There are little bits and pieces floating around in my head, but I'm not in any place for a coherent post .... 

My former assistant just told me she is pregnant. On her 2nd try. She was using a known donor with fresh sperm, and she's much younger than I am. Still. I want to poke myself in the eye with a fork. Repeatedly. And did I mention that last week, on my birthday, two friends wrote to say they were pregnant. "I'm pregnant! Happy birthday!" Ouch. I have officially become a person who is devastated by other people's happiness. I didn't even cry when this last cycle failed. Was numb. But today, when my former assistant told me her news (thank god by email), I just lost it. I am so jealous I could die.

Thanks to everyone for offering encouragement.  Yes, it was only 13dpo when I tested and technically that was too early. But when you know, you know. You know? Anyway, it's 15dpo now, the tests are still negative, and I've started cramping. This cycle is over. Six down.

On Sunday and Monday, I thought it was possible that I could be pregnant. I went to that place. Actually, wait. Let me re-phrase. I didn't actively think I was currently pregnant. I didn't have any dramatic symptoms. I didn't *feel* pregnant. But I did spend some a lot of time thinking that I was the kind of person who could get pregnant. That it might happen to me. That it might even happen this cycle. Then, this morning the pee stick was an ugly, glaring white.

U.T.E.R.U.S. is at it again! Go bid, buy, donate! Background info from Mel here. And all the bid, buy, donate links from Cali are here.

Calliope made this banner and did my colors! How pretty am I?

My sweetie told me about (another) colleague of hers that is pregnant. She decided she wanted to lose some weight so she went to the gym and signed up for a personal trainer. The trainer made her fill out all these forms, including a disclaimer saying she wasn't pregnant. So sweetie's colleague was like, "Hmmm. I recently went off the pill but my husband and I haven't actually started trying yet. We just know we'd like to try soon." And the trainer was like, ok, then just take a home pregnancy test before you come in next time, you know, just to be sure. And my sweetie's colleague did. And, well, you already know the end of this story. She was, of course, pregnant. So no trainer and no weight loss for her. And no rest for me. It got me thinking perseverating on this topic again - the inhuman level of scrutiny that we subject ourselves to. Sweetie's colleague didn't even know and she was several weeks in. And I'm trying desperately to know several days early.  I'm analyzing every twinge, every tick, every fluid, every movement. Hell, I've even had gas pains that I hoped desperately were signs of implantation. Or constipation that I was sure was an early sign of pregnancy. (Yes, in typing this it occurs to me that I might need another tutorial on the difference between my bowels and my ute! Or not. I mean, that's the point - too many tutorials already.) I know this level of scrutiny is not healthy, mentally or even physically. And I don't know any way around it. A prescription for madness. (That insurance doesn't even cover.)

I had some mild (so mild that I could have been making it up) cramps on days 6/7 and 7/8 past insemination. No accompanying spotting to indicate implantation, but I went to that hopeful place anyway .... So hopeful that I forgot for a couple days to be doubtful, cynical, and resigned. Forgot that I was really just doing attempt #6 to check the box and then move on, that I don't believe deep down that it could work, etc. Today, no cramps, and I've reined in the hope at least part of the way. Nothing I felt earlier this week was any different to things I've felt before, there are no new symptoms, and I'm on a double dose of the total fake-out that is progesterone .... So here I am at day 8/9 past insemination, waiting, fearing the hope.

If anyone is looking for good gift ideas, I'd like an .... um, I don't know .... hmmm .... how about .... a baby!!!

I've been sort of obsessed with the 6th try. Because somewhere, someone told me that 6 was the average number of tries it takes. Because that's exactly how many tries it took our good friend to pregnant with her son, and she was the only "real life" person I knew for the longest time who had done this. Because some insurance plans will cover infertility for women who've been trying for 6 months (instead of the normal 12) if they're over 35. Today, though, I'm reminding myself that 6 is just a number. My follicles this month don't even know that they're the 6th go round. They're just doing their follicle thing. They haven't been counting along with me. Today I'm inviting my baby to come to me when the time is right, not just because we've tried 6 times and I feel like it's my due. 

Had a friend visiting over the weekend and saw two great concerts - Catie Curtis and the Indigo Girls. I definitely got my fill of lesbian folk music. Love it. And the opening act for Catie Curtis blew me away. Bluesy, beautiful, and a HUGE voice. Have you ever heard of Ruthie Foster? I didn't have a clue. She's amazing. 

• Charting
• Temping
• Fertility Tea
• Vitex (oh, the days!)
• Obsessively reading lesbo fertility books
• Herbs 
• Militant anti-caffeine and anti-alcohol instincts
• OPKs
• Enthusiasm
• Maya Massage
• Faith
• Our savings
• And soon: acupuncture (see bullet above)

Sarah and her lovely partner had a baby girl on Saturday! Go say congrats to the new moms!