Rantings from the Nest

The Nest and I were emailing back and forth today about important things like uterine linings, progesterone applicators and period cycles when her always sunny disposition turned into a little bit of a rant:

“Just for the record, I am going to be so mad if we don't get a baby! I
hate taking pills, now I'm up to nine a day, a shot in the belly, and I'm
flowing like the River Jordan. It just doesn't seem fair for someone to go
through this and not get a baby. I want a baby! Now, that I've had my
little fit, let's continue.”

I got the biggest kick out of it. She wasn’t complaining about going through the process or that she signed up for something she didn’t want, she was simply feeling the same way that I and millions of others have felt while going through this ridiculous fertility stuff.

And the key word in her rant, for me, anyway, was that she said she’d be “mad.” I was really happy to see that she’d be mad and not sad. Mad seems like a much more constructive emotion (though I completely understand being sad beyond belief – I’ve been there, too). When you’re mad, you might take a kickboxing class or scream into a pillow to get out your frustration. After one of my six medical quests to get pregnant didn’t result in a bun in the oven, I went out and ran a half-marathon (I do run pretty regularly, but hadn’t trained at all).

“I’ll show you, stupid uterus,” I thought to myself.

Since I wouldn’t have been able to run it if I was pregnant, I took it as an opportunity to show my body who was boss. It must have been some weird reversion back to grade school when we had to run at basketball practice if we made a mistake.

My most frequently used coping mechanism was to buy a bottle of Chardonnay and a packet of Oreos. I’d finish off both of them with in a matter of a day or two (yes, I realize that I don’t have the most sophisticated taste.).

And, since my rear end and stomach were already several pounds heavier from those awesome fertility drugs, my over-indulgence only added insult to injury, but something about it took the edge off.

I remember getting a call from my fertility doctor’s office telling me that my beta test was negative while I was shopping at a large department store. Stunned from the news, my immediate reaction was to hit the purse counter and I went over and bought an expensive impractically colored suede purse (which was a really bad I idea considering that we’d just spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatments, only for it not to work).

Another gal I know was so upset by her lack of procreation that she went out and bought a BWM in a semi-spontaneous fit of frustration. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

Ever do anything crazy to soothe your empty uterus?