The Fat Pants Cometh

Well, I triggered on Weds.  Pretty big deal for me since I’ve been sitting out cycles since December.  Punching that little needle into my pinched belly fat was never more sweet!  I had to AGAIN mention how much I friggin’ LOVE Ovidrel.  It’s like a little piece of heaven all wrapped up in one refrigerated pre-filled syringe with the tiniest needle you’ve seen, or more importantly, felt.  After 5 cycles of Novarel horrification earlier this year, fumbling in front of the computer (where the injection direction cd-ROM was playing), trying to do all the steps perfectly (which I never actually did), mustering up my wits to poke that waaaaay long needle in….well, Ovidrel is a snap compared to that.  I’m not sure what the difference in effectiveness is between the two meds, but I’m hoping my protocols always choose my little O.  Heck, I might just inject myself now and then with Ovidrel for the fun of it.  Ovidrel, you complete me.

I’m getting side-tracked here, sorry.  By the way, the manufacturers of Ovidrel are not giving me any sort of kick-backs for my devotion.  Novarel, on the other hand, is suing me for defamation.  Just kidding, I don’t even know what defamation is.  I just know there’s some type of ‘anti-defamation league’ out there somewhere in legal land, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to have them knocking on my blog door any time soon.  So, just to appease my legal team:  Novarel and Ovidrel  are both wonderful triggers, equally effective at making my ovaries feel as if they’ve just been beaten to a pulp with baseball bats.  And that’s the way I like it.

Man, more side-tracking.   What I meant to discuss when I told you I was triggering is the result of that extra HSG surge running through my body:  BLOATING!  Not just, ‘oh my pants feel a little tight maybe I need to unbutton them’ bloating, but more like ‘oh my pants just popped a button due to the girth of my belly’ type bloating.  So that meant only one thing:  yesterday, was a fat pants day.

We all have fat pants, right?  The pants you keep at the back of your closet with a little extra room in the hips area after too many brownies, extra room in the butt area after too little exercise, and extra room in the waist when you’ve had too much Ovidrel (or Novarel, or Clomid, or Follistim, or Gonal-F, or any other IF med that makes you bloat up like a a pretzel that fell into the punchbowl).   I can’t even imagine all you ladies that have had to suffer through an IVF cycle getting so overstimulated, I can only fathom the need for an ample supply of fat pants…or mu-mus.  Or (dare I say it?) maternity pants.

Why is it that pregnant women are the only ones who get to enjoy pants with comfortable waistbands?  Isn’t that some sort of discrimination?  Like, what about my husband after Thanksgiving dinner (or a visit to Cracker Barrel)?  Does he deserve stretchy waists any less?  Now, I know there ARE other pants with stretchy waists besides maternity pants, but most of them involve some sort of sweat pant/track pant formulation.  Yesterday, I had to work.  So any type of clothes that signaled ’I'm going for a run’ was pretty much out.  What I really needed yesterday was to get into my blue bin in the basement which stores my maternity clothes and get a pair of my old maternity pants with the gloriously stretchy wasteband masquerading as a pair of nice khakis.  Man, those are some sweet pants.

But I don’t want to get into that bin.  Seems sort of like I’d be jinxing myself or something.  What if that would be the last time I wore those pants?  Not because I was preggo, just fat?  Plus that bin resides in the ‘used baby stuff’ area of the basement, and I don’t like to visit that area.  It breaks my ‘I don’t look at baby stuff ever’ rule.  I mentioned before, but denial is my BFF on this TTC journey.

I actually bought my first pair of maternity pants BEFORE I was preggo.  Talk about jinxing myself.  I did it in the weeks following my lap surgery.  I had some SERIOUS bloating/swelling after that surgery which left me looking a good 5 months preggo for weeks.  I had my gallbladder out the same time I had my exploratory pelvic lap…so I guess all that surgery was too much for one belly to take,  and it popped out like a…like a big pregnant belly without the bonus baby part. So I got myself a pair of khaki maternity clam-diggers.  They were so yummy and comfortable, but I always felt like I was going to be exposed for a fraud or something…

“Eve, those pants are so cute, the way the fit, slim in the legs but roomy in the stoma….what a minute!  Are those maternity pants?  Security!  Call the Mommy Patrol!  We have a NON-pregnant woman wearing our mommy-exclusive clothes!”

Yeah pregnant women think they are the only ones who have the right to have a big belly that comfortably rests in stretchy knit waste-bands.  The rest of us have to suck it in and suffer.  What if there were pants made SPECIFICALLY for IFers bloating up like Macy’s parade balloons?  And, they were merchandised far, far away from the maternity/baby stuff in stores.  Maybe near the Automotive Department or something.  And, they wouldn’t be called some cutesy ‘baby’ name like “Pea in the Pod” or “Mimi” or whatever, they would be called…um…”BLOAT-EAZE” pants.  What do you think?  Would you buy a pair or two?

I would.  I need some today, too…bigtime.  Well, with no Bloat-eaze available on the market, I guess it’s a track pants kind of day for me.  Yay.

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Question of the day to my bloggerific readers:  Do you have the same weird jinxing worries when it comes to maternity/baby stuff?  Or are you busy accruing baby/mat things that you could use in the future?  Or maybe somewhere in the middle?