bodily fluids and disappointment

If one day we are actually successful at spawning (I remain at the There’s Still Hope stage of this endeavor for now), I will likely begin every telling of that child’s birth story with, “I peed in a cup eighteen thousand times to get you.”

A brief note: If you were happy to see words on this page again, you’ll be less happy to discover that, for the foreseeable future, they’re likely be about bodily fluids and disappointment. But hey, if you stuck with me through douche-bags and disappointment phase, this won’t be nearly so head/desk. So there’s that!

And, back to peeing in a cup. Over the last handful of months, I have learned a number of things. Among them:

  1. Fertility treatments are very expensive.
  2. None of them are covered by insurance.

These things being true, my doctor and I talked about not talking about fertility treatments for a while. The Dork Lord and I are actually pretty lucky that we didn’t try and try the old fashioned way only to realize a year or two down the road that my parts were defective. Lucky, because the up and down of the monthly Did it Take? is really emotionally taxing. I paid that tax a handful of times before pain became a factor, the doctors got crackin’, and we had our answer even before we’d even asked the question.

Where do babies come from?

Not from you. Your ovaries don’t work.

That we can’t afford to pursue something more aggressive until next year, well, right now it’s really only taxing on my patience. It’s almost a relief compared to the pain of wondering. Almost. In the meantime, we’re keeping at the old fashioned approach – after all, what have we got to lose?  The Dork Lord’s getting laid a whole lot, so he can’t complain. But he’s not the one peeing in a cup twice a day hoping that a little strip of paper will reveal that, contrary to all indications and doctorly predictions, your ovary came back from the dead and RELEASE THE HOUNDS! HERE COMES AN EGG!

Like I said, I’m still hoping, in a detached sort of way. And peeing. Always peeing.

40 comments to bodily fluids and disappointment

  • MissusB

    I found your blog during the douchebag-disappoinment phase. I am happy to continue to stick around. It seems to me, for what it’s worth, that you got the bulk of your happy ending when you found and married your Dork Lord. Any kid that comes along, by whatever means, would just be like a really good kicker at the end of your story.

  • SC

    I’m sure you get all sorts of advice (feel free to ignore/delete this at any point), but I’m following this diet for dental reasons, and people are reporting good fertility things about it in the forum. Since I’m unmarried (and babyless) at 34, I figure I’d keep an eye on the baby stuff for later.

    The author (a Dr.) had PCOS at 38 and went on to have 2 healthy kids after changing her diet. Just thought I’d pass the info along in case you were interested.

    It’s a heavy focus on diet – like grass-fed beef, more natural fats, and reducing grains – basically a super Paleo.

  • Nicole

    That’s insane. I didn’t realize that CT was unique in mandating that fertility treatments are covered by all insurance carriers. I keep hoping for a miracle for you. And I keep thinking about my boyfriend, who was born to parents that were told they couldn’t have kids, and then they had two and then 12 years later, they received extremely surprising news and had the baby that grew up to be my boyfriend.

  • caoimhe

    I have very rarely commented on your blog, but have enjoyed reading it for a long time. I am among those happy to see words on this page again, although I didn’t begrudge you your time away.

    I will happily read about bodily fluids and disappointment. I have so many infertility stories – inspirational, miraculous, heartbreaking, and disappointing; the telling of them doesn’t usually provide the comfort or hope intended. So instead, I will say this:

    I am moving to Prague next month. I made that decision, in part, by reading your blog and being inspired by your incredibly brave adventures. You moved to big cities, you traveled the world, you hiked mountains, and soaked up the culture, you loved, you mourned, you got married and lived by mastering “the spreadsheet”. I wanted to be brave enough to live an adventurous life. And now I am. Thank you!

  • Kimberly

    I’m sorry that you’re going through this, but I’d support you through anything. I don’t know what’s helpful to say or hear, but please know I’d offer the right words if I had them. xoxo

  • Julie

    I have enjoyed your writing for years, I will continue to do so, and add my hope to those of us who read, smile, and patiently wait for more updates. I won’t give advice or “words of wisdom”, I just send good thoughts your way. You’re awesome!

  • Lisa

    I too am scarred (mentally and physically) by infertility and struggle with having no coverage for treatments. That’s all I’ll say as I’m all too aware of where you are right now. Hoping for peace and happiness for you and Dork Lord.

  • Barbara E.

    What Julie said. Though I wouldn’t mind some kitty updates/pix, iffn you’re in the mood.

  • Right here with you. Have been for some time.

    Things will be what they will be – sometimes just letting go of control brings your dreams to you.

    Good luck.

  • Kallisteaux

    I am so sorry that you are having to go through this. Good luck and my heart is with you.

  • Jenna

    I’ve been a reader a long time through the douchebag phase (both yours and my own) and now, the marriage phase. You have a loyal following who wish you nothing but the best. Clearly you are inspiring to so many, so I hope you continue to talk bodily fluids because you reach so many with your words. I look up to you and feel connected to you, your struggles and your triumphs. I only hope for more of the latter in the time ahead.

  • Suzanne

    Happy to see new words. Sad you are having a troublesome time. I find it an evil irony that in your teens (for those of us who were “early bloomers”) and a good bulk of you twenties you spend so much time worrying and trying NOT to get pregnant, yet when it’s time it turns out it might have been a challenge all along.

    In the meantime, we are here hoping, praying, and some of us peeing, right along with you! Your audience is broad and diverse and I think no matter the topic you choose we identify some how. Thank you for your words.

  • Mrs.Hip

    This broke my heart. I also have been following you (silently) for a very long time. And felt like we are on the same lifepath. And now I too am an infertile myrtle and sadly can relate to your words.

    Thank you for sharing, I hope all the best to you and your Dork Lord.

  • Misses M

    I have found the PCOS Diva to be a wealth of knowledge– google for her blog/website if you’re interested. She’s also on FB. It’s the best compilation of info I’ve found anywhere on the internet. I credit dietary changes, CoQ10, and my own stubbornness for my baby girl. Best wishes to you and the DL. It isn’t an easy (or inexpensive) path, but the payoff is so worth it.

  • Misses M

    I also found “The Ultimate PCOS Handbook” to be very useful to me while I was trying to decide how to overhaul my diet. I thought I was already eating healthy, but I learned that I wasn’t eating healthy for someone with PCOS. Ignore this if you don’t have PCOS. I just wanted to share my two favorite PCOS resources in case it could be helpful for you or anyone else.

  • -k-

    My heart sank reading your last post. It just seemed incredibly wrong and unfair. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’ll join the not-offering-advice-but-happy-to-read-about-fluids ranks, and wish you luck and peace.

  • Nilou

    Been following your blog for years, Heather. I wish you all the very best.

  • Lorraine

    I had baby #1 when I was 17 and gave her up for adoption. I never dreamed that I might have trouble in the future. Seven miscarriages later, I had baby #2. Another seven miscarriages and baby #3 finally came along. I tried fertility drugs in between #2 and #3 and decided that I couldn’t bear that pain every month with the drugs. It’s hard and I won’t tell you I didn’t give up hope some days. There is a plan, we just don’t always know what the plan might be. You already know this, as you’ve been through the douchebag part. One foot in front of the other and you’ll find the path. Hugs to you and the Dork Lord.

  • So sorry you’re going through this, but so glad that you’re back!

  • Andrea

    As a longtime reader, I’m happy you’re back, but so sad that this is why. I’ve not one, but three friends dealing with this, and there are sometimes just no words (unless those words are “it’s so fucking unfair!!!!!”). Please don’t give up hope! And also, have you ever considered moving to MA? Infertility coverage is mandated here…

  • kathsprout

    That sucks.

  • Sally

    This Fish Needs A Tricycle, dammit!
    Much love to you, Heather.

  • Jen

    I am happy to see your words on a page…I have missed your writing. I am; however, sad that you are hurting.

    • CaliGal

      I’m with you Jen….feeling the same for our friend, Heather.

      It’s sucks. Big time!

      I know there’s nothing I can say to easy your heartache or to help carry this burden for you. I therefore anxiously await your stories of bodily fluids and disappointments!

      You kids are amazing people and for what it’s worth, you’re in my daily thoughts and prayers.

      Keep the faith, Heather! You’ll figure it out. ;) xoxox

  • Cheryl

    What Jen said (above). And, while it won’t help to tell you that I am so sorry, I am. It took me months (okay, maybe more than a year) to be able to even look at pregnant people after I knew that I would never have a child of my own, but mine was a different situation than yours. Hang in there.

  • Tela

    I’m not sure what to say but I wanted to send you a hug. *cyberhug* I am a fan and longtime reader as well.

  • H. I have been reading you for a long… long… long time. We even exchanged some emails, maybe while you were still in NYC? I can’t remember. I know how much this sucks for you right now. It’s a hellride. I have been there. When you are ready to dust yourself off and fight the fight, you will win. And i can’t wait to read all about it. xoh

  • Deanna

    I have no inspiring words only a simple message of love and support. You need it. Hugs from Vegas.

  • I’ve been a reader of yours for years, and I too am glad to see you writing again, even if it’s about pee and despair. As many others, I have no words that can possibly help or heal, so I am sending you love and light and hope instead.

  • Sorry you are going through this. So happy to see new words here.

  • jan8

    Hi, like the majority of other commenters, ive read your blog for years and rarely comment but I can feel your pain/frustration/cynicism at the system from all the way over here and recognise it like a mirror…different circumstances but same result (gay, 40, just found the right one after years of raising ex-partners’ children) small world huh?
    Really hope it works for us both x

  • Jamie

    I am late to see this, but I just wanted to chime in and add another “you’re not alone” message. I have also been playing the “pee on this and see what happens” game for a few months now and… it’s just awful. I got tired of comparing the color of the two lines and finally dropped the $ on a proper fertility monitor. Here’s hoping it wasn’t for nothing…

  • Melanie

    I’m so sorry sweetie. I’ve also been a reader since the douchebags and disappointments years and am happy to see you posting again – sorry though that it is new disappointments that got you going again.

    Wish someone could explain why so many people who seem the best suited to be parents aren’t able to become them. Not fair.

    The forums on are sooooooooo supportive for these things when(if) you’re ready.

  • I’m a longtime reader as well and guessed when you went silent that trying for babies was part of it, because the same thing happened to me. Because it was all I thought about I had nothing to say to the internet for awhile. I’m so, so, sorry this is happening to you, but I love reading your writing again, so know that you have loyal readers who love and support you and who feel privileged that your share your life with them. I’m sorry you’re on the hellish highway of trying to have a baby, but I promise, someday that exit is coming for you. You just have to hang on and get through it.

  • Danielle

    Dear Heather, I just want you to know that I am meditating daily for you to find comfort and strength and space for relief in the hardness of your situation. That whatever the end of the story, you will find relief for your grief and that you will not be alone in it. Know that there are people, many who don’t even know you, who are sending their best thoughts your way. Given that you are back to writing again, I am sure that somehow you will find the support that you need, and a way out of these dark waters. We, your long term readers have seen you grow into a brave and resilient woman over the years.

  • Jill

    Another longtime reader – since the days of the douchebags – with no real words of wisdom, but wanted to add my voice to the chorus of love and support. I was glad to see your writing when I clicked over today, but so sorry to see your pain. Thank you for sharing it with us – I hope that writing gives you an outlet, and I hope you find some comfort in knowing that you have a world of people out here who are sending good thoughts your way. Even if we lack the right words, we hope for you everything you hope for yourself.

  • chrissie lynn

    i know that “i’m sorry” from a virtual stranger means next to nothing, but heather i am so sorry you’re going through this – sending lots of hope and faith your way.

    and for what it’s worth, i think those of us who were here in the beginning have had the chance to grow with you and we’re very glad to see words here again. i’m sure many of us are no longer interested in the bad boys or stories of 20-something drama, we’ve moved on to marriage just like you and many are facing similar things.

    i hope you find an outlet here through this next phase, we’ll be reading and relating with love.

  • If I may…my sister had IVF 10 years ago…in Ireland. The cost? $3,000. You may find other European countries to be equally inexpensive, even when you add in the cost of airfare and accomodations. her insurance, Kaiser (!!!) worked with her on pre-retrieval fertility drugs, which were covered.

    I hope this will help you in some way. I’ve been an auntie to twin girls 9 1/2 years, now, and I just adore them. My sister and her husband tried for five years before going to IVF. Don’t wait. There are options.

    Best to you,


  • I’m glad to see you back to blogging here again. I hope things get better for you. I’ve known since I was in my late teens that I was infertile. I still get upset and angry over it, especially when you have siblings and friends that are baby making machines.

    I wish you the best and write about all the bodily fluids you want! It’s your blog you own this space!

  • Still Hopfeul

    I was so pleased to see and update then cried buckets. I too am infertile. My husband wants babies and we are 7 IVF cycles into hell and I am sorry you are dealing with this.

    I hope you survive (emotionaly, mentally and physically the treatments) infertility and get your baby/ies. Its a heart breaking journey. Its a marathon, not a sprint pace yourself.