You know those Baby on Board signs people like to stick in their cars? Yesterday I was stopped at a stoplight behind a car with a Mom (to be) on Board sign. I almost got out and barfed on her tires.


There was turkey (a lot of turkey). A vegan and non-vegan stuffing. Fresh crisp green beans slathered in a homemade mushroom sauce topped with crispy onions. Creamy mashed potatoes, both sweet and not. A virtuous salad of kale. Pie, oh, so many pies. A crisp white wine and a full bodied red. But the star of the show, the thing that everyone was talking about, was the whis.key.

Whis.key Ci.der
In a shaker muddle:
2 Lux.ardo cherries
sliver of orange peel
1 ounce apple ci.der reduction*
2 ounces rye whis.key (we used Bull.eit Rye)
Shake and pour into a chilled glass, top with a splash of ginger beer
Try not to drink so many of these that you wake with a splitting headache the next morning.

Apple Ci.der Reduction
We cheated and bought this and it was wonderful but to make your own start with at least a 1/2 gallon of good quality apple cider. In a heavy bottomed pot gently simmer the cider and reduce by half or till it reaches a syrupy consistency. You don’t want it to be too thick, more like a simple syrup. Some people add maple syrup or brown sugar as it reduces but I don’t like overly sweet things so never do.

Thank you all for your encouragement in my last post. I made the call to my clinic yesterday to get the ball rolling on state approval (we need to be approved for coverage). I’ve been a ball of nerves since. Our doctor thinks we should get approval easily, but I will be anxious until we get the final word. To add to my anxiety I had lunch today with two dear friends (one of whom is 7  months pregnant) and their two kids. It was awful. Like, heart beating at top speed, panic attack awful. I feel so terrible writing that. I’m usually OK around them but today was just hard. Thank goodness it’s Friday.

I just got off the phone with my clinic and they are going to try to squeeze us into the late November cycle. Our doctor thinks approval should be fast and easy. Birth control pills have been ordered and I start them on Sunday. Shit just got real.

Over the last few days, in another online community I’m a part of, there’s been a lot of conversation over this statement:

I don’t have to have gone through something to make a decision on how to approach it.

I’m bringing it up because it was made specifically in terms of infertility and pursuing fertility treatments, and it was made by a woman who is 4 or 5 months pregnant. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I don’t like to pass judgement on other people’s choices. I think individuals know what’s best for themselves and their own situations. But there’s a part of me that is deeply offended that someone who has never walked the road of infertility feels the need to say, ‘I would not pursue fertility treatments if I found out I was infertile’, as if she understands even an iota of what it means to make these decisions. As if the decision is an easy one. As if the decision doesn’t come wrapped with disappointment and heartbreak and so, so much anger. I actually tried to engage her in a conversation, but was shot down. I wonder, sometimes, why it’s so hard for people on the other side to consider how hard this path is for those of us on it. I constantly wonder if I’m being over sensitive. But then, as in this case, I remember that this is the same woman who said, a couple of months ago on twitter, that she wouldn’t be sad if she had a miscarriage cause she didn’t think it was a big deal. So.

I was at lunch with a group of girlfriends, on Saturday, when one of the ladies declared to the table that she was going to get pregnant on her honeymoon next summer. The whole table exploded with excited chatter, throwing around potential baby names and guesses as to who the baby would look more like. I sat in silence. Two years ago, I would have gladly joined in. Two years ago I would never have imagined that I wouldn’t have a baby exactly when I willed it to be. Part of me envied their excitement. The optimism that allowed them to assume that it would be easy. I’d forgotten how so many people believe it’s easy. I stayed for a few minutes, listening to them talk around me, then made an excuse and left. I didn’t want to sit there, a lump of negativity. I did’t want to wait for the conversation to round back to me, the only married lady at the table, and my future babies. I didn’t want to rain on their cheer. And yet, I sort of wished I had spoken up. I haven’t really shared with many people what we are going through. I haven’t known how. And I wonder if I have the right to be frustrated by the ignorance if I’m not willing to say something, share my story with people who don’t know better. I just don’t know. How would you have handled the situation?

Two of my best friends are currently pregnant and due within two weeks of each other. Since one lives in Germany, this weekend was the first time we’ve all been together since they got pregnant. Spending time with just the two of them was…interesting. I wasn’t sure at first if I was up to it and, in fact, had actually avoided making plans that involved just the three of us until the very last moment. It was mostly ok. Only a few heart stabbing moments when they compared bumps or shared symptoms with nods and sympathetic “I know what you means” while I sat there in silence.

On Sunday I threw one of the ladies (the one visiting from Germany) her baby shower. This is her first baby, and it was hard won. I am so very happy for her, and yet, I went home, after, and sobbed on my bed. Will I ever have a baby shower? I just don’t know.

M (who is currently 4 months pregnant and living over seas and is planning a trip back home – here – at the end of the month): So excited to visit! Do you know of any good maternity stores there? I can’t find any good stores here.
*5 minutes of complaining about not fitting any of her clothes*

Me: I don’t know. I’m sure you can find some.
*changes subject*

2 mother effing days later…

M: OMG I don’t fit any of my clothes, do you know of any good maternity stores there? Did I ask you that already? I’m so tired (from being pregnant) that I can’t remember. Ha ha.
Me: *head explodes*

I love this girl. She has been the only person I can talk to about this fertility stuff because it took them awhile too, but it’s like being pregnant has totally ate her brain and made her an obtuse asshole. Or I am being over sensitive. Argh.