Infertility

All posts tagged Infertility

I’m Still Here

Published February 9, 2026 by Malia

Well, hello there. It’s been a hot minute since I last updated this blog. And a lot has happened in that year and a half or so since my last post. To give you the short version: 2025 sucked.

Still here and want the longer version? Okay. Here goes…

Trigger warning…there’s a lot of death (people & pet)

To start with, I haven’t talked on here about my relationship with my mother the last few years, but it was non-existent. She wasn’t safe for me to be around and I finally had to step away from the relationship. It wasn’t a choice I made easily, but ultimately it was the best choice. I know that people have opinions about children going no-contact with their parent(s), and all I can say is unless you are involved personally in a relationship you have no idea what the whole story is. What you see publicly is not necessarily how things are behind closed doors. I genuinely hope you never find yourself in a situation where you have to make the decision to go no-contact. And if you have been in that situation and had to make that choice, I know it wasn’t easy.

I share all that because it helps to set up what happened in January of 2025. 2025 started with mom getting diagnosed with cancer. It was aggressive. Because of being no-contact with mom, I’d also had to go no-contact with dad. I re-established contact with him and we met for breakfast to catch up and discuss the situation with mom’s health. I’m so glad we got to have that breakfast.

At the end of January 2025, I had my tubes removed. Given the political climate in the U.S., it seemed safer than risk another early-term pregnancy loss. February 4th, a week after I had surgery, mom passed away. Thirteen days later, dad was supposed to return to work, and when he didn’t show up for his shift, my aunt was called to do a wellness check. Sometime between the evening of February 15 and morning of February 17, dad passed away in his sleep. He was very peaceful, according to those who saw him. While I was prepared for mom’s death (as much as one can be), I wasn’t prepared for dad to go. I knew it was possible because they were so close, but his health was pretty good and I thought we were going to have a little bit of time together. His death almost destroyed me, and almost a year later I’m still struggling.

In the midst of all this, my dog, Krypto, started acting off, but I didn’t initially think it was anything other than him reacting to my stress. He always seemed to be very in tune with how I was feeling. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Tom, my husband, noticed something seemed really off and took him to the vet. Turned out, Krypto had a very aggressive form of oral cancer. This was diagnosed not quite two weeks after dad died. The vet told us we’d be lucky to get a month. We weren’t lucky. The day after our tenth wedding anniversary, we said goodbye to Krypto.

Not even two weeks after we lost Krypto, my folks’ cat, Zazzy, was diagnosed with cancer and we lost her as well.

So yeah, 2025 sucked. I spent large chunks of it on heavy meds that basically sedated me because I couldn’t function. I did start improving toward the end of the year. In October, I wrote my next book. It’s a weird book about love and grief. I’m currently trying to sell my parents’ condo, and the market is pretty cold. It’s a bit stressful.

Anyway, I’m still here. Some days are better than others. Last week was the one year anniversary of mom’s death. Tom and I ate a bunch of seafood because she loved seafood. Next week is the anniversary of dad being found. I’m releasing my next book on that day because that date is always going to be devastating, and I need something happy to make it a little less heartbreaking and a little easier to get through.

Chocolate: 1, Me: 0

Published February 6, 2020 by Malia

People do many things when they feel down. Shop, sleep, drink, sleep around, send text messages to people they absolutely should not be texting. You get the idea. Me?

I eat.

Sometimes I shop, but 98% of the time, I turn to food. It’s been my go to for decades. Does it make me feel better? Yeah. Well, at least it does for a few minutes. And then regret seeps in. Followed by shame. Then I feel even more down than I already did. Which usually leads to more eating. It’s not a unique story by any stretch of the imagination.

Almost a month ago, faced with out of control blood sugar numbers, and severe anxiety about my weight I decided to make one more attempt at losing weight. And since January 14th, I’ve done really well. I’ve lost twenty pounds and stayed completely on plan. I’ve eaten tons of veggies. My blood sugar numbers have been awesome! I’ve resisted pizza, Wendy’s, Arby’s, a giant bowl filled with leftover Christmas chocolate, and piles of baked goods. That’s the short version of an incredibly long list. I have seen myself exercise self-control I really didn’t know I was capable of.

Last Saturday night, I had an incredibly realistic dream. I was tearing my house apart, devouring every little bit of chocolate I could find. I woke up with the most intense chocolate cravings I’ve ever had. I fought it all day Sunday, ending the night by sticking my head in the previously mentioned giant bowl of chocolate and just smelling the chocolate fumes. But the important thing is, I didn’t give in. I didn’t actually eat any. The cravings continued for days. To top it off, I’ve been feeling a lot of stress about work, my stupid fertility issues, and my upcoming root canal. The cravings and stress have started dragging me down into the dark place I don’t like to think or talk about.

I hate the dark place. I know I’ll climb out of it eventually. I’m just hoping I’ll crawl out in a few weeks, instead of a few months. This isn’t my first visit to it, and I know it won’t be my last. I’m not a strong person, but knowing I’ve gotten out of the dark place countless times over the years, helps me hold on. I may sound flippant, but honestly I feel anything but.

Knowing all this, I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise that last night I gave into the cravings. I ate a ton of chocolate and gummies, both from a Japanese snack box I ordered before deciding to get healthy. A strawberry ice cream popsicle, and three bites of a truly disgusting frozen chimichanga. I came very close to going to Taco Bell and ordering 3/4 of the menu, but it was after 10 pm, and would’ve required the wearing of pants.

By 11 pm the regret and shame had settled in, and I realized that I had two options. Clearly the first (and hopefully last) binge of 2020 hadn’t magically drug me out of the dark place or really made me feel any better. The only good that came of it was that my chocolate cravings were no longer driving me mad. So, my two options were:

A. Fall back into my old norm of binge, feel even worse, binge, feel bad, and repeat ad naseum.

B. Accept that I fell off the wagon, suck it up, and remember the important words from Gone With The Wind, “After all, tomorrow is another day!”

So, I woke up today, checked my blood sugar and weight, and hopped back on plan. Nothing magically changed overnight. I’m still in the dark place. I’m still stressed, and honestly I would much rather have had a bagel than my breakfast drink. I can’t promise that I won’t give into my cravings again, because I’m smart enough to know I probably will. I’ll keep facing the same battle, but hopefully I’ll do better the next time I fall off the wagon.

Published February 3, 2018 by Malia

A few weeks ago, a friend texted me this:

When I met this friend, a year ago, I had no idea she’d become my infertility/pcos bestie. Up until she entered my life, my friends could be divided into the following categories:

1. Pregnant (or will become pregnant very soon). Also, probably, has at least two kids already.

2. No kids, and no desire for kids.

3. No kids, and not trying, but will probably have a gaggle sometime in the near future.

As you can see, there’s no category for “No kids, and the baby making parts are refusing to do their job.” The category that I belong in. Weirdly, until this woman entered my life, I had no idea how much I needed a friend who fit in that category with me.

Because, here’s the thing. We all need someone who understands where we are in life and can honestly attest to the fact that the struggle sucks. Being alone in a struggle is one of the worst, most lonely places to find yourself. I love having a friend that can commiserate with me over the fact that daily tracking of cervical mucus is super boring when it NEVER bothers to exist. (My chart is one of the most unexciting you’ll ever see.) And as much as I love the pregnant people in my life, and am excited that they get to be parents; there are times that the pain and frustration of feeling broken, because my body doesn’t work right, needs to be vented.

I give the boy credit, he’s so loving and supportive, and has never once told me I’m broken. But, he doesn’t truly know how I feel. My friend does.

She’s been trying for years and years longer than I have. She’s been through a journey that I’ve just barely begun to have a taste of.

So, if you are going through the infertility battle and you don’t have anyone that understands, please know that I do. I get it. You’re not alone.

Nice coffee tables are for holding Lego’s, right?

Published August 30, 2016 by Malia

An actual conversation that happened last week:

Me: I was out today running errands, and LITERALLY  every single woman I saw was either pregnant or had a pile of small kids or both.  I honestly think we’re having all the sex, and everyone else is getting pregnant.

The Boy: That’s not how it works.

Me: No, I’m pretty sure it is.  Like, three people announced on Facebook today that they’re pregnant.  So, yeah, I’m sticking with this argument.

The Boy: You’re saying that the sperm and the egg leave here and go elsewhere and other people get pregnant?

Me: Yes.

The Boy: Again, that’s not how it works.

Me: You don’t know!  I’m the medical professional, this is totally how it works!

After that, the conversation slipped into further nonsense.

Here’s the thing, I honestly am happy for all y’all that are gettin’ preggers and poppin’ out babies.  I really am.  Please don’t think that I’m not.  I’m sorry if I  cry or seem not as enthused as everyone else (I try really hard not to do that except when I’m alone or with the boy).  And please, please, please don’t ever keep it from me that you’re expecting because you’re afraid it’ll make me sad.  I’m 98% happy for all you expectant mamas.  There’s just this annoying 2% of me that is a little jealous and a little sad.  That’s fair, though, right?  I can be 2% selfish.

So what do you do when your baby making parts aren’t magic?  You build Lego sets.  Lego sets with dragons and elves.  Seriously, it’s excellent therapy.

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And now these sets are living on my coffee table, because they’re pretty and they make me happy.