The Hilarious Side of Infertility | Guest Post

In my infinite wisdom, I spent the day on the lake with the family yesterday in spite of being sick. I am now paying for it with, what can only be described as, a brain-aneurysm-level-headache. So, again, Bach recap will be postponed, but I do have a guest blogger here for you today. One of my bff's, Chele, is hilarious, HOT, funny, infertile, a riot, smart, goofy, talented, and did I mention hot? Hot.

And yes. She's infertile.

Not like, "we tried 2 months to get pregnant and it didn't work and I'm infertile." No. Barren. Childless. No bun in her oven. Not knocked up. No bat in her cave. Not in the family way. Not in the pudding club. Not late. Not up the duff.

Why? She has an auto-immune disease called Hashimotos. Did you know that it leaves you infertile? Did you know that it means you need a specialist to kick start your body to get pregnant? Did you know that it means being poked and prodded ad nasueam? Did you know that 63% of women with Hashimotos do not ovulate? Did you know that of those women who have this disease who are lucky enough to get pregnant that thyroid antibodies increased the risk of miscarriage by 290%?

We dealt with secondary infertility. I could get pregnant, but I couldn't stay pregnant. I felt like the biggest loser - I couldn't do what God had created me to do. I like to think that I know a smidgen of what Chele has gone through the last 4 years, but that's bullshit. Her journey is hard, ugly, and unrewarding, but dammit, if she doesn't have a great attitude and an even better sense of humor. 

Without further ado...

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Oh hey! I'd like to think that I was invited to guest blog because I'm hilarious and ridiculously good-looking. However, if I set you up for too much awesomeness, I'm afraid I'll let you down. So, with an open mind and a box of tissues (or gluten-free cheerios, like I'm currently shoveling in my mouth) LET ME ENTERTAIN YOU.

I'm about to take you down the hilarious road of infertility. I mean, if I can laugh about it surely you can too. Really, besides the part where you are humping like bunnies, infertility really sucks.


NOW- Lets move on to the interesting moments this journey has brought us to now.

My first appointment with our amazing doc, who we so kindly call MVP (V- is for what you're thinking... I mean he is a baby doc after all) went something like this:

-1 hour of paperwork

-20 mins of waiting in a room that gives me anxiety, waiting for the most un-awkward, comfortable experience of ovary checking and metal stirrups. (insert sarcasm here)

​-20 mins of talking to the doc about health history, etc.

-2 mins to undress. Put paper blanket over lady bits.

-30 seconds to have doc come in to say there's an emergency breech that he had to take care of, be back in 10 mins...

-9 hours (ok, maybe 1 hr) to have doc come back in, explain he had to do an emergency C-Section and then wash up and change.

-Next was the poking, being felt up, and the sono.

I hate the sono, seriously. I mean it gives good info, and we saw my ovaries and empty uterus. We saw that my right side may never have viable eggs, and left was possibly good. So, what does all this mean? Well, because I don't ovulate, they started me on clomid- which makes my body ovulate- and go from there to see if I have viable eggs.

- 3 mins to get dressed

-20 mins to go over plan of attack... without giving my hubs a complete heart attack. I think what he heard was in 4 months you will be pregnant with twins, triplets, or sextuplets. What I heard was that we will do a max of 4 rounds of clomid, and that from there we will see what our other options are.

-Leave the office and cry in Panera, try to not feel completely hopeless about not being able to eat gluten. Oh, and not seeing a little baby in that empty uterus.


Whew... I'm exhausted just from riding this roller coaster this again! Have I lost you yet? No? Good!

-Move on to cycle day 3-7 of clomid. This medicine makes me bat-shit cray. Seriously, I cried because I swore my dog hated me when I had to wrap up her paw... she was giving me a dirty look, and it hurt my tender heart. My poor husband, he deserves sainthood - he consoled me and reminded me that I was Clomid crazy that I was a good pup-mom and to have some vodka.

-Sono- Day 13: Another appointment with MVP (and probably my favorites because of my dear friend coming to take ridiculous pictures and lighten the mood) and that appointment went something like this:

-20 mins of bullshitting in the waiting room

-30 seconds of awkward silence after I spewed the words "This is my life partner Andrea, my husband couldn't make it." The heartless nurse did NOT think we were funny... and we are fecking HILARIOUS.

-2 mins of forcing myself to pee in a cup, praying I wouldn't spill.

-10 mins of waiting for the doc, getting undressed and changed into my paper towel outfit, and covering the v-garden.

-During 10 mins lighten the mood by joking around with the expensive hospital equipment, try not to vom from nerves.

-20 mins of MVP checking my ovaries for ripe follicles. Trying to decide if soon my brain would be punctured from the sono wand. Meanwhile, Andrea is making jokes about seeing my guts make poo out of my breakfast from earlier that day.

- We see two HUGE follicles on the left side, right side still doesn't want to join in the pants party. I laugh and try not to cry, knowing that my body actually produced something!

-2 mins of supermanning my clothes back on, prepping for a game plan.

-15 mins of being told to do ovulation sticks starting today and to 'F like crazy' (his words, not mine! I'd never say the F-word). Scheduling a visit with the vampires on day 22 to make sure the great Egg Drop happened. And a shit ton of finger crossing that my body cooperated and ovulated.

-30 mins of chowing down on Panera salads (again, mourning the loss of gluten because all I want is a DAMN BAGEL!) and joking about the appointment. Trying not to get too excited, you know, just to be ready for a shit ton of let down.


-Day 14/15- the Egg Drop

-Day 22-28- CRAZY symptoms. Get blood drawn to confirm ovulation. I think I may be pregnant, if not I have the plague. Still humping like zoo animals. Have a false positive test, and false hope.

-Day 28/Day 1- I clearly had the plague.


This is just ONE month of the fun.

Did you know that 1 in 6 couples suffer from infertility? There are many reasons why our bodies decide to be assholes, my reason is because I have Hashimoto's Thyroiditis AKA chronic lymphocytic thyroiditis. This disease has crippled many things in my life, and put my life and my amazingly hot husband's, on hold for almost 7 years. Hashimoto's is an autoimmune disease that crippled my fertility, my joints, my head, my ability to go on trips with my husband in fear I'd have train wreck to the head AKA migraine, and more. Hashimoto's is only found if you have an ANA (Anti-NuclearAntibody) test, and MUST be treated by specific meds for Hashi's. Women who have Hashimotos struggle with infertility, and many are told they can never become pregnant...it is close to impossible.


Why am I writing about this? Are you a Fertile Myrtle? If so, think of 5 of your closest girlfriends. One of you is probably struggling with infertility.

>TALK ABOUT IT, it sucks. If you're a Fertile Myrtle, it's ok; don't feel guilty you have babies. Just love your friend, don't make us plan your baby shower. We will cut a hoe.

> DO NOT CLAIM YOU HAVE THEIR DISEASE if you don't. Don't lie, don't pretend. If you're putting that shit out in the universe, it's like you're praying for it. If you want my Hashimotos, girl, you can have it! It totally grinds my gears when someone is seeking pity. F OFF (I used the word I never say, I am currently praying that the sweet baby Jesus is forgiving me).

>WE DON'T WANT PITY, we want a friend. We want a friend to go with us to appointments when the hubby is not able to. We want a hand to hold when the sono hits our sinuses. We want a shoulder to cry on when the clomid has made us bat shit crazy and we are sure our husband is going to go crazy just from being around us. We want a shoulder to cry on when the pregnancy tests come up negative in an Ikea bathroom. We want you to be there, just be a friend. You don't have to say anything but 'Love you betch, you'll be ok and try again' (and maybe buy us a double vodka).

> WE WANT YOU TO CELEBRATE when we have a positive ovulation test, or God-willing a pregnancy test! Duh.


Thank you for reading. Y'all are precious lambs and if you're struggling with infertility, speak up. It's ok to do that! More than likely you have a friend who dealt with much of the same and can be an amazing support... or message me on Facebook. I'd love to chat!


Meanwhile... I'm gonna leave this right here.

~xo Chele