Infertility sucks, there's no two ways about it. I figure my choices are to try to find the lighter side of the adventure or to simply curl up fetal on the couch and pretend none of it is happening. While the latter has quite a bit of appeal, it won't pay the bills and eventually the cats will want their dinner and I'll have to stand up anyway, so I might as well try to find the lighter side.

I'd start at the beginning, if I knew where that was. All I know is that I somehow went from one little "oops" pregnancy to starting the in vitro process in about six months. I'm pretty sure that's some sort of land speed record. The "oops" was only because I was on medication that it was dangerous to be pregnant on, which I immediately stopped, and led to a miscarriage at about seven weeks. While I cried my eyes out and took the couch/fetal plan for a test drive, my doctor decided to run some tests as we moved forward to actual trying since I am, well, old.

One thing after another wasn't quite right. We tried on our own to no avail, with the help of Clomid to no avail and with the added fun of hot flashes, and now, here we are, all geared up to go to an injection teaching class tomorrow and soon we'll shell out more than my car cost so that some scientist can do in a petrie dish what everyone else seems to be able to do in their own bedrooms.

Such is life, I guess. Or the attempts to create one.

Back to the old thing. I seriously did not feel that. At. All. I work out. I run. I play a contact sport that involves me being on a large field with grown men swinging sticks. Now I feel like all of the spam I get from AARP might be justified. There has to be a nicer way for reproductive endocrinologists to put into words what my biological clock is already trying to tell me every day.

My husband doesn't get that. The clock thing. The only thing he finds alarming is the price tag. But he wants this as much as I do. Which is why, tomorrow morning, we will have a nurse teaching him how to give me shots in a place I'd rather not have to stick into his face on a daily basis. All I can do is hope that the end result is worth it. And that he pays attention. I've heard it's pretty friggin' painful if you shoot the wrong spot.