How on earth can it be New Year's Eve? How can I be staring down 2014, another year gone and another year scampering out of the gate? I feel like each year I write a tribute to the year, a tribute to the suckiness and a few things to be happy about. Usually it says something like, "2011, You Were a Stinker" or whatnot. Given that every year does not improve much in the family building department, I think I'll give that a rest this year. There's plenty of good stuff that happened in 2013, but, yet again, NO FREAKING BABY. No baby in my belly, no baby in my Little Room, nada. Two efforts to make said baby appear and...nothing.
It's strangely appropriate that I had my annual exam at the gynecologist today. End the year with the appointment I dread and hope that next year brings a different experience in that office. I still do not understand why you cannot just get your PAP smear in the RE's office. Why, when there is so much detailed exploration of my lady bits in that office, why can't they just swipe the cervy? Why must I go into the office that is filled with the experience I desperately want and cannot as of yet have to have that one little swipe? Argh. I did switch practices last year, because a) my old gynecologist was not exactly sensitive about the infertility and b) her office was a godawful cesspool of administrative hell (you had to come 20 minutes before your appointment or you would be "rescheduled" -- I came from school one day and was 5 minutes before my appointment and was made to wait AN ENTIRE HOUR to be "fit in," while hugely pregnant women and fresh babies surrounded me in the waiting room). The new practice is very Zen, with nary a harried office tech to be seen and, so far, very few hugely pregnant women. Plus there's a private waiting area, where I think you can hide if there are hugely pregnant women lurking about. Today the office staff were lovely but the nurse was perhaps cranky due to working on New Year's Eve. Or maybe she just didn't like me for some reason, as through the door I could hear her being perfectly pleasant to everyone else. She took my height and weight, and I could see the weight (ugh) but not the height. Until she input everything in and I saw it said 67.5 inches. WHAT THE WHAT? I am just shy of five foot six. I don't know how you gain an extra inch or two other than the speediest height stick maneuvering ever, but since it made my BMI a little more palatable I didn't say anything. Once I was at the doctor's a year or two ago and they put my weight in at 121 pounds. I just couldn't let them do it, because it was about 50 pounds off. I mean, for this year it's great (although I was a little concerned no one was like WHOAH NELLY, THIS LADY LOST A CRAPLOAD OF WEIGHT! and was concerned about, you know, cancer or something...), but the next time I go in I sure as hell am not going to weigh any 121 pounds. So I had them change it. This time vanity won out, because being 5 foot 7 1/2 sure helped my BMI, and no one will believe I have shrunk down next year. They will realize they just don't know how to wield the measuring stick thing and not suspect sudden onset osteoporosis. So anyway, I get ushered into my room and am told to put on the "gown," front open. Except the "gown" is more like a vest. How do you get off calling something a gown that doesn't come close to even grazing your ass? There was a paper blanket that was more like a doily, because that left my butt pretty open air as well. Oh well. The annual exam itself was perfunctory and not a big deal. It was what happened while I waited that was tough. I could hear the people in the room to my right. I could hear that they were being congratulated on being so pregnant, almost there (thank GOD according to the disembodied voice of the pregnant lady). AND THEN I HEARD A HEARTBEAT. That swishy sound I know from TV and movies and not my own experience, because I never get to hear one of those. Amplified and beautiful, and punctuated by laughter and the statement, "I never grow tired of hearing that!" Which made me feel a little better, because at least she appreciated the miracle that was happening. For her. While I sat mostly naked and barely covered in paper and struck by the thought that it's possible I may never hear that sound myself. Just through the walls of my gynecologists' office while I wait to get a PAP smear because fertility clinics don't do them. Sigh.
So here we are, one more New Year's Eve, one more year behind us and one more year ahead of us. I feel like I'm on a loop, saying, "I hope 201- is OUR YEAR!" 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013... and now 2014. So instead of feeling too terribly sorry for myself today, I mustered up excitement. Because while 2014 does not have a chance of being The Year of the Baby, it could be The Year of the Gestation or The Year We Do Our Homestudy. It's a year of possibility. (Just in case you're wondering why it's not the Year of the Baby, we can't do our last cycle until spring, because I need the chance to do Egg Boot Camp. More on that later.) I feel a bit at peace. If things work out medically with our new plan, then great! If things don't, hello and welcome world of adoption. I don't feel like I have a dead end in front of me. I feel like I have a world of possibility and our baby will be coming to us, I'm just not sure how.
In closing, I will share with you my rituals for New Year's Eve. Because I have rituals for everything, including fertility crap, you'd better believe I don't leave the crazy at the door on New Year's. Therefore, I spent the day deep cleaning. Mopping. Dusting. Vacuuming a second time. Taking out all the garbage after vacuuming. Get all the dirt of 2013 out of the house, chase out all that bad dirt. Welcome the new year with a fresh, clean house. Then, a bowl of oranges on the table. 14 oranges for 2014 (not sure if that means anything but I thought I'd respect the new year number). We will be opening the front door for 2014 and then running to let the old year out the back door. We will bang pots and pans with wooden spoons to scare away any evil spirits trying to get in on the goodness of the new year. And of course toast with champagne and cocktails, since I'm not in Egg Boot Camp yet. We are having neighbors over for cheese and deviled eggs (ha, lots of eggs) and butternut squash bisque and those cocktails. It will be a lovely way to end another fruitless year. A lovely way to usher in a new year and a new chance for family happiness.
Welcome, 2014. We welcome all good things that you may bring.
Happy New Year, folks! May 2014 be a fabulous year.