Category: Other people and how they handle it

Dear Diary, where is the baby?

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My usual cleaning pattern is pretty simple. Start to clean >  find something I haven’t seen in years (pictures, etc) > sit on the floor to reminisce > reminisce til I get bored > ignore the area I planned to clean > move on with my life.

For the last month or so I’ve been in a cleaning spree…which nicely translates into “walking down memory lane while simultaneously ignoring all of the crap in the extra bedrooms”.  One of the recent gems I discovered was a journal from our first few years of marriage. 

If you ever wondered if I had a boring life, wonder no more. It is a yawner. I wrote the thing and struggled to keep my eyes open while reminiscing. Except for these two topics:

  1. My grandma. She died while I was keeping the journal…so I have a lot of stories about her and how much I missed her
  2. Trying to get pregnant

Looking back, I was ridiculously naive. I remember planning for a spring baby so I could put the baby in a bonnet for Easter Sunday.

Saturday, 3/2/01 “<Insert confidential name> and I talked about a baby. They said I am working myself up and that I am making it worse that it really is”

Monday, 9/1/01 “We went antique shopping and I bought a silver lamp for the nursery, It is great!” My plan was to save it and open it when I got pregnant. I bought the lamp 16 years ago. I just opened the box when I bought our new house.

Sunday, 12/23/01 “I am 33, 34 in 7 months. If I don’t get pregnant immediately, we are going to get into the 35 year old danger zone. I told Craig I wouldn’t try to get pregnant after 35”. This wasn’t true. I breezed right through 35 and we kept trying.

Saturday, 9/7/02 “I told <Migraine Doctor> we were trying and he took me off X and Y medications. I keep getting migraines now. Either try for a baby or have less headaches with no baby.” At this point in my life, I was having 18-25 migraines a month. I was told I needed to choose between getting off all of the medications (and be in debilitating migraine pain while trying to get pregnant) or stay on the medications and stop trying to get pregnant). I chose to try to get pregnant. 

Sunday, 2/3/03 “I just took another ovulation test. I haven’t looked at it yet………It seems like we have to go through so much trouble to get pregnant. I wish it would just happen”. HA HA HA HA! This was two years into trying. Ah… naive! 

Doctor visits, pregnancy tests, etc.

Tuesday, 2/11/03 “I have a doctor’s apt tomorrow at 3:45 to discuss Clomid. If you’ve never been on Clomid…lemme explain very simply. Think about the angriest you’ve ever been in your life….you want to strangle anyone who gets within 30 feet of you…there is no way that smoke isn’t coming out of your ears…..everyone is an idiot…you are questioning your sanity….and then, you are supposed to turn on Marvin Gaye if ya get my meaning. Yeah…its that sexy.

I have blocked out a LOT of things from those years. The pain of feeling like a failure and disappointment was just too great. Finding the journal was bittersweet. It brought me right back to where I was when I was writing each entry…but it also made me realize that 15 years ago I thought my life would end if I didn’t have a baby. Now I realize that my life was just beginning.


Is infertility a 3 ringed circus?

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A few years ago I gave my brother some juggling bowling pins for his birthday. Yes, we are weird like that. But I knew he could instantly pick them up and juggle like he had been doing it for years. I was right. Smooth movements, kept them in the air. Me!? I almost hurt myself just trying to wrap them.

Throughout the infertility/adoption process we met with an endless number of doctors, specialists, therapists, etc. Appointments, rescheduling, testings, appointments, etc. I can’t count the number of waiting rooms I’ve sat in…waiting to hear my name called….waiting to hear test results…waiting for someone to get all up in my lady biz-ness.  Everything was in a hurry. Then we’d wait. Then hurry. Then wait. This person was supposed to talk to that insurance company, while the other person was trying to get me in to see that person. Freaking three ringed circus. In the middle of all of it, though, I felt alone.

The silence after the appointments are over is deafening. Loneliness creeps in. For whatever reason, Craig and I didn’t share a lot about our struggles with other people. Now that I finally am talking about it, it is difficult to explain why we didn’t back then. It wasn’t a conscious decision.

It didn’t matter though. I could have talked with every person on this planet and still felt alone. It’s strange how trying to build another human being can be such a lonely process.

People’s questions and comments about trying to get pregnant often cut me to the core. No one ever meant to be hurtful. But one question at dinner, another question while at a party, another while on the phone, etc…..after a while I wanted to avoid the conversations. Because I felt like there was a huge sign pointing to me. ——> STEP RIGHT UP AND SEE THE BROKEN WOMAN RIGHT HERE!


When you are the only one in your world wearing a formal gown and flippers, you stand out.


During that time we were trying to survive the heartbreak of infertility, the roller coaster of treatments and a lot of other overused imagery phrases. Throw adoption classes in there and we were on a never ending merry go round. (ok. that was the last circus reference).

Why didn’t we share a lot?

  • Because then I had to stop focusing on why/how my world was collapsing and take care of someone else.
  • Not sure what to say
  • Embarrassed
  • Worried about “helpful” suggestions
  • Didn’t want to
  • Sharing information gave up control
  • Once people are involved, they are always involved

What is the right answer? I clearly have no idea. I have some friends/family who think I didn’t share enough of our struggles. I have some friends/family who never wanted to hear about it.

We never planned to the treatment and adoption discussions private…but we also never discussed how we’d communicate any of that. There were only two goals. Getting a baby. And keeping the bowling pins in the air.   

Do you need a knife for cereal?

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He was 19 years old and touting all of the reasons why I should purchase a $1100 knife set. I couldn’t think of any. He had zillions.

I am surprised we even met. He was a student distributor for a nationally known cutlery company, referred to me by a mutual friend and promised his presentation wouldn’t take more than an hour. Our first conversation went well until I heard “we need to find a time when your husband can attend too.”.  I pushed back…he insisted. I AM SORRY. WHAT!?

I assumed it was because I’m just lil ‘ol me and can’t make a decision on my own about something so important….< Stated sarcastically in the worst Southern accent I could ever use….like Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias.

Now…to be fair….I wouldn’t make an $1100 purchase without talking to Craig….but he wouldn’t buy it without talking to me. We always talk to each other when we find something that we absolutely must have. But neither asks permission from the other.

This was my final offer. Meet with me. With no husband. At 7am. I had pushed this poor kid off for over a year. He never gave up. He cheerfully agreed to the early morning meeting time and was standing outside when I arrived.

I set his expectations from the first phone call. I can’t justify an expense for something I will rarely use. Yes, I am sure they are nice. But we don’t cook every night. Or every week. And…if I am going to spend $1100 on something, it would be on something that I’d really like to have….like jewelry….or a gun. He walked through the history of the company, talked about the construction of a high quality knife versus a terrible one.

They obviously train their employees. It is impressive training. He was using every possible tool the company gave him and responded to every objective. He wasn’t the issue. He was the epitome of what you’d like representing your company.

Does your husband hunt? You mean while I am in the kitchen baking up a pie? Preparing for when my man returns home?  This time, I am fanning myself with a paper fan…the crappy accent remains. He never asked me if I hunt…but I am a huge game hunter and would have spent thousands of dollars on hunting knives. (Actually not true. I don’t hunt.)

Then it got even better.

We started talking about knife sets. The Homemaker Set. The. Homemaker. Set. Helloooooooooo. The 1950’s called. Maybe I am too sensitive…but are you freaking kidding me!? I stopped his presentation and started peppering him with questions. “Wait. I’m sorry. The what set?”. I heard the innocent response “The Homemaker Set!?”.

I think my question surprised him. I continued. “Do your executives, marketing team, etc think that term could be updated to reflect, uh, the world today!?.” You know….to something better….like The Little Lady Set.

I was starting to sense a trend.

“Sandy, these knives will last a lifetime. They can be passed to your kids and grandkids…they are legacy items” (or something similar).

He finished his presentation. I didn’t purchase anything….but I knew ahead of time I wouldn’t. I shook his hand and wished him luck. This kid is going places.

I couldn’t get the whole experience off my mind. So, like anyone would do when they are pondering life, I went to Google.


Definition of homemaker: a person who manages a household especially as a wife and mother. 

Huh. I googled again.

Definition of a CEO: the main person responsible for managing a company.

No reference to gender in that definition.


Maybe I was being uber sensitive. Salespeople probably want both spouses in a presentation so they can’t use the “I need to talk to my spouse” excuse. There are more men hunters than women in the world. I’m still shocked with the homemaker set thing….but…maybe I was being ridiculous at my thinking.

Nope. I am not. The world has changed and everyone is adapting. Well, not everyone.


Since the presentation I’ve noticed that cheese DOES stick to knives if the blades aren’t creatively constructed with holes to allow airflow. And I will never again hold kitchen scissors without remembering how those perfect scissors felt as if they were made to fit my hand.

I visited the company’s website. “<Company Name > knives have been handed down from mothers to daughters, grandfathers to grandsons and between friends. <Company Name > is for Generations.”


I am my only generation. My family tree stops with me.

So for now, I will keep my crappy knives with the rusted rivets and dull blades. My cereal doesn’t mind.