Go Get Me Back: Infertility & the Friday Night Date Cure

By Clementine Nicholson

This book is for you if you have ever:

done a handstand after lovemaking to work with gravity.
overdosed on black licorice to heighten fertility.
faked a thermometer reading for good measure.

In between the heavy boot chapters of infertility, I share a hodgepodge of our Friday night date escapes. I give creative date ideas to feed the relationship and give it a vacation.

On Friday night, we take turns creating and surprising each other with a theme date. The dates are a mix of fun, artsy, outdoorsy, adventurous, glamorous, silly, cultural, sentimental, elaborate, and humbly homemade. It is on these dates we found our answer.

What happens if you are kind, optimistic, spiritual vegetarians who have tried every natural and Western medical measure to get pregnant and still you have no bump? How long would you defy your real purpose? I gave it longer than I should have, I didnt realize I wanted to be healthy and in a good marriage more than I wanted to have a baby. I sacrificed a lot in trying to get pregnant, but when it came down to trading in my health and husband for a child, my choice became clear. I wanted our lives to be happy, giving and prosperous.

This is my journey there.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jun 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452574653

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Copyright © 2013 Clementine Nicholson.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-7466-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-7465-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013909461

Balboa Press rev. date: 6/7/2013

Contents

Preface

Good-Bye

Hey, that’s not me?

Forbidden Tree

My religion is called kindness

Delayed, cancelled flight,

jet lagged

Set Adrift

Pincushion

Chinatown Night Market

Panda Bear

Green Tea Matcha

Handstands

Go long

Royal flushed

Organic Food For Thought

Konnichiha

All aboard

Polar Bears

Whirlpool

Our first magical Friday

date night

East side

A little Ditty About Jack

and Diane

ICU

I don’t ever have to be a mother in law

Rose-colored glasses

Kaleidoscope

e=mc?

Chef vs. City

Galapagos Island

Medicine Blanket

Borrowed

Old books

Avalanche

It’s what’s inside that matters-the inscription inside my wedding band

Rain

Apache arrowhead

Uncross me

Constellation

Dreamscape

Cocoon

Virgo & Gemini

Bundle up

Autumn’s art gallery

Child’s pose

Ring Around the Rosie

Joggers

Goodwill

A southerners guide to turning outlaws into in laws

Breaking it to the in-laws

Suds

Buddy

Fig Tree

Elvis has left the building

Four leaf clover

Pomegranates

Empathy

My sister’s babies

Sisters-in-laws

Clucking Hens

Dwell

What a girl never outgrows

Lights, Camera, NO Action!

And the Oscar goes to

Burnt Toast

Like kids in a candy store

Two negatives make a positive

Let go my Ego

Ri¢hie Ri¢h

Boardwalk

Twenty to life

Jailhouse Rock

Do play with your food!

Chastity belt

Cry Baby showers

Rain Dance

Guardian

Agape Love

20 Reasons Not to Have Children

Who Am I then?

First ones here, first ones here.

National Lampoon’s Vacation

Set For Life

Having children is not what it is all cracked up to be

Coco Abyss

Weak in the Knee

Stay at home wife

Plinko

Lasagna

My Aunty

Childfree friends

Your newspaper, dear. Wife

Florida oranges The Childless Couple, Ann Landers

A storm in Sinaloa

Getting to know you

Victory Lap

Flight

Hello

With thankfulness

Preface

This memoir is dedicated to my husband for showing me two people can be a family and to my father who believed you can be a kid at any age.

Fer•til•i•ty

ORIGIN late Middle English: via French from Latin fertilis, from ferre ‘to bear.’

A fertile woman is one who has the power to produce offspring, just as fertile soil produces crops and a fertile imagination produces ideas.

This adjective pertains to anything in which seeds (or thoughts) take root and grow.

This book is for you if you have ever:

Done a handstand after love making to work with gravity.

Over-dosed on black licorice to heighten fertility.

Faked a thermometer reading for good measure.

In-between the heavy boot chapters of infertility I share a hodgepodge of our Friday night date escapes.

I give date ideas to feed the relationship and give it a vacation.

This was my husband’s bright idea to turn our Band-Aids into Ban-Dates.

Every Friday night we take turns creating and surprising each other with a theme date. The dates are a mix of sentimental, silly, elaborate, humble and fun.

It is on these dates that we found our answer.

What happens if you are vegetarians who are kind, prayed and have tried every possible natural and medical measure to get pregnant and still it doesn’t work? How long would you defy your real purpose? I gave it longer than I should have, I didn’t realize I wanted to be healthy and in a good marriage more than I wanted to have a baby. I sacrificed a lot in trying to get pregnant, but when it came down to trading in my health and husband for a child, my choice became clear. I wanted our lives to be happy, giving and prosperous.

Here is my journey there.

Good-Bye

Sometimes, said Pooh, ‘the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.

A.A. Milne

Good-bye + Sign on the little white wand

Good-bye Finally, YES!

Good-bye Dad and Mom we are pregnant!

Good-bye Saltine crackers and water

Good-bye I can’t see my feet honey can you please paint my toes

Good-bye I am seven months along to a perfect stranger that cares to ask

Good-bye Would you like to know the sex?

Good-bye Water breaking

Good-bye Delivery

Good-bye Charlie or Meadow

Good-bye I think he has your chin

Good-bye Pure white little lamb

Good-bye Miniature, knitted, white bonnet and tiny booties

Good-bye Nursery

Good-bye Johnson and Johnson baby powder

Good-bye Bassinets and baby monitor that let you hear them exhale and inhale

Good-bye Nursing and rocking in a chair while wearing a country white nightgown

Good-bye Lullabies

Good-bye Wearing a snuggly

Good-bye Yellow ducks

Good-bye Patty-cake

Good-bye Teaching them words

Good-bye Robert Munch books

Good-bye Red wagon

Good-bye Baking cookies and licking the beaters

Good-bye Bunny ear shoelace lessons

Good-bye Sidewalk chalk

Good-bye Bandaids, kiss betters and there, there

Good-bye Birthday cakes with number candles

Good-bye Early morning hockey practice

Good-bye Making crafts

Good-bye Christmas Eve

Good-bye Christmas morning

Good-bye Slumber parties

Good-bye School projects

Good-bye Mother’s day cards

Good-bye Tossing the football

Good-bye Purpose

Good-bye Us

Good-bye Me.

Hey, that’s not me?

Sonny Steele (Robert Redford), a one-time rodeo star, who having had way too much whiskey, get’s replaced by another rodeo performer.

The Electric Horseman

In my early twenties I saw myself as homemaker, stirring a pot of homemade porridge with a baby slung on a hip and a little koala bear hugging my leg. I imagined there would be a baked berry pie cooling at the windowsill and wafts of buttery brown sugar floating in the air inviting black birds.

However, I knew that to do motherhood well would not be cakewalk, though I was certain I had what it took. After all, isn’t this what we were all created to do? When the tire swing swaying beneath the old Savannah oak tree slowed, and I looked down to see no koala latched to my leg, it was time to release my grip on this illusion. Piece by piece, under a microscope of honest self-actualization, I examined it very closely. Just as in nursing school, the insightful professor noted that I would be better suited as a volunteer. This also rang true with my mothering abilities; I would make a better Aunty.

Forbidden Tree

The serpent tempts the woman to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, telling her that it will make her more like God and that it will not lead to death. After some thought, the woman decides to take from the tree and eat it.

Bible.

We met and courted at church and waited till marriage.

We both were honest, good people so becoming pregnant should have been a given right? Isn’t that God’s fair plan?

Our engagement was the year of feast and frolic. Satisfied from love and leftover Greek take out, we went to bed like a god and goddess.

We’d lay together and kiss the stars out. Fiancée made it to second base on every date and didn’t attempt to steal third, though he could have and I would not have tried to get him out.

Our second date was at an upscale hotel where we ordered hot cocoa and cookies to our room. On the bed, I was bouncing around in his white dress shirt and inevitably milk chocolate melted on his Sunday’s best. We snickered and humped. Later I was convinced God was preventing us from conceiving because of this frisky beginning. Now, I see it as higher powers conspiring loud and clear, pointing us in a different direction. Sadly it would take holding on a roller coaster ride for eight years to welcome our carefree fate.

Fed up with feeling dirty and judged, even though I was married. It turned me off church, not because of the plight, but the guilt I could not wash away. I suffered an overwhelming hunch that I was being punished with infertility for my lusty ways, which of course is ridiculous. Had God not engineered our bodies to be wired for desire? Having the well-meaning congregation pray over me was no picnic either. I felt I was letting them all down. Pregnancy was the only thing I prayed for. We attended church twice weekly, where I was a children’s church teacher. We lifted our hands up real high when we sang the gospel and didn’t peek when we prayed. We tithed pretty good and studied our daily devotional book. I was wondering what God was so pissed off at?

Every wooden pew looked like a manger with babies, precious as lambs, nuzzled into young mothers. Going to church became painful not a healing sanctuary.

My religion is called kindness

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.

Dr. Seuss

Husband’s pick, Random acts of kindness

We hopped in our car that we affectionately named Fuddy and travelled to the seaside. Husband hid pieces of paper in a hat scribbled with random acts of kindness. We each took turns choosing. The first draw was to present a homeless person with a lottery ticket! I was on a mission to find the sweetest one. He was a recycling hero, with all those bottles and heavy cart. He was tough to catch. The race was on. At last I caught up with him and with fingers crossed, I hoped I gave him a winning ticket.

He was cool and thankful then stowed it away and kept on trucking.

Husband drew pick up litter on the beach. It is really something to watch your Dear make our earth better for everyone. Your admiration for them digs a little deeper. It made me proud and my smile stuck for the whole day!

My turn, I drew mail a stranger a gift, we pulled out a white pages and I closed my eyes and blindly chose a name. I gave them an empowering book with a note attached saying, I picked you out of millions and please pay it forward.

Next Husband donated to a charity, which was an adventurous summer kids camp. Then I pulled out make a thank you note to our local police station. I enjoyed this, police sometimes aren’t regarded enough. This made me feel like a thankful citizen.

Husband dropped coins into hungry meters and prevented people from getting a parking ticket on a summer night.

We took a dinner break and since next on our list was to tell a boss of an outstanding employee, it just so happens our waiter was genuinely nice and helpful. He was the best. Over fresh figs and goat cheese, drooling in warmed local