Tag: fertility treaments

Happy Lupercalia Day! Prepare the goat hide!

Published / by sandymichelet / Leave a Comment

There are many legends of how Valentines Day started….I have no idea which one is true….but good googly these are crazy.

Legend/Crazy Story #1

Valentine was a priest who served around 250 AD. The Emperor at the time decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives or kids, The Emperor wanted to ensure his soldiers were focused on fighting, so he made marriage illegal. <INSERT JOKE HERE> Valentine felt that this was ridiculous and still married couples if they wanted. The Emperor found out that Valentine was performing marriage ceremonies illegally and put him to death.

Legend/Crazy Story #2

Our hero Valentine is still trying to right the wrongs of the world. After hearing that imprisoned Christians were being beaten and tortured while in a specific Rome prison, he set out to rescue them all. When this was discovered, Valentine was jailed in the same prison where he had tried to help others escape. Ever the romantic, he fell in love with a woman who visited him in prison. He sent her a love note and signed it “From your Valentine”. Awwwwwwww.

Legend/Crazy Story #3

Happy Lupercalia Day! Still in the same 250 AD time frame, Lupercalia was a fertility festival dedicated to the god of agriculture. Now….everyone in South Louisiana knows when a big parade is getting ready to kick off….the police cars or motorcycles ride the parade route, sirens a ‘blazing….and telling everyone to get back on the curbs because the large floats are coming down the road soon. The Lupercalia organizers had the same philosophy….”let’s tell the people that this sucker is starting”. So instead of police cars to kick off the event, they sacrificed a goat for fertility. This is where it gets interesting. They would cut the goat’s hide into strips, dip intro sacrificial blood and walk through the streets gently slapping women and crop fields as a “good luck being fertile” gesture. Did the women run? File a complaint? Nope. They “welcomed the touch of the hides” because they believed it made them more fertile. That is the ONE thing I didn’t try.

In honor of those stories, it makes perfect sense 1700 years later to buy chocolate in the shape of a heart. Happy VD.



Reference: History.com

12 Days of Childlessness and 12 Days of Infertility.

Published / by sandymichelet / Leave a Comment

On the 1st day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “This bites, you’ll have no legacy”.

On the 2nd day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “What did I do wrong”

On the 3rd day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “I have empty arms”

On the 4th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me  “I will die alone”

On the 5th day of Childlessness,

my inner voice reminded me 


On the 6th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “People treat me different”

On the 7th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “I’ll never have a baby”

On the 8th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “I’m embarrassed that I’m broken”

On the 9th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “My family is small, its my fault”

On the 10th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “Am I a real woman?”

On the 11th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “Don’t look at me with pity”

On the 12th day of Childlessness, my inner voice said to me “Will I be remembered?”, “Don’t look at me with pity”, “Am I a real woman?”, “My family is small, its my fault” “I’m embarrassed that I’m broken”, “I’ll never have a baby”, “People treat me different”, “FIVE PREGNANT HIGH SCHOOL GIRLSSSSSSSSS”,  “I will die alone”, “I have empty arms”, “What did I do wrong” and “This bites, you’ll have no legacy”.

12 days of Infertility

To me, someone who is infertile has been unable to conceive a child but is still TTC (trying to conceive) and is hopeful that it will happen. 

On the 1st day of Infertility, my family asked of me “Are you pregnant? We want to see a ba-by”

On the 2nd day of Infertility, my coworkers asked of me “Have you seen a doctor?”

On the 3rd day of Infertility, my dry cleaner said to me “Stop trying it will happen”

On the 4th day of Infertility, my neighbor said to me “Adoption is an option”

On the 5th day of Infertility, my doctor said to me


On the 6th day of Infertility, my pharm tech said to me “You need to try harder”

On the 7th day of Infertility, my lady at the drive through said to me “If its meant to be you’ll have one”

On the 8th day of Infertility, my mailman said to me “Hurry, you’re getting older”

On the 9th day of Infertility, my waitress said to me “Is it you who has the problem?”

On the 10th day of Infertility, my dentist said to me “IVF could fix this”

On the 11th day of Infertility, my nail tech said to me “Why can’t you get pregnant”?

On the 12th day of Infertility, my doctor said to me “This will never happen”, “Why can’t you get pregnant”?, “IVF could fix this”, “Is it you who has the problem?”, “Hurry, you’re getting older”, “If its meant to be you’ll have one”, “You need to try harder”, “FIVE CLOMID DAYSSSSSSSSS”, “Adoption is an option”, “Stop trying it will happen”, “Have you seen a doctor?”, “Are you pregnant? We want to see a ba-by”


This started to be a tongue in cheek blog post…but as I wrote I started remembering the unsolicited (i.e. unwelcome/unwanted/not helpful) advice I had received over the years. Add that advice to me already beating myself up and it was a constant barrage of negativity….like a partridge jumping out of the pear tree to peck the childless to death.

Others dream of visions of sugar plums dancing in their head. We dream of a child. 

Others think a Silent Night is a good thing. We think its another night without hearing a cooing baby.

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. Nope…………………………

We heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

It’s gonna take more than wine and soft music

Published / by sandymichelet / 6 Comments on It’s gonna take more than wine and soft music

If you’ve been involved in any type of fertility treatments or know someone who has, then you know that you lose all sense of dignity. The nurses and doctors do what they can to make you feel comfortable at being half dressed constantly…but there is NO way that any of this can be considered ok. It is all wrong.

It took about a year for us to figure out something wasn’t working right. We (like many naïve couples) thought that getting pregnant would be simple….because everybodyyyyyyyys doing it. I went to my normal female doc who checked the “infertile” box (or a term that made me realize there could be an issue) on the paperwork. That was the first indication there could be a problem.

At some point, my doctor suggested a hysterosalpingogram. Back then I still wasn’t accustomed to how clinical this whole process becomes. Marvin Gaye and a little wine worked for everyone else but a few days later I was in a contortionist position trying to count the moments til it was over. I heard the nurse casually tell someone “ok, can you call the doctor now”? WHAT THE!? He isn’t already in here!? I started to sweat because I knew I could be in that position for hours while my doctor finished delivering the latest blessing. In reality he was pretty close.  I will spare you the gory details (my first draft was apparently way too graphic) but Craig said he could hear me from the waiting room saying “Woa Woa WOAAAAAA’. Oh yeah. I am a warrior.

After the procedure I was a little woozy. Remember…this was early on, so I once again was convinced that this procedure would be the one. I could easily get pregnant after this.  I counted on my fingers to see how long before the miracle baby would be born. April. Yes! We’d have an Easter baby who could be wrapped in pastels and a bonnet for church. What could be better? I saw Craig as soon as the double doors opened to the waiting room. I took a few steps toward him. Something wasn’t right. The room started to spin. Sidenote: Some people can get sick like a normal human. If I feel like I’m getting sick I will lower myself to the ground. Not the bed. The ground. No idea why. I had my wits about me enough to know that I didn’t want to lie on the floor of the public waiting room though so headed back to the double doors. Still spinning. Trying to find a place to lie down. I took three steps. << AND SCENE>>.

That is all I remember. I came to hearing my name over and over again and Craig (now covered in vomit) holding me and screaming for help. Nurses came out of the woodwork and I got me back to the same room and crawled back on the table (at least I was fully clothed at this point).  Apparently I had a reaction to something but it only medical science knows the truth. 😉 Craig and I talked for a few minutes while I tried to force down the obligatory juice. It’s been ten years and Craig can detail every moment of that day how my “eyes rolled back in my head” and that he thought I had died in his arms. This would be Nicholas Sparks kinda stuff….but those always have happy endings.

They brought me a wheelchair and I tried to get comfortable. Some poor soul started pushing me out and then it hit me. NO! NO! NO! NO! STOP THE WHEELCHAIR! I wanted to walk out.  I tried to get out of the chair, I put my feet down, tried to turn sideways so I didn’t think I was in a chair, etc. Nothing worked. I wanted to walk out. Not because I am some superhero (I think we’ve proven quite the opposite above)….but I was NOT supposed to be wheeled out of Woman’s Hospital. People who are wheeled out are caressing and gazing down to a newborn, oblivious to the world around them…they have a mountain of balloons trailing behind the wheelchair….and have a nervous husband trying to remember where he parked the car. That wasn’t going to happen. And it was devastating. Again.

Both of us were emotional wrecks.  I was woozy, drugged and crying…and Craig (wearing now only remnants of vomit – they tried to clean him up) was trying to be strong but in a daze because he thought he had just watched me die. They put us in the car and I finally unleashed what I felt like were bottled up tears but had been streaming for a while now. We drove about a mile and I started to get sick again. I am not proud. I will lie on grass. Or concrete. Or Airline Highway. He couldn’t pull over because of traffic so I opened the door and tried to get out. He was frantically telling me to wait until the car stopped.  I was already sick again and still crying. We were quite the power couple that day.

Coincidently, we had stopped in front of my old office building. I was trying to lose my guts like a ninja so no one from work could see me. And see that, once again, I was a failure at Woman’s Hospital and that I couldn’t even handle a simple procedure.

That was both a lifetime ago and yesterday. All of us in this situation know the drill. We are reminded of our failures month after month after month…and then endure painful tests and procedures which result in nothing but agony. Tomorrow will be a better day.