Birthday Blues.

November 17, 2010 at 2:09 pm | Posted in Cheese with that whine? (aka rants), FET #5: Last Chance Waltz, Infertility | 6 Comments

My 35th birthday is next Friday.

Even prior to this cycle going belly up, I’ve been dreading it just a little.

I have no idea why.

Well, wait. Maybe I do.

I LOVED turning 30. I was excited to leave the tumult of my 20s behind; the failed engagement, the affair with a married man, the fiscal irresponsibility and resulting credit card debt, the unemployment.

At 30, I was a little wiser, with some more life experience.

But at 30, if felt like I had so much in front of me, still.

At 30, I was newly married, and still looking ahead to building a family with my husband, even though I was worried because it seemed to be taking a longer time than I expected.

At 30, I was making a name in a career which felt right for me.

I loved 30.

35 means it’s that much closer to 40.

35 means I’m of ‘advanced maternal age.’

It means I need to take calcuim supplements, get a mammogram, think about my FSH levels, and choose exercise that will maximize the use of my joints into old age.

It feels like it signifies an inflection point, where I feel like it’s less about all the opportunities in front of me and more about preventing issues and being responsible about decision making and better planning.

Probably NOT the right way to be looking at it, but I can’t help how I feel.

So I went in this morning to my clinic for another blood draw.

(Well, actually, I sat in TWO HOURS OF TRAFFIC to get my blood drawn, because people are idiots when it rains.)

And while it’s going the right way, it came back at 91.

Despite the bleeding and cramping since Sunday, it’s still positive.

So my nurse told me, We’ll draw again next Wednesday.

And where this would normally piss me off, because, well, I don’t relish the idea of sitting in traffic to go into my clinic for what’s essentially a hopeless test…

It’s even worse now.

Because I always thought I’d be done with having kids by the time I was 35. It was my personal cut off point.

So I was really, really hopeful that for my birthday I’d have the best present ever – confirmation of a viable pregnancy with a beating heart.

And now?


Instead, I’m finding that the best news I might get for my birthday might be confirmation that nope, I’m definitely not pregnant.

Fucking awesome.


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  1. I will turn 37 this December, and it’s a birthday I’m not looking forward to, either. Granted, I *am* pregnant, so I can’t say “I know what you’re going through,” but at 35, I’d had three miscarriages, had just been diagnosed with secondary infertility, and suddenly had to start weighing options I never thought I’d have to weigh, with the additional “risk factor” of age.

    One thing I *can* offer you is this: while getting and staying pregnant seems to be harder as one gets older, more and more women are having their children later in life, flying in the face of the “wisdom” of physicians. Don’t give up hope just yet. *hugs* to you … and a beautiful birthday cake.

  2. How I wish it was different for you. I remember feeling that way also when I hit 35 and every birthday after that. I know it wont make you feel any better I had Boo one month short of my 41st birthday.

  3. The seemingly never ending post miscarriage blood tests are just so depressing. Sorry you have to go through this.

  4. Well, that sucks. I’m really sorry. I hope this doesn’t drag on much longer.

  5. I dread each passing day, too…each passing birthday. After I turned 31…I just realized that I was nearly 1/3 to 1/2 through my life…and not really sure I had achieved all that I wanted to…and certainly my life is not turning out the way that we plan.

    I always remind myself that Madeline Albright’s career didn’t start until her late 30’s.

    There is still time, still life ahead…

  6. I hope you have a good birthday anyway, although I guess it might be a little too soon to hope for that. Is it too late to postpone turning 35 until next year?


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