Wish it I had it as easy as a chicken.

This post might as well be titled "Adventures in Fertility, Phase 2" because I feel like I just plunged headfirst into a whole new level.

I arrived at the doctor simply looking for confirmation via ultrasound that the fertility drugs had gotten my body prepped and ready for the (other) "big O," only to get the news that they were going to give me an injection to make sure I actually release the egg.

My stomach churned at the idea, but I'd come this far, I knew it could help, and well, I wasn't going to say no. And while shooting a needle straight into my stomach wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined, it was still an unpleasantry for someone like me who faints at the very thought of such a concept. And, something I hope not to repeat.

I'm now on the "36-hour Ovulation Watch" which, while convenient, really takes the surprise out of it. Yes, I suppose that's the idea, but it kind of blows my mind that they can actually do that.

I left the doctor's office with a big smile on my face and the promise of babies running through my head.
"Mark your calendar," I told my husband. "We're getting a sitter." It's on.

My expectations, despite knowing better, are sky-high and optimistic. Sure I've been counting on this for, let's see, god, almost two years now, but I've got modern medicine firmly on my side--odds must be good this time. Surely this will work, right? ...Right?

Meanwhile, my 4-year old, who has absorbed more than her fair share of ovulation talk, ultrasounds and readings aloud from "Taking Charge of Your Fertility," is now on the junior path to fertility specialist. She's fascinated by the reproductive charts on the wall of my doctor's office and can trace the path from ovary to uterus, if only in concept.

The funniest part is how she's deduced that a human egg must be similar to a chicken, and commented, "When you lay an egg, I hope it's a girl."

New year, new me

I'm not sure how or when I became so antisocial, but I really started to notice it after a period in which my three best friends all moved away, one friend (mentioned in previous blog) got crazy on me, and another moved to the other side of the island. Suddenly there was no one I could automatically call, no one I could expect to see on the weekend, no one to make spontaneous plans with.

My life, which had seemed so full and rich with happiness suddenly seemed devoid of friendship. I started to reassess.

My job makes it difficult to find new friends or hang out with people because the vast majority of my waking hours are spent there. That may be why I've been hanging out with essentially the same crew for the good part of the last decade.

As I started contemplating the idea of trolling for new friends, it also became apparent to me that while most people at least socialize occasionally with their coworkers, I can count on one hand the number of times I've gone to lunch with other people in the nearly three years at my company.

I'm not sure how I became so protectionist and closed-off, but I suspect it has to do with a combination of factors: that the other people in comparable professional positions have at least 15 years on me, and because the only people my age are in different departments or lowly coordinator roles. No to be a snob, I just don't know how that would work to be managing people I socialize with.

Then there's the fact that I've been burned more than once by people who used me or lied to me to get ahead (or get in good) at work. Talk about a blow.

Although I know most people aren't so devious, I'm not quick to make the same mistake when it comes to people in an office environment.

But after a whole lot of soul-searching and a whole lot of what has lately amounted to loneliness, I've decided maybe it's time to give it a try, if only out of necessity. What would happen if the few good friends I have left or moved away too?

So here I am one month into the new year with a resolution to make an attempt to find (real) new friends.

I'm happy to say, so far, so good. I've eaten lunch with more people in the last month than in the last year. I've struck up conversations with parents on the playground. I've gone out of my way to talk to new people, and I've made a habit to introduce myself to neighbors on the block. I'm even going to great lengths to strike up new conversations with people on Twitter, as banal and antisocial as that sounds. At least, I figure, I'm talking to people. That's gotta get the wheels turning.

Its weird to be in this position and I struggle to fight the urge to clam up and keep to myself as I usually do, but I ask myself: what's the worst that can happen by putting myself out there? I'm older, I'm wiser, and if someone tries to stab me in the back again, I hope the overall benefits of my new resolution outweigh the risks.

It feels funny to act like "the new kid" all of the sudden, but the fulfillment I'm getting is, so far, worth it. Here's to keeping it up.