Poking and Probing and Pinot

I never knew trying to have a baby would be so much like a science experiment. My doc observing and making inferences, hypothesizing about my possible defective ovaries, poking and probing me in all of her experimental rounds, analyzing the blood tests and ultrasounds and then delivering the results. Repeat. (Side note… who knew I’d actually retain that much information about the scientific method? Congrats to all my middle and high school science teachers!) Each time my doc delivers her disappointing and inconclusive results we go back to the drawing board and I get off the phone call with mixed emotions. I’m glad the thing they were testing for wasn’t wrong/bad/high/low/red/blue/drunk/whatever, but I’m still upset because we don’t have any answers. Then we’re onto the next round of tests. It’s such a draining process and I’m still in the early stages. Shout out to all the women out there who have endured years of this! I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep any ounce of sanity and I applaud and cheers to you. CLINKY! Because I’m seriously on the verge of losing it.


Let’s back track a couple of weeks. When I last left you I was binging on all things Little Debbie (that woman is a Saint), sitting with my heating pad and of course crying. Since then I’ve had a few more rounds of testing done and here’s how all of that has gone. More blood work to re-test my FSH levels and a few other things. To be honest I don’t even know what else they were testing. I stopped listening to the nurse and just told her I would get the blood work and they could call me with the results. At this point I don’t really care what they are doing I just want to know the end result.

So I went back to the lab to spend some quality time with my “blood work guy.” We got to catch up on all things Grey’s Anatomy a week ago because he just kept filling those damn vials. My guy knows the drill and how much I HATE blood work. He knows that I don’t need him telling me, “You’re going to feel a tiny pinch.” So every time it’s the same. I go in, sit in the chair, turn my head in the other direction and he goes to work. This round was no different in the beginning until it was taking longer than normal. I asked if there was a problem and he replied with, “Well yes, I don’t know how Shonda Rhimes thought Grey’s could go on without McDreamy. But no, the blood work is fine. They just asked for more this time for a few other tests. Now, what do you think about Jackson and April?” He knows me so well already. Distraction is really the only way to keep me from crying. After the vials were full I went on my way and waited for the call with the results.

Three days later I got the call that, “All you’re blood work looked great, but your FSH levels had no change. The Doc would like you to come in for a vaginal ultrasound and then we’ll schedule the HSG test after that. See you next week!” That b**** was so perky! I know that they are supposed to be happy and positive, but can’t she just give it to me straight? “Hey Sam, you’re FSH levels still suck, but all the other crap we tested looks fine. We still don’t have any answers for you. We’ll see you in a week for some probing that will most likely turn up fine also and then we’ll put you through some more uncomfortable vaginal exams. So go home and have a bottle of wine. You’ve earned it, Gal!” Now THAT is the kind of phone call I need, but I don’t think that’s protocol. So we ended the call by setting up my first ultrasound for Friday.

Fast forward another week to Friday the 16th. I went in for the ultrasound. I had mixed emotions from the beginning. I was excited to be on to the next phase of testing, but I always thought the first ultrasound I would have would be to see my baby for the first time. So I had a little bit of a pity party in the parking garage, pulled myself together, and walked in ready drop my pants and see my insides on that blurry little screen for the first time. I tried to get the ultrasound tech to crack and give me some details. I even tried to break the ice with an inappropriate comment about probing (she didn’t laugh). I asked what she was seeing and if it looked normal. She didn’t budge. She said she couldn’t give me that information but that the doctor would have the images today and would call me in a day or so. So after the long weekend of waiting I got the dreaded phone call today. “Hi Sam, we have your results and everything looked fine on your ultrasound. So we’ll need to schedule the HSG test five days after you have your next period. Call us back on the day you start and we’ll get that scheduled. Have a nice day.” I’m sorry, did you just say I have to wait until my next period? Great! So not only did I hang up the phone mad about the fact that I would have to wait at least another three weeks before I could even have the next test done, I was also mad that once again they found NOTHING! I know I should be happy about the positive ultrasound test, but at the same time it’s just another door closed and still no answers. It’s great that we are ruling things out, but I mean can’t a girl catch a break? I’m just waiting for the day when they call and say, “This is what’s wrong with you. This is how we fix it. This is when you’ll have a baby.” I know it doesn’t really work that way, but a girl can dream.

So here we are again. On to the next experiment and waiting not so patiently with my Pinot in hand. I feel like I’ve been such a Debbie downer lately and I apologize. I’m trying to stay positive and I know with each test we are one step closer. And I know that no matter how long it takes, or how many uncomfortable probing sessions I have to sit through, or how many vials of blood I have to let them fill, the end result will be the same. One day I will hold a beautiful little baby in my arms. One day we WILL welcome that baby into our family. Whether it’s through natural conception, IVF, sorcery (sorry I watched the Harry Potter marathon all weekend) or adoption, our family will grow by two feet eventually. That screaming, crying, pooping little bundle of joy will be so loved and they will know that every long and painful step of this process was all worth it.



Zebra Cakes and Tampons and Wine, OH MY!

Well I’m currently in the fetal position, mixing up my personal cocktail of extra strength Tylenol and wine and I just ate a half a box of zebra cakes and two cosmic brownies for good measure (I wish I was exaggerating). All of this can only mean one thing… Aunt Flow is back in town. In case you didn’t pay attention in health class, starting your period is a bad thing when you are trying to get pregnant. You’re welcome for the quick lesson in reproduction. I’m apologizing ahead of time for my current bad attitude during this post. That’s a lie. I’m actually not apologizing at all and I shouldn’t have to. As if the period hormones weren’t enough to make me a real moody b****, let’s just throw in the disappointment of finding out that once again I’m not pregnant to really make me an absolute delight.

So here we are again, an all too familiar scene. I’m drinking and complaining and eating and hoping my husband doesn’t leave me in the process. Just kidding! I know he’s not going anywhere, but I do feel pretty bad for him for these 5 days out of every month when he has to find reasons to stay out of the house to put up with me.

We did get a sliver of positive information on Friday. That positivity is all down the crapper after today, but I thought I’d go ahead and share. The results of my blood work last week came back on Friday. Actually they came back on Thursday. My doctor’s office called Thursday at 4:29 pm. I missed the call and they left a message. “Samantha, this is Dr. G’s office and we are calling to give you the results of your recent blood test. We would like to talk about a few things so please call us back as soon as possible. Our phone lines shut down for the day at 4:30.” Awesome! Thanks for giving me so much time to get back to you today. It’s not like I’ve been a hot mess waiting for the results. I’m clearly completely calm. After I listen to the message I frantically call back and of course am met with the answering machine. I had missed the deadline for the day. So now I would have to spend Thursday evening drinking, googling and overreacting. Repeat.

I called back first thing at 8 am on Friday morning and no one answered so I left a message and waited not so patiently for them to call me back. A few sober hours later (apparently it’s frowned upon to drink at work before 10 am. Rude!) the doctor’s office finally pops up on my caller id. Before the nurse could even start talking I immediately started in my typical word vomit fashion and asked questions. Once she shut me up calmed me down, she said we had some good news. “The blood work showed that you DID ovulate last cycle.” YAY ovaries!!! I guess those ovary pep talks we’ve been having are doing some good. I stopped listening for a moment and just enjoyed the good news. It was short lived. Then I was brought back to reality when I asked the nurse, “So what does this mean?” She let me know that since my FSH levels are high, but the blood test showed that I am ovulating this could mean that the eggs my body is producing are not of good quality. Or it could mean that maybe I have some blockage and the eggs can’t get where they need to be. We won’t really know for sure until we run some more tests.

Once again, here’s a shocker… we’re waiting! I’ll go back this week for more torture blood work. The good news is the guy who’s been drawing my blood is super into TV so he’s figured out the best way to distract me from the needles is by discussing the latest episode of The Real Housewives of OC, Below Deck, Grey’s Anatomy, The Blacklist and the list goes one. They’ll test my FSH levels again this week so we can compare them to the last round. Once we get those results back we’ll set up an appointment to determine our next step which will include some pretty invasive vaginal exams… jealous?

So until next time I’ll leave you with this… I’m pretty sure I could make my first million by selling combination packs of tampons and zebra cakes. GENIOUS!


Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman With Defective Ovaries

My husband went Monday morning to give his contribution to this little project. He wasn’t exactly thrilled, but I was happy to remind him that this was the ONLY thing he had to do through all of this (besides put up with me). After this test we would know if he was having any issues or if we needed to ignore him and focus on me. Normally I would welcome all the attention on me (I’m an entertainer at heart and love an audience), but in this case I was actually hoping something would be wrong with his guys.

Weird, right? And also a little bitchy of me. I couldn’t believe that I was actually hoping something would be wrong with his sperm, but I was. I was hoping we were in this together and that he could experience the same failure and disappointment that I was. So when I got the call on Friday that, “Nathan’s specimen results were great and we have nothing to worry about concerning him,” I couldn’t believe that I wasn’t happy. I should be ecstatic that it’s not a problem with both of us, right? But I wasn’t.

After I got off the phone with the nurse and hearing Nathan’s results I immediately felt an enormous amount of pressure. This test just confirmed that it was me. The problem is with me. The reason we haven’t been able to get pregnant is because of me. Don’t get me wrong, Nathan has done an AMAZING job of putting up with me comforting and reassuring me that we are 100% in this together, but hearing the words that Nathan was fine were still hard to swallow. To be honest, I wanted it to be him. Well I wanted this to just all be a fluke and for nothing to be wrong with either one of us, but if it had to be one of us I was hoping it was him. See… totally bitchy!

I mean my body has 1 job to do as a woman! It was made to make and have babies. So why is my shit defective? “Get it together ovaries!” I know I’m being irrational and extreme, but I tried my best to explain to Nathan that I have every right to be. We aren’t trying to decide on something like a paint color and Lowe’s tells us that color is discontinued. This is our future child and someone is telling us there is a chance this might not happen for us. It’s a big deal. Probably one of the biggest deals of our lives! So I’m singing, “They’re my ovaries and I’ll cry if I want to.”

I can write all of this because I’ve already expressed my disappointment to Nathan and being the saint that he is, he gets it. Just like he gets it when I send him to Jack in the Box at 9 pm just to get me curly fries (that happened last night by the way), he just gets it. If he could carry this burden for me I know he would.

So here we are again, waiting. I probably won’t have an update for a while because I don’t go back to the doctor for a couple of weeks. I’ll go back at the end of the month for more torture blood work to check my progesterone levels and then I’ll go back sometime around the first of October to test my FSH levels again. After these tests we’ll be able to compare and then plan our next step. Until then, I’ll be drinking trying to keep myself busy and doing my best to “relax.”




PS – I really do appreciate all the kind words and advice so PLEASE keep it coming. I just find ecards about infertility hilarious and very accurate.

And On the 8th day God Created Facebook…

I finally mustered up the courage to share this blog with my Facebook friends today. I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn’t expecting the reaction I received. I am so moved and genuinely speechless (enjoy the silence, it doesn’t happen often) about the amount of likes, comments, messages, texts, calls, etc. that I received and I am seriously thanking God for Facebook!

I started this blog to help myself express and sort through all the emotions and pain I’ve been experiencing this past year. I never realized that by sharing my story I might be helping someone else who is struggling with similar issues. I also never realized the amount of women who would reach out to me with their own personal stories of success and some of heartache. I 100% believe in the power of prayer and by sharing our journey publicly it has opened up the flood gates! We’ve got so many people knocking on God’s door now and I know he hears us. I’ve just got to do my best to keep my crazy in check be patient.

So cheers to all you prayer warriors out there (insert clinking noise here that I just made with my glass and bottle of wine)! And thank you from the very bottom of my heart for all of the support. You all are the best 1,153 Facebook friends a girl could ask for!

I’m in a much more positive mood today, but still have to remind myself of this often…


And a huge shout out to one of my sorority sisters who is in a similar boat. She sent me some encouraging words and this song to listen to. If you have a couple minutes to cry your eyes out you need to listen to this song. Whatever you are struggling with just let it go and “just be held.”

FSH: F****** Stupid Hormones

FSH: F****** Stupid Hormones! Ok so that’s not exactly what FSH stands for, but I’m beginning to think this is a much better description for the acronym. FSH (Follicle-stimulating hormone) in women stimulates the ovaries to produce eggs. This is the hormone my doctor checked when I had my bloodwork done last week. And let’s just say that my results weren’t exactly great and I feel like Mother Nature just gave me a swift punch in the gut.

I was sitting at work today when my phone vibrated and I saw my Dr.’s office on the caller id. I picked it up and ran to the break room for some privacy. I cry a lot, but I don’t like to do it in public. I answered the call and as the nurse said, “We have the results of your bloodwork and they weren’t what we hoped for.” My heart immediately sank and of course cue instant water works. She said, “Your FSH levels are high which the doctor wasn’t expecting and we’ll need you to repeat the bloodwork test again next month so we can compare the results.” She also said a few other things that I couldn’t understand over my sobs so I simply muttered OK and hung up the phone.

Insert immediate panic attack here… What the hell is an FSH? Why is mine high? What is normal? Can I even get pregnant? And for God’s sake when does Grey’s Anatomy come back on and how is Meredith ever going to make it without McDreamy? OK, maybe not so much the last question, but all the others were valid. And of course I immediately turn to Google which clearly did not calm me down. I finally called my doctor’s office back and asked to speak to the nurse again because I had some serious questions about my test results and what this all means. She got on the phone and I apologized for losing it earlier and told her that I had some time to freak out and google process what she had just told me and that I would like to ask her a few questions. I’m still convinced all these doctors and nurses are speaking a foreign language, but she tried her best to explain. “Normal FSH levels should be 2.5 – 10.2 and we were hoping yours would be in the 3-5 range. Your level was at a 10.5.” In this case bigger is apparently not always better. High FSH levels mean that my body is working harder to produce good eggs and could be an indication that I have a low level of ovarian reserves. So apparently my so called over-reacting about turning 30 in November because ‘my eggs are dying’ wasn’t really over-reacting at all. Now granted they are just slightly on the high side and it could be much, much higher, but my doctor still thinks this could potentially be why we haven’t gotten knocked up conceived yet. 

Now obviously this is completely worst case scenario and we don’t know one way or another just yet about the condition of my eggs, but it’s definitely NOT the news I wanted to hear. I told the nurse I needed a worst case scenario. I don’t want someone telling me, “Sure there’s still a chance you can get pregnant” if that chance is only a once in a lifetime ‘Jesus walking on water’ kind of miracle. She said she wasn’t comfortable giving me a doom and gloom scenario and that she would have my doctor call me as soon as she was available. So once again, I waited.

An agonizing 30 min later the phone rang again and my doctor said all the same things the nurse had and I told her I needed to know what we are really looking at here. She said we will know more after the second round of blood work, but (insert gut punch here), “Unfortunately people with high FSH levels have a much lower pregnancy rate and a higher miscarriage rate if they are able to become pregnant without the use of an egg donor.” I stopped her immediately right there because I wasn’t quite as ready for all the doom and gloom as I thought I was. I thanked her for her time and for putting up with me as usual. I told her that I would do my best not to panic any more than I already was and that I would wait until the next round of bloodwork before I really went into a severe state of depression panicked. I did let her know that I’m a lunatic and by my next appointment I would basically be an expert on high FSH levels, Premature Ovarian Aging and everything that goes with it. She ended the conversation with a positive outlook and said the magic word… HOPE. There is always hope.

So here we are… 3 o’clock on a Monday afternoon and I’m already in my sweatpants and half way into this bottle of wine. Don’t worry, I left work early and am conveniently positioned on my couch where I plan to remain FOREVER! Or at least until I have to get up for work tomorrow. I mean what would you do if you were basically just told you’re a 29 year old with the ovaries of a 39 year old?! So please, leave your judgment at home and pick up a glass or bottle of wine and bring it on over because I’m running low!

I don’t have any words of wisdom or positive thoughts for today, because some days just suck!



9/8/15 – FACT: Swearing when you’re hurt helps reduce pain.

S*** that hurt! Apparently I’m going to need to get used to giving blood. Let’s back track a few days to last Friday. I went in for my doctor appointment as scheduled. After the horrible night I had, I spent my morning (here’s a shocker) crying and trying to pull myself together. I kept telling myself I wasn’t going to cry at my appointment. Well that didn’t happen. I held it together up until the minute I heard the knock on the door in my exam room and before my doctor could even get both feet in the room I was a hot mess of tears again. She assured me it was normal to be a blubbering lunatic emotional. I told her I would do my best to voice my questions and concerns, but that she might need to bring in some sort of an interpreter if she wasn’t fluent in “bat s*** crazy talk.”

So there we sat. I attempted to talk and my doctor listened. After I finally took a breath from my word vomit my doctor finally stepped in and started spewing her own word vomit: FSH, estradiol, progesterone and so on and so on. She talked for about 10 minutes in what I was sure was a different language. And after she was done she calmly asked, “Do you have any questions?” REALLY?! Do I have any questions? I replied with, “I’m not sure you have that much time.” She laughed and once again assured me that it was normal. She told me it might be a good idea to keep a journal of questions that I think of and then we can discuss at our next appointment. She also very emphatically encouraged me to STAY OFF OF GOOGLE. At least until we find out what our specific issue is.

So here we are, back to today and step one of this whole processes… bloodwork. I’m convinced that I’ve got some sort of secret “I hate giving blood” stamp on my forehead that is only visible to nurses. And when I enter they see it and immediately pass me off to the person with the least amount of experience to take my blood. Now I’m sure that’s not the case, but it really feels like it. After 3 tries and 3 very painful pricks later she finally got a vein. The hard part was over… or at least I thought. After I left and gave myself a pat on the back for not being an almost 30 year old who cried while getting her blood drawn I realized that wasn’t the hard part. Waiting for the results would be the hard part. Just like waiting every month to see if I would get my period is the hard part. And this is only the beginning. Nathan goes on Monday to “give his contribution” so we can find out if it might be him or rule him out. And then more waiting on those tests. I will go back for more bloodwork towards the end of the month after I have ovulated. And then more waiting. So that is what my life has become… a waiting game.

So today I’m getting my daily motivation from Cinderella… “No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dreams that you wish will come true.”


9/4/15 – The B**** Is Back!

As I was getting ready for bed last night I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew Aunt Flow was about to make her unwanted appearance. I prepared as I usually do because without fail I always end up waking up in crippling pain feeling like there is an alien life form inside my uterus attempting to make it’s way out by any means necessary… sounds pleasant, right? So I put my extra strength Tylenol on my nightstand and the heating pad was plugged in and ready to go and I drifted off to sleep.

Then BAM! There it was just as I suspected; intense pain. I woke up a little after 2 am and laid in bed, dreading the walk to the bathroom because I knew what I would find. After a while I knew I had to get up. So I walked the longest 20 feet of my life and there she was waiting for me, Aunt Flow. Every month I tell myself that I’m not going to cry if I get my period, but without fail the second it comes so do the water works. I stumbled, blurry-eyed back to our bedroom to get a few things and then assumed my position on the couch. So with my blanket and heating pad I sat in the fetal position and cried, while watching Friends of course. Nick at Night is my go-to channel for this all too familiar late night routine. And if Friends isn’t on (don’t worry, it’s always on) then don’t you worry, I’ve got the seasons on DVD. Insert my new motto here: Because if you can’t laugh, all you do is cry.

I cried for a while and tried to pull myself together… it didn’t work. So I walked my hot mess self back to our bedroom and crawled in bed next to my husband. He knew. He always does. So he did what he does best; he held me. As we laid there spooning and me still crying he rubbed my back, kissed my head and comforted me without saying a word.

After a while the sobbing shifted to just a few straggling tears and intense hurt. Hurt from the physical pain of the demon cramps and hurt from the emotional pain of this once again not being the month I would end up pregnant. So I rolled out of bed to let Nathan get a few more minutes of sleep before his 4 am wakeup call and I headed back out to the couch to let my mind overreact wander.

As if I wasn’t already emotional enough about today lets just throw in a period to really make me irrational. Today is the day I’m heading to see my doctor for the first time to find out what the hell do I do next what our next steps are. I hope she is able to pick up a few words through the sobs that will inevitably flow the instant I step foot in her office. No idea what to expect for today or at this point how I’m even going to get through it. One thing is for sure, the second I step out of her office I’ll be heading straight to the nearest store to stock up on my personal depression cocktail of wine and cookie dough. Hello Friday Night!


8/25/15 – Well, here goes…

Well, here goes… welcome to my personal blog recounting all the messy details of my reproductive organs, mental breakdowns, pee sticks and wine binging while my husband and I try to create a human. Intrigued? Well I can’t say I blame you after that opening statement. Who wouldn’t want to read all of the intimate details of my life that I’ve just posted on the internet?! So sit back, grab a glass of wine or a beer (you can be sure I’ve got one while typing this) and enjoy reading about my desolation and despair journey to conceiving a child.

Rewind – My story begins with a prince who rescued me from a wicked queen who had me locked inside a tower… well not exactly, but it worked for Disney, right? While I do consider Nathan my Prince Charming he didn’t rescue me from an evil queen. Sorry to ruin the hype. He’s just a normal guy who loves me completely. All my quirks and outbursts, my love of Slurpees and hotdogs, he even loves that I sometimes cry at reality television (Biggest Loser gets me every time); He loves ALL of me. I think that kind of love is something everyone hopes for. It’s a calming feeling to know that no matter what kind of crazy I show him each day it’s harder to divorce me than to just stay married he’s always there to comfort me and talk me off the ledge.

Nathan and I were married on July 18th, 2014, in what was no doubt the talk of Eureka Springs, AR. We stood in the most amazing chapel and vowed to love each other forever, blah, blah, blah. You’ve been to weddings you know the drill. Since then we’ve bought a home and about 3 ½ acres of land and spend our weekends with our 2 kids, renovating, DIYing, shooting things (just targets and deer mostly) and trying to make a human… not all at once of course and definitely not in that particular order. Now I’m sure you’re probably thinking, “This girl’s wine must have kicked in! Isn’t this a blog about conceiving a child? Did she just say she already has 2?” And you would be correct in ALL of those assumptions. My husband came into my life as a package deal. He brought with him a lego loving, kindhearted little boy and a sassy, outdoorsy little girl. Nathan has already made me a mother. I’m a firm believer that it takes more than just DNA to make someone a parent. I call them my children and there is no way I could love them more! While some women would be thrilled with having two amazing children that they didn’t have to go through the ups and downs of pregnancy to have, I’ve waited my whole life to be pregnant. Yes, I’m one of those ‘pregnancy is so beautiful’ and ‘I can’t wait until I’m fat’ kind of women. I’ve spent so many mornings standing in front of the mirror pushing my stomach out (unfortunately some days I didn’t have to push very hard) and just imagining myself with that tiny baby bump. And NOW, here I am, married to the man of my dreams, in our home and ready for the next step… a screaming, crying, pooping, needy little bundle of joy.

Up until about a year ago I thought getting pregnant would be a breeze! I mean everyone seemed to be doing it. I’d just stop taking my birth control and BOOM… I’m knocked up. Right? Wrong, so so wrong! Apparently getting pregnant is like really, really hard. I mean have you ever googled pregnancy statistics? Weird… me neither. But if you did you’d find out that there is only like a 12-24 hour time frame each month when you can get pregnant and of that time only about 20% actually get pregnant. Now I’m not sure where these so called ‘doctors’ are getting their information from because last time I checked the good ole FB I’m pretty sure EVERYONE I know is pregnant or just had a baby. So if it’s so hard to get pregnant then why does everyone seem to be doing it with such ease? Insert panic attack here… my eggs are dying, Nathan’s guys are slow, I have an inhospitable environment even though “I’ve always tried to be such a good host!” (If you picked up on that subtle Friends reference, we might be soul mates.) I tend to be a notorious over-reactor. Just ask my co-workers about the lump I found behind my ear and through the magic of Google and WebMD, I convinced myself it was a tumor. Good news… it wasn’t a tumor and it went away. Bad news… this lovely personality trait is great when it comes to my job (I’m a meeting and event planner and thrive on details and precise planning), but it’s not so great when you are dealing with something you have absolutely no control of.

Don’t get me wrong, while I’m over the moon excited for all my mommy and daddy friends I can’t help but lose enthusiasm and wonder when it will be my turn to post the ‘coming soon,’ or ‘Reese party of 5,’ and overshare belly and sonogram pictures (consider this your warning if we’re Facebook friends.) Everyone says, “it will happen eventually,” “stay positive,” and my personal favorites “just keep trying,” and “are you sure you’re doing it enough?”

I like to think I’m a pretty positive person… until I get the dreaded visit from Aunt Flow every month and my dreams are crushed. This is usually followed by about 2 weeks of binge drinking, then a week of pee sticks to test ovulation, another two weeks of waiting (sober might I add) and then wrapped up with a week of running to the store to buy tampons, cookie dough and wine. I’ve been trying to send myself positive vibes by not keeping any tampons in the house hoping that month I won’t need them. The cookie dough and wine method coupled with some comforting hugs and wise words from my husband is how I deal each month with the disappointment of seeing only one line on that pregnancy test. And then the vicious cycle continues the next month.

So here we are. Still not pregnant and a little heavier (I blame the wine and cookie dough). I created this blog as an outlet for me to vent my frustrations and to keep everyone filled in. Because no offense, but if I get one more “So when are you going to have a baby?” or “I’m really surprised you and Nathan aren’t pregnant yet!” I might just lose it. And by lose it I mean burst into sudden uncontrollable tears. So if you happen to be the poor soul that triggers this, I apologize in advance. I’ve got my first doctor’s appointment coming up to talk about our next steps since we’ve been trying for almost a year now. Praying that my nervousness has just been getting the best of me and all of my lady parts are in working order. Guess we’ll find out. Until then I’ll leave you with this….

1 Corinthians 1:9 – She holds onto hope for he is forever faithful.