The Birds' Tale

Hi friends.  I've added a new page to this blog - see the link up there that says "our story?"  I wrote it for anyone who's wondered about the early days of our infertility journey, before I started writing about it.  And I wrote it for myself, to let all the words out so they can stop rattling around in my head.  If you're interested in the tale of Jenny and Mr Wren, you can click the link up top or this one here.

Taking the Plunge

For weeks I've been standing on the edge of the high-dive, scared to leap off into the unknown.  I was paralyzed, unable to commit to an egg donor and unwilling to leave the safety of my ledge and free-fall into another IVF cycle.  Those waters are deep and treacherous.  Last time, I almost drowned.

But you can't live on the edge indefinitely.  Sooner or later you have to screw your courage to the sticking place, take a deep breath, close your eyes, cross your fingers and hope for the best.  Eventually you have to jump.

On the Road

I just took a week off.  I declared a vacation from work and worry and went on the road with Mr Wren.  He had business in Chicago and I had never been there, so I asked for the time off work and packed my bags.

We were heading to the Windy City, so of course I packed a jacket. But in another (metaphorical) suitcase I also packed away all thoughts of babies, lack of babies, lost babies, potential babies, and the terrifying possibility of life without babies. This latter suitcase, and as much excess emotional baggage as I could shed, I happily left on the curb as we set off on our road trip.

Cupcakes at Midnight

Photo by Gary Cruz.
Click here to see more of his work.

I've been wanting to write about this essay by Holly Finn since I read it last week. Much of it describes my own experiences and emotions so accurately that reading it was like looking in the mirror.

The author and I are the same age, both started fertility treatments in the fall of 2008, have suffered through the same number of hormone injections, spent roughly the same amount of time on our backs with strangers poking around in our lady parts, and even have similar hairstyles.