the doctor to stuff it, I'm not taking any more medication
921: Number of times Carolyn has driven me crazy enough to question why I would even want another child (true story).
We enter month 19.
We've both been tested and tested and tested.
We both "look great" according to those test results.
For us, there is no next step.
Because the next step is so expensive, I could buy a car instead.
Husband says we just need to have faith that it will happen.
Everyone else tells me that it will happen as soon as I stop thinking about it or when I least expect it.
(I swear, the next person who says that to me is getting it right in the kisser.)
Honestly, that's exactly was scares me.
I feel like we're caught in a holding pattern.
And yes, you got it, I'm not getting any younger up in here (how many times have I said that phrase in the last eighteen months?)
I mean, I understand that if I were a Hollywood star, I could have a baby at age 45 and then just hire a young nanny to take care of it.
But in real life, I don't want to be that lady who shows up with their kid places and people ask if I'm their grandmother.
Oh, and as a bonus, in Beaumont, if you're older than 35 when you get pregnant, you have to do all sorts of additional testing because you're categorized as "advanced maternal age". You all know how I feel about pretty much any testing that takes place with any instrument that hangs on a contraption on the wall called a "probe caddy" (who even made those? Yuck.)
Plus, I'd kind of like Carolyn to actually have siblings that are semi-close in age.
I'm feeling quite full of despair.
And I'm banning myself from the baby section in any store I go.
PS I just want to say for the record that if/when I magically get pregnant, don't expect me not to complain about the pregnancy just as vehemently as I've complained about not being pregnant. Because if I puke for another ten months, everyone's gonna hear about it.
That is all.