It's the Little Things...

When our friends Norm and Vera wed eight years ago, Norm's older brother served as Best Man and read "The Art of Marriage" by Wilfred Peterson during the ceremony.

Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens.

A good marriage must be created.

In the art of marriage the little things are the big things...

Of course, he tried to embarrass his younger brother on his big day, by strategically pausing and placing emphasis on the words little things. Referencing 'the little things' became the joke of the day among his University mates; as when the first of your friends is getting married, it's important to act like you're still twelve.

Oh, but the little things are the big things...

At least they are in InfertileWorld, where a simple event of my cycle starting a day earlier forced us to forgo an IUI attempt as Husband was out of town for part of the week leading up to the insemination. As I questioned the timing of my last cycle, which was scheduled around my business trip, it felt logical not to pursue a treatment that could be compromised in any way, and his return could be in time for scheduled coitus. It really felt like it was the right decision when I received a text from Husband informing me that he was going to be delayed overnight due to bad storms in Chicago (the ones that wrecked havoc for the dogs in the Non Sequitur Chica household).  I was so glad we weren't anticipating his timely arrival to proceed with an IUI. He begged and groveled to be put on a later flight headed to the Bay Area, and considered telling the airline agent, "I have to get home tonight, my wife is ovulating!"

Actually, I wasn't. Left to their own devices, my ovaries are very unpredictable. I've ovulated any time from day 12 to day 19, but most often I ovulated on day 15, which I hoped would be the case this cycle (cue laughter). Thursday morning on Day 15, I was still at 'medium'. I was a bit relieved as I was quite knackered after the 0155 airport pickup the night before (he was able to get on that later flight). Husband was a bit randy after being away for a week, but as I wasn't yet fertile, coitus could be delayed and I was able to go to bed at 9:30. Friday morning -Day 16- still medium. I was annoyed with my ovaries. I really wanted to keep my cycle starting on Friday so I can schedule my monitoring appointments on Saturday. It's these little details that can be so important. However, after recently discovering that my colleagues are taking quite a bit vacation time in the upcoming months, I decided I would start taking the entire day or half day for my appointments. After exhausting possible excuses, as I why I need to run out for an hour, I concluded that it's easier to be out for an extended amount of time. I've only used 6 vacation days plus a handful of half days so far this year, and I think I could be facing a 'use it, or lose it' situation with my personal time off. Maybe I'll even do something cliché like getting a facial or a pedicure. Actually, who am I kidding? I could swim with the noon group!

For a couple navigating irregular cycles to achieve conception, the logical antidote would be to engage in more acts of intercourse, right? Well, here is where we run into one of our other challenges. Husband, like most males in England and Europe, is not cut. That stupid superfluous piece of skin gets irritated easily and can put him out of commission. Thus, it makes it even more essential for us to get the timing right. (Impassioned plea to those of you having boys: circumcise! Especially if you may want grandchildren one day.) At times I feel like we're in some sort of Special Olympics of conception.

   Shall we shag now, or shall we shag later?

That Friday night, as I was getting ready to leave work, I received a text from Husband: "Are we banging tonight or can I have a glass of wine?" I couldn't help but to indulge in one of those self pity moments. If we were a normal fertile couple, we would have banged the first chance we could, because that it what you do after one of you has been away for a while. A normal fertile couple would conceive that night; as if by magic, it would be her fertile time. I hated the fact that we were enslaved to my ovaries and his foreskin. I informed him that he didn't have to ask my permission to have a glass of wine. "Well, I have to check in with the plan." he replied. "You're the expert." "HA!" I retorted. When it comes to knowing when we need to schedule coitus, I feel as if I haven't a fucking clue. Additionally, at times it also feels that every decision I make seems to be wrong. I decided to say fuck it. Literally. The simple act of a husband and wife lying together in their marital bed can be considered a little thing, but flipping the finger to the process of trying to conceive, is most definitely a big thing.    

I thought that we could at least stay in the game this cycle; just the simple act of successfully getting the P in the VG during my fertile time would represent such a significant accomplishment for us, even if it didn't produce a pregnancy. However as the weekend progressed, my monitor did not. Panic set in -was this an anovulatory cycle? Not only is it necessary to view infertility as a chess match where you need to plot two to three months ahead, but you also have to worry about the domino effect. One little decision can yield big consequences. Should I have used my Femara just to keep my cycle on track? Why did I think I could rely on my unpredictable ovaries? By Monday (day 20 and still no peak fertility reading) I questioned if my monitor may have been inaccurate. My suspicion was confirmed when my progesterone level measured 5.9. Did I ovulate around the time of our carefree bang? I'm doubtful, but trying to conceive spontaneously now felt like a little issue.  Knowing that my ovies are still functioning is a big fucking deal.  

Other little things that are actually big things: A went into for a three month check up after starting his diabetes treatment . His fructosamine level (which is essentially a kitty A1C level) was within normal limits. He is back to his normal weight and the vet says that he looks great. She told me that I'm doing an outstanding job taking care of him. Yay! I'm a good kitty mummy. 

I recently injured my left shoulder as I crashed into the wall after miscalculating a backstroke turn, which delayed starting Cross-fit classes. I also had to stop swimming for nearly two weeks and I've been less motivated to run. After recently writing about breaking out of a mental block with my tennis stroke, I realised how much I miss playing. I used to play at a competitive level and participated in several different leagues and teams, but when we bought out house and renovation projects absorbed most of our time, I wasn't able to practice the 2-3 sessions per week that were required to maintain my current level. As a result, I haven't picked up my racquet in over a year and a half. A few clicks later, I was signed up for Cardio-tennis. It does give me a little pause to laugh; as when I was a competitive player, we ...kind of...made fun of the Cardio-tennis players. Okay, we made fun of certain Cardio-tennis players. There were two older women in the group who would shriek a la Maria Sharapova, despite the coach yelling "This is not the finals of Wimbledon! This is Cardio-tennis!" Anyway, I figured it would be a good way to get me out of my current fitness rut and get back on the court. I just never imagined I'd be participating in Cardio-tennis, but it's another example of finding myself somewhere I never expected to be...