Friday, December 7, 2012

cycle day 9

Who says that infertility can’t be a barrel of fun? Today, I got a gift. A very special gift. Wrapped in an ice pack. And left on my doorstep in, I kid you not, a gift bag. That’s right. The man from the fertility pharmacy, which has a sickeningly quaint name that basically makes it sound like the boutique-neighborhood-cupcake-store, actually left my prescription – including a giant needle and something called a “sharps shuttle” that looks comically like an uncomfortable plastic dildo space… shuttle – in a gift bag. On my front porch, INPLAINVIEWOFTHEREALLYNOSYNEIGHBORS.

That’s right. Just like this. You sure do know the way to a girl’s heart, boutique-neighborhood-cupcake-store-pharmacy-delivery-man[1].

[1] Or not. There were decidedly no cupcakes in this bag. Which is disappointing and frankly untenable. Do you know how ravenous hormones can make you?


  1. Just wanted to say how amazingly welcome your hysterical blog is. I am currently in the middle of my first round of IVF and can relate to so much of your story. Just wait until you are standing on a public escalator asking the nurse on the phone about your husband's sperm count. Yeah, that's right lady who is now staring at me--I said sperm count.

    But alas, you will get through this and believe me--as someone that is in the thick of hormone injections, "wanding" (that is brilliant by the way) and far too many incidents of crying at the Folgers Coffee commercial (you know the one where the long lost son comes home from Africa or somewhere)--humor is the best way to get through this. So please keep writing! You are providing this reader with some much needed belly laughs :)


  2. thank you - and thanks for reading! we are nothing if not bold in our over sharing (you're welcome elevator stranger!)