Vortex

Crazy couple of weeks- including finding out that I was going to need to host Christmas morning this year- 24 hours in advance. AIIIGH! I did pull it off, which unfortunately means that we may be doing it every year from now on. Oops!

It's funny- I haven't been posting a lot, mainly because I stepped off the IF rollercoaster. Without all the blood draws, injections, meds, ultrasounds, etc, it just feels like I don't have a lot to contribute lately.

I have been doing some research though. I bought the Newsweek that talks about "Fertility and Diet". Of course, they are very careful to state that it's "anovulatory infertility" that they are talking about, but still an interesting read.

In other news, I got contacted by someone regarding the new book coming out on Jan 2. by Cindy Margolis: HAVING A BABY…WHEN THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY ISN’T WORKING: Hope and Help for Everyone Facing Infertility.

I agreed to review it, and they offered at least one extra copy to give away on my blog! I haven't been keeping up with blogs, so you all might be reviewing too! ;) But so far, it is a good read, and I have a lot to say about it.

In the meantime, I hope you guys are having a wonderful holiday season. I have to say that Christmas was seriously better than Thanksgiving. Of course, it could hardly have been worse! Christmas was epic in comparison, actually. And no, I never did send out cards. Hopefully, we'll have something to announce next Christmas to make sending them worthwhile!

We're both still going to the gym. I have lost around 5 lbs, and The Man has lost his double chin. Operation Hot Mama is still going strong.

We're trying to figure out more ways to have fun and exercise and be active- two or three activities involve our dogs, which means there is a new project ahead.

Here's a pic of both the little hellions:



The blonde is Bear, and the black shaggy guy is Bosco. Bear actually used to be a "problem dog"- acting out, pooping in the house, jumping the fence (ok, the last one hasn't been addressed yet) and then some kind angel lent us the book by Cesar Milan, otherwise known as "The Dog Whisperer."

As it turns out, we weren't the owners of a "problem dog". We were the problem. It's worked like magic. Tonight, The Man told Bear, "Get in the tub, Bear!" so we could give him a bath. And he very meekly did. And this is the same dog that would have to be wrestled in every time before this. It's like crazy doggie voodoo.

The Man and I are heading for the coast tomorrow- with dogs in tow, to try to socialize them, and treat them to a ride in the car and maybe some good frolicking time at the beach. They haven't gotten to hang out much with other dogs, so we want to get them used to it- plans to visit the dog park are imminent, but have been postponed several times because our guys can be pretty wild. We plan to take pictures, and will hopefully escape with our lives.

Operation Hot Mama

The Man and I have joined a gym. (If you want specifics, you can read more here.)

It wasn't something I was specifically looking to do. I am in fact already a member of a women's gym across town. But I am bad about going....and now a new gym just opened up around the corner from us. It has a pool. The Man has been wanting to train for an officer position, which requires him to be in fantastic shape, with the ability to swim 1500 meters.

He told me this, and while I managed to successfully contain my laughter, this is a man who has never set foot in a gym EVER, and who tends to consider a lengthy afternoon of computer web surfing strenuous activity.

However, I am nothing if not supportive.

So we signed on the dotted line. My reasoning is, I have spent the last couple of years TRYING so hard to get pregnant, and nothing has worked. Maybe switching the focus towards "getting healthy" will be helpful, and maybe my body will figure out what to do on its own. Or not. But as The Man put it, "We may not be parents, but we will be HAWT! At least, this is kind of a guaranteed thing."

Thanks babe.

The added bonus is that I suddenly have a whole lot of time with him, and we are seeing new sides of each other, which you tend to do when you're up at 4:30 AM and struggling bleary-eyed into spandex pants.

Me: This time of day needs a name.

The Man: "The Time of Day That Shall Not Be Named"?

Me: I was thinking more like, "Satan's Buttcrack".

Guess which one we chose?

I have also accomplished a staggering amount by 8AM- Gone to the gym, gotten back, made breakfast and packed lunches for both of us, found a recipe for Peanut Chicken online and threw the ingredients in the crockpot, started cleaning out the fridge.

It's insane. Of course, the downside is, we will be exhausted and ready for bed around 7PM.

Now I have to call FedEx because those arsebrains seem to have lost The Man's Christmas gift. Which shows as "delivered", but never was. %^&*!

Bite the bullet

The Christmas cards have begun to arrive.

The Man asked me if we were going to do one this year.

We sent out a happy, smiling picture of us last year, and it feels like everyone who sends cards has their kids all over it. I am not sure if there is a point to this or not.

In other news, I sent an e-mail to my father, letting him know which gifts I was getting for other family members, so there wouldn't be duplicating. At the end, I typed:

"Don't worry about The Man, the gift I got him isn't on his list."

The e-mail I got back from my dad read as follows:

"Hmm. Got something for The Man that is not on his list?"

Maybe I am paranoid, but to me, this suggests that he thinks I am miraculously expecting a 7lb. bundle of joy.

I almost replied, "I am making him something, and it's a surprise!" Which is true, but would probably dig me in even deeper.

Other things I considered saying, because I am evil:

1. Herpes! It's the gift that keeps on giving.
2. A sex swing and some leather restraints. They were on sale.
3. A vial of our combined blood to wear around his neck.
4. Penguins!
5. A lobotomy and some tights.

In the end, I just told dad that I had gotten The Man some books and was knitting him some slippers, which has the advantage of actually being true. There's some other stuff, sci-fi DVD's, etc, but I didn't bring that up.

So, no response. I have a feeling that my assessment was right on the money. Damn it.

Call screening

Hooray for tree decorating! I am slowly filling in the bare spots on our blue spruce.

These guys didn't make the cut for the top of the tree- they'll go down firther, where kitties have a habit of playing pinata with them.
______________

"Jen! Grab your phone!"

I was scrambling to get ready, because we wanted to catch the matinee for The Golden Compass. I heard the ringer getting louder, which means that The Man has nabbed my phone.

"It says private caller."

I grabbed my keys and sunglasses, and started struggling with my jacket while the ringing stops.

"It's gotta be your parents, do you want to call them back?"

"Sweetie, I just want to have a good day. I can't see them saying anything that I want to hear. Besides, we're running late."

We headed out to the car, and I hopped in, managing to balance all the crap tht I take with me.

He gave me a narrow look, because we both know that ignoring things isn't really the way to go.

I sighed, and picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hi Mom."

"Hey Jen! That was fast."

After a few seconds of inconsequential chitchat, she brought it up, again. She and Dad must have had another talk. The gist of what she said was that they were in a position to help us, and the 50% idea was in case they needed to help on more than one cycle. I explained that we only wanted to do one cycle. If that didn't work, we would need to either explore other avenues to becoming parents, or we would hopefully be in a position to take care of costs ourselves.

There was a pause. "I don't want you guys to limit yourselves because of money. I feel like we got our wires crossed. I thought I told you that Dad and I wanted a little more info before we could give you a definite answer."

I did the verbal equivalent of shrugging, and politely changed the subject.

Maybe at some point, we will get desperate enough to take them up on it. For now, however, it's just not worth it to me. I am glad she called and clarified matters, but I am going to acknowledge that this road is just not going to be easy, and I think I would rather be in debt to a bank than to my parents when I am thinking reasonably about it.

Anyway. The Golden Compass fell a little flat, after that. I had a hard time watching some of the scene, since a lot of them involved children being kidnapped. But the special effects were great. I added the series of books to my endless wishlist on Amazon.

This was supposed to be a comment...

But it got way too freaking long!

Thanks guys- I need to do SOMETHING, not sure what yet. I do have a couple of ideas. If worse comes to worse, we can use plastic, but since we just paid our cards off, that option isn't particularly appealing! I just hate that place where infertility takes you, when you feel like suddenly, everything is hopeless. I was feeling that way in a big way last night. Thanks so much for all your words of support- It means the world to me.

I know I just need to be patient for now. I know this is not the time for me to become a mom. We'll be in a better place to do this on our own when (and if- that's a whole other story) we go through the move and The Man's job change. I just need to be patient, and stick to my guns...I knew my instincts about asking my parents for help were dead on, and I ignored the red flashing lights and sirens, because I was at the end of my rope, and did it anyway. The worst part is, I feel stupid for ignoring my gut feelings. I asked for help, knowing it would put me in a bad place. I went along with their plans for Thanksgiving, ignoring my feeling that it was going to be awful. Both were things that I had bad vibes about, but somehow, I thought, "This time, it will be different. You're just being overly sensitive."

Someone's blog that I read earlier today referred to a quote- the gist was that it was stupid to perform the same experiment the same way over and over and expect a different outcome.

I need to accept the fact that while they are my parents, and we love each other, they have always used money to control me, and my reproductive system and my emotions and their pockets are just something that should not mix.

The Man and I had a heart-to-heart today. We bought a Christmas tree, and spent the day decorating and tidying up the house, since we both had the day off- a rare occurance around here!

He was asleep when I talked to Mom and had my little breakdown last night. I explained what had happened, and when I said I couldn't ask them for help, he agreed with me. So at least we are on the same page about that.

"I don't know if it's worse to have hope or not," is what he said about it. "I feel like I am being punished for something."

Since this is an emotion I can fully relate to, we talked about that for awhile.

The conversation drifted from there into adoption and potentially, fostering. It's the first time he has ever even been willing to discuss one of those options. He says he is more open to adoption. This is a huge step for him.

We discussed where we would need to be to bring a child into our lives- whether someone else's, or our own. The Man has still not made a concrete decision as to where he is going to be in a year, and I put my foot down and said I didn't want to move forward with any more treatment until we had a set plan and a schedule that I could work with.

We accomplished a lot. I feel a lot more hopeful. It's so hard to sit and wait for what you want...but I know that I have done what I am capable of doing with my own resources so far, so waiting seems like the most sensible option that I have.

Where NOT to go

On Day 1 of your period:

JoAnn's Fabrics, 5 PM. I got into the line, the lady in front of me had three kids, the one in back of me had two little boys. The line snaked over 10 people long, I idly glanced around, and realized that I was the only female under the age of 50 who was there without a kid. It was one of those weird moments when someone else seems to be inhabiting your body.

The mom army looked tired, but cheerful, steadfastly denying multiple requests for candy and fielding phone calls and obviously trying to figure out just what the hell they were going to fix for dinner tonight.

I am thinking that this may be the rest of my life.

I talked to my mom. I have had one horrible conversation with her since Thanksgiving, haven't heard from anyone else, and so I figured I should call.

She asked if I had decided to continue with treatment or not.

"Well," I said, "Unless we move on to IVF, it's pretty pointless. I have kind of decided that I am not screwing over my body anymore for less than a 25% chance at something."

"Well, we never heard back from you," she said, "About whether you wanted help still. We were waiting to hear what the doctor had to say."

"Ok...." I trailed off kind of aimlessly. "You know Mom, I pretty much left the ball in the court with you guys. When I didn't hear back, I didn't want to be pushy."

"Well, we didn't want it to seem like we were being invasive."

ARRRRGH!!!!! ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

"Mom, I opened that door. It's not invasive to ask for info you need to know to make a decision." (Even though I have told them everything that could possibly have any bearing on this...and I made it clear that we were waiting on their decision so I could make mine!)

"Well, it sounds like you have changed your mind, but if you want our help, all you have to do is ask for it."

"I probably will reevaluate things after the first of the year. Thanks for offering."

This is when she starts to backpedal.

"Well, we may be able to help with part of it. Maybe half and half."

Which she knows perfectly well isn't a possibility for us. I wish it was, but the military isn't exactly overly generous, and the housing market in Cali has tanked, so a second is out of the question at this point. Add on college tuition, and we're getting by, but our savings is not what it should be.

I did my best to get off the phone without blowing up, and now I am sitting here, seething.

I can't ask for or expect help from these people any more. I need to accept that offering is only a gesture, not a reality with them, and that if it fails, I will never hear the end of it and my guilt will be crippling. It's just not worth it. If I am doing this, it is just going to have to happen on its own, or it is not happening at all. And I am just going to have to accept that.

At least, that's how it looks to me at 11:30 PM on a Wednesday night.crap. It's much too late to try to go watch Enchanted again.

Land Of Enchantment

OK.

If you haven't gone to see "Enchanted" yet, please go see it.



I have actually seen it twice. With The Man. And we come out of it wearing big, dopey grins each time.

The irony mixed with the fairytale is seriously hysterical. If you're having a crappy day, this will totally fix it- I swear!

Quatre Choses (Four Things)

Once again, tagged by Farah!

Four jobs I have held in life:

* Pizza Wench (Woodstock's Pizza in Davis, CA) Yeah, I threw the dough in the air and everything. I also got to pour a pitcher of beer into a patron's lap once. He totally deserved it, so I didn't get in trouble.
* Graphic Designer/Camerawoman/production assistant for a local news broadcast.
* Marketing Coordinator. For people who may have been the minions of Satan.
* Mad Sci.entist (seriously.)

Four movies I have watched more than once:

* Monsoon Wedding
* Under The Tuscan Sun
* Dangerous Liasons
* The Witches of Eastwick

Four places I have vacationed

* Paris
* Beautiful British Columbia
* New York
* Hawaii (twice- Maui and Oahu)

Four of my favorite foods:

* Armenian food- if I have to be specific, pilaf, lulu kabob, yalanchi, and a cheese borag are the shizznit. Ok, I can't believe I said shizznit. But all other adjectives are just not doing it for me.
* Seared Ahi
* Another meal (sorry) Medium rare ribeye, loaded baked potato, steamed broccoli, French Onion soup, Perfection.
* I already said doughnuts in another post- um, it's a toss up between Breyer's Vanilla Bean ice cream and my home-made plum sorbet. Yum!

Honorable mention: Mac N' Cheese.


Four places I would rather be:

* On an ocean cruise, someplace tropical
* Disneyland!!!!!
* On a European tour
* New Orleans for Mardi Gras.

Four hobbies I engage in regularly:

* Knitting
* Reading
* Shopping on Amazon
* Cooking food-type things

Spicy!

Inspired by Farah, I decided to take the test and find out which spice I am. (Old Spice! Just kidding.)

Your Score: Cayenne Pepper

You scored 75% intoxication, 75% hotness, 100% complexity, and 50% craziness!

You are Cayenne!

You're known for your dry wit, saucy remarks, and ability to stimulate (take that however you want). People in hot climates like you for your ability to make them sweat, but you're also quite good for people all over the world. Just don't mention your cousin, deadly nightshade.

Link: The Which Spice Are You Teston OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

tea and sympathy

Thanks guys!

I do appreciate your desires to give The Man a talking to.

We had that conversation on Thanksgiving night. He agreed that he had, in his own words, "been crappy." And he apologized profusely.

The next night, when I reported that the lady at the jewelry store said that my husband had no idea about my taste in jewelry (true...coals of fire!) he was mortified.

As it turns out, he had over-analyzed things based on my wedding ring, which is a magnolia design, and is very vintage and a little asymmetrical.

"I just thought you liked those kind of swoopy shapes!" he said, pathetically.

So he is now doing research for Christmas. I agreed to look around ebay and give him examples of what I like, on the grounds that if he wants to get me jewelry, next time around he will have a better idea of what to do.

His Mom found out what had happened, and made sure to take me out and get me a dog-free birthday cake, which was really sweet of her. Go figure- it took 5 years, but I finally have a decent relationship with my M-I-L.

Talked to my Mom yesterday. As it turns out, they all stayed an extra night and talked about my "behavior". Ouch. They seem to be of the opinion that I was just in a bad mood from the get-go, and that no amount of effort on their part would have fixed that. I was just determined to be unhappy.

Oooookay.

I was pretty much speechless. Mom wanted to keep chitchatting, and I just cut her off with, "Sorry, I know you have stuff to do, so I had better let you go."

Christmas should just be a ball of fire. I am thinking that we are going to eschew my family altogether. I have had it with them. And I can't help thinking about the whole thing with the psychic going on about the "toxic environment." Ugh.
______________

The Man and I were watching The Daily 10 tonight.

He's never said a lot about being smacked repeatedly in the face with the whole baby thing. But one story was about Nicole Ritchie's pregnancy, and how Paris Hilton now wants a baby because then their kids can play together.

Then there was another story about Christina Aguilera talking about her Uber Eggs and her hubby's Super sperm, and showing the magazine cover of her splayed out and displaying her spray-tanned baby bump.

At this point, my husband yelled, "Oh F--K YOU!" and hurled an aptly named throw pillow at the TV set. Right before the report seguewayed into "5 hottest celebrity moms."

"Why are we watching this?" he asked, irritably. Then the commercial for the Zales Journey diamond pendant started- the one that shows the couple dating, getting married, and then proudly holding up a baby. The tagline is something about commemorating all your precious life experiences together.

He uttered some more profanity and then snatched the remote out of my hands and hit the power button.

"I can't believe it, it's everywhere," he said, disgustedly. "No wonder you get upset all the time."

Well, yeah.

In other news, Tiramisu, my feline stalker, has been Velcro Kitty all day today, after virtually ignoring me since my last medicated cycle. He keeps edging up onto my lap or my chest and gazing lovingly into my face, giving me kitty kisses on the nose, and generally acting like a completely different creature than the sulky little brat that he usually is.

I am trying not to get my hopes up.

We should have brought a tent

I feel so guilty. I have not been keeping up with blogs.

Mainly because I am not sure how to tell you guys about the disaster that was Thanksgiving/my birthday.

I feel incredibly ungrateful when I think about everything that went "wrong". And boy howdy, I am glad I am not in the middle of another infertility cycle on top of all of it, because that would have just been...well.

Here are a few things that may or may not have happened:

1. Hanging out with my sis and sis-in-law (who look like Angelina Jolie and Mandy Moore, respectively) made me feel like a beluga whale. An old, ugly beluga whale encrusted with moldy barnacles.

2. I bought and wrapped my own birthday gift from my husband, who didn't even bother to get me a card.

3. I showed up at the house, and realized that nobody else had bothered to get me anything, either.

4. Except for a birthday cake, which I was obscenely grateful for. Until my mom put it on a low shelf for a second when she was getting ready to serve it and my brothers dogs licked half the frosting off of it. Nobody really wanted it after that.

5. I mentioned the "couch-to-5K" program I am doing, and got to see the shifty looks that obviously meant, "Yeah right."

6. The phone call from my aunt who asked, "And how young are you today?" and when I said, "33" she sighed and said, "How time does fly!" In a way that was supposed to be consoling, but since my age doesn't bother me, I just wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her.

7. Mom said she would take me out shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. We stayed in town and avoided the mall. I didn't find anything I liked, and all the shopping was for other people. Dad showed up halfway through the day with a ring he bought for me as a surprise. It was the one nice thing that anyone had done, and I was almost teary.

8. Then Mom said, "Well, it's from both of us! Happy Birthday! Let's go home."

9. Then we got home, and Dad had bought identical rings for my sister and s-i-l.

10. My sister, who has a habit of wearing very thin pajamas and bending over and revealing half of her butt and all of her thong, decided to change clothes in the room that The Man and I stayed in. After dinner. Without locking the door, or utilizing the en-suite bathroom with a door that closes. The inevitable happened, and The Man walked in on her.

I should back this up by saying that The Man has commented on this before, and my sister just isn't modest on the same level that I am. In any event, I have discussed with my parents that my husband knows way too much about my sister's anatomy, and aside from saying, "Well, you know what she's like" and "we're in close quarters in that house"....yeah. I never knew how to bring it up.

I was furious. she kept protesting, "But he didn't see anything! I covered up!!" and I would just say, "What he saw is not the POINT. The POINT is that if you are changing in someone else's room, you make an effort to be respectful, and you tell them, or lock the door, or use the bathroom!"

It ended up with me leaving the house by myself at 9PM and walking down to the beach and staring sightlessly at the waves. The Man was watching movies with Dad and my brother, and I didn't want to make a scene, I just wanted to be gone.

I stayed gone for nearly an hour. As I was getting close to the house, I rounded the corner and saw my husband, who had been waiting for me.

He just kept repeating that he was sorry. Did I want to leave? Yes, I had every right to feel the way I did. He felt bad that he had screwed up my birthday.

We walked back to the house, and I stayed holed up in the room until bedtime. I eventually came out to try to have a sane conversation with my sister, which degraded into:

Her: "My blue pajamas are not see-through."

Me: "I assure you, they are."

Her: "They totally are not!"

Me: "Do you want me to give you the diameter of your nipples in centimeters? "

Her: "You're obviously just have a grudge and you're holding all this stuff against me. It's YOUR problem, not mine. How am I supposed to control what everyone sees?!"

Me: "That's an interesting perspective. Somehow, I manage to get through a family weekend without everyone seeing MY underwear. It's not rocket science."

Her:"You're just being unreasonable."

Me: "I don't feel that it's so unreasonable to ask that you not flash your crotch at my husband from across the room. Or to be respectful and lock the door when you're changing in our room."

Her: "I didn't know I was flashing! And he didn't see anything, tonight! I covered up with a towel."

It went around and around, and on, and on. I finally said, "Look, all I am asking you is to be a little more modest around my husband. That's it."

We said goodnight and went to bed. I made my point, and in the process, l think I killed my friendship with my sister.

I am so glad to be home. But that's really the only thing I am glad about right now.

Happy Monday

I have a week OFF! 1 week free of manic customers, devoid of Other People's Kids, one whole week were I can get the house back in shape after the year-long depression I suspect I have been in.

I have started exercising again. I actually enjoyed it. I know myself too well to make rules for me to follow- as in the Pirates of The Caribbean movies, the rules have to be "more like guidelines". Because otherwise I feel all constrained and then I want to rebel and just...well, you know. Do nothing.

As I sit here, my parrot is trying to get attention from me. So the following monologue is what I am listening to: "Bear!!! HI Bear!!! Good BOY!!!! (Bear is the name of one of our dogs)Kitty kitty kitty....c'mere! Helllooooooooooo......Hi! Whatcha doin'? Pretty Bird! Cluck cluck cluck...Huh? Quack quack quack...huh? Oh. Woooooooo! WoooOOooooOooooooooOOOoooo! Silly silly silly bird!!!"

He also calls for my husband by name in an increasingly loud and irascible voice (I wonder who he learned that from?), makes noises like creaking doors and car alarms, and warbles in operatic fashion whenever he hears Gwen Stefani on the radio.

It's like living with a very small cheerleader with mental issues. The most disturbing part is that he's adopted my tone of voice and a slightly higher pitch, and I know these are all things that I say. Of course (thankfully) I don't string them all together.

In other news of the weird, we are going to spend Thanksgiving with my family. The Man said, "You know, if they are making us crazy, we can just go to the beach." I guess he has a point.
And we can't stay too long, because of the pets, so it's the perfect excuse to get back home if we need to.

The Man asked me last night what I want for my birthday and for Christmas. Aside from the obvious but as yet unachievable (world peace, Ferrari, 7 lb. 6 oz. bundle of joy) I have no idea what to tell him...but I know that if I don't, I am probably not going to like what I get. Since I have spent a considerable amount of time hinting for things and he obviously has not picked up on any of the hints, and my birthday is on Thanksgiving....I don't know what he is going to do. I have an Amazon wishlist. for heaven's sake. Get it together, guy. I am NOT ordering my own gift for the third year in a row.

How are you guys doing?

8 Random things

Well, Meghan has tagged me! And I definitely needed it. Away we go.....


Here are the rules: Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged.

I am going to have to tag the eight people later. I am woefully behind in my blog check-upping.

1. I am like Snow White. I don't burst into song or anything, but animals seem to be drawn to me, and it tends to freak people out.

2. I can't whistle, and didn't learn how to snap my fingers until I was in my 20's. I also have to think about right and left, and will occasionally sneak a peek at my hands to see which one makes the "L".

3. I have a very girly side, but I tend to hide it from people. For example, my family birthday cake every year is white Dream Cake, with heaps of whipped cream and pink white chocolate shavings on top. I now make the excuse that the kids in the family like it, but it really is still one of my favorites.

4. I am horribly near-sighted, and have worn glasses since I was in the third grade. I'm actually officially myopic in my left eye, due to a detached retina at the age of 24. Nobody can figure out how it happened, but they fixed it pretty well.

5. I have always been a voracious reader, and I read ridiculously fast. I also like to read and re-read my favorites.

6. I love East Coast Swing Dancing and swing music. I used to be a pretty decent dancer- lifts and everything- but I have unfortunately gotten out of practice.

7. My junk food Kryptonite? Doughnuts. Specifically, maple bars.

8. The biggest scar I have runs horizontally along the bottom of my left calf muscle. I got it while riding my bike when I was 12, and coincidentaly, that's how many stitches I had to have.

Where have I been?

I honestly couldn't tell you. This last week or so has been a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. My friend had her baby, and sent the pictures, and while I have to admit I felt a pang, I didn't feel like the universe was out to get me and dissolve into tears. That was weird enough.

Other than that, The Man and I have been enjoying a "second honeymoon" of sorts. He's had lots of time off, and I haven't, but what spare time I have had, I have spent with him....and also knitting and posting on Ravelry, which is an unfortunate addiction.

How are you guys doing?

The Aftermath

Regarding the advice from the psychic, you guys are right. It was a ridiculous amount of info to take in (and I actually spared you guys a lot of it!). I am still turning it over in my mind.

I think I have decided not to pursue IVF in January.

There are a couple of reasons for this, not just because (as my husband teased) "Some guy with a deck of cards told you not to."

I have not heard back from my parents re: helping out. My doctor's consult is this Friday. While I was in SF, my sister told me they had decided to help me, because "mom mentioned it when they talked on the phone last week."

Ok, back up...they haven't said one damn thing to me about it. My emotions connected with that are pretty complicated, but what should sum it up is a conversation I had with The Man after going out to dinner with my parents and my aunt last week.

First of all, the dinner was horrible. It started out with dad asking me if I had darkened my hair.
Me: Yes.

Silence.

Me: Do you have any objective commentary?

Dad: Um, no, not really.

The whole dinner was like that. To me, it just seemed to exemplify everything about my relationship with my parents and their relationship with each other that I can't stand. Plus the service was just...abysmal, which didn't help.

In the car on the way home, fueled by one really bad mixed drink, I just kind of exploded.

"You know what really bugs the crap out of me? " I spluttered. "Your parents? I don't always get along with them. But if we asked them for help with something like this, they would have gotten together, looked at their finances, and either said "Yes, we can help you," or "Sorry, we're broke," and I would have just been able to accept that and move on. My parents still haven't give me a straight answer, and they have just left us dangling for over a month now! And it's not because they don't want to help. I think it's because I asked for something, and by God ,they are going to hold this over my head, because they like the feeling of having power over us!!!!!"

Now that I am a little calmer, I have some more perspective on it, but seriously. They know how depressed, how upset, how frantic I have been. I wish they would just put me out my misery. The worst part? I suspect they want to make it a birthday surprise or something. Is there a Hallmark card for that occasion?

My sister and I had a great conversation about this. My parents like to give gifts, and then apply conditions to them. They think this is motivational. I think it is manipulative, and over time, it has made me paranoid. I have spent the last month envisioning, "If you lose 70 lbs, we will pay for IVF!" conversations.

I expressed this to my sister, and she kind of pooh poohed it. Then we both made each other laugh by making up ridiculous scenarios.

"If the IVF is successful, you have to turn the child over to us, so we can raise it as our own!"

"If you get pregnant, you will have to stay in Fresno FOREVER!"

"On her 16th birthday, the child will prick her finger on a spindle and fall into an enchanted sleep!"

Things like that.

So, with the financial thing being up in the air, the other factor is, I finally feel like myself again. For the first time in over a year. I don't have crazy hormones flooding my system, and I'm not so depressed that it's hard to get out of bed, and I have to admit that a lot of it is because some crazy guy with a deck of cards just told me that it WILL happen, and that is enough for me.

In other news:

AF was supposed to arrive on Halloween, and as of yesterday morning, she still had not shown up. I woke up, stumbled to the bathroom bleary eyed, to POAS. When my husband asked what was up, I told him, and added, "I know it will be negative, I am just doing it, because then my period will start."

So of course AF showed up yesterday afternoon, and now The Man is jokingly adamant that I am never POAS-ing again, so he can have "unrestricted access." (yes, he is a dork.)

Happy Tuesday ladies!

Notes from The Great Beyond, Continued.

If you haven't read the first part of this, you should probably check it out here.

If my writing sounds stilted, it's because English is not this guy's first language. While, I think he is German or Austrian, not Italian, he reminded me of no one so much as Bruno Tomnioli, the crazy judge from Dancing With The Stars, maybe because he uses incredibly offbeat metaphors. He also gave off a kind of...ahem, Eurotrash vibe- longish hair, little mod boots that zipped up the sides. He fidgeted a lot, with the zippers on his boots, with the tape recorder, with his slim-cut jacket.

It came time to stop the freestyle reading, where he just blurted things out at me. We went into future predictions. I chose cards, and he interpreted them for me.

"Yes, Jenna, you are definitely going to be a mother soon." he said. "Motherhood is in your aura, and the soul of your child is already out there waiting to be born. Definitely a mother once, before 35, maybe twice, although that will be up to you. I don't see you being satisfied without having some kind of career. I am not saying that you will not have two, but it's up in the air depending on what you decide. You are a person who will pour everything into your children. You will feel that it would not be fair to have a new baby when you will be so focused on career. "

Ooooookay. At this point, my hopes were up incredibly high, and he just lost me. This was a bit too new-agey for me to handle. Also, it didn't sound like me, but then, I am not focused on career yet. However, I guess the reason that he tells you crazy things that you already know about yourself at the very beginning is that when he gets out there like this, you think, "Well, he was right about this other stuff. Maybe I should give him a chance."

There was a long silence. "Allright." I said. He smiled, and just looked at me.

"Your child will be a boy," he said. "You will know, even before he is born that he is going to be a big, robust, and ACTIVE child!" At this point, he burst into peals of laughter, and my heart quailed within me.

As a child, The Man was a menace. I hear stories of his shenanigans all the time Not to mention huge- as an adult, he's about 6'5", compared to my modest 5'7". And was in the 99th percentile for head size at birth, as my MIL likes to remind me constantly. I suddenly realized that I had started mentally turning over becoming more charitable about the idea of a c-section.

"Your child will be driven...so bright! And athletic. He will excel at sports...more than one. Colleges will fight over him."

Holy crap!
I always always always have said that if I had a kid like The Man, I would make sure he was active in sports, to keep him or her focused and on the rails. Part of me was thinking this, and the other part just kept muttering, "This has to be a fairy tale. This is too perfect to be true."

He continued, "You and your husband are the best possible parents for this child. Your parents were not right for you, his were," (at this point, he threw his hands up in the air) "just AWFUL!"

He stopped short and said, "Your husband is fortunate in his choice of a wife. He knows how much. Most women would have looked at his parents and either shut down or run away. You can only deal with such people by digging in and standing your ground, and you are such a very unusual combination- so sensitive, so diplomatic, but so hard-headed! And your husband is stubborn too. He had to be, to survive in that environment."

At that point, I burst into involuntary laughter. Right before The Man went overseas, we had just gotten married, and I had a blowout with his mom, over something that she had either mis-heard or completely imagined (what time we were going to be there for Thanksgiving). She ruined the holiday for everyone by acting like a lunatic. It ended with her telling my husband that his family was more important than his wife. She demanded an apology from me, and I was pushed to my limit. I refused to give her one. I said I would apologize for the misunderstanding, and she refused to acknowledge that there was one. So I didn't talk to his family the whole time The Man was overseas, and even beyond....almost a year.

This is getting unbearably long. Let me get to the weirdest part.

I asked about children again. Specifically, when? He shook his head.

"Soon. Not tomorrow....that would be miserable for you. You are not in the right phase to have children, not yet. It is not about time, it is about timing. I do not see it happening until after you move. You're in a stagnant environment, it is becoming toxic. It is not time for a baby yet. You have had these thoughts yourself. You will not have a baby until you leave this environment.

Then he said something that really pissed me off. "Once you are in the right place, in the right environment, there should be no problem having your son. I don't think you'll need to try for two years to have your son." He snapped his fingers. "Like that."

At this point, I kind of erupted out, "We have been trying for five years, and nothing has worked!"

He shook his head. "You are both so healthy. There's nothing biologically wrong with either of you. I don't see falling pregnant even being an issue for you. But it isn't going to happen until you move."

He paused. "Have you seen specialists?" I nodded. "Do they have any ideas, solutions? Extra fertilizer so something? "

Well....no, they don't.

I shook my head, and he smiled indulgently. "The reason they can't figure out what is wrong, is because there is nothing they can do about it. It is something you need to do. Remember, timing, not time. Stop worrying about your age. You are so young! It's more about where you are mentally than what the calendar says. And until you move, you will not be in the right place to have children."

There was a lot more about career, and about my family. He closed with, "Make sure you drink more water. You've been bad about that lately."

Well.....it's true! I have.

I am not sure how I feel. Skeptical? Oh yes, that's there. But the agonizing "What if''s" seem to have been quelled, at least for now.

I told The Man about it, and he thinks that I am nuts, but is glad that I feel better.

What do you guys think?

Notes from the Great Beyond

Wow.

I have to say, my experience with a psychic was, in fact, pretty mindblowing.

He started talking as soon as I came into the room, and surprisingly, children didn't come up immediately. I gave him my birthdate, and he looked at it and kind of made an exclamation of surprise. (I checked with my sis later, and he didn't do this with her.)

"You are a force to be reckoned with," he said. "You go your own way, and you are a leader. You are a fierce and loyal friend, and also a formidable enemy. I would not want you to be angry with me! You are incredibly independent. The best way to keep you is to give you freedom and trust that you will come back. Your talents are diverse, so much so that you get distracted and lose focus. You are incredibly resourceful, and incredibly intimidating to people who do not know you well. You are an emotional person who doesn't like to show it. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you wish you didn't. You can be strong for everyone except yourself."

So far, pretty accurate. It is hard to judge yourself, though. When I repeated it to my friends, though, they said things like, "Holy Crap. Who is this man, and how much did it cost? When can I see him?!!!"

I showed him a picture of my husband...and that's when I started to freak out.

"Your husband is in pain," he said. "Too much for someone his age. Has he had a back injury? He's let it go for a long time, and he needs to get it taken care of."

When The Man was stationed overseas, he was in the back seat of a Humvee. Driving through the desert, they took a bump too fast, and The Man hit his head so hard on the rollbar that he was knocked out. He woke up on a backboard at the medical tent. He's had back problems ever since, and no amount of nagging will help.

I just said, "Yes, he has back problems."

"Why are you so afraid to be a bitch?!" he asked. "You are in charge of this relationship. He will follow you." He paused and said, "2008 is going to be a huge year for you. If you are not considering moving yet, you should."

Another pause. "You need to be in a big city. You are stagnant where you are, and you need to have inspiration to live your life to the fullest."

Another pause. I think I said, "Okay."

"Make sure your husband knows that he is making this decision too. He is inclined to blame joint decisions on you, and it is because you are his motivation. He is less decisive than you are.Once you decide, you will jump. And he will have to jump after you, but it takes him longer to make up his mind." Another pause. "Sometimes, it is like you are a tugboat and he is an ocean liner. Once he gets going, it goes smoothly, but he needs that push, and the push comes from you. You provide the power and the momentum."

At this point, my mouth was dry. Because that is a frighteningly accurrate depiction of our relationship.

"Sometimes, you resent this relationship. Because you wonder how long you will have to pull, and you think that maybe doing this for your whole life might be too much. You are a very independant, magnetic person, and you worry that your passion for each other isn't what it should be. I see the two of you building...you have some block in your relationship that is causing you to pull back.By your mid-thirties, you will stop holding yourself back to much, and you will have the passion that you want."

He paused again. In between, I said a lot of "Okay's" and "Uh-huh's".

"Wow your husband has a crazy family!" Truer words were never spoken. "He has gone through some trauma, abusive parenting. He deals with depression, and it is hard for you to deal with. Sometimes you can pull him out of it, and sometimes you can't eventually, you will win out."

"Alcoholism runs in his family. It's in his blood. Someone close to him...a sibling? Has a problem with drinking." (His sister has had three DUI's and been to rehab.) He is prone to this too. Keep an eye on it. He could use this to mask what is wrong. He hates his job."

He continued,"Why do you worry so much about money?" (Hello! IVF! I thought, but did not say.) "Money is the curse of civilization. You should be comfortable about what you have. You and your husband are both very resourceful, very employable. I don't see you having money problems, particularly after the next year."

Then he said, "You are going to be a mother. At least once. Before the age of 35. You may have more than one."

OK guys, I am sorry, it's To Be Continued! I will post more tonight.

I am completely blown away.

Guess what I'm doing?

I'm off to see the wizard...

And to enjoy the streets of SF. Here's wishing you guys a great weekend! I'll give an update as soon as I get back.

P.S. Saw my parents the other night...no word on financing. My appointment with the RE is on the 9th. I'm getting a little anxious.

P.P.S. AF due yesterday or today, but hasn't shown up. Huh.

Your aura is pulsating dear...

I made an appointment with a psychic. Saturday, 7PM.

This is the e-mail I wrote to my sister- she has seen the guy before, so she would be in a position to tell me what's what.
_________

Um, how specific is this guy? I am assuming that he’s a lot more accurate than, say, a Magic 8-ball.

So if I ask, “Am I ever going to be someone’s biological parent?” And the answer is an affirmative, would it be

1. Spookily accurate. “Yes, you will have two boys and three girls, but you will have to use IVF and they will be quintuplets. Oh, and they will all be like your dad and your Mother-In Law, and you will end up in a mental institution.”
   
2. Fairly accurate: “You will have kids by the time you are 40. I think I see three.”
3. Reply hazy: Um, yeah. Definitely!
4. Total crap: “You already have spiritual children, I can see them waiting for you in the beyond!”

Ok, I just wrote C. and D. to round it out. Don’t hate on me.

_________________________________

Her reply was that he is somewhere between A and B, which is good enough for me.

I am feeling hopeful, yet, also extremely skeptical. I am supposed to write down questions to ask, but my sister said he answered everything she wanted to know as soon as she walked in, she never even got a chance to ask.

I am supposed to bring a list of questions, a blank tape, pictures (?!) and of course, cold hard cash.

So. If you were going to a psychic...what would you ask?

Eau de....something.

I believe I am crawling out from beneath the mountain of funk. This may have something to do with the fact that I am approaching launch for AF Day one (Ugh, on Halloween!) and also because my punchiness is, admittedly, kind of funny all by itself.

Last night, The Man and I were trying to watch TV...specifically, Comedy Central.

Judging by the commercials, the only people watching Comedy Central at midnight are horny teenage boys or older men who still have the horniness, but not the ability. (Vivaaaaaaa.....Viagra!)

The later it got, the more obnoxious everything became.

We were going to switch things off and go to bed, but then this commercial came on.

We both started giggling, kind of pointlessly. It should be noted that smelling like "man" is not necessarily a good thing, because, at least in our house, it's likely to be prefaced with, "Please, go take a shower. You smell like....MAN."

The Man: "Why is this so funny?"

Me: If someone asked you what cologne you were wearing? You would have to say, "I'm wearing....MAN." It just sounds wrong.

The Man: "Wasn't there some spoof on SNL of the Calvin Klein ads?"

Me: You mean "Canis- Cologne For Dogs?"

The Man: Maybe.

Crankypants

There. I said it.

I have been in an evil mood for the last couple of days, which I am attributing to some kind of hormonal hangover after the last six months of non-stop meds.

I have also been a little blue....a very pale shade of that color. Maybe a better term is funk. I am in a FUNK. How I am to get out of it, I am really not sure, but it is official.

The first major sign is not wanting to put up the Halloween decorations. They are usually up at the crack of October 1st, because Halloween is my favorite holiday. So far, I have one lonely bat sticking out of my planter box. Skeletons hanging from the trees? Negative. Graveyard set up, complete with fog and black lights? Negative. Spider webs set up on the front porch? Negative.

Our usual Halloween party hookup isn't happening this year (they're 6-7 months pregnant, of course) so it's looking like a quiet night. A big part of me wants to not even buy candy and turn off the porch light, like some kind of Halloween grinch.

What with us not celebrating Thanksgiving with the fam, it's looking like The Man and I are going to make the holidays a wash this year. Maybe we'll have our acts together by Christmas.

I have been spending most of my time knitting obsessively and uploading stuff to Ravelry, because my crankiness makes me wary of human contact. By the way, if you are a knitter with a Ravelry account, stop by and see me! There is even a group for knitters dealing with IF, called the Infertile Myrtles.

The one bright spot in my week was yesterday. Maybe you had to be there, but oh, man, it was hilarious.

S. and I went to Jo-Ann's, because we wanted more yarn. We stopped at an innocent display of plush turkeys.

S: "Look! They're so cuuuute!"

Me: *rolls eyes*

S: "You seriously need to snap out of it. See....oh, they're handpuppets!"

She seized a turkey and thrust her hand into it.

Turkey: GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!!!!

S. shrieked at the top of her lungs and jumped into the air like she had been electrocuted, bowling the turkey down the aisle. She had whipped her hand out so fast, she actually yanked out the noisemaker, which skittered down the aisle in the opposite direction, still gobbling.

I was rooted to the spot, doubled over, and laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe.

I know, I am evil, but the look on her face was so.damn.funny that it look me at least 10 minutes to collect myself.

Holy Crap

I was just talking to a friend on the phone, and I mentioned my SIL's "I saw you" comment that kind of freaked me out.

There was a long pause, and then my friend said, "I saw it too. I didn't want to say anything because I thought it would freak you out. But when you told me you were moving, I envisioned you walking uphill on a sidewalk, with a baby in a sling across your chest. You were carrying flowers and a bag of groceries, swinging the bag, and laughing with someone. It was weird, like a clip from a movie playing inside my head."

Then I read Mel's blog and this entry over at Jenna's.

Maybe I should see a psychic when I am in SF. I know my sister (The Queen of Granola) would totally go for it, and The Man would think it was a load of you know what. What do you guys think?

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Infertility does have a positive side.

Most of the time you have to look really really hard to see it, but it's there...waiting, disguised, for you to uncover it. Often, it's obscured by the multitudes of unhappy outcomes and disappointments, but it's always there, waiting to be discovered.

When I really sat down and thought about it, I was surprised at what came up.

Infertility is the reason I went to Paris. It was one of those weird moments where you're slogging along in temp charting and you have made yourself damn near crazy over the why's and wherefore's of what isn't happening, and why isn't it?

And suddenly, someone kind of laughs and says, "You should plan a vacation....we could go to Paris! The way fate works, you'll be too far along to fly when the trip rolls around.
Well, and if not...."

"We'll always have Paris?" I interjected, helpfully.

"Well, exactly."

"Hell, when you out it that way....let's go!"

I had never been off the North American continent before. My high school French was really rusty, and it took awhile to kick in, but it was so worth it. And then I came home and had like, a 53 day anovulatory cycle. But still worth it! If you'd like, you can read about some of our adventures here and here.

I quit my horrible job because of infertility.

I was stuck in the worst way imaginable, at a company that simply did not want me to be able to move up through the ranks, and I was refusing to give up. I was such a mess at the end of every single day, but The Man's pleas with me to quit and just find something else fell on deaf ears. I was going to make it work, if it killed me.

My boss was someone who socially, must have been a kick in the pants. In an office, she was a nightmare. She was never at her desk. If she was, she would invite the men in our office into her office, and they would shut the door and laugh and joke and flirt while the women I worked with looked at each other and seethed. I would go in for meetings, and she would tell me horrible, confidential things about my co-workers. I had to come up with fictions about my IF appointments, or the whole office would have known about them by the end of the day.

She would come by on my lunch hour with random objects, and place them on my desk with a post-it saying "Fix this!" and no other directives. In one case, it was a plaque that she needed for an awards ceremony in an hour. It had the wrong name on it. No directive on what she expected me to do, and no name mentioned to replace the name on the plaque. Did she want me to pull an engraving machine and brass plates out of a convenient orifice? Creative use of White-out and Sharpie? I still don't know. I ended up getting the art department to mock something up at the 11th hour. Thank God for Photoshop!

My office buddies had a little joke about her management style-
If you have seen Overboard, you'll get this:

"Jennnnnnnaaaaaa, I seem to have lost my earrings between...emmmmmm....43rd and 48th Street. Fiiiiiiiiiiind them!" Then we would waft our hands helplessly through the air.

She never answered phone calls, and it got so bad that I had regional v.p.'s calling and asking for me, because they knew she wouldn't take care of it, but I would usually McGyver some way of getting it handled. Dangerous practice, when you consider that you're working for someone who gives you zero recognition for saving the day, but if you made a mistake, she would sell you out in a heartbeat. I had to make sure that everything was documented via e-mail, so I could cover my ass. Looking back on it, I was as safe as houses, because essentially, I was doing 90 % of her job for her, while getting an eighth of her paycheck or less. D'oh!

My calls to HR were never returned. I appealed to my former boss, and he basically said, "She's been here for 17 years. Get used to it, or get out." I attempted to transfer to another department, and while they let me interview, I know that I got retained by my department because I was "necessary to the well-being of the department." (It pays to have friends in IT.)

As time went on, I would awaken in the mornings feeling sick. Not morning sickness, (ha!) more like existential despair. The Man finally cornered me one night and said, "I want my wife back. The stress is hurting our marriage, and if you want to have a baby, I think this is the last place you should be. It's making you crazy. Take a few months off and think about what you want to do." I put in my notice the next day, and she was demoted within six months.

I found a wonderful job because I quit that job.

When I saw the ad in the paper, I thought it was going to be a scam, like selling perfume door-to-door or CutCo or something. But I had worked with kids before, in volunteer positions in high school. I had always been great at science, and I have, as we say, a flair for the dramatic.
It was part-time, and you could make your own hours, so I could schedule dr. appointments with abandon. It was perfect. And they hired me.

And now I make slime dressed in a lab coat and talk about polymers and molecules and volcanoes with kids all day long. Writing down "M.ad Sci.ent.ist " under my occupation on forms has ceased to be embarrassing, and has actually sparked several hilarious conversations among my new co-workers, and medical office staff, as well as the guy who filled out our mortgage paperwork at the bank.

Because of this job, I know that I want to be a teacher when I "grow up." I am going back to get my credential as soon as The Man is done with his college. We may postpone it a bit, because of the move to SF~ we'll see.

This and That

Thanks guys, your comments really keep me going.

I am going to lighten up again, with an account of my somewhat humdrum (but occasionally entertaining) life.
_________________

I fell asleep again, right before Dancing With The Stars. D'oh!

I can't even blame the progesterone. Ok, body, what gives?

I woke up and had one cat (Mr. Crankypants) on my chest, and the little one snuggled up behind my head. Freaks. They're like little heat vampires. Maybe that's it, they are sucking the energy right out of my body. I totally would not put it past them.

By the way, Play-Skool? Thanks for twisting the knife repeatedly, every commercial break, you LINT LICKERS.
________________

I had a pretty good day today, Play-Skool nowithstanding. I had a free day (and potentially, another one tomorrow. Yay!) I have been working on going through our cabinets, and I have gradually been using up stuff in the freezer and making room for my fall accumulation of Ziplocs full of frozen soup. I like to pile them up in the freezer like gold ingots.

I also made some breakfast bars as kind of an experiment. I need to tweak the ratios, but they're really pretty good, but a little too crumbly. As a hand-held snack they're not perfect, but thrown into some yogurt, and I am a happy camper. Hooray for domesticity!
_________________

The Man: "I don't feel very well."

Internal Me: "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

External Me: "Like how? Like the flu, or like a cold?"

The Man: "Like.....like...."

This is the part where he turned green before my eyes and ran for the bathroom. I could hear the retching all the way through the house, and it was possibly the most awful thing I have ever heard. My tummy twinged in sympathy.

I am a crappy nurse, especially when barf is involved. After we repeated the drama a second time, I asked, "It's not the flu, is it?"

He's military, and they all get flu shots, no question. Ok, so food poisoning? But....

Me: "Well, it can't have been dinner...because I made that, and the energy bar you had when you got home. And you said you hadn't eaten all day. Maybe you're sick?

The Man: "Chicken..........BURRITO." He hung his head and looked clammy.

Me: "What chicken burrito?"

As it transpired, he made a burrito for breakfast this morning, and left it in the car and then ate it for lunch.

That thing must have seriously been toxic, because I just now hear him getting up for his sixth round of retching, poor guy.

I have made ginger tea, and put a big bowl and a glass of water next to the bed. I have a feeling that I may be heading out to Walgreens shortly for some Pedialyte. That's about ll I can do, besides patting him gingerly on the back between sessions, otherwise we will be puking in tandem.
_____________________________

I got two e-mails this week. One from my sister, inviting me to visit her for a weekend in SF. It will hopefully be the first weekend in November. YAY!
______________________________

The One Where I Say A Bunch of Stuff that Unintentionally Came Spewing Out and Might Get Deleted In The Morning.

The other one was from a friend whom I miss desperately. She was the first person I ever knew who was infertile IRL, and the Clomid worked for her right out of the gate. We would talk for hours. She lives out of state now.

But I can't e-mail her back. And the reason why is a tragedy unto itself. It doesn't help that she has four-year-old twins, and she always seems to put them on the phone, but the biggest reason is that I went to visit her when she still lived in Cali.

Her husband made a pass at me on the third night of a five night stay. While I was on the couch, and his mother-in-law was in the guest room, and the babies were about a year old. He had just come home after being out of town for a month.

We had all gone out that night to celebrate, and had a lot to drink. I was sleeping on the couch downstairs. While I blame part of it on the fact that there was alcohol involved, in retrospect, I can recall that he bought quite a few of the rounds, and his wife drank so much that we had to help her up the stairs.

I have the sick feeling that this was brewing for awhile, and I was just in denial about it.

I woke up to the feel of big hands stroking my legs and feet, and someone murmuring that I was beautiful. It took a minute to register that while I had been dreaming about my husband, this wasn't him. All I could think of at the time was that he was risking so much, and why? I was pretty out of it at the time. I told him to go upstairs to his wife, and he went.

My friend and I went out to get Starbucks the next morning, and I thought, "This is it. This is my chance to tell her. Oh God. How can I bring this up? Is she going to blame me?"

That's when she started telling me about how uh, energetic he was with her last night. And how happy she was that he was home. How she had missed him, and how she loved having her family back together again.

And all I could think of were those beautiful babies. If I had that, would I want to know? It's not like anything actually happened.

I chickened out. Her Mom left that night, and I moved to the guest room and locked my door. I spent the rest of the trip avoiding the drinks he tried to give me.

I can't stand to think of it, and I feel so guilty and awful every time I try.

And I have never been able to relax around any of my friends husbands after that.

If it happens, it happens.

The Man and I bought groceries and went out to dinner tonight.

On our way home, I asked him, "So, now what?"

We are still waiting on an answer re: IVF. And for some reason, waiting around has given me some time to become- well, if not ambivalent, rather detached from the subject.

I still occasionally well up with tears when I see parents and children together. The thought that I may never have children of my own is still raw, and it just seems...well, wrong somehow. We are meant to have kids somehow, some way, I know that. Maybe now is just not the right time. Maybe our kids will be born to someone else, and find their way to us eventually.

It's hard to be philosophical about it, but there it is. It's hard to wrap my head around paying $15,000 for something that only has a 38.2% chance of working (at least, at our clinic). Especially when it's not our money.

Is it worth that? To see my big blue eyes and widow's peak and his wavy hair and generous mouth on someone new that my husband and I have created together? To be able to use the names we chose together? To be able to ooh and ahh over silly hand-knit hats and baby blankets and decorate the room in the rainforest theme that I decided I wanted- oh, back in 2001?

We planned to buy a camcorder and record for posterity the first wobbling steps, the first giggles and words, learning the alphabet, reading bedtime stories, the pictures with Santa and on the pony. The Christmas pageant, the Halloween costumes, the soccer team, the graduations. The big wedding, and the grandchildren.

Now that I have it down in print, it seems silly to wonder if it's worth it. All those things, are, like the Mastercard commercials like to point out, priceless.

But I am still left wondering, am I being selfish, to feel that I am being denied so much? If we decide not to go through with it, or are forced by circumstance to abandon it...when will the diaper bags and the baby slings stop tormenting me? How long will it take before I can see a little girl in the checkout line, happily eating an ice cream with her mom, and recognize those long lashes and dark ringlets and pink Converse sneakers as anything other than a personal failure on my part?

Tonight, my sister-in-law called me. Her marriage is falling apart. We had a long discussion about how she has done everything she can, that her husband (my husband's brother) has evidently turned into a vampire- happily sucking up all of the love, effort, and money, and giving nothing back in return. We talked a lot about what she should do.

In trying to describe my SIL to friends, I have said that she's kind of like Luna Lovegood. She doesn't look like her, and her mannerisms are totally different, she's got this absolute honesty that's airy-fairy and blunt at the same time. Uncomfortable truths come bubbling from her lips at inopportune moments, all the time, but it's not mean-spirited, just stream of consciousness. It just skewers you because you are totally not expecting it.

She basically told me how lucky I was, vis-a-vis The Man, and said, "You and The Man are going to be parents. You were meant to be a mom. A cool, San Francisco Mom. And I know it is going to happen for you." She paused, and then said, "I saw it. I saw you walking down the street."

I didn't realize what she had said until I had gotten off the phone. (I was trying to keep it together after the whole, "cool SF mom" thing. ) Is it me, or is the phrasing really kind of eerie and weird?

Maybe I am going crazy.

Retread

This is not a new post. This is something that I posted on my other blog, almost exactly a year ago. (Wow! I can't believe it's been a year!) I wasn't really out of the closet re: the whole IF thing, so it's a little vague.

However, since I have been trying to find an acupuncturist in my area, and since we're talking about moving to SF, it's pretty relevant. And kind of informative, and as I read back over it, I got a few giggles out of it, so I decided to resurrect it.
__________________________________________________________________
October 23, 2006



Every two weeks, I go to San Francisco for acupuncture.

Yes, it has something to do with the whole baby issue. And evidently, it is working....to the point that people who hardly know me are saying things like, "You're so much calmer!"

The people who DO know me well have hatched a conspiracy theory which involves my unknowingly having taken some kind of Chinese lithium. (For the record, that one was Secret Squirrel, who watches way too much CSI.) But The Man has noticed. My family have noticed. And while it's great that it's working, there's some part of me that is resentful. (Ack! Was I so horrible before?!!!!)

I know they won't answer this honestly, for fear that I will suffer a relapse and attack them with a Salad Shooter. But still...! I am fully awarethat some things which would have rendered me apoplectic with rage at one time now are just sort of irritating, but nothing to get worked up over. Recognizing this while it's happening is sort of surreal.

Anyway. My regimen involves the needles, and an everchanging formulation of Chinese herbs that has come to be known simply as "Ass Tea." (Rhymes with NASS-TY!) The nearest way I can describe the taste? Murky. If you need more detail? It's like top ramen flavor packets with the salt removed. Yep. Taste sensation! I usually throw in some Crystal Lite, which is probably not condoned by ancient Chinese medicine, but does manage to camouflage the ass to some degree.



So, San Francisco. Secret Squirrel tagged along, and we had many strange and hilarious conversations. One that came up was the sad, strange take of Lorena Bobbit. Yes, guys, women talk about this all the time...and we laugh.

Me: "Whatever happened to Lorena, anyway?"

SS: "Well, she went to jail. I mean, she chopped it off."

Me: "I never understood that. Wouldn't he be pretty wiggly? He must have woken up.
Did she use anaesthetic? A machete? How is that logistically possible?"

SS: "Um, I think he was pretty drunk, but he woke up in the middle of it."

Me: "Welll...ouch."

SS: "I was always surprised there were no copycat crimes afterwards."

Me: "Well...I think men were probably much more zealous in guarding the junk after that. They were pretty traumatized, as I recall. Didn't they find it and sew it back on, and then he did porn or something?"

SS: Welll- I mean, she chopped it off, then ran off and threw it in a field. THEN they sewed it back on."

Me: "Thanks for the timeline."

SS: "Well, it couldn't have been out there too long. He's lucky. I mean, it could have been eaten by wild dogs."

(pause)
Me: A dingo ate my penis!!!!!!BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA......

Yeah, that's pretty much how the whole weekend went. We talked and laughed a lot, bought some yarn (aka crack) from Artfibers, met up with my sister for drinks, and ate some meals that were completely insane, but totally worth it.

On the way home, we hit the Bridge School Benefit, which was fantastic. It was worth it for the Foo Fighter's acoustic set alone.

Ob la di, ob la da, life goes on....

I had a "throwaway day" today.

I seriously cannot tell you want I did. I got some stuff out of the way before noon, returned a few phone calls, and alternately read and slept the rest of the day away.

The Man got home, and we discussed what all of this is going to mean.

There's going to be a 14-month initiation period. The Man will be heading to SF on his days off for the first six months to train, then for the next 6 months as an employee. At the beginning of 2009, he will officially take over the business.

My agreement to moving was conditional. We will not be able to afford a place in the Bay Area, at least not right away, and I don't want to give up being a homeowner. A huge plus is that we will have a place to live, rent-free, as one of the perks of the job. So we are looking at "renting" the house to The Man's sister and her fiance, and discounting the rent in exchange for them taking care of the place, and maybe maintaining one of three bedrooms so we could stay here occasionally. The Man has to fulfill a few more years of military service as a weekender, so he will be in town one weekend a month.

It would also give us a chance to make sure we want to settle in the Bay Area before we take the big leap and buy property there.

Of course, my brain finally started working. I will be in San Francisco. Where there are plenty of doctors who are potentially not jerks like Dr. Combover. Where my sister lives, where there are practically acupuncture clinics on every corner, where I can walk down the street to get my groceries, where we can go out dancing every night if we want. Where any money I bank from my job can be devoted exclusively to travel or IF, as I see fit, depending on what happens.

I'm totally overwhelmed. I'm excited. And I am trying not to think about the drawbacks, of which there are several. Leaving my current employers is a big one. I love my job, and I want him to feel the same way about his. I am in the fortunate position to be able to do what I do just about anywhere. Living in a big city is going to make things more complicated, and I will have to get used to new people, but I think I can pull it off.

My favorite part of it is seeing The Man get so excited. He's been a military guy for 12 years now, and I think he loved it until we got married and he did that stint overseas and was so miserable the whole time. We have both been so afraid that he would get deployed again. I wanted to make sure he wasn't just taking this job as a way out.

When I questioned him, he said, "You know, I thought about it...I never went away to school, like you did. I've lived in this town since I can remember. I've been in my current job, with a few changes, since I was 18. It's time to switch things up. I have the opportunity to build a business, to be my own boss, to live in a big city. Why wouldn't I take it? "

When he puts it like that, the negatives seem very, very small.

Hard decisions aka brain dump

There's a lot going on right now, and I can't really talk about most of it.

Operation Ten Percent is starting this week. I spent last night making soups to freeze, and plotting out my exercise schedule. I want to be as healthy as possible come January. Whether we will be getting ready for IVF or planning the eventual trip to Europe as a two-some is still up in the air, which is kind of...I don't know. I feel like I am waiting for the axe to fall. I have been considering other options in the meantime, and they haven't even been discussed with The Man yet.

Mom called the other night, and in the course of conversation, asked "When do you need to know by?" and I said, "Well, the appointment with the doctor is on November 9th," and she said, "OK! So, November."

It's gonna be a long wait.

In the meantime, I spent the weekend in Carmel with my bestest friend, S.S. We both were sort of semi-hysterical the entire time...she's trying to figure out if her current boyfriend of three months (who has suddenly been transferred to the East Coast for work) loves her enough to pursue a long distance relationship. Her analysis of the situation fluctuated a lot based on how deep into PMS she was, or how much wine she had.

Meanwhile, I was wrangling with...well, everything we are dealing with. We decided the best way to handle it was eat ridiculous foodstuffs, sip champagne, knit, and watch Joy Luck Club with the Kleenex handy so we could cry it out. At several points, S.S. and I looked at each other with tears on our faces, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all sent us both into hysterical laughter.

Yeah, that is why she's my best friend.

Neither of us wanted to leave, but I had a Sunday night meeting for work and she was leaving for Arizona early in the AM on Monday.

I felt so wonderful and refreshed when I got home.

S.S. and I talked about a lot of things, and she mentioned that she doesn't want to stay in Fresno for much longer. Granted, at the time she was considering moving back East if the relationship works out.

Some background info:
The Man has been offered a job. He has not accepted yet. We would have to move (him immediately, me eventually) to San Francisco. There are a ton of positives and negatives, and I am not sure how I feel about the idea. The cost of living there is astronomical. I am worried that he wouldn't like the job, and is only considering it because of how much he hates his current situation.

A huge part of the reason I didn't want to go is that I love my job here. I love being homeowners, and that is something that we would have to give up, unless we rent the place out.

My parents are here. I grew up here. But when my best friend talked about leaving, I realized that the biggest reason I didn't want to leave was simply that my friends are here.

Anyway, we were in the car, and S.S. was talking about leaving town, and I had a horrible epiphany. if she didn't stay, I really had no reason to stay, either. The most persuasive reason to stay would be for my parents. And in this weird moment of realization, I suddenly "got it."

My parents love me for being their kid, but I am never going to measure up to what they want. They want my sister, the lawyer, or my brother, who is some kind of real-estate wonderkind and has a wife who looks like Mandy Moore.

I have always been the fixer-upper. The underachiever. The one who had problems with her skin and needed to lose five pounds. I was smart, but didn't apply myself in school. I married a great guy, who didn't happen to be wealthy, and we struggle financially and they have to help us out when it comes to all the expensive IF stuff. I never did things the way they wanted. I frustrate the hell out of them, Dad especially. And while they do love me fiercely and worry about me constantly, and seem to have finally accepted who I am, I have not provided them with any grandchildren to spoil. I am not the one who they brag about to their friends.

Why the hell should I stay? And more importantly, I am kicking myself every day that I am left hanging because I have accepted their offer to help me out. I feel like there are going to be strings attached, like there are wth everything else.

I feel like I am poised on the edge of something. It could be great, or it could be horrible. And everyone is screaming at me to jump, and I am just left standing, frozen with terror and rage and confusion.

Edited to add

Well, The Man and I talked, and we are jumping. He's accepting this job. It's not actually immediate, which is good news...But there will be a 14 month period where he gets his feet wet, so we will have time to adjust, and I will be able to downsize and get used to the idea.

Give it away, give it away now!

Today as I left one of the schools I was working at, I saw a mom (actually someone I am familiar with) walking towards the minivan with two of her three kids. The two older ones were walking along obediently. The youngest girl, who is about four, was trailing along behind, and screaming like a scalded cat.

Everyone was looking to see where the noise was coming from. And Mom was alternately calling, "Olivia, come on honey, hurry up!" and "OLIVIA MAY! Get over here right NOW, young lady!"

Olivia evidently had gills, because I am not gonna lie- she never stopped for air once. The wailing was loud, unwavering, earsplitting, and unrelentless.

I was loading up my materials into my car, and mom turned to me, heaved a sigh of complete exasperation and exhaustion, and shrugged her shoulders at me weakly as the other kids climbed into her car.

I smiled. "I guess someone's having a bad day!"

"Not just HER..." said mom, darkly. "Seriously, I am at my wit's end. Do you want to take her home with you?"

Obviously, I know that this is a joke. However, this comment has been made to me so many times, by people who know I am childless...and I am just guessing that they think that my childlessness is a choice?

Because if they knew I was infertile, they'd realize how insensitive and callous such a joke would be. But they don't know. Because I am not wearing my big neon sign.

Usually, on days like today, I treat it like the joke it is, and I laugh.

The only time I haven't pulled it off is an occasion I still cringe to remember. We were at a big family gathering, it was late, everyone had had a lot to drink, and my cousins from out of state had just collected their two-year-old from a babysitter- we were all heading back to the hotel in a tram.

The little guy was fussing, and whining, and dumping over his mom's purse, and she turned to me and said, "That's it. Do you want a baby? He's going cheap. Actually, I might pay you to take him."

The Man was sitting next to me, and I swear, he totally stopped breathing. We both were so shellshocked, it was awkward, but I honestly couldn't think of anything that would be appropriate to say.

I could tell the next morning at breakfast that someone had clued my cousin and his wife in. They were both silent and uncomfortable in a way that bespoke something besides just being hung over.

Having gone through this, I don't ever think I would make a joke to anyone like that. I say this in my position of a woman who has never had to be responsible for someone throwing a screaming fit on the Barbie aisle in WalMart, but having gone through such difficulties to have a child....it just seems unfathomable to me.

How are you guys doing this week?

Warm and fuzzy.

Wow....what a switch.

Infertility, and trying to figure out what, if anything, was wrong, has been a focus of my life for so long.

Taking a break has been amazing.

The Man and I have been a lot lovier with each other. Who knew that it's more fun to spend quality time together when it's not all about ovulating and shots and charting?

It's nice to know that sex can be fun and stress-free and spontaneous again. It's fantastic to feel like I have my body back again instead of feeling like a walking test tube.

It's also nice that it's coincided with actual fall-type weather, so there has been a lot of snuggling under down comforters.

When we started this journey, The Man and I decided that since we were working on getting pregnant, the bed should be as amazing as possible. So for Christmas, we asked for a down comforter and pillows. No dice.

We asked for three years in a row. Finally, last year it must have dawned on everyone that HEY! This was something we really wanted. So we got three comforter and pillow sets.

I ended up taking two sets back and replacing them with two sets of luxurious high-thread-count sheets, as well as a ton of oversized bath towels. I seriously believe that these things are the best purchases we ever made, and the best gifts we ever got.


So yeah. If you are already thinking about your Christmas lists for the year, or just a "no reason" nice thing to do for your spouse...get a down comforter and really nice sheets. And if you have a duvet, may I recommend these....and if you have a hard time keeping sheets and dust ruffles in place, these and these are invaluable.

The only drawback for us is that getting out of bed has now become impossible.

I guess now you know why I haven't posted for a couple of days!

Whooh! Okay.

I have decided that this week just needs to die. It's been a crappy week for so many people, both IRL and online, it just needs to go away. And hey, tomorrow's Sunday.

I find it impossible to be sad and listen to this song:



And THEN I saw this commercial, and I have to laugh every time I see it. Maybe it's because I work with kids, but I need to file some of these insults away for future reference.



Anyway. I know a lot of us are having rotten weeks, so I thought I would share.

Here's to next week being fantabulous!!!!!

Hanging

Today has been a seriously awful day.

I am fighting a wretched cold, and I am losing. BOTH my best friends have called in tears because their relationships both ended this week. Also general cramping and nastiness. Thank God for the weekend away next week!!!!

I had work scheduled from 9AM to 10 PM tonight, with a few hours in between to make furtive grabs for meals and my sanity and some fresh lipstick. And as mentioned in the post before this, to make some phone calls. I had a narrow margin between when my RE's office re-opens for lunch (2PM) and the start of my next class (2:30).

In my experience, they always come back late from lunch anyway, and today was no exception. I didn't get through until 2:16.

The good news: I can use the free meds towards an IVF cycle. They agree that it's time to stop with the IUI's, because we are getting nowhere.

So I put myself on the list for January. In order to have caught the IVF boat that leaves in November, I would need to complete my protocols by...well, by today. And start BCP tomorrow. Not happening, because as I have mentioned before, my parents are helping us with this, and I really don't want to make the commitment until I have let them know what's going on.

I have never discussed IVF with my father- it has always been mom. She knows the costs, the odds, everything, and has always said that if push came to shove, they would help us out. But she wasn't home when I called the house, so I talked to Dad, and found out (to my serious dismay) that she hasn't discussed any of this with him.

He freaked out. In his defense. The talk of test tubes and petri dishes and injections is something that he has studiously avoided, and he has referred to IUI as "The turkey baster option" consistently throughout. There was a lot of, "WHAT percentage? HOW much?!!!!!"

I was shocked that mom hadn't discussed this with him, and on top of everything else, it was just too much. I managed to get home and basically had a teary breakdown of epic proportions. The Man petted me and cuddled me, told me not to be an idiot when I wailed that I was "a millstone around his neck", and tried to get me to call in sick for my evening shift at work. When that failed, he made me mac and cheese while I iced my puffy face.

I made it through work. Mom called and I called back and we had a rational chat during my drive home. I feel a lot more hopeful about things.

Then I got home and The Man played me this.

And then THIS:



"It made me think of you," he said. "I know you probably think it's cheesy." (I am more of a rock and roll kind of girl.) It didn't matter to me though. I was still crying, but happy tears.

I may be sad, but boy am I lucky.

Choose Your Own Adventure

Thank you so much ladies. Your helpful words, virtual hugs, and occasional outbursts of profanity helped me more than mere words can express. AF is officially here, and since beta was supposed to be on Monday...yeah. So much for the progesterone!

After a horrible, teary, discussion/meltdown with The Man, we have made a few tentative decisions.

Step one: Cut a hole in the box.

Sorry, wrong plan.

Plan A:
Call clinic tomorrow AM, and demand to speak to someone who is not mentally constipated and/or a beeyotch. My odds here are about 50/50.

Step two: Ascertain whether my free cycle of meds is usable for an IVF cycle, or if they want to switch me to something else. Which I am guessing they will, because last cycle my follicles pretty much laughed at the two tons of Gonal-f that I took and then gave me the finger.

If No, proceed with Plan B. Ask for a no-holds barred opinion of whether or not I should even bother with another IUI.

If they have a genuinely convincing pro-IUI argument, I might be swayed. In which case, I will order meds for Saturday delivery, and attempt to make my day three appointment within the two hour window I have free next Monday. Or, I might take a month off.

(The Man is pushing for time off, which is a switch, but what he said was, "Sweetie, you are way too wound up about this. Maybe you need to back off a little."
My response was such that I am ashamed to answer it here, but it involved lots of snarfling and murderous pillow thumping.)

If they say "Uhhhhhhhh....", see if I can get the meds anyway, in order to donate them to someone for whom they might actually work.

If yes, continue with Plan A. Call an acupuncturist. Get put on the list for the next "IVF Boat" which is leaving in January. Look at the wait time as an investment in getting as healthy as possible. Actually go to the gym and do the fertility yoga DVD (which I unwrapped this last month, but admittedly, did not actually use.)

Make a contingency plan to get through the holidays. My 33rd birthday is on Thanksgiving this year, which is going to make nosy relatives difficult to avoid. I am thinking a small vacation may be in order. My sister will just have to figure out how to make the effing pumpkin pie.

Plan C: eat cookies. Yeah, I caved. Oh, and look forward to Girls Weekend, which is coming up. At least I will be able to have martinis!