Holiday Spirit

Or should I say, holiday spiritS. Plural. I had a couple of glasses of wine at Thanksgiving (with Miss T), which was quite lovely. Made me realize what a sacrifice giving up alcohol for the past two and a half years has been. In TWO AND A HALF YEARS I can count the number of glasses of liquid containing alcohol I've had on one hand. OK, maybe both hands. But that's it. Now with the holidays upon us, there are so many tantalizing liquids in rich colors that are inviting to my taste buds. And my brain cells. Let's face it, folks, my life hasn't been much of a party lately. Lately, used in that sentence, is really just a shortened form of almost three fucking years. Of dealing with infertility. I used to say I was seeing a "fertility" doctor. Lately (there she is again) that's changed to "INfertility" doctor. Subtle, but devastating.

I can tell that I'm becoming more acclimated with the idea of never conceiving, because I am able to handle situations much better than I could before. Playing with a baby even, or going to the toy store, its all OK now. The only thing that still really makes me catch my breath in my throat and well up is seeing a pregnant woman. Unfortunately, there is a very young, lovely, tanned, and probably wealthy woman at my gym who has the most perfect body, plus a lovely 6-ish month bump in the front. I HATE HER. You thought it was sadness that was making me well up with tears. No, ladies and gentlemen, its anger.

Oh, I guess I should mention we are half-way through the stimulation phase of the current injectibles/IUI cycle, and nothing of note to report. Nada. No twinges, pangs or pains. My ovaries are probably saving up all that FSH in little jars and putting them on their mantles to catch the light from the fireplace.