THE WEDDING

Philip and I recently returned from the destination wedding of his sister. The happy couple allotted three months to plan, and three weeks out from the big day, they fired their wedding planner. Friends and family, including yours truly, were enlisted to carry out the multitude of remaining tasks.

My duties included making all the hair and nail appointments for the bridal party, researching local attractions and adding them to the wedding website, decorating the DIY photo booth and providing props, and brainstorming/executing other fun activities for the cocktail hour, as there would be no actual cocktails.

Two weeks before the wedding, two other bridesmaids and I were also throwing a shower for the bride, so I was super-busy, scattered, stressed and frustrated — happy to help, but wishing I’d had more time and notice.

Adding to my to-do list was securing the various pieces of my elaborate and colorful bridesmaid getup. For the bolero, shoes, sash and dress, I made somewhere between six and 10 trips to David’s Bridal, I store I dislike even more than Walmart.

The wedding weekend was a giant flurry of activity. Guests were scattered among small inns and rental homes in rural northwestern South Carolina, and we spent the days leading up to the wedding driving to and fro handling last-minute assignments, as the nearest towns to the remote wedding site were 30 and 40 minutes away. And though the mountains are gorgeous, especially in the fall, there was no cell service or Wi-Fi, making communication very challenging.

In the end, my sister-in-law and her fiancé got married, and the ceremony and reception were perfectly lovely, and I think they had a wonderful time, which is what matters. The next day, Philip and I drove the eight hours home and breathed a deep sigh of relief that it was over.

But even though I was grumpy at times about this event taking over my life for several weeks, even though I was overwhelmed and anxious, there was one huge advantage to this wedding: It kept my mind off of infertility. Nothing in 18 months has so consumed my brain and shoved out my infertility obsessions like the shower and wedding did.

I’ve been home for one week now, and all I can think about is:

Am I pregnant? There’s no way I’m pregnant. I feel PMSy, which is a bad sign. And oh yeah, both of those pregnancy tests I took were negative. But there’s still a 14 percent chance they’re wrong. Plus, I bought them on clearance; maybe they’re defective. I should read some more articles about infertility. Maybe if I read all of these strangers’ infertility blogs, I’ll find a clue about how to stop thinking about fertility all the time. Because that makes sense. 

So anyway, am I pregnant? What if I were? I would be the wussiest infertile of all times because it only took two hCG treatment cycles. All the other infertiles would think I’m ridiculous. But I wouldn’t care; I’d be so happy, so relieved. How would I tell Philip? What would the look on his face be?! Wouldn’t it be so amazing for him to come home from this business trip, and I could surprise him with a photo of my positive pregnancy test! And then we could tell my family at Thanksgiving! They’d all be overjoyed! We’d all cry; we’d all be together. It would be wonderful!! [Heart swelling to bursting.] 

No. NO. STOP IT. There is a ZERO percent chance you are pregnant. You have cramps. You spotted a little yesterday. And listen here, you denial-having whackjob — that was NOT implantation bleeding. And you have taken two pregnancy tests that were absolutely, unequivocally negative. Do not get your hopes up, because you know what always happens — the harder you crash when your period finally comes. Etc. etc. etc.

So. The wedding spared me from all of THAT noise for a few precious weeks, and for that, I will be forever grateful to it.

ON THE BRIGHT SIDE ...

If I never conceive, I never have to worry about a cake like this showing up at my baby shower:

Every cloud has a silver lining.

RITES OF PASSAGE FOR THE FERTILE, PART 2: THE CUTESY PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT

So had an idea for a Part 2 after all.

I find out that new people are pregnant every day. Every. Single. Day. Of my life. I pass my neighbor on the sidewalk, and there's a bump. I receive apologetic emails from my tenderhearted friends who have no idea how to tell me (I don't know the best way either, I'm afraid). But mostly I see announcements on Facebook, often issued with some amount of cutesiness.

Had I turned out to be fertile, I probably would have done something like this. But now I just don't see it ever happening, even if we someday manage to force the miracle of conception. For one, it feels like doing so would put me in a club where I have never belonged, and second, I know the pain and displeasure these announcements have caused me as a psychopathic infertile woman.

However, the other day my friend shared the below pregnancy announcement with me, and even though I barely know the girl who wrote it, tears were streaming down my face -- it was so honest, beautiful and modest:

It's FB official: We Are Pregnant! Baby X is due March 21.

On a personal note, I want to share that our journey would not be possible without God's miracle of modern medicine. We went through IVF and the ups and downs that come with it. For the 3 ladies who have shared this fertility journey at the same time, thank you for your support. Without being able to share with you, I can't how I would have gotten through. For my family and friends that have listened to our fears, wiped our tears and celebrated our success, thank you. The depth of your support continues to amaze us. We are so blessed, God is so good.

I share the personal for a reason: if you are going through fertility issues, please feel free to call me anytime. A support system makes all the difference between feeling alone/crazy/frustrated and a finding a little bit of joy/peace.

Someday I can see myself making an announcement like that. Somehow, I continue to be very hopeful that I will.

P.S. I don't know the people in the above photo. I think the girl's shoes are really cute, and the guy's pants are strangely baggy.

IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING ...

1. We didn't attend the gender-reveal party. We went for a run instead. I saw on Facebook they are having a girl.

2. We were able to start our first treatment cycle last month. I took Letrozole orally, and Philip administered an injection of hamster hormones in my stomach. He was very nervous, but did just fine.

3. We didn't get pregnant. I cried bitterly and panicked that I will never be a mother. Then I went back to the doctor to get another $150 ultrasound, as well as new prescriptions for Letrozole and hamster hormones. Maybe I should just call them Ovidrel; it sounds less horrifying that way.