"Hasty Baby" is a Misnomer

Seriously. We need to change our last name to "Unhurried," so the child will be referred to as "Unhurried Baby."

Alright, who's ready for an update? The last IUI resulted in.....

nothing. 

It's ok, or it is now, after I've eaten my weight in oreos and sobbed and snotted into the shirt I was wearing while my terrified dog hid under the bed. 

Honestly, I have learned a lot with this whole experience. I remember the first two cycles, how anytime I had a feeling that anything was wrong, I would get depressed and mopey for two weeks. I didn't want to jinx it or be hopeful because I thought it would hurt too much when the test was negative. However, I honestly thought that #3 worked. I even started looking at when the potential due date would be, arranging my maternity leave in my head. I had so much hope, and I convinced myself that this was the one. It obviously wasn't, but I learned the following:

I would much rather live with hope. Was I sad when it didn't work out? Absolutely. But, it hurt no more than it did the other times when I was sure it didn't work. 

So, that's honestly the reason that I write these; not to garner sympathy or what not, but I read so many infertility blogs where the author just laments their fate and sends their readers on a spiral into a black hole of depression. "No one understands what I'm going through," "My family is the worst around the holidays," "My sister is pregnant so I'm not talking to her anymore," "I will never be a mother, so I'm going to build a crib for my dog." Things like that. There was actually one blog where a woman complained about being childless, then complained about the infertility treatments, and is NOW complaining about pregnancy symptoms. 

I want to talk candidly about what we're going through, but with the understanding that we trust in God's plan and we are looking for the blessings in our journey. It doesn't have to be a void of despair. 

I just can't exist where my life is one big pity party. It's not good for my constitution. 

***** FERTILITY TREATMENT TALK -- IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, SCROLL AHEAD******

So, we visited the doctor after the IUIs to talk about next steps. We found out some crappy things, like I have a low egg reserve, so it's kind of now or never. I won't be able to carry a child past the age of 32 unless I use donor eggs or a frozen embryo, and I will most likely hit menopause around the age of 40.

It's insane to think that I may never have a biological child. It's something that I took for granted my whole life, like, "when I have kids, I'll...." It's a weird realization. 

So what they want to do now is do IVF, which is when they take my eggs out, fertilize them in a petri dish, and put the embryos back in. It'll cost about $6,000 with insurance, and it'll give us a 60% success rate. We definitely are going to try it!

**********FERTILITY TREATMENT TALK OVER**************

So that's where we are. Obviously we don't have that kind of cash handy, so we are taking time off to save for it. 

It's actually kind of nice to enjoy the holidays without having to track anything, or worry about traveling with refrigerated meds. I'm chilling with the Ariels, and all my cousins and aunt and uncle and PawPaw. It'll be a lot of fun. Plus being down here in the swamp away from all of them does make it harder. I can't wait to hang out in Lousville!

Anywho, the holiday parties are beckoning, along with the beers I haven't had in three months. I have a lot of making up to do. 

Different Cycle, Same Result

There's been absolutely nothing to report! We went through the whole IUI cycle a second time, with the same protocol, and.... 

it didn't work. This time I had double the amount of mature eggs, but it still didn't work. We found out that the success rates for an IUI with follicle stimulating hormones is 20%, and it just gives us the success rate that any normal couple would have naturally. 

So, we're back at it a third time. This time the medicine is a lot more aggressive, all injectables, at a dosage that gets higher and higher. I had a doctor's appointment this morning, and they said that I already had 4 eggs, but my estrogen was lower, so they told me to up the dosage so we can get closer to doing this next IUI. 

It's weird how this all messes with your brain. The first time, we were so hopeful, and then I took every symptom I had as a sign that it didn't work, and I honestly feel like I feel into a depression of sorts. I've never felt that sad, or worn down before, and I doubt it will be the last time I ever will. 

This time, I'm going to stay positive, and convince my brain that I am pregnant. What's the worst that could happen; we could not be pregnant and I could be sad or disappointed? I can live through that. I have before. Nothing wrong with a little hope. 

Again, though, our friends and family surrounded us with love and support, and my mom even drove 10 hours from Louisville to hang out with me for ONE DAY. Who does that?! We went to Costco and Trader Joe's, two of my favorite places, and I basically just took a mental health day. And another one to eat the entire jar of Cookie Butter that we bought at Trader Joe's. 

Who's had that? That stuff is suuuuuper good. And almost a cure for anything. 

But let me brag on the most important person: Josh is just the best husband in the world. He is the strong one, dealing with my crazy mood swings, whinings about the shots, and buying me sweet little presents. All it takes is a box of Junior Mints. Not kidding. Plus, this whole thing puts your body through the wringer. My stomach looks like a pincushion with all of the pins taken out, I can't exercise or play tennis like I want to, because they don't want your heart rate to get too high. I also have been (trying) to eat full fat dairy because that's supposed to help with implantation. Despite this, Josh makes me feel cherished and appreciated, no matter how badly I feel about myself. 

Some huge events happened this week; our friends Jason and DiAnna had their baby Alston, and he is beyond precious. I also had a friend in the theatre community pass away. I just know that things happen beyond our control, and the hardest part is trusting God, and not letting your own thoughts creep in. It's almost reinforced how blessed we are to know the people that we do. 

We took this picture, thinking it could be the first in a baby book. Now we see it as a mark of what all we are doing, and how much we can handle. Do I wish that I had make up on, and I didn't have Big Bird arms? Of course. 

Yesterday, October 15th was the Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day. Again, I am so grateful that I don't fit in to either of those categories, and I am in awe of the families that do. They have so much strength, and I can't even imagine having to deal with something like that. 

The bible passage that has brought me the most strength is 1 Samuel 1:1-20, when it tells the story of Hannah despairing because she didn't have any children. She went to the temple to pray, and because she was moving her mouth and no sounds were coming out, the priest thought she was drunk. He even told her to put away her wine. She explained why she was so distraught, and he prayed over her, and she became pregnant with Samuel. 

We think maybe it's taking a while because we will have a special child, like Samuel. Maybe they will be president, or cure cancer or something. Now, genes do come into play, so our kids will probably not stand much of a chance to do either. But it still brings me a lot of comfort. 

So, if you see me wailing, or mouthing the words to a prayer, it's not me being drunk. At least not this time. Don't tell me to put away my wine, because I don't have any. That's part of the reason I am so crazy this past few months. 

I'm just praying for the child that we know is coming. 

Keep you posted on IUI #3!

No Bun in the Oven

Hey guys... it has been a long time since I've posted anything, and I've gotten fussed at for it. Let's see. Since we last spoke, we have bought a house, gotten a sweet little puppy named Penny, and went on an amazing summer vacation. 

All in preparation and anticipation for something that just isn't happening. 

Anyone that knows me knows that I am an open book. Ask me about my Brazilian wax. I dare you. However, something that we haven't told everyone is that we have struggled to conceive for almost 3 years. 

When we got married in April of 2011, we knew that we wanted to try to become parents sooner rather than later. We always saw ourselves as young(ish) parents, able to keep up with the stamina of a toddler. As naive as that may be. 

Well, it didn't happen, and we thought, well, it's because my career isn't where we want it. And God wants my career to be set. 

It didn't happen. 

Then, we thought, we need to purchase a house, so that we have room for a family, and we'll be making an investment in our future. 

A year later, and it still didn't happen. 

This past year has been spent going in and out of the fertility clinic, being poked and prodded, giving pints and pints of blood for tests, and more ultrasounds than I ever thought I would have in my lifetime. And I'm not even pregnant yet. 

Now, I'm not writing this to gain sympathy, or pity, or for keeping you from posting pictures of your pregnancy or babies. We know that people being able to have children does not affect our chances to have babies. 

For the most part, at least. Throughout this saga, I would like to educate you on things that might bother anyone unable to get pregnant, or people that don't want children in the first place:

1) "My life never had meaning until Junior got here." This makes me want to punch you in the face. Don't discount the lives of others, just because they don't have kids. 

2) "You think you're tired now? Wait till you have kids." Hey, I'm sorry I don't have kids to experience your utter fatigue. I would give anything to be that tired. 

3) "Your dog isn't really a child, you know." Duh. I know. But she is still cuter than your sea monkey baby.

4) "Just relax! Go on vacation!" Nope. Just, nope. 

5) "You should adopt. I've heard stories of people doing that, and they get pregnant with their own baby." Here's the thing: if we went to adoption as an option, it's not as a means to an end. We would come to that conclusion after a lot of prayer and soul searching. Not to get the biological child that we always wanted. 

If you want examples of how to act, check out our friends and family. We have had such amazing support, it makes me want to cry just thinking about it. 

Just a little glimpse of our adventure: There is absolutely nothing wrong with us. We have, what you call, "Unexplained Infertility." We have tried many years, with nothing happening, and we just did our first cycle of IUI (Intra-Uterine Insemination,) complete with pills, shots, and suppositories (yay.) It didn't work, and we found out Sunday morning. It might have been the worst morning of my life. We were set to start again today, but I had a cyst that made it unable for the drugs to work correctly. So we wait yet another month. We know that we are meant to go through this journey, and we're trying, no matter how hard it is, to find the lessons we are supposed to learn. Here's what I've got so far:

1) It helps immensely to have support. I have a tendency to downplay my situations, or how I'm feeling (ask Amber Miller.) We knew we needed people to know what's going on, so we told our close friends and family. Most people try to keep this a secret, but this was the best thing we could have done. It's the love and sweet thoughts from people that have gotten me through these hard few days. I woke up Amber on Sunday with my text about the negative test, who immediately called and cried with me. Then my sister Emily called to cry with me, and then cracked me up for an hour about our adventures in dance recitals, and our lack of skills and grace. After a few more hours of wallowing, we went to eat with Jason and DiAnna Sox. Then I got to talk to my mom for a while, and she reminded me that we get to hang out at my PawPaw's cabin right outside of Asheville on Labor Day. Since, I have gotten texts from my wonderful cousins, mother-in-law, sweet gifts from our friends Larsyn and Tyler, and Tyler Ann and Brad. I cannot stress the importance of having close friends to lean on. 

2) Our plans mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. We wanted two kids, about 4 years apart. Now, however our family ends up, it ends up. 

2) I'm immensely blessed. I have an amazing family, I get to live in Charleston, in a house that we own, with the cutest puppy in the world. I also have a job that I love, and amazing friends that we have a blast with. 

3) I've become more empathetic/sympathetic. Maybe it comes with struggling in some area of my life, but I have become more sensitive to what other people are going through. It's like Joshua is constantly saying, "we didn't look at this situation through the right eyes the first time." I'm trying to walk a mile in other's shoes before judging. Unless you're racist or sexist. I'll judge you all day. 

4) No one deserves to be a father more than Joshua Hasty. No offense to the dads out there, but Josh is just all that and a bag of chips. He has put up with a lot, with the raging hormones and the mood swings that I've had. He is kind, fair, nurturing, insanely funny, sensitive, brilliant, and all of the other traits you look for in the father of your children. This journey reinforces this to me every day. 

5) This is the first time that I've truly struggled. It's also the first time I have had to completely rely on God's promises and His presence. I'm completely vulnerable. My Mom has told me how strong I am. Which meant a lot, because I've never felt strong. Confident, opinionated, maybe, but now strong for the first time. I trust that we will have a child, and then the blow that comes every month  it doesn't happen seems unbearable to me. However, I look at my friends, who's journeys have been so much worse than mine, and they can get up every day. So can I. 

Again, I'm not saying this so that people feel bad for us. I want to be an open book about infertility, because not a lot of people are. People are ashamed to have to do this, and I refuse to be. 

The ladies that have dealt with this before, or are dealing with it now, are the reason I had courage to go through all of these treatments. That's the reason I'm writing this. Infertility bites the bong hole, and anyone that has any questions or issues that they need some guidance with, I would be more than happy to offer up my experience. God forbid anyone I know has to do this, but it really helps to talk to someone who has traveled this road. 

So, that's it for now. My nurse said I can drink (caffeine AND alcohol! Hooray!) this month that I'm taking off waiting for the cyst to go away. She said I deserve it. And I quite agree.

Huffing and Puffing my Way to Physical Perfection

Everyone that knows me knows that I hate being the center of attention, and that I hate tooting my own horn. 

Ha, toot. 

I'm literally the funniest person that I know. 

Anyway, not to make a big deal of anything, I've been dieting since January and have lost some weight. Whatever, no big deal. I wouldn't have to lose any weight if I didn't eat like a teenage boy cross country runner in the first place. 

I found, during Anything Goes, that I didn't have to diet as much, what with the dancing, or the attempted dancing on my part. After it ended, I needed something to do after work. I couldn't sit on the couch anymore!

I don't know what it was, maybe my arm flab flapping in the breeze, or my pasty white legs, but I decided to walk the Ravenal Bridge. Now, if you don't know what this is, it is a 2.5 mile bridge that goes up really high.

I've honestly found that more than anything, I can clear my head. I've ended up doing this a few times a week. For your own safety, if you approach me on the bridge, here are some words of advice:

1) It's been established that I am a big chicken. My husband is a sound guru, so we have fancy earbuds. They are actually in-ear monitors that singers use in concert. They cancel out all sounds, so the only thing that I can truly hear is my music and my own wheezing. That being said, I can't hear anybody coming up behind me. Especially bikes. Last time, a guy on a bike whizzed by me, and I almost fell down from being so scared. I literally grabbed the rails and had to stay there for a solid 30 seconds before I realized what happened. 

Oh, and I also elbowed a guy in the gut when he brushed my arm running past. So just do yourself a favor and make a wide berth if you see me.

2) I am not a fast walker. Don't even ask me to run. Many people venture on to the bridge, of the tourist variety, and they take pictures of the harbor from the very top.

Guys, just humor me and act like you're walking slower than me. It does something to my psyche when I keep getting passed by groups of seniors with socks and sandals.

3) Pigeons are rats with wings. If I see them in my lane, I will stop, stare, hyperventilate, and walk in the bike lane to pass the birds. I'm getting goosebumps right now thinking about their beady little red eyes. Gross.

4) Girls workout clothes don't come with pockets, so I will shove my iPhone in my panties, resting comfortably on my love handle. 

Why I am I trying to lose them, again? So convenient. 

I also stick my car key in my bra. So if you see my consistently sticking my hands in my panties or bra, that is why. 

Yep, that is the reason.



Now, most of the time my efforts are noble, but they just don't pan out. For instance, yesterday was gorgeous, not too hot. I came home from work, laid out my clothes, and got as far as removing my pants. Then I sat on the couch, and it ended up being two hours later. And I still had no pants on. I just decided to cut my losses and take a nap.

Now, it's Saturday, my husband is working, and it's sunny and pretty. So......

Shopping will be my cardio today. 

The Lasting Wisdom of R. Kelly

Well, it's been a good long while since I've written a post, mainly just because I haven't had any good stories. But I can't go too long without being mortified by my crazy self, so an opportunity presented itself yesterday. 

Enjoy.

It should come as no surprise that I deal with... Characters... Working in the hospitality industry. I'm not complaining, because I love my job, and everybody has to deal with such things in their jobs as well.  

My sales coordinator leaves her radio on the R&B station everyday, so I'm used to hearing Steve Harvey dole out marriage advice every morning and hearing Beyonce 7 times a day.

But I digress.  After a particularly trying phone call, I hang up, my fists clenched, trying to take deep breaths. 

Then I hear it. So soft and faint at first, like a far away Michael Jackson running down from the other end of the basketball court, Bugs Bunny at his flank. I close my eyes and start humming to myself.

"I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky...."

You know, I did think about it every night and day. I just wanted to spread my wings and fly away. I started softly singing out loud.

"I believe I can soar..."  My voice was soaring at this point, running out that open door.

Then the choir comes in. Sweet heavens, the choir.

I am literally standing up, singing, with my arms stretched out, flying motion. It's like Michael was lifting my 3rd grade self up to the heavens. It might be a good point in this story to mention that I have been very sleep deprived all week.



"Girl, what you doing?" I see my two coworkers standing right behind me.



"Me? Uh, Stretching."

If You Keep Making That Face, It's Gonna Stick That Way

It's been quite a busy week for me! I've started an exciting new job, and that very same day, something truly weird happened to me:

I woke up that morning not able to feel the left side of my face, and my eye wouldn't close. I thought that I had just laid on it and it would go away, but as the day progressed I knew that something was sort of messed up. 

I went to the doctor right after work, and I got diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. I had never heard of it before, but basically it just means that the nerves in the facial muscles get inflamed and that side of the face becomes unresponsive and numb. It could go away in a month, in six months, or it may not go away at all. But, the good doctor was pretty optimistic that I'd be back to my goofy self eventually. 

Now, I know that the majority of you think that I'm doing this on purpose, but this is literally what I look like. 

      Jen scared.               Jen happy.           The face Jen will probably make.

You can laugh; it's pretty funny. The night Josh saw me, he told me that my face was stuck that way because of all of the stupid faces I've made before. Last night, he told me that I could "totally"audition for the role of Two-Face. Har. 

As a result of my eye not being able to close, I have to tape it shut every night, and fill it with this stuff called "Lacri-Lube." Sexy stuff. I also have a hard time keeping my mouth closed when I eat, because my cheeks and lips are so weak, so food and liquid dribbles out. Even sexier stuff. 

So, if you tell me a joke that I would normally laugh heartily at, but don't, please don't be offended. I just don't want to terrify you with my menacing grin. Or, if I smile at you all crooked-like, don't think I'm being a snob and giving you a sarcastic smirk, I'm not. I just can't move my face that way!

                   I feel for Katrina de Voort. I think that's literally the way her face looks. 

So, if you think someone is giving you the stink eye, or a dirty look, or you think they have awful table manners, give them a chance. They might just have faulty wiring, like me!

My Mom Ruined Showers for Me. Forever.

I'm going to tell you a tale. It's a tale of a mother who found utter delight in torturing and scaring her children. I mean, just ask her. She thinks that it is the funniest thing in the entire world.

When I was in the 4th grade, my mom found it appropriate to make me watch Psycho, you know, the Alfred Hitchcock movie where the lady gets killed in the shower, and there is a dude dressed up like his mom and is super creepy. Sorry for the spoiler alerts, but this movie is super old. Go see it.

The shower scene. Good gravy, the shower scene. It is arguably one of the most famous movie scenes ever.

It also has made me a super big chicken.

The night I saw it, I couldn't sleep. I mean, I was tired, but I knew that the minute I closed my eyes a crazy person would leap out of the closet dressed in his mom's clothes and would stab me to death. I just sat in the corner of my bed, huddled like the little match girl, and left the light on. So I could be on my guard the entire night. I didn't do anything for those terrifying 8 hours but scan the room.

The next day, I was too scared to take a shower. However, we were going to church the next day, and mom told me that I had to. It was all part of her plan, I think. I was truly perplexed: close and lock the door, and risk being locked in with a killer, or leave it open, inviting all killers? I decided to leave it open, figuring that I could make a fast (and slippery) getaway. I threw away all of my razors, eliminating another possible weapon.

I would like to note, I had just started to....um...develop...and shaving was a new concept for me. This would make yet another day that I did not shave my armpits and another day my mom would fuss at me about it.

I just consider it payback.

I am washing my hair at this point, continually poking my head out of the shower curtain. Soap finally gets in my eyes and I have to bite the bullet and shut them.

A shadow descends. My nutty mother throws back the shower curtain and makes a stabbing motion with a screwdriver. I scream, and make a slippery escape. I'm still covered in soap suds.

This has still messed me up. I am super jumpy, and I will start throwing punches at the air when startled. One time, I got grounded for punching my mom in the face because she snuck up behind me and scared me.

Which brings us to now. The other day, I was taking a shower, shaving my legs, and every time I bent down, a shadow descended over me.

I want you to think about being killed in the shower. You're super vulnerable, and there's no where to go! There's no where to go!

I called Josh in to sit on the toilet for the duration of my shower and make sure no one killed me.

Me: "Hey, I just need you to sit on the toilet and talk to me."
Josh: "But I'm watching golf."
Me: "All I know is, a shadow is coming up every time I bend over."
Josh: "That is you."
Me: "Josh, I don't care, I just need you to sit on the toilet and talk to me."
Josh: "You're high. I'm in the living room, and I'm not dead."
Me: "What if it's a stealthy killer? He could kill you in the living room and I would never know until he got here."
Josh: "Are you sure you're not high? I smell the shower cleaner that you just used, and it's pretty strong. I'm just going to sit in the living room. Stop being weird."
Me: "It's ok. I'm done now."

That is the state of my life. Constantly on edge because I think someone is going to jump out from under the bed, the closet, the other side of the shower curtain, or just make a loud noise all of a sudden.

I hope you're happy, Mom. I feel like I can hear your cackle 10 hours away.