The only cheap and universal cure

There are days when I fantasize about winning the lottery so I can move to a hipster neighborhood in Portland and go to M. Ward shows all the time.

There are also days when I fantasize about the tip of my pinky finger getting cut off in the paper-cutter so that I can stay home on worker's comp, watching Castle.

 

I don't believe in any of that, though.  To be honest, I've always been pretty conservative in my hopes, tempering each fantasy with the immediate follow-up of "Probably not."  This is why I followed my college graduation with a low-paying job in data entry, following it up with a lower-paid job as a receptionist: I didn't trust that I could get anything better, so I aimed low and got it.

 

Mamie told us when we met, so many months ago, to keep reminding ourselves throughout the process that it will happen, but, man, I don't think I'm built for that positivity.  When Heather was sure she was pregnant on our first round, I felt like my expectations had been oddly betrayed; when she was sure, a week later, that she was not pregnant, I was miserable, but it seemed about right.  Friday we tried again, repeating to ourselves that there would be no early tests or internet searches for symptoms of pregnancy this time.

 

"This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers…. There is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death."

Nite Time

It's day 17 of Heather's current cycle, and the fertility monitor still gives her marks for high fertility, but still no egg.  Yesterday, when Heather tested and got a no, she told me how glad she was that we'd sent the sperm back, so we're grateful for Nurse Nina's advice, but thrown for a loop.  After all this time worrying about whether Heather should be eating oysters, dosing her with DHA, and trying (somewhat in vain) to get her to drink that fertility tea, we've found that one element we cannot control is a change in the weather.

Heather was over her cold, for the most part, in a couple of days.  Now I have it and am home from work, marinating in phlegm with dashes of Walgreens-brand Nyquil (compare to the active ingredients in...) and water thrown in.  Accordingly, I'm feeling very, very sorry for myself and having the realization that of course a person's body, juggling phlegm and poor sleep and the attendant medications, doesn't have room to devote its energies to ovulation.  If your immune system is in overdrive, how is it going to react to sperm?

That last part is total speculation.  I don't know exactly what it is that's turned up or turned down in Heather's body that lost interest in her fertility.  What I do know is that I've never seen her go through a month without ovulating, and, while I find it absurd that coughing and a sore throat have put off insemination for a month, I'm completely glad we didn't waste $1,200 of BioDad. 

I'm fading out now, and so is my immediate hope for a baby.