I realize I’m doing things in the wrong order – normally one blogs about baby poop after blogging about infertility woes – but that’s the beauty of having your own blog. You get to break rules. WHEEEE!

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Usually I’m at peace with the decision MC and I made to not pursue fertility treatments (other than my first and only Clomid cycle over a year ago). I’m pretty sure it would take a lot to get me pregnant; a lot of money, because I think it would take going all the way to mulitple IVF treatments, a lot of emotional carnage, because giving up a foster child you know about before hand, but miscarrying or a chemical pregnancy or just a failed IVF.. would devastate me & MC, and a lot of effort. And we all know how I can take lazy to a whole new level.

It feels strange thinking about this, my somewhat latent desire for a real pregnancy, when I have a sleeping infant upstairs. (Who, by the way, is getting cuter every day I swear. Except for the constant wailings because she’s beached herself on her stomach, and DAMN if she’s not going to let you know that that is NOT ACCEPTABLE for sleeping HELLO, rescue me already).

But MC was home from work today, so it was a super-relaxo day as neither of us had any plans other than baby’s access, and where was I going with this… OH, yes, so I had time to kill on the compu-pew and fell down the rabbit hole that is infertility blogs. Fascinating, sad, a lot of them hopeful.  Lots of strange acronyms that I still don’t understand, but you can understand the emotions behind them. Some of them match my own, some of them are totally in a different place than I am (5th IVF cycle? No idea what that is like.. Do I want to know? Not sure..).

Made me want to try treatment (ART! Look! I know one already!!) just to try. Started the What If’s again – what if it did work? What if we had a baby that was ours from the start, that had MC’s Cro-Magnon unibrow and my witch-hook nose? What if I could finally beat that family member’s one-upmanship in the baby department – no longer the only one in the family who can get pregnant, they could EAT MY PREGNANT DIRT or something along those lines?

I started typing ‘What if we had a real baby’ just then. And that’s where I start to go back to my original decision to stay away from treatments. Because Maria is a real baby. Or at least, that poo of the century this morning was. I guess I’m trying to figure out what exactly I or MC want from this – a child to call our own? A newborn? One that is ours from the beginning (ours in the genetic and legal sense)? Because if it’s the former, then Maria or another child we mayhap to adopt in the future fulfills that. But maybe not.

This is our decision for now, sure, but hell I’m young (even if my youth group think I’m ‘like, SOO old!!’). Will I regret this in 5 years when my chances of fertility treatments succeeding have bombed? Alternatively, if we try the IVF milieu, (let’s just pause to appreciate that I managed to work milieu into a sentence.             That oughta do it), will I regret the massive debt we’d probably still be carrying in 5 years?? GAH.

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In other news that is less intense. I need to share with you the awesomeness that is me as a mother. Remember this post about Maria’s current obsession with projectile vomiting? Repeated projectile vomiting? Well. Here I was thinking it was her getting sick, or maybe wanting more solids, or…

No. Tonight I was making formula, and just to be sure, I checked with MC again about the ratio of formula to water that I was putting together. It’s one half cup to one half cup, right honey?

MC: What? Uh, I thought it was one half cup [formula] to one litre. Let me just check again…

Yeah. It’s one half cup to one whole litre of water. Meaning? Maria’s been upchucking because I’ve been feeding her a double concentrated version of formula.

Yes. Mother of the year award, right here please. OOPS.