diagnosis unexplained

Another year

2010-11-23T08:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my birthday.

All in all, it was sort of underwhelming. 36 is hard, harder than 35 for whatever reason. I just sort of went about my business as usual, and then The Man and I went out to a nice dinner. He did get me a nice gift this year, which was much appreciated :)

I did get a little teary at one point. It's hard not to think about what you wanted to have accomplished by now when your birthday rolls around. I was "supposed" to have a few kids by now. I just console myself with the knowledge that I am working on it, that we're in a much better place to raise children, and that I will be a better parent because of what I have been through.

Thanksgiving is also stressful: due to my dietary restrictions, I suspect that staying with my family is going to be a test of my patience, as usual. Last weekend, The Man and I stayed with Mom and Dad. Dad went out "to pick up something for breakfast" and came back with croissants and bagels. And yes, he knows I have a wheat allergy. There's no kind explanation, really! I keep wondering if they will buy a birthday cake for me, and then eat it in front of me. ;) I may have to make a gluten-free version for myself.

Warm The Mansion seems to be working. The acupuncturist is very pleased with my progress, and has asked me to get an ovulation predictor kit, so we can verify that my charts are accurate.

The other thing that is going on: I have started CrossFit, which is literally kicking my butt. I can't complain too much though, because I LOVE it, and also because HOLY MUSCLE DEFINITION BATMAN! The man patted me on the leg last night and then gave my leg an experimental squeeze and said, "That's impressive." I am also noticing that my jeans are beginning to feel roomy, which is something to be thrilled about.

Charting a course

2010-10-23T09:47:00.000-07:00

I haven't had much to say: this feels very different from the last go-round. I did go in for tests on my thyroid, and everything is ok. The acupuncturist and I have been worried, because my morning temps when I am charting can get REALLY low (like down into "95 degrees" low) and they fluctuate a lot: although I am happy to report, it looks like I am now ovulating on Day 14 (one chart's worth of evidence) and it ALSO looks like my short luteal phase is no longer short! That's just a guess at the moment, but I feel pretty confident about it.

As Mr. Acupuncture is not happy with newfangled digital thermometers, I have ordered a glass version from Amazon. I have been keeping my feet warm, avoiding alcohol, caffeine, and dairy (chocolate is another story: sigh) I have been obediently taking my "Warm The Mansion" pills, and fish oil, my new Prenatal vitamins should also be arriving soon to replace the crappy Trader Joe's ones that make me barf occasionally....and I am trying not to panic. I am supposed to be going off to Mexico for a week, leaving next Saturday.

My chart went tri-phasic this week. Looking at it, it is pretty easy to see, even with the fluctuations. The "pregnant triphasic chart" example on Fertility friend looks eerily similar. I've told my BFF, and hinted to The Man, although I don't want to say anything definitive, as he will not let me go on the trip. But!!!! The possibility is there. Of course, it's one of those "hindsight is 20-20 signs", but I don't remember seeing anything like it, back when I was charting before. So worst scenario: my body has repaired itself. Best scenario: I don't even have the courage to type it.

Mint Juleps and Needles

2010-10-08T12:08:00.000-07:00

I survived my first acupuncture treatment and consult, and am pleased to say that I seem to have alleviated a frightening amount of issues with my dietary change back in March. Going through the paperwork itself was a revelation. My waking temps upon charting are still low, but are higher than they were last time around. We agreed that te bulk of the problems were fixed, and the ones that are left over seem to be pretty straightforward. One of the Chinese herbal concoctions I am taking is called "Warming the Mansion," which I find hysterical.

The acupuncturist has a great reputation, and he told me that he thinks I will be ready to have a baby within 6 months of treatment: and is willing to say on the record that he doesn't think I will need IVF to do it. But if I do, my body will be ready for it. So...pretty good news all told, and we are moving ahead! Obviously something is already happening with me: since my treatment, I have been floating around on a happy little pink cloud. It's a little unnerving. If I didn't know better, I would say I was stoned, just without the paranoia. No complaints here. ;)

In other news, a baby tiger was born in Germany: to a lady tiger who was previously thought to be infertile.

There's hope for all of us, I guess!

Out of the darkness

2010-10-02T05:58:00.000-07:00

Wow. Reading back through this and seeing where I was is a little like traveling back in time.

Well, I ran away for awhile. I spent two years getting myself back. We moved: to the Bay Area, which has been more difficult than I had anticipated. We are now looking at houses. I have managed not to gain back all the weight I lost. I also figured out that a lot of my weird issues were caused by gluten intolerance. My weight is now much more stable, my skin is clear, my migraines are controlled, and my memory seems to be much better. I also have a ton more energy that I used to!

I have been putting my new found energy into finishing up old projects. And to that end, a week or so ago, I bought a book for my Kindle, called Making Babies: A Proven 3-Month Program For Maximum Fertility. It's about getting pregnant as naturally as possible. I liked the approach, which combined Eastern and Western medicine in a way that makes sense to me.

So: we're off! I actually looked up the blog as reference material, so I can fill out my medical info paperwork as accurately as possible, because I am seeing my new acupuncturist next Wednesday. And yes, I will be updating again, now that I have Something To Report.

It's the dawn of a new era, peeps!

The once-a-month blog

2008-05-07T23:27:00.000-07:00

I thought I would stick my head in and say hi. :)

So....Mother's Day.

I admit to feeling a little sensitive about it, still. The commercials still give me a pang, and I am putting off looking for my card for Mom until the last minute.

I am not sure if it's the fact that I am no longer injecting enough hormones into my abdomen to kill a goat, or the fact that I have transitioned. But something happened to me today that would have sent me over the edge a few months ago.

I walked into a class of second-grade kids, and the teacher was, obviously, expecting. Par for the course so far.

As I set up, the kids were putting the final touches on their Mother's Day presents- cute collages of drawings and photos, and the stray thought crossed my mind, "I wonder if I will ever get one of those."

I have learned to nip thoughts like that in the bud. That way lies madness.

The class was actually really fun- second grade is just the best age ever! We did our experiments, and talked about what we learned, and I asked for questions.

A little girl raised her hand and asked if I was pregnant. At this point, I started wondering if someone had it in for me, because...hello?

Ironically, nobody has ever, EVER asked if I was prego before. Thank God!

The logical part of my mind was still working overtime, and inspired by the look of horror on the teacher's face, I just laughed. I know it was a combo of factors- the teachers' pregnancy, plus my lab coat is freaking huge on me now. Operation Hot Momma is still going strong. Thanks to thirty pounds lost, I need to put some darts in the front of my coat! (This incident may inspire me to actually do it.)

The fact is, I have never ever even had a positive pregnancy test. The idea that it may happen is getting to the point where it is laughable- and that was my reaction!
I just flattened my baggy coat against my tummy, and said, "No, sweetie. My coat is just too big for me. But it would be cool if I had a little Mad Scientist in here, wouldn't it?" The kids (of course) thought that was hilarious, and we moved on.

It wasn't until I got out to the car that I realized how devastated I would have been a few months ago. And I have to admit, it stings a little, but surprisingly, I am OK.

That's just surreal. I am OK.

Bury a silver teaspoon under the rowan tree together with a lock of your hair under the waning moon.

2008-04-06T16:07:00.000-07:00

Just an example.

Easter went well. Nobody is more surprised than I am. Mom and Dad still have made no reference to the fact that I am 20 lbs. lighter. Heh.

Towards the end of the weekend, my mother said, "Hey, there's some info that my beautician wanted me to give you."

I was puzzled, since I have never met this person. "Um- does she want me as a client?"

Mom looked....uncomfortable. "No, it has to do with something else."

At this point, I realized that it must be something to do with my continued babylessness.

I ended up going back into her room with her, and she handed me a piece of paper with some names on it. Not doctor's names. The name of a lady at the health food store.

"My beautician says that her friend was in her forties, nothing wrong with either of them, and nothing was happening, and she saw this lady, and she gave her a supplement, and now they have three kids!"

The feeling this info gave me was...well, indescribable, but I will try.

a. My mom is discussing my ovaries with her beautician?!!

b. Once upon a time, there was a woman who desperately wanted a child, so she went to the village witch, and the witch gave her a seed to plant in the garden. The seed bloomed overnight into a beautiful flower, and sitting in the center, there was a tiny girl no bigger than her mother's thumb. So they named her Thumbelina! (poor kid)

c. I have already tried acupuncture, injections, the mythical Fountain of Fertility (which by the way, has worked for someone else in the interim, but has no effect on me)and at one point, I would have done anything. ANYTHING! Just to get pregnant. I am not sure if I am still in that place.

d. But then, what have I got to lose?

Mom's thoughts seemed to run along the path of D. "Hey, it couldn't hurt, and it's cheaper than IVF," she said, practically.

I don't know what to think. The Man is fairly non-committal about it. And in our general timeline, this would put a pregnancy smack-dab in the middle of the worst possible scenario there is. Even considering that it has a slim chance of working.

The idea of even opening myself up to hope again is daunting. I can tell my brain is protecting itself, and I just can't seem to go there. I know I have to hope and act in order to potentially achieve my dreams, but OMG I have no idea what to think!!!

I am curious, I have to admit. Hopefully it's not---oh, I don't know. Organic whale testicles? The blood of virgins? (It's from the healthfood store, so the virgins would have to be free-range.)

If I get up the guts, I promise I will tell you guys what the magic pill is.

Finding your joy

2008-03-17T10:10:00.000-07:00

I have been reading a lot.

Specifically, a lot of books about the emotional side of eating, which is something that I have a problem with.

I know what I need to do to lose weight- let's face it, we all do, because we hear about the obesity epidemic every stinking day. Eat right and exercise. And if it was easy, we'd all just do it to shut THEM up.

So in retrospect, the link between the cookies and the progesterone suppositories (back in the day) was simply that my body was saying, "I feel like crap. Give me something to fix it." Well, plus, who doesn't like cookies? Voila! Chocolate and sugar. Problem solved, for now.

Anyway. One book in particular talks about the joy you get from eating, and how if you get 95% of your joy from eating, but are unhappy with everything else in your life, it doesn't matter what diet you go on, or how many crunches you do. If you want to lose weight, you need to find alternate sources of joy before you start your journey. Otherwise, failure is pretty much a given.

It strikes me that this is applicable in so many different ways than just eating. I have a lot of different coping mechanisms- sarcasm, defensivess, humor. Joy isn't really my go-to emotion when things in one part of my life aren't going the way that I want, and I suspect it's that way for most people.

Another aspect of the whole weight thing is control. Losing weight for other people is something that I have tried before, either willingly or reluctantly. Oddly enough, the fact that it was also something that I wanted was nullified by the desires and intentions of others, somehow.

Let's face it, when you are 12, and it's your birthday, and someone you love dearly asks if you REALLY want to eat that scoop of ice cream...well. There's that part of you that says, "YES! I want to eat it! And I will eat TWO scoops of it, just to spite you."

Because you know, you're 12, and your eating is one of the few things that you have control over.

If you've ever tried to get a three year old to eat her peas- same basic principle, just in reverse. You can rationalize, you can bribe, you can threaten, punish, and plead, but short of child abuse, there isn't really any way to make her do what you want, and she knows it. She is in control, and that is probably the only situation in her life that she has control over.

If you read parenting blogs, you know that this is a common problem, and the kid learns that their parent is so desperate to keep them from getting scurvy that they'll try anything to get them to eat something besides peanut butter on Saltines.

But I digress.

My point (I do have one) is that Operation Hot Momma is my way of finding my joy, and my way of saying that I do have some measure of control over my body. Nobody suggested this, nobody said I had to do it or die of heart disease.

Feeling like I can control anything about my body after dealing with IF is a welcome change. I didn't feel like my body belonged to me for a long time. I threw vitamins and hormones into it, kept alcohol out of it, stuck it with needles, subjected it to blood tests, and at the end of thing, I just felt like my soul was chained to a big piece of meat that didn't have anything to do with me.

I don't feel like that anymore. Thank God!

I am slowly finding more things to be joyful about. My relationship with The Man. My ridiculous pets. My job, and the kids that I love. The adventure we are about to embark on in the Bay Area. Writing. Dancing. Driving the convertible with the top down.

I am also learning not to avoid the things that freak me out. I have wasted a lot of time doing that, and missed a lot of opportunites because of it. I try to ask myself why something is bothering me so much, and sometimes, the answer is so ridiculous or shocking that it just ceases to be a problem.

A month ago, my whole family got together (for the first time since the Thanksgiving debacle) and I was...well, on edge. Predictably, it didn't go well. I will spare you the gory details, but the worst of it was that a couple my parents were friends with came up, got introduced to all of us, and proceeded to gush about how they now had three grandchildren, who were just the best thing ever. And I felt everyone's eyes on me, and predictably, I felt like a huge disappointment.

Then I thought about it later, and the reason I felt so awful wasn't really because of IF. It was that I felt like I was disappointing my parents(again). It was totally about keeping up with the Joneses (or whatever their names were, I can't remember.) It was also about how everyone was looking at me like I was a time bomb ready to go off, and ohmigod, they must think that I am crazy.

So I wasn't worried so much about the actual baby thing. Just my parent's potential involvement in the Grandparent Olympics and what other people were thinking about me, neither of which I have any control over. Phew!

Clarity is strange. Wonderful, but also kind of scary.

Getting my sparkle back

2008-03-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

That's what my friends said when we looked at the pictures we took this weekend. (I finally uploaded one!)

The three of us spent the weekend in Carmel, and we had a fabulous time meandering all over, eating snacky things and knitting, and oh yes, venting. We all covered a lot of territory- One just got emotionally sideswiped by the guy she was dating, the other is going through a divorce and reinventing herself after almost 10 years of marriage. And of course, I have my own issues.

It seems like every time I leave town, I have an epiphany. This epiphany involved my relationship with food, my relationship with my family, my relationship with God, and my relationship with my body. None of those relationships is particularly comforting or healthy, and they haven't been for quite some time. I feel like all those relationships have let me down. No wonder I was such a mess. My faith was gone. I had exhausted my reserves of inner strength, and I know now that I had never felt so hopeless and alone.

It took time in the company of two very good friends to figure that out. I am light years away from the funk that I was in during the unending IF cycles, but I still have a long, long way to go.

The clarity that I experience when I am taken out of my element is somewhat frightening. It makes me think of what that psychic said, about my hometown being a toxic environment for me. Something to wonder about, I guess!

That said, I am closer to happiness than I have been in a long time. I seem to be focusing more on what I have accomplished than what my life is lacking. I am forging ahead in a bunch of ways. And Operation Hot Momma is still in full swing. I am down 20 lbs so far. It helps to focus on my success so far, and not look at the finish line- just focus on what I am doing now, and taking things one small step at a time. If I look at the big picture, I will freak out and give up again, and I can't let myself do that.

There's a lot going on- my job is changing. I am taking on several new challenges, and getting my ducks in a row to go back to school. The Man went up to the Bay Area this weekend, in order to schedule the next six months. It's really happening.

I missed you guys, by the way. Hope everything's going well!

What time is it?

2008-02-08T13:52:00.000-08:00

You are the moment when the last bell rings and school lets out for the day. You are resistant to schedules and obligations, so you love feeling like you're in control of your life again. You are the very moment when the second hand hits the 12, and the halls fill with noise and motion. Even if your after-school time is packed with activities, lessons, or a job, somehow, you just feel freer in the late afternoon than you do earlier in the day. Maybe it's all that blue sky and afternoon sunshine? Nah -- even on rainy days, 3:15 is always a beautiful time.

Juno

2008-01-27T08:31:00.000-08:00

I went and saw Juno yesterday.

I have to admit, I was a little worried, and some of the scenes made me tense up in my seat to the point that I squirmed uncomfortably. However, I didn't overly abuse my one pathetic Kleenex.

After that random disclaimer, I have to say that I loved this movie. It was hilarious and quirky, and just one of those movies that you walk out of feeling satisfied and vaguely vindicated. And yes, Chris, I want the soundtrack. It kind of grows on you.

YMMV- I am glad I watched it with my girlie buddies, and not The Man. Because there is one part that made me SO MAD at my husband (without the benefit of his having done anything wrong) that I probably would have reached over and pinched him repeatedly just to relieve my seething feelings.

Irrational? Well, maybe. But I guess there is a good reason, because I am in the throes of possibly THE worst PMS I have ever had. I mean it, I woke up with my back spasming two days ago, cramps, you name it, and I was in full attack mode for about a week before that, when any little thing could set me off. Considering that I usually lead a crampless existence, have no mood swings (aside from a little ditziness) and just take a prolonged nap the day before AF arrives, this is interesting news.

I hope you all are having fantastic weekends that don't involve any back spasming. I don't recommend it.

Sorry.

2008-01-21T18:14:00.000-08:00

Oh boy.

I have written this post a couple of times, and nothing that I committed to typing could sum up what I was trying to convey. Suffice it to say, I don't want to be melodramatic or anything- I am just kind of tapped out.

All of my energy has been going into work. I took over another teacher's classes, so I have gone from teaching 2-3 classes a day to 5 or 6. Several of those are an hour drive, each way. With that and the gym, my time is just getting sucked into oblivion. Also, The Man is finishing college and has started his weekends in the Bay Area, so any free time we have seems to get spent with each other.

Another reason I haven't blogged is that my last post just scared me. I wrote it from a bad place,and it's pretty obvious when I read it that when I say I am content to sit and wait, that's just a big fat lie.

Sitting and waiting is something that I am stuck with. I am feeling that acutely right now, and just trying to pour myself into other pursuits that I can at least have some measure of success with. I am a great teacher, so I am teaching. I am also in great shape for someone my size, and am feeling healthier spiritually, emotionally, and physically, with each passing day.

I can tell that the change in activity level and nutrition is doing something to my body. I am pissed off that I let myself be deluded into thinking that making these changes might be detrimental to my fertility journey. Different fertility indicators have gotten stronger, and that's as blunt as I am going to get. You guys put up with enough from me!

That being said, not much to report. I just didn't feel that it was "fair" to post, because I know how generous you guys all are with your support, and I haven't had any support to give in return. What I really needed was a break, and I took one, and while I am still kinda "meh", I will take "meh" over psychotic and weepy any day of the week.

I missed you guys. How are you doing?

Bitter

2008-01-05T00:36:00.001-08:00

After a minor crying jag, I popped over to I Can Has Cheezburger, and this was the first thing I saw. It doesn't get much more appropriate than this, boys and girls. It at least provoked a burst of semi-hysterical laughter, so maybe I am not that far gone.

I can't really explain why the crying was going on. It just happened. The Man is at work, and I just feel so frustrated and alone and so angry...and once again, there isn't much of an explanation for the angry part.

Chris wrote this post, and voiced the question, "When will something finally be easy?"

That's totally how I feel. Actually, I don't really ask anymore, I just assume that it's not going to be easy, end of story, Amen, Goodbye, Whatever. In fact, it's probably going to be impossible, and why try?

I wonder if so many things came to me so easily in my youth that this business of starting a family is payback for all the easy stuff I didn't appreciate then.

I know this is unreasonable, but it's there, swirling around in my brain with about two million other things.

I start back to work at my primary job on Monday, and I have a really full schedule. The lab coat is going into the laundry, and then it's back to five days of teaching other people's kids about the planets, about polymers, about burps, about fingerprints, and about the five senses. (You see the "other people's kids?" I really need to stop obsessing about that.)

My favorite sense to talk about is taste. The kids get excited about that, because besides yummy or yucky, taste isn't something they really think about a lot. We discuss that there are different areas on the tongue that taste the different flavors of the foods that you eat. We talk about sweet, salty, sour, and bitter, and how they are all different. I explain that bitter foods are usually the ones that kids don't like, because kids have more tastebuds than adults do, so they are more sensitive to strong flavors than grownups are.

Bitter is a flavor that I have never really gotten behind. Coffee is the example that we use in my class, and coffee is something that I drink with so much sweetener and so much milk that it basically doesn't even count as being coffee anymore.

But bitter seems to be talking over my life, somehow, and I hate it. I hate it. I feel bitter and like I am shriveling up inside. There is no Creme Brulee Coffeemate that I can add to make this better. No amount of foam or pumps of syrup or packets of Splenda is going to fix it.

I also feel sour. Sour, like the lemons that I just can't seem to make lemonade out of anymore. Sour, like milk that has curdled, and is only fit to be poured chunkily stinking down the drain, because it was tainting everything else in the fridge.

When I think of salty, I don't think of pretzels or potato chips. I think of tears.

Maybe all the sweetness is gone?

Maybe I caught my limit, and I can't just run out to the store to get more.

Somehow, my emotional taste buds are all effed up, and I have no clue how to fix them.

Shut Up and Drive

2008-01-02T11:41:00.000-08:00

Yeah, this song is a staple on my workout playlist. Go Rihanna!

The doggies did great this weekend. I am so proud of them. We kept them on their leashes, since neither of them is ready yet to be able to run free at the beach, and their anxiety about all the other off-leash dogs kind of hampered my ability to take pictures, but we still had a great time. Predictably, Bear plunged right into the ocean, up to his chest, while Bosco delicately avoided the tiny lapping waves. They're so funny. It was a big weekend- first time seeing the ocean, first time experiencing stairs, first time being around so many other dogs.

They did great at Mom and Dad's place. No begging, no "accidents" (well, there may have been one, but luckily mom and dad were out, and they have hardwood floors. I won't tell if you won't!). They stayed off the furniture and hung out on their blanket in front of the fire and just kind of blissed out the whole time.

Considering that the last time my parents saw our dogs, they were slavering and barking and hurling themselves against our sliding glass door, this behavior was a total 180. My parents were actually so impressed with how they behaved that they are getting the Dog Whisperer book for my brother and his wife for Christmas. (We still haven't exchanged gifts yet.)

It was nice getting away, being outside and active, and not having to worry about holiday crap. We had a good, solid, relaxing trip. Yay!

There was a weird moment with my mother. I had picked up a copy of People magazine, with a very PG Jennifer Lopez on the cover. My mom noticed I was scanning the article, and made a face.

"Do you like her?"

"I am just interested. I think she did IVF, so I wanted to check out if the article says anything. I doubt it, but you never know."

"Why on earth did they try to keep it a secret for so long?" she asked. "It just seems stupid."

"Well...I am guessing that she's been infertile for awhile, and maybe had some recurrent miscarriages or something," I said, flatly. "I wouldn't want that whole heartache plastered in every tabloid under the sun."

My mom, who admittedly isn't overly fond of JLo, gave me a look that I can only describe as stunned.

"I didn't even think of that..." she said, and dropped the subject.

I do wish that celebs would be more open abut the fact that they use assisted reproductive technologies. This whole taboo just needs to be gone.

I have been doing a lot of reading- in addition to the Margolis book and the Newsweek article mentioned in the last post, my sister-in-law got me The Golden Compass trilogy, and I seem to have burned through it in two days.

I plan to talk about the Margolis book more in-depth tomorrow, but here's the general consensus: I liked it. It was a very open, honest read, with a a lot of general information about the roads that infertility leads you down. There's a lot of info about surrogacy, which is nothing we have ever considered, but it's what Cindy and her husband did, so that is a perspective that was interesting for me to read about.

I am considering giving it to my mom to look at once I am done with it.

Vortex

2007-12-28T22:23:00.001-08:00

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

2007-12-17T07:59:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-13T12:21:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-09T03:33:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-12-07T01:26:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-05T23:10:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-04T22:59:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-12-03T12:48:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-12-03T09:33:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-28T22:18:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-26T11:47:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-18T10:07:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-14T10:32:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-11-14T10:28:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-06T07:27:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-11-05T07:02:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-04T12:00:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-11-02T02:27:00.000-07:00

I'm off to see the wizard...

2007-11-01T23:45:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-10-30T17:34:00.000-07:00

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

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.”
Fairly accurate: “You will have kids by the time you are 40. I think I see three.”
Reply hazy: Um, yeah. Definitely!
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.

2007-10-29T13:10:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-24T13:36:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-10-24T08:55:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-22T23:11:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-10-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-18T12:02:00.001-07:00

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....

2007-10-18T00:45:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-16T10:56:00.001-07:00

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!

2007-10-11T18:40:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-10-09T09:08:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-10-06T17:30:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-05T21:49:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-05T00:02:00.000-07:00

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!

Mighty Casey has Struck Out.

2007-10-04T07:50:00.000-07:00

Well, crap.

I'm spotting. And it's still disappointing, even though I expected it.

And that's really all there is to say about it.

I guess we're going to need to make some decisions, because going through another IUI cycle just seems like an exercise in futility.

Somebody's watching meeeeeeeeee....

2007-10-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

I have a stalker.

I am sure you guys remember the post about Tiramisu, aka "Big Fat Fatty" (Other aliases include "The Woodchuck", "Lunchbox", and "Chunk LaFunk")

I am sorry the picture quality sucks, but his curmudgeonly qualities are such that this is the only photo of him with his eyes open.

Anyway, 'Su has gotten increasingly weird about me. Either we were right about the progesterone or the injections messing with my body chemistry, or I have mysteriously (and undetectably, because I checked to alleviate the paranoia) begun to smell like Li'l Friskies.

When I came home tonight, I did the first thing I usually do in the second half of the 2ww, which is to rip off my bra, because it is cutting off my circulation.

I went into the kitchen to start dinner, and the next thing I know, The Man comes in, bra dangling.

The Man: I just saw something...uh, disturbing.

Me: Let's hear it.

The Man: The cat was uh...making out with your bra. Please put it away.

Me: What the little one? She plays with everything.....

The Man: NO- It was 'SU! He was rubbing all over it and rolling around on it like a porn star. And purring.

?????!!!!!!!!!!

At night, the cats are shut in the office, because the little one creates mayhem and ricochets around all night long. 'Su gets shut in too, because that's where the food and water and kitty "facilities" are.

The other night, we couldn't find him. We finally gave up, shut the bedroom door, and went to bed. At around 6AM, I awoke to feel a solid weight snuggled behind my knees. 'Su had evidently hidden under the bed and waited for us to fall asleep. The Man banished him at some point, and he stayed right outside the door, yowling, until we took pity on ourselves and let him back in.

He's also following me around from room to room, and tonight I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to find him draped across my midsection and lovingly grooming my arm, which is something he has never done. In fact, that is probably why I woke up, since he is a 20 pounder and was probably reducing my lung capacity, not to mention putting out heat like a furry bonfire.

This is seriously freaking me out.

I know I haven't been around- I am working crazy hours, which is great money-wise, but not so hot energy-level-wise or sanity-wise. I need to slow down and schedule some time off to take care of me. Because I am falling asleep during Dancing With The Stars, and that ain't right. (And oh! I am so pissed that Albert went home! He was so sweet and goofy! Aiiiiigh! But then, I didn't vote, so it is all my fault.)

In other news, the second week of the 2ww has begun. I am exhausted (thanks, progesterone!) and for some reason, I cannot eat peanuts without feeling ill afterwards. Could that also have something to do with the progesterone? I seem to recall something about "Do not take this medication if you have a peanut allergy." But I don't have a peanut allergy.

Also, stop the presses! I am tired. And hungry. And bloated, and weepy. And signing off, because you guys seriously don't need to hear about all that, since you're more or less all experiencing it yourselves.

What have you done for me lately?

2007-09-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

Statistically, most women say that infertility is the biggest tragedy of their lives. Worse than divorce, even worse than death in many cases. I can see this, because the death of possibilities, what might have been, can be a lot harder than a physical loss. And it is a very real grieving process that is difficult to talk about.

Plus, nobody brings you pies or casseroles.

The downsides of infertility are many, and their roots go deep. I know that IF has affected my attitude towards sex, my self-image and feelings about my body, my relationship between my husband and I. Most of the changes are negative.

As many bloggers have mentioned, there is a certain wide-eyed joy when you decide to start trying to get pregnant. It's something that most people never expect to have a problem with. It's exciting, and it's terrifying. And as time goes on, it becomes tinged with desperation, and every time AF shows up, it's like a slap in the face. You get jaded. Sex that can't result in a baby seems like a waste of time. Which, if you are on the infertility treadmill for long enough, can translate to "every time." Romance isn't so much a part of the equation if it has to be turned on and off like a TV program.

Our situation had brought The Man and I closer together in many ways. I have always had issues with people seeing me cry, and that includes him. I have forcibly had to transcend this, and The Man has had to learn to be supportive and not to laugh when I come unhinged about the way he folds laundry (true) or when I am hysterical and sobbing uncontrollably for two days because I watched a documentary about flightless Arctic birds. He's not great about showing his feelings either, but they have made the occasional appearance. It scares the hell out of me every time, but we're at least both secure in the fact that we are there for each other, no matter what.

My feelings about my body have never really been positive. I have always been overweight, I have always struggled with my skin. While infertility hasn't really improved either one of these, they have made me realize that the appearance of my body is not as important as its abilities. The numbers on the scale and the red bump on my forehead suddenly seem like mere blips on the radar. I'm not sure if this is a healthy attitude, but it's the truth!

What has IF changed for you?

Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn

2007-09-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

I am one sleepy girl.

The realization that I have been working for more than two weeks straight- not full-time, but without one complete day off- is kind of a freaky thought.

However, I have been dwelling on IF stuff a lot less, in some ways.

In other ways, I've had a few bittersweet moments.

I wore a bright blue shirt the other day, and evidently, this color attracts babies. Because all the babies in the store stared at me constantly, to the point that their mothers noticed it and got a little weirded out. One of them said, "Well! It looks like he wants to go home with you!" when her little guy reached out his arms like he wanted me to pick him up.

We both laughed, and in retrospect, I am not quite sure how I managed it.

There was a mom and her barely two-year-old at the store today, waiting for a dressing room.

Baby: "Where Greg? Want Greg!"

She calls for Greg repeatedly in a little falsetto voice, like she is calling a cat.

Mom: "Greg is Daddy, sweetie! Say Daddy!"

Baby: "Daddy Greg!" And she laughs hysterically.

Mom: "You are so silly baby!" And I hear the sounds of her laughing and covering her little girl with kisses and raspberries, while the little girl squeals and giggles and squirms.

And I can't help thinking, "What if this never happens for me?"

They are so happy, so natural, and they make it look so easy. And for me, it is just so NOT easy.

In slightly more bizarre news, I was teaching a class of 6th graders yesterday, and we were discussing Velcro. I mentioned that it was about 25 years old, and it had been invented when I was a little girl. There's one boy in this class who is a foot taller than everyone else, and he raised his hand, and asked, "How old are you?"

I don't mind revealing my age, especially when it's a kid who asks. The look of horror and disbelief on his face when I said, "thirty-two" was downright hilarious.
I choose not to consider why he reacted this way, because any conclusion that I might leap to would be disturbing.

For example, I might be older than his mom.

SEE BRAIN? That's why you just don't want to go there!

I have a ton of "classic" prego symptoms right now, but I know it's just the wretched progesterone making its presence known. TMI warning- I was putting on my bra today, and caught a glimpse of the girls and um...they look weird. But once again, I get that "Whose breasts are THESE?!!" moments pretty much every month.

In other news of the weird:

We have a Siamese-mix neutered male cat named Tiramisu, and he is basically a curmudgeon. He's cranky. He's whiny. He doesn't like to be picked up or held, and he sleeps 95% of the time on "his" chair in the living room.

During the 2ww, he won't leave me alone. He is all snuggly, he wants to be with me all the time. And when I pet him, he purrs like a motorboat.

He was like this last cycle too, and I tried explaining it to The Man, who essentially thought I was out of my mind until he witnessed the random love-fest and the kneading and the purring and the attempted kitty kisses this month.

I am wondering if the injectables are making me smell different, or if I am slowly going crazy....or maybe our cat is manic-depressive. If the pattern continues, when AF begins to arrive, he will go back to his crotchety old ways again!

By the way...I have noticed my number of readers going steadily up, and I am extremely flattered by all your thoughtful comments and the way my sitemeter map is filling up. Thanks so much- It's so good to know that we aren't all in this alone!

If you read this blog and aren't listed on my sidebar, please drop me a comment so I can add your blog to my reading list! (Of course, feel free to leave a comment if you ARE listed on my sidebar too! I love all you guys.)

Ci-cilia, You're breakin' my heart

2007-09-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

You're shakin' my confidence laaaately.....

Don't worry, I can spell, The bad pun will become obvious later.

~~OK, so I am going to add more, but it's going to be later tonight. I am off to work again, my schedule has been nuts.~~ Ok, I am off to job #2 in an hour- so I will add the gory details!

Summation- the IUI happened, it went well, and the sample lasted just fine while nestled in my cleavage for a little longer than was recommended. I split the difference and showed up 15 minutes early, and there was no comment.

The Man has been put on notice. Neither of us is a morning person, which I know is a factor. To be fair, when he got up and moving, he did apologize for being a poop. And he was very considerate to me while I was practically comatose and convinced that my ovaries were exploding, and actually planned and made food. (Yeah, quesadillas, but he gets points for effort.)

The actual IUI went well, but was weird. First of all, it HURT! This has never happened before. Usually it's just my ovaries, although last cycle I didn't even really get that. This time they were both agitated, not to mention, afterwards, I had major cramping. EVERYONE was pissed off. I don't know if that's good or bad. They did mention at my appointment that my cervix was wiiiide open. (Ack! my cervix is a ho!)

I spoke with my fave tech, and basically put it out there. "Um...so if this cycle is uneventful...well, his sperm are great. My eggs and uterus are great. Why am I taking all these drugs to produce more eggs? I am worrying that either my egg quality sucks, in which case the drugs really won't help, or that things aren't implanting, so ditto, or that The Man's chemistry and mine are incompatible, which really isn't going to become immediately obvious until we do IVF anyway. Do you have any ideas?"

Evidently, she has a theory. She thinks that the cilia in my fallopian tubes may be out of whack, and when that's an issue, they can't waft the egg towards the sperm or vice-versa. Sort of like incompetent crowd-surfing at a rock concert. My cilia may be just like the a**holes who have smoked too much pot and just drop the kid on the concrete floor.

Yes, that is my take on it. First the uterine disco lounge, then the easter egg basket ovaries, and now fallopian crowd surfing. My reproductive anatomy sounds like a freaking theme park! Wooohooo!

In the meantime, the 2ww is officially on, and I am allowing myself to hope. I have a girl's weekend at the coast planned, and I will know by then whether I can drink or not, which I guess is the up-side in case my cilia actually aren't working.

Meanwhile, we are trying to decide what to do in case this cycle is not a success. Do I really want to have IUI #6? This is my free cycle of meds....could I put those towards IVF, or are they only used during an IUI cycle? The next IVF boat departs in November, so I would baaaaarely squeak by with the timing.

I can't answer any of these questions for two weeks. I'm hoping that I won't have to answer them, because the point will be moot. Or if you're a Friends fan, it will be "moo".

So hungry, so angry

2007-09-24T06:54:00.000-07:00

After four hours of sleep, I leaped out of bed. This is most unlike me. I have often expressed my admiration for both of our cats, one of whom parks on a chair in the den, the other of whom likes our bed. They will reliably park in their spots, and I will arrive home six hours later to find them both still there.

Those lazy little freaks have a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me.

So, the hungry part is a lot easier to solve than the angry part.
(Hungry? Eat breakfast and stop your whining. Angry? Well.....)

The Man's workplace tends to frown upon taking days off at short notice. We were initially unworried, because he has Fridays off, but with the schedule change, he couldn't get this morning off. He has to be at work by 7:30, and it takes 20-30 minutes for me to drive to the clinic. It's technically do-able, if I do all the ferrying.

I don't know if I have mentioned that The Man is in the military, but he is. He has assured me that he can't find privacy at work to complete a sample, not that I would want him to have to do that, but hey.

The morning of the IUI is always a disaster. I end up upset and stressed out every time. Like last month, when it was his day off and he assured me that he would take care of everything, allegedly set his alarm, and then slept through it. Having been awake most of the previous night, and thinking I only had to be awake for my appointment at 10:45, I was in no condition to remind him. I ended up waking up to his swearing at around 9, and we ended up calling the clinic and bringing the sample in late. Then he refused to go to the clinic with me, because he had forgotten that it was the big day and made other plans.

Or the time before that, when we got in a huge fight the morning of- I had given him all the info, what time I needed to leave by, etc., and he didn't remember any of it, so he didn't allot enough time to get dressed for work and do the deed. Or the time before that....you get the picture.

I have adopted a policy of not getting visibly upset, because it just makes things worse, although I am sure that the "internally boiling with rage" reaction that is happening can't be a good thing.

A big part of me feels that his avoidance of going to the clinic with me and his attitude (which, if I am honest, is that of a pissy 14 year old) on "collection day" is some weird passive aggressive thing. I know he wants to have kids, because he is the one who wanted to start trying. Maybe he just can't accept that we need medical intervention?

The thing is, I am spending tons of money, time, and my sanity on this. I have rearranged my entire life for this, and a big part of me resents it that I go through doctor's visits, shots, surgery, ultrasounds, and suppositories, while he can't manage to get out of bed on time and be civil on what amounts to less than one day a month.

Last month, I finally confronted him, and asked, "Do you still want to do this?" And he got upset, offended, defensive (which is worrisome) and assured me that he did indeed want us to have a child together in this lifetime. I told him that if that was the case, he needed to step up, so I could see that he meant it.

So anyway, "collection day" has become a loaded experience...no pun intended. And it seems like we go through this every stinking time, and this time is no exception- with the added complication that the RE's note that I get each month has changed.

Every month we have brought in the sample at 8AM on the dot, and now that I look at this note- 8:30.

Which is totally impossible with our schedule, and I have not one freaking clue what I can do, other than stick a vial in my bra for almost an hour and hope that quality will not be affected. I have already googled "sperm longevity" and "How long do sperm live outside the body" while knowing that my clinic wants it there in 30 minutes, tops. Like Domino's pizza. And of course I can't call them, because even though they show up to the office around 8, they won't answer the phone until nine. Garrrrrrrgh!

My only other option is to show up at 8AM anyway and force them to let me in.

I just tried going to The Man with these options, and he totally snapped at me. And while I am not going to let myself explode, I am through making excuses for him.

Has anyone else gone through something like this? I'm pretty much at the end of my tether.

Guess which night it is?

2007-09-24T00:13:00.000-07:00

'Twas the night before IUI

And all through the house

Jenna did all the laundry

And set dishes to douse.

The Man was out cold

Snuggled up in his bed

While visions of sample vials

Danced in his head.

Oh, why can't I sleep? Why? WHY?!!!!

It's been one of those days. Two people called in sick to work, so I came in and covered for six hours, but of course, all the stuff I was supposed to do at home didn't happen. Bleah!

Also, for those of you who may be taking/have taken Menopur, did it give you some seriously, um, vivid, pornographic dreams?

Um, no reason, just asking.

I injected the Ovidrel last night, and I know it's working: my left ovary is killing me, which is par for the course.

Now I just need my brain to calm down so I can sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

The Saga Of Dr. Combover (Part Two)

2007-09-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

Anyone who wants to read The Saga (Part One) may do so here.

The surgery and recovery were really easy for me. Thank goodness! And there was that prevailing feeling that I was "fixed." The problem was taken care of!

Then I went back in for me follow-up, and well...I just wish they could have prepared me in some way.

I was informed that I didn't actually have a blocked tube. After going through all my adventures with Righty, I am guessing it was just orbiting Pluto on the day that I had my HSG, so the dye didn't pool like it was supposed to.

The surgery did serve a purpose- I had some "mild endometriosis" that they cleaned up. So, since the tube wasn't a problem, what did I want to do?

Then he started throwing facts and figures and percentages at me. Clomid, 8%, here's the cost, IUI, medicated, 25% chance, here's the cost....

At this point, I was pretty early in my infertility journey, and I hadn't researched any of this data. My hopes had just been dashed. I felt like he was trying to sell me a baby like it was a used car, if that makes any sense. I know now that any reasonable person would understand that this is a lot of info to take in and assimilate within five minutes, but he just wasn't bothering to take that into consideration.

Dr. Combover was looking at me like I was a specimen who was misbehaving in a culture dish, while he waited for me to come up with an answer and stop wasting his expensive time. I finally said that I would need to discuss my options with my husband and research everything on my own before jumping into a treatment plan, and he just shook his head at my with poorly-concealed irritation.

In reality, the way he was interacting with me was pissing me off so much, I vowed that I was going to find someone else to treat me. A phone call to Dr. Teddybear disabused me of that notion. Not only does he get great results, he's the only game in town. Crap.

In the meantime, I had already asked for a copy of my medical records from his office, and I made the mistake of reading them. When I got to the paragraph that included his comments about the copious amounts of fat in my abdominal region...well, that didn't make me feel more kindly disposed towards him. Especially since I had asked whether my weight was a factor, and he said it had nothing to do with anything.

So I have been continuing to go to the office, and haven't seen the man since...it's been two years. All my procedures have been done by nurses and techs, and (perhaps understandably)I have been OK with that.

Am I overreacting? I have spoken to another woman in town who has had dealings with him, and she desribed him as being a "cold fish." But is personality that important if I am just trying to get results?

I am trying to decide what the next step would be, and I am in the fortunate position to be close to both San Francisco and Los Angeles...so if I am willing to go through some additional inconvenience, my options could be increased exponentially if I decide to jump off the Dr. Combover ship.

A Shot In The Arm

2007-09-21T01:53:00.000-07:00

We now interrupt the Saga of Dr. Combover to say...WOW.

Seriously, the people at Freedom Pharmacy are amazing. They have overnighted I-don't- know-how-many really expensive little vials to me over the last week or so, and per my clinic's instructions, more Gonal-f and the brand-new prescription for Menopur was supposed to arrive this morning.

I waited. And waited. I have never gotten a delivery later than 10:30, so when it got to be two PM, I began to panic and called the pharmacy. They reassured me that the shipment was in its way- evidently a FedEx plane had some technical difficulties. They gave me the tracking number and the FedEx toll-free line, and had FedEx flag the order with the driver as an urgent delivery.

It finally got here at around 3:30 PM.

So thank you, Freedom and FedEx!

I would also like to thank the nameless woman who donated her leftover meds to my doctor's office. I was panicking when they prescribed more drugs, to be taken that day, and I knew that the dregs in the Gonal-f syringe at home weren't even going to come close to what I needed. Nameless woman, you are a superhero, and I promise I will do the same thing if I ever have any leftover largesse.

Time has given me some perspective. I was so upset yesterday, because I planned ahead and my plans got changed. My cycle wasn't cancelled. I have three likely looking follicles. Hell, Righty even decided to toe the line and cough one up this month.

Is it going to be more difficult because things changed? You betcha. But as The Man said, "Anything worth working for is rarely easy." I may have responded with "Thanks, Yoda." Because that's how we roll.

But yeah, I can see his point. We've come a long way, and we have a long way to go. Now is not the time to freak out over trifles.

On another note....

Holy crap, those Menopur injections are scary. First of all, they switched things up on me at the RE's office, and I have to inject the Gonal-f and the Menopur into my upper arm. I had gotten really used to injecting into my belly, but the tech said that there's a better chance of getting serious absorption with the arm injection.

So I get my meds today, and I open the boxes, and HOLY CRAP!! I am not sure what gauge the needles are that come attached to the Menopur syringes. But compared to my happy little Gonal pens, they look two inches long and as big around as a pencil lead. Luckily, you switch to a finer gauge needle to actually inject the stuff, but I nearly had a heart attack just looking at those things.

OH! And I asked why my office prescribes the 300 IU syringes. I was right! You actually get more meds (because of the leftover meds in each syringe) than you do with the higher dosage pens...for the same cost. I estimate on this cycle, the leftovers made up about two full pens, which is around a $700 savings. Not too shabby. I figured it was too good a tip not to share.

How's everyone's week going? Anything fun planned for the weekend?

The Saga Of Dr. Combover (Part One)

2007-09-19T22:21:00.000-07:00

Way, waaaay back, at least three years ago, when I was still young(ish) fresh and innocent, I had an HSG.

My OB/Gyn, Dr. Teddybear (because he is so lovable and huggable, which is both great and a total liability, because I often succumb to tears in front of the poor man)went over the results with me and said,

"Well, sweetie, your right tube is blocked. It doesn'tt look like scarring, probably a plug, but we are going to refer you to THE guys in town. There's Dr. Jet-Setter, and the guy he trained who is just as good, Dr. Combover. They'll do laprascopic on you, and you'll be good as new.

I waited the three-month wait and booked an appointment, ending up with Dr. Jet-setter, whom I really liked. However, it was a short appointment...less than 15 minutes. He started talking about eventual IUI's and IVF, and I just wasn't ready...in addition to which, The Man was stationed out of town for the next three months, so surgery or IUI's were going to be out of the question for awhile. I told him we would discuss it and get back to him.

We waited for a year, and Dr. Teddybear tested for PCOS, started me on my first bout with Clomid, and ended up telling me, "Well, we just can't find a problem. You may want to consider the surgery, which will increase the odds."

I went back to the specialist's office. Dr. Jet-setter travels between California and South America, because he is evidently that much of a hotshot, and he was gone, so they signed me up for surgery in three months with Dr. Combover, a man I had never met.

I wasn't too worried. I had an appointment booked the week before my surgery, and I assumed I would be meeting the doctor then.

To make a long story shot, I was wrong. I went into prep for surgery, met the anaesthesiologist, a jovial guy with a Russian accent, who asked if I was nervous.

When I explained that the only issue was that I hadn't met the doctor doing my surgery, and I didn't know if it was unreasonable to meet him before I went into the OR, he thumped me on the shoulder and said, with Slavic solemnity, "I do not think it unreasonable to meet the man who is going to cut on you. I will bring him. One moment."

I sat there, in those stupid slipper socks, trying to cover my ass with the hospital gown, and he brought Dr. Combover in.

The man was obviously not thrilled to see me, and irritated by the time he wasted to be brought into my prescence. He introduced himself (stiffly) and uttered the fateful words, "Well! Dr. Jetsetter has nothing but great things to say about you!"

Since I had met Dr. Jetsetter exactly once, for 15 minutes, this was obviously a big fat lie, and didn't put me at ease. In fact, it kinda made me hate his guts. Which is an unnerving feeling to have about someone who is about to get up close and personal with your reproductive organs.

I just remember focusing on the anesthesiologist (who was my kind of guy, and I wished HE was my doctor) thinking, "You don't have to like Dr. Combover. It's not his job to be likeable. Just think babies. Think babies...." as I was wheeled into the OR.

Intermission

2007-09-19T13:22:00.000-07:00

I am stalled.

That's the news I got during the ultrasound today. I still have one dominant follicle on the right, one on the left, but they are still where they were on Monday. The two smaller follicles seem to have joined forces, so I actually can expect three follicles this cycle...but the IUI has been postponed.

I have to order some more pens of Gonal-f, and also Menopur on top of that.

I am feeling disillusioned, and also, am freaking out because this is costing a lot more than I was expecting.

When I said something to this effect, along with the fact that if it's just egg production that they want, Clomid seems to produce better results and is covered by my insurance, the tech said, "Well, would you like to see the doctor?"

Confession: I haven't seen the actual doctor since my laprascopic exploratory surgery checkup over a year ago. I have to get to work and order my new meds, so I'll expound on all of this tonight.

IUI is rescheduled for Monday.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

2007-09-17T13:18:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'll just get down to the brass tacks.

Well, and then I will waffle. We all know how I love waffles!

I was worried due to lack of twinging, but lo! something must be working. My first clue was this morning, when I had a protracted battle with the top button on my jeans. And then proceeded to need to pee every 10 minutes. But it's all worth it. Thank goodness.

Here are the stats for IUI cycle #5! (Holy crap. FIVE!)

Once again, I have four follicles: two big fat 14's, one each for Lefty and Righty, and then as usual, Lefty is the overachiever with two smaller follicles, eight and ten. My levels are at 290.

300 more IU of Gonal-f tonight, and again tomorrow. Then another ultrasound on Wednesday. If all goes well, I trigger Wednesday night, and the IUI is Friday morning. Righty, if you go south on me, you are getting evicted. I mean it. You gotta earn your keep around here.

On a more entertaining note, I got to hear my uterus described as "gorgeous", which is a new one for me. I also evidently have "perky" ovaries. Is it just me, or is that bizarre? Like being told that your spleen is charming.

Plus, the adjective "perky" always makes me think of Katie Couric. However, considering how many uterii and ovaries this woman has seen in her lifetime, I think I have to choose to believe her.

Somehow, I don't think this is what was meant by "pretty on the inside."

So yeah. My reproductive system is a 10! However, so far it has been purely decorative. Come on, girls. This is the month!

I ordered another stinking pen of Gonal-F. That's six 300 IU pens. I am wondering why my RE ordered this way, instead of two 900 IU pens. Could it have something to do with the "leftovers" inside each 300 IU syringe? When I do the math, there's only a $3 or so price difference, so it doesn't matter much either way (except that priming the pen each night is getting old, and that's a lot of packaging to clog up landfills each month.

Anyone know about this? I'm confuzzled.

They debated about prescribing Menopur as well. Anyone have experience with this? They didn't end up doing it- the consensus was that everything was coming along nicely and that it was unnecessary.

While I still have not seen Dr. Combover, which is another post in itself, the ultrasound tech did say that she will personally reviewing my case. I don't know her name, or her title, or anything else.

Ordinarily, I would be freaking out about this, but....this cycle is weird. I feel very zen, for lack of a better term. Like this is all happening to someone else, and I am taking a detatched and clinical interest in it.

Since I can't remember the last time I was ever detatched and/or clinical about- well, anything, this is one hell of a change. Huh.

Okay. Almost time for work. And since my pants don't fit anyway, I may as well extract myself from them (maybe the Jaws Of Life would work) and eat a boatload of chicken nachos.

We're everywhere!

2007-09-16T20:21:00.000-07:00

Last night, we went to a surprise birthday party.

It was one of those things where you know the birthday girl, but you are linked through friends/family who you are closer to.

The friends/family that we are closer to were busy tending bar and helping out. And the great thing is, the party really was a surprise, and everyone looked like they were having fun.

But we sort of didn't know anyone, and the people we DID know were integrally involved with being hosts, so we *gulp* went out on a limb and met new people.

Needless to say, the Man and I aren't exactly social butterflies. But I made a concerted effort, and ended up talking to a couple at our table who were a little older than us, but seemed cool.

We went over occupations, how long we had been married (us, 5 years, them, 17! married right out of high school!) and then they asked if we had kids.

Me: Nope, not yet. When it happens, it happens.

Her: Us too! Well, if it happened, we'd be thrilled but you know, we're in our 40's, so the odds aren't on our side.

She was so upbeat and matter-of fact about it, and she seemed so relieved to meet another childless couple! We had a fabulous, kid-free conversation. Infertility was never openly discussed, but it was out there...and man, it was wonderful.

In other horizon-broadening news, The Man and I made plans to take ballroom and salsa dance lessons with another couple, and we also have started making plans to take a trip to the beach house as a group. We are venturing out of our comfort zone!

Another fun thing that we have started doing is an effort to keep our brains moving. The Man is helping me to learn Russian (he knows basic conversational stuff) and I am teaching him French. It seems to be working out well...we are spending time together and it gives us stuff to talk about that isn't related to the drugs I am taking or where we are in this month's cycle, which is wonderful.

Tomorrow is going to be insane. I wake up early, get my bloodwork done before 7AM, then drive to Los Banos (which is an hour away) to deal with a ticket. Drive back, get the ultrasound, then I am doing a science workshop- all before 2PM!

Yes, I am a busy little bee/ptchela/abeille!

At least it is keeping my mind off things.

The Magic of Photoshop!

2007-09-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

Thanks Farah, for the idea!

What do you guys think? Is there anything else I should add?

You know my twisted mind...I wanted to insert, "But only on Day 14" under the "You can do it!"

Yes or no?

Worried

2007-09-15T10:08:00.001-07:00

I got nothing.

The ovarian pinging of last cycle is not happening, and it is freaking me out.

I am injecting 300 IU a day, here, ovaries. What gives?

Granted, I am a little bloated, and I don't think I ate anything that would account for that.

Ugh. This is torture!

I did have enough Gonal-f to inject last night. (Barely- but I made it!)

In the meantime, I am waiting for the package from the pharmacy to arrive, so I can get on with my Saturday. I am actually not working! I am still in shock.

I keep thinking of the fortune cookie I got yesterday. The fortune said something along the lines of, "Doubt is the seasoning of life."

As a seasoning, I definitely prefer lemon pepper. Because the doubt is really beginning to suck.

ehn

2007-09-14T11:25:00.000-07:00

Time has been flying by, oddly enough. Today I have to order more Gonal-F, and I am sort of worried that I am not going to have enough left for my dose tonight (I was supposed to order yesterday- oops.)

I have also been very busy with work and family obligations. And I have also been having conversations like this:

Me: You know, it's really irritating that I am the problem. Somehow. But not know what the problem is.

Him: Maybe my guys are just frightened and they are hiding.

Me: Why would your guys hide? There are millions of them!

Him: Well, the egg is a lot bigger, in relation to my guys. I bet they are intimidating.

Me: OK, well, if I were an egg, I would be the one who was worried. It would be like me getting attacked by millions of mice.

Him: Well, on the other hand, think of the sperm's perspective! It would be like seeing two Yukon Denalis heading straight at me.

Me: Are we still talking about my uterus? Because it's starting to sound like Mutual of Omaha's Wild America. Or maybe West Side Story.

Him: With just a dash of Nascar.
_________________________________

Yesterday was a big event at Dad's workplace, and I met a lot of his office staff.

Her: Hi! I'm Robin! You must be the oldest daughter!

Me: Yes, that's me...nice to meet you Robin!

Her: You're the one with the baby!

(At this point, I see my mother visibly cringe.)

Me: Nope...no baby!

Her: Oh, I could have sworn it was you!

Me: No, not me. No kids yet! Ha ha!

Her: I wonder who that was....

Mom later pulled me to the side and said, "Well, I am glad you're not still taking the Clomid."

Me: "I know. Dad has a lot of sharp objects in his office. And there would have been witnesses."

Ultrasound is Monday. I am giving the follies a pep talk as we speak.

I look like who?

2007-09-12T15:09:00.000-07:00

I consider this further evidence that computers are dumb.

Has anyone else tried this?

Of course, I would like it better if they were not all waaaaaaaaay more photogenic than I am. I will console myself with the knowledge that they all have stylists.

Hmmm....maybe I should try another picture.

OK, two of them are repeats..Amanda Peet and what's her face whose picture is chopped off. One more time.....

Ok, I am not quite this delusional. I would have showed all of them, buy evidently, I can only save one. Beyonce? Anna Kournicova? Halle Berry? Yeah. I wish! Computers are dumb.

I know this has absolutely nothing to do with infertility, but if you need some distraction, this is pretty much unbeatable. And oh yeah, I did do it again, and got Heath Ledger and David Duchovny. Hmmmmm......

If you build it, they will come.

2007-09-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

The ultrasound went well this morning. They found Righty(I am picturing it with glasses and a stripey hat, like Waldo)with a minimum of difficulty. No cysts. Lining where it should be for Day Three.

"And!" said the ultrasound tech, "We are going to get at least FOUR follicles out of you this time!!!"

I thought (but did not say) that there were four follicles last time, until Righty took a hike sometime between Day 10 and Day 14.

But damn. I am taking 300 of the Gonal-F for the next SEVEN DAYS.

You hear that Righty? You should be quaking in your boots. Or you would be, if ovaries had boots.

The credit card should also be quaking in its boots. Oy. I have to order two more vials!!!

The visit went as well as it could go, and I finally bit the bullet and asked about IVF.

They gave me a price sheet. And a pamphlet on financing options. And a small lecture about patience and waiting and seeing.

I know all these things. I am trying so hard to have faith in these procedures, and I am going to go out on a limb and let myself hope, this time.

I am going back to walking, and have actually cracked the cellophane on Yoga For Fertility, which I bought on Amazon about a year ago. I have all my meds together, and am making sure I get at least 8 hours of sleep a night.

The Man asked if there was anything he could do to help, and I am going to hit him up for massages. He has also promised to walk with me and to take his vitamins.

We're going to eat Chez Sais Quoi as much as possible, so we can eat more healthily.

The big leap, however, is the cleaning out of The Room.

We are very careful never to call it anything else. It's Jenna's Craft Room, The Third Bedroom...it's become kind of a catchall. And in the process of getting rid of the metric tons of clothing that I have managed to accumulate, and dispersing all my crafty stuff, The Third Bedroom is slowly becoming a blank slate.

This is my leap of faith. I'm putting it out there. And words cannot express how terrified I am. This is going to work. I am doing everything in my power to succeed this month, and the notion that it might not work (again) has paralyzed me and kept me from accomplishing this for two years.

I hope the universe doesn't smite me down.

The duh moment

2007-09-09T22:10:00.000-07:00

The "duh" moment is the opposite of the "A-ha!" moment.

For example, I am on the phone with my sister, who will be in town this week, and I say, (within my husband's hearing) that I will be able to go out for drinks with her when she is here!

I also let The Man know that I have ordered my meds, and will he be home on Saturday to get the package? Affirmative.

I leave the box of 'pons out on the bathroom shelf. If he cares to look, the negative test is nonchalantly balancing on top of the bathroom trash.

This is all designed to avoid the, "Nope! Not this time!" conversation. Because after 4.5 years, that makes about 50 reps of the conversation, and I for one, am sick of having it.

And after all this, for some reason, when I casually allude to the fact that AF is in the building, he is shocked. It is moments like this that convince me that he just sort of floats through the day. I love him to pieces! And he is much smarter than the above anecdote makes him sound! But....yeah.

Then he tells me that he has been called in to work for the next day. So nobody will be there after 10:30 AM, when the new drug shipment will arrive (because I ordered it shipped Next Day Air specifically because I was under the impression that someone would be home. GAH! Gaaaaaaaaaah!)

I woke up yesterday, praying that the doorbell would ring. Rushed through my shower, etc. And at 10:15, had to accept that this was the one time they wouldn't show up at 8:05 when I am still stumbling blearily around the house.

So I called Mom, who came to the rescue. Thank goodness the house was clean! She brought some stuff for work she had been trying to get done, and of course, the delivery guy showed up within the hour. So Mom saved the day!

I now have two menacing mylar packets sitting in my fridge, right next to the roast beef. And my Day 3 appointment is tomorrow. And I am kind of...I don't know.

I realized, due to a number of factors (Chris, I'm looking at you!) that I need to buckle down and get serious. I have been talking the talk and walking the walk for so long, and I have gotten so jaded- I've been skimping and taking short cuts. Time to get serious!

I only look fertile.

2007-09-08T15:25:00.000-07:00

I wrote the first part of this two weeks ago. I was just going to leave it as a draft (because it's on the rant-y side) but today...ugh. Well, we will get to it.
_______________________

Guys: You need to learn when to shut up.

I haven't experienced this with women to the degree that I have with men.

Male teachers, when I work in their classrooms, inevitably ask if I have kids. No? Why not? Do I want to have kids? Obviously I like kids, since I work with them. Am I planning to have them in the near future? And uh, how old are you, anyway? Because you know, none of us are getting any younger, haha!

I tend to use the word "Eventually." Or "Someday." If they're really aggressive about it, they'll get "Whenever it happens." Which is as much info as I think they deserve.

The kids in my classes want to know this about me too. Actually, they say things like "Why don't you have kids? Don't you like us?" Or "If you had kids, they would be so lucky! You could teach them science! They could make slime EVERY DAY!"

Yes, slime-making is a large part of my job. I know you're jealous.

The kids' questions don't bother me to the degree that the male questions do, although they tend to trigger more tears, upon reflection.

Seriously, though, where do these guys come from?

One of my former co-workers kept bugging me, "Why aren't you and your husband pregnant yet?"

One day, fed up (during my first bout with Clomid) I snapped,

"We think sex is icky."

The reaction was hilarious, but I have never had the guts to try using that one again. He did quit asking, after that.

The night before my IUI, I went to girls night out at my fave dive-y place, and for some stupid reason, I was mobbed. All night. I kept waving my wedding ring around, and either Gonal-F contains some serious pheremones, or drunk men are attracted to shiny things, because what started out as a fun night out disentigrated into testosterone-filled craziness.

My stock intro is, "Oh my name is Jenna. And I'm married." Because I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Every. single. one. followed that up with, "Really? Got any kids?"

And reacted with amazement when I said no. And asked how long we had been married. Then offered to rectify that pesky childless situation. Or just kept saying, "But why not?" Like my childlessness was a sin against God.

One actually said, "I can fix that in about 15 minutes. Or you could just use my toothbrush? I think that works, too." Another one suggested that maybe my husband was "doing it wrong". (Ha! Mister 100 million? Ooookay dude.)

I don't understand it. Do men think that they can tell by looking at you if you're fertile or not? I know there's a bunch of stuff out there about waist/hip measurement, long hair, blah blah.

Is that it? I do have long hair, and was actually complimented on my "beautiful, shapely, natural nails" (down, boy!)the other night, although that probably owes more to prenatal vitamins than anything else. I'm thinking it's more about my cleavage. But then, I tend to be suspicious by nature.

I don't know.

And then, today!

I was at work at a home show, making slime for kids (yes, this really is part of my job. Wooo! Science!) and went looking around on my break. I was still wearing my lab coat and Converse sneakers. And my wedding ring.

I was looking at a place that sold pet stuff, and the guy at the booth next door kept looking over, and so I smiled at him. Mainly because there was nobody at his booth, and I felt bad! It was a public utility, so not the most popular destination.

He started asking me questions about the classes I teach and the birthday party packages that my workplace offers, because his kid is turning 5, and he and his wife are planning the party. He asked if I was married. (Yes.) He asked if I had kids.(No.)

"Why not?" he asked.

"I just don't." I kept being friendly, because I am wearing my lab coat with my company info on it, and he is a potential customer. We chit-chatted for awhile, and then he said, AGAIN,

"I just can't believe you don't have kids? How long have you been married?"

Questions like this make me want to look at my watch and say, "Oh, about 15 minutes."

Or, you know, "Eff you, you effing effer, it's none of your effing business."

I started to try to politely end the conversation, and...GET THIS!

"Do you live near ______?"

Completely astounded (and also really, really stupidly) I said yes.

"Here's my number. Why don't you give me a call sometime? I think I have seen you around- I am in your neighborhood a lot. We could go get a latte and hang out."

He handed me a card. While I started to panic. Oh crap, he's probably our meter reader. Note to self- don't forget to close the blinds.

"Um....I know my husband wouldn't be thrilled."

"Oh...really? My wife is cool with me having female friends."

My face must have been hilarious, because he just laughed, took the card from me, and dropped it into the bag he was giving me with the water conservation pamphlets and the squeezy stress thing shaped like a life preserver. And said, "Well, give me a call sometime!"

Holy crap.

The very stream-of-consciousness verdict

2007-09-07T06:20:00.000-07:00

I have never had a positive pregnancy test.

Today was no exception.

The man is still blissfully asleep, and I am just sort of befuddled.
You know those months where you think, "Wow. This is it!"

It was one of those months for me. I stroked my tummy this morning when I couldn't get back to sleep, and it felt so sleek and rounded, alive and promising. Of course, now that I have taken the test, it just feels like I ate a basketball. (Why? Oh. Last night's spaghetti.)

I wish I knew what the issue was. This unexplained thing is just crap. I feel like were blindly fumbling and flailing in the dark while throwing money around. There's not really a whole lot more that I can say about it.

The Man and I discussed what our options were yesterday, before I left for work. One cycle of injectibles down, two to go. Take a small break for the holidays. Then, depending on what the doctor says, we're in IVF territory. We agreed to have ONE, because it's not our money we're dealing with, and while I know my parents will offer (and coerce, and argue) I don't know if I can bring myself to accept more help from them.

And after that....well. Then we reevaluate our options, but the semi-spoken agreement is that we adapt to the idea that we just may not have kids. Which just seems like a nightmare scenario, but it needed to be addressed.

Of course, I am also thinking that The Man could start brushing up on his Russian. But that's way out of left field, and while I am open to the idea of adoption, he isn't, and that's just the way it has always been. Running out of options might change things, however.

This month has been one of the best so far, with regards to sanity (no Clomid) and my reaction to the plus-sign's failure to appear. It's also been better with regards to my progesterone side effects. I have been going to bed really late, and then waking, inexplicably, at 6AM. Maybe my body is adjusting? Or maybe I just know what to expect.

I am doing pretty well on my attempts to keep away from the "cookie crutch", as well as the ice cream. Mainly because I haven't bought any, and if it is not in my house, I am much less likely to eat it. I crave sugar pretty much constantly, and I know it is a side effect of the 'rone. Well, that and the feeling every morning that someone has played a practical joke on me as I lay sleeping: a joke that involves a major invasion of privacy and several judicious squirts of Elmer's glue.

So, Day One hovers on the horizon. I need to call the clinic today (oh bother). AF should be arriving tomorrow or Saturday, just in time for my crazy schedule this weekend, where I am working two ten-hour days- five hours at a Home Show for one job, one hour off (to get lunch and drive across town), then five hours folding clothes for the other one. 10 hours on my feet? WTF was I thinking?!!!

I am noticing positive results from the new job, however. I am usually in a great mood when I come home. I have TWO jobs that I love. (It would be nice if they paid better, but such is life.) I seem to have a lot more energy. And my legs are seriously looking killer, even if my feet are slowly killing me.

So, a new cycle is on the horizon.

And I feel incredibly ready for it. You hear that Universe? I'm ready. I can take whatever you can dish out, you mean ol' beeyotch. Bring it on!

Up, up and away!

2007-09-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

Alright- I know the last series of postings wasn't exactly the happiest thing I have ever written, but it felt really good to get it out.

Thank goodness I am not in the same place now that I was then! I am actually a pretty happy camper, most of the time.

In the spirit of cheerfulness, I want to share some stuff that makes me laugh. Or, just makes me happy.

And (amazingly) the first two selections involve March Of The Penguins.

For example, when I wrote the last post, I had already seen this 30 second recap of the movie as reenacted by animated bunnies. By the way, if you like the bunnies, you can find more movie recaps here.

What I accidentally found while looking for a penguin pic for the last post was this:

My husband and I have watched this three times, and are still giggling.

Other things that can always brighten up my day:

LOL Cats

This commercial:

Which actually makes me think of you guys. :)

McSweeney's Lists! One of my favorites:

Titles of Songs I Could Credibly Write If I Became a Rap Star

I'll have to think about the rest- I better hang it up, it's getting late.

And I did it to myself! Part Three (And thankfully, final)

2007-09-05T23:09:00.000-07:00

That's right. I made it through the baby shower. But March Of The Penguins, on top of Clomid, on top of baby shower...

Not one of my brighter ideas.

This is right when it had come out, and there was lots of footage of cute, fluffy little penguin chicks and their devoted parents.

What I didn't realize is that the entire movie is about the lengths that penguins will go to to reproduce. That they travel for miles and miles, freeze their little penguin butts off, starve, lose 2/3 of their body weight, huddle in packs, endure long separations from their significant penguin others, and get eaten by leopard seals...just to produce a baby penguin.

If you have seen this cinematic classic, I can tell you the point where I became hysterical...It's the part when you see the father penguin fumble the egg after the mother penguin has left to go refuel, and Morgan Freeman's voice says, "The egg dies."

I wish I could say there were tears gently rolling down my cheeks, but I literally started sobbing. Heaving shoulders, gasping for air, strange horking sounds, the whole thing.

By some miracle, this occurred when my best friend went out to use the bathroom, and the rest of our party was sitting two rows ahead of us. Still the theatre was packed, and there were people turning to look at me and figure out just what the hell was going on.

I guess there was a line for the bathroom...another stroke of luck. By the time my friend got back, I at least appeared to be somewhat OK, although I pretty much wiped away tears for the duration of the movie.

When we got out, everyone did that thing where they don't look at you.

I have never been so relieved to get in a car and drive back home. And when I got back, I tried to explain to The Man what the issue with the movie was, and I couldn't get it out without becoming hysterical all over again.

I have since watched March of The Penguins several times, and while it's never affected me the same way. But the memory of how impossibly bleak my life seemed while I was sitting in that movie theatre is always with me.

And I did it to myself! Part Two

2007-09-04T23:28:00.000-07:00

You can read about Part One here.

Fast forward a few months- My best friend and I get the invites done, do RSVP's, get the napkins and games and gifts together, you know the deal. Operation Baby Shower was now in full effect.

In the meantime, I had been prescribed my first-ever cycle of Clomid. I'd had another friend who had taken it, and got pregnant with twins on the first shot. I was totally unprepared for the hot flashes and mood swings that lingered on the horizon. (She didn't mention that part.)

We packed up and made the four-hour drive. We were going to stay overnight for two nights, then drive home early on Sunday morning. I had no idea that I was a ticking time bomb of The Crazy.

The first evening went fine, although our friend was in the final stages of pregnancy and was miserable about...well, everything. Although, If you still have morning sickness in your eighth month, I think you may be a little bit entitled. She kept joking that, "If he won't stop crying, I'll just leave him at the fire station."

OK, I could deal with that. It was a joke. Very funny!

Then her mother came from out of town the next morning, and she kept making the joke, and first-time Grandma freaked out every time she said it. In addition, we were helping to clean up and get things ready, and her mom was kind of making us all nuts. ("Doesn't it embarrass you that your friends have to clean your house for you?!" Arrrgh!)

Everything was fine. The guests showed up. I managed to discreetly sneak off at intervals and do some deep breathing whenever I got emotional. I was flushed and sweating thanks to the Clomid, but I held it together, at least publicly. We oohed and aahed over the baby gifts, and as soon as everyone left, I had a little private teary moment in the guest room, when I called The Man. I felt sick with jealousy, and I just wanted to come home.

When I cleaned myself up and emerged, it was still pretty early in the afternoon, and we were talking about going to see a movie. I was thrilled, because we were close to a large city, where they were pre-screening what looked like a really adorable movie, something you'd take your kids to go see. Nothing that could possibly upset me.

March of the Penguins!

To Be Continued...

And I did it to myself! Part One

2007-09-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

Okay. My worst infertility trainwreck ever...not the breakdown in front of all my relatives at Christmas last year, although that runs a close second.

It all started when I was out at lunch having sushi, a little over two years ago, with my best friend. We know each other from college, so we also have a lot of mutual friends who go way back.

One of these mutual friends got married the same year The Man and I did, and she called my best friend, so I was sort of involuntarily stuck eavesdropping to a one-sided conversation.

When I heard the sentence, "Well, what kind of yoga will you be doing? Because there are some poses that wouldn't be safe for...um....things...." I pretty much knew what was up. So did my best friend, who saw the look on my face and apologized and apologized, and as soon as she got off the phone.

"I'm so sorry! We didn't want you to find out this way, but we didn't want to hurt your feelings, and she didn't know how to tell you. It just happened on their first try!"

In her defense, this was before I had said much beyond the fact that we were trying, and there hadn't been a lot of steps taken aside from initial testing and charting and OPK's. And due to really unfortunate timing, it was Day One for me that day.

I got out, "Oh! I am so happy for her!!!!" in a voice ringing with sincerity (because it was the truth). And then I burst into tears. I made several attempts to stop them, but it was impossible, and all that my brain kept saying to me was during those college days, this person had been vocal about never wanting kids.

Because, you know, nobody is ever allowed to change their minds about decisions that they made when they were twenty. I'm such a dork.

That was the first time my best friend had ever seen me cry in the twelve years she had known me, and of course it just made us more embarrassed, and we both felt even worse, and so for some incredibly stupid reason...no, let's face it, to try to atone to myself and to make my best friend feel less horrible for breaking the news like that, and to prove to my mutual friend that I was really exited for her...

I said I would help to co-throw a baby shower for the new arrival.

To be continued...

Stayin' Alive

2007-09-04T00:07:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it. Thanks for the support!

The little guy was hilarious, and he loves his new firetruck...and the dump truck my friend brought, as well as the boxes and tissue paper they both came in.

There is also a series of pictures of him walking nimbly in my abandoned high heels that I am sure will be used to embarrass the hell out of him in 10 years or so.

It was actually more than a birthday....it was kind of one of those white-knuckled "facing your fears things". And I think I passed, with flying colors. There was only one moment where I felt a little shaky, but I managed it. Thank goodness.

Does anyone else have a "Worst Ever" Infertility moment?

Because, oh yes, I have one. And it is a doozy. It totally stands alone. And it happens to coincide nicely with the baby shower of the now-two-year-old.

In other news, I am going to abandon my "cookie crutch" and start trying to eat more healthfully.

This may or may not have something to do with the fact that my face appears to be inflating to epic proportions. I prefer to remain inscrutable.

The Legend of the Fount of Fertility

2007-09-02T14:22:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time (about two weeks ago) a childless woman in her early thirties started a new part-time job.

In *gasp* RETAIL.

Sadly, this employment did not pay well, but it offered a great employee discount, and cute clothes. Also, it was close to my her house.

Everyone felt that this was a great idea, including the woman's husband, who felt that she needed to be "kept busy", and her mother, who was heard to make the comment, "You need some distraction so you stop dwelling on ...you know...THINGS so much!"

The woman, being a good daughter, did not bang the phone repeatedly against the wall and hang up.

And as it turns out, she was pretty good at selling new bras and jeans to women who desperately needed them, even when said items were not on sale. While her feet hurt, and she reluctantly had to trade in her leopard print peep-toe platform heels for leopard print ballet flats, she decided it was all worth it.

As it goes, when you are the new girl at work, people are hesitant around you for awhile. You know that they are getting used to you when they start dropping the occasional f-bomb and asking you about your pets.

Last night was that night, and ~~she~~ OH SCREW IT...I was asked the dreaded, "So do you have kids?"

I said something along the lines of, "No, not yet...hopefully soon."

They laughed and said, "Have you been drinking out of the water fountain?"

Um, yeah, I have been drinking out of the water fountain. My throat gets very dry trying to explain to women why they will look better if they would just hike their boobs up off their mid-sections.

"Of course, I drink out of the water fountain!" (Shit! Is it contaminated with heavy metals or something?)

"Well, then you'll probably be next. Five girls who were working here in the last year have gotten pregnant. We think it's the water."

Hello, nurse!

Seriously, I am considering taking water bottles in there with me tonight. Screw the Gonal-F. I'm going to get knocked up by drinking out of the water fountain.

Just think of the money I'll save!

Anyway, I returned to reality, and both of the girls I had been talking to were looking at me in that way where you know they think you're just a liiiiiiiiittle insane. Oops.

They may not be far wrong. I'm not kidding. I am going to be drinking that stuff like a camel.

Sorry I haven't been around. I have been on my busy 20 hour-a-day progesterone-induced sleep schedule. I occasionally wake up to eat cookies, and then I pass out again. If I'm not moving, I fall asleep; it's like I'm narcoleptic. I was ok last week, but this week has been ridiculous.

My body has also been changing shape on a daily basis. I have stopped weighing myself- because it is torture. As long as my jeans still fit, everything is cool. I just have to shake the feeling that I am slowly turning into an amoeba.

The Man: Hey! Your waist is back today!

Me: I know! I threw a welcome back party for it.

The Man: Wooohooo!

Me: By the way, you might want to take a picture of it. It's not going to be around for long- the party involved cookies.

The Man: I think we can consider that collateral damage.

Me: Cool.

By the way, please pray (or chant, or burn sage...I'm totally not picky) for me. I am going to a 2-year-old's birthday party tomorrow, at the behest of a single friend.

She begged, because she will be the only adult there who doesn't have a child or belong to Mommy-and-Me. Also, the mother of the two-year-old is prego, and isn't particularly thrilled about it.

I know it sounds like a recipe for disaster. However, this friend went with me to my sister's Nightmare San Francisco Pretentious Lawyer Drunk-Ass Disco Debacle 30th birthday party.

(Doesn't it sound like fun? Don't you wish you were there? As soon as sis was too drunk to notice, we snuck off to 80's flashback goth night, where we had a lot more fun).

Suffice it to say, I owe her big time, so I am going.

I bought a Little People Fire Engine and the expansion People Pack, featuring Fireman Jose (who has a highly entertaining handlebar moustache) and his Trusty Dalmatian, Freckles.

There had damn well better be cupcakes.

Layin' blame.

2007-08-28T12:37:00.000-07:00

We infertiles, we are a powerful people.

It takes a lot of mental fortitude and physical self-control to get us through every single day. Birth announcements, newborns, intrusive questions, and anonymous pregnant bellies loom like icebergs on our horizon. Add to that the bloating, hormonal overload, and anxiety about whatever treatments we are doing, and well.....it's amazing. We are seriously tough cookies.

The first IUI cycle I had...I was so convinced it was going to work. When it didn't, I grieved for almost a week. A well-meaning friend finally coaxed me out of the house and out to a restaurant. When I got out of my car, the first thing I saw was a couple- the woman was about 7 months along, holding the hand of a toddler, while her husband carried another baby.

They sat next to us at lunch.

It's hard not to think that the whole world is against you.

It takes awhile to develop survival skills. To not be visibly upset when your best friend gets pregnant and doesn't tell you until she begins to show. Because she doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

You learn to avoid movies like "Knocked Up". You shop for baby shower gifts online, because the sheer presence of the tiny socks and mobiles on the baby aisles at Target is more than you can take.

I am guilty of most of these. In fact, when a long-lost friend contacted me, I pulled the pink polka-dotted missive from my mailbox and stuck it in a drawer. I was certain that it was a birth announcement- "It's a Girl!!!"

As it turns out, when I finally had the guts to open it, it was a note saying that she was getting a divorce, and was moving back to town. Oops.

The suspicion, superstition, resentment, and straight-up jealousy that go along with being in this situation are freakish, unpredictable, and hard to deal with. The desire to be a parent is so overwhelming. Then when your head clears, you try to atone, either to yourself or the universe, for the poisonous thoughts inside your head.

That's the worst part. I blame myself. I blame myself for having some nameless thing wrong with me, for possibly depriving my husband for the chance to have children, for being weird and cranky and devoid of energy, for causing us to blow our budget every month.

I think back to some of the stupid things I have done in my life. Maybe it's some kind of karmic payback? Is it because I stopped going to church? Maybe it's my diet, or that I am overweight.
Maybe I would be a crappy parent. Maybe I am doing penance for something.

I desperately want a reason. And the truth is, there is no reason. There's nothing to blame it on, I am doing everything I can to rectify the situation, but still, there is that feeling.

It just is.

I know it's not just me who feels this way. One of my dearest friends had multiple miscarriages, and she was convinced that they were caused by her love of Diet Coke. (The fact that she is Mormon might have something to do with it.)

When she finally confessed her theory to me, I blurted out, "Sweetie...crack whores have babies every day!"

I need to remember to say that to myself.

Your Honor, I plead my uterus.

2007-08-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

I had jury duty today.

Booooo! Hiss!

I have gone in to perform my civic duty exactly once, mainly because when you're in college and living in apartments, your address changes quite a bit. Buy now those roots I have put down are enabling THEM to find me.

Anyway, the last time I went in was a year ago. Everyone said, "Oh, they won't pick you".

I ended up being Juror Number One. %&$#!

So we are all waiting in the jury room like a herd of cattle, and our official minder mentions that one of the trials is expected to go for 15 court days.

Maybe I should blame it on the progesterone, but somehow that went through my head and came out as "Oh! Two weeks!" I did the math and said to myself, "Well, this will while away the 2ww for me, give me something else to think about."

It wasn't until I actually got called to go into the court room that I realized, "Wait- 15 court days is THREE weeks. OMFG! What if they pick me?!(*If I'm not pregnant)I am going to miss the next cycle and it will be the END OF THE WORLD!!!!"

Then the judge started talking, and mentioned that there are holidays, such as Rosh Hashanah and Labor Day when the court isn't in session, and with this and that or the other, we're looking at a month.

I managed to keep from hyper-ventilating. People raising their hands to claim hardship right and left. Saying things like, "I am self employed, so a month on 15 bucks a day would constitute financial hardship for me." Or "Well, I have a weak bladder," as well as incredibly fraudulent things along the lines of,"My liver fell out last week, and I am holding it in place with Velcro and chewing gum."

There was no way I was comfortable announcing to the room at large that I needed to have an open schedule in order to take drugs and have ultrasounds in order to eventually be artificially inseminated. (*maybe)

They finally got to me and I said I that the length of the trial would interfere with my "Cyclical medical treatment, and the doctor's appointments associated with it." When the judge asked, I just said that no, they could not be rescheduled.

All of this is true, but I feel a little guilty about it, although I am assuming they all think I am dealing with some obscure form of female trouble.

Or that I am a werewolf.

In any case, it worked. I got released to go back into the jury pool, and at the end of the day, there were only three of us left in the room, and they released us back into the wild.

* The Maybe's and the If's? Did not even occur to me at the time. It's like the next cycle is written in stone inside my pointy little head- uh-oh.

So THAT'S why I married him.

2007-08-24T12:46:00.000-07:00

We overslept this morning, and while I called the RE's office, The Man threw himself into the shower, then locked himself in the office with his laptop.

I performed the important task of keeping things incubated while he hopped around looking for a clean pair of boxers and made other preparations for the drive across town.

When I went in (alone- I'll explain) the nurses were positively beaming. BEAMING. I found out why when the RN came in with the syringe.

"Tell him he did a fantastic job...again!"

I suspect that this is a big part of the reason The Man doesn't particularly enjoy coming along for the IUI's.

He is evidently some kind of sperm-creating prodigy, but he's also very shy....and the nurses have been known to stop him in the hallway and congratulate him on his plethora of little swimmers, which really freaks him out.

I can't really blame him, because the way they talk about him in there, I get the idea that they might kidnap him and chain him to the radiator along with a supply of porn and sample vials.

"I'll let him know."

"100 million! 95 % motility!" She beams at me. "It's always such a pleasant experience to wash your sample. You're getting-" (she motions at the loaded syringe) 30 million, 100% motility."

Holy crap. The idea of getting injected with 30 million of anything is...a little daunting.

Also, the fact that his numbers are so good leads to my brain working overtime, trying to figure out just what the hell is wrong with ME. Let's face it. 100 million sperm can't be wrong!

Splayed out with my feet in the stirrups, it occurs to me that every time we have sex, it's like committing a mass genocide.

Shut up, brain, shut up!

Ahem.

Anyway, the IUI went off without incident. I came home and informed The Man about his counts for the day. And he said, without missing a beat:

"Yeah, there's 100 million of them. But they're all stupid."

Yeah, I love him.

Romance is in the air!

2007-08-23T12:42:00.000-07:00

Ah, the conversations that go along with infertility.

As a couple, I am sure they bring us closer. To an outsider, I am sure we sound insane.

The Man: Is tonight ok?

Me: I don't know, they say two days. But it's been two days already.

The Man: So, four days. But they say not more than 5 days?

Me: Uh huh.

The Man: By the way, I took my vitamins. And I took a shower. Amd brushed my teeth.

Me: Really? I am so hot for you right now.

The Man: Seriously?!!!

Me: Well, no, but I think it can be arranged.

The Man: I should get something for taking the vitamins, at least. I hate them.

Me: After jabbing myself in the abdomen with needles, taking my vitamins and a baby aspirin every day, and preparing myself to go though the progesterone coma again....I really don't feel sorry for you.

The Man: So, is it like two days, or 48 hours?

Me: My clinic says two days. Which knowing them, could mean anything. I vote for two days. Which technically, it's two days. It's still Wednesday.

The Man: Good enough for me. Prepare to throw caution to the wind!

Follicle Follies

2007-08-22T13:25:00.000-07:00

I did manage to make it to the lab this morning without incident (on one hour of sleep.)

The ultrasound was scheduled at 11:15, and I was at the office at 11, wearing my most expansive pair of Hanes For Her cotton Gramma panties. At my RE's office, they are all about the lube. They like to pile it up in the receptacle like it's a soft-serv ice cream dispenser. I am beginning to think that they all moonlight at TCBY.

I did get my favorite ultrasound tech. She's very bubbly and we have a similar sense of style. She always comments on my pedicure, which I suppose is one of the most acceptable things you can comment on, seeing as she is up close and personal with my nether regions under a flimsy paper tablecloth.

So, the competency of Righty was greatly exaggerated. It took awhile to even find the little chickenshit, which is literally hiding behind my uterus as we speak, having given up the ghost sometime between Monday and today. Those follicles which were measuring at 12 and 14 are now a sad 10 and a 5. OK, Righty, you get points for at least making an effort this cycle. I was afraid that you had run off and joined the circus.

Lefty did come through for me, though- I have a 16.5 and a big fat 19! I'm totally sending the fruit basket.

Once again, must think positive. So I trigger tonight, as planned, and the IUI is scheduled for Friday AM.

I am exhausted, and feeling distinctly un-witty...so I think I am going to go crawl under a rock and snooze for awhile. Right after I devour a metric ton of peach cobbler.

The Power Of Positive Thinking

2007-08-22T01:01:00.000-07:00

"Positive", get it?

Yeah, I know I am lame. Once again, I am awake at 1 AM, and we all know what that means....blood draw and ultrasound this morning.

I have looked up the location in Google Maps AND Mapquest. I have laid out my clothing. I have stocked my purse with Target Brand Hoo-Ha Wipes. It doesn't get any more prepared than this.

Yes, I was a Girl Scout.

Hmmm....if there was an infertility merit badge, what would it have on it? A syringe? A stork? A petri dish? A straitjacket?

Perhaps a maniacally grinning sperm carrying a rose in its teeth?

So, I am trying to do the follicular math. Meds were about $1000 this cycle, so that means we paid about $250 per follicle, not counting the cost of three ultrasounds and the IUI.

I know, I know. This way lies madness.

After doing some reading, I feel a lot better about my four follicles and their measurements. As far as I can tell, average growth is 2mm per day, which will (theoretically)put me smack in the 17-18 mm category for all but one come tomorrow.

I mentioned in the previous post that my Right (Prodigal) Ovary was identified as being "heavy" during the last ultrasound. So heavy that it has actually dropped into the place in my pelvic region where it is technically supposed to be. (Where does it normally hang out? My esophagus?) Maybe my threats to send it to the glue factory are working! Left, AKA "Ol' Faithful", is still going strong, and my uterus is "right on target." All great news.

So, continuing in the positive thinking vein, hopefully they'll do the ultrasound and see the uterine equivalent of the HOT NOW neon doughnut sign, so we should trigger tomorrow, and the IUI would be Friday...which would be ideal, because The Man has the day off, so he would actually be able to be in the room with me during the procedure.

Fingers crossed.

That ache in your throat

2007-08-20T10:44:00.000-07:00

You guys all know that feeling right? Your face gets hot, and your throat does that hurty thing, and your eyes water, and you can feel that vein in your eyebrow throbbing like an angry, angry tribal drum. Sometimes it culminates in the tear explosion.

I experienced all of these this morning. In addition, I wanted to punch someone. Perhaps several someones. Please allow me to explain!

Frustration, she is a beeyotch.

I woke up this morning, threw on my clothes, and headed to Quest Diagnostics. There are at least five of them right by my house, but I was told to go to the First & Shields location, and get my blood drawn NO LATER THAN 7:30. Yes, in the morning. Sadistic bastards. There was no explanation for the timing or the location. I figured that maybe the timing was some carefully orchestrated chemical thing, and the location would be the only one open at that ungodly hour.

For those of you who don't live in Fresno, First and Shields is a pretty major intersection. Two strip malls, adjacent to each other. As a veteran of many Quest Lab visits, I assumed the lab would be in one of them.

I was wrong. I circled and circled like a hungry shark, then finally called 411. They had two addresses for me, and neither was the prescribed location. I called them anyway, and got the eternally ringing phone.

I looked again at my instructions. No phone number for the lab, no address, just FIRST/SHIELDS scrawled under DRINK WATER/LIMIT SALT.

I looked at the clock. 7:15.

Shit.

I called the doctor's office, and got forwarded to their exchange. I listened to the "Thank you for your patience" shpiel several times before I lost patience. I looked at the lab slip and called the Quest headquarters in Sacramento. I pressed "1" for "patient care" and it basically said, "We don't give out results over the phone! Thank You for calling! Have a Super Day!" *click*

Now it's 7:20. I know because I looked up after wedging my head between my knees and screaming profanities loud enough to startle the seagulls in the Food For Less parking lot.

I called the clinic again, was put on hold for the exchange, and got Barbara, who is an angel disguised as a mere mortal walking the earth. The woman heard the impending tears and sprang into action.

Barbara tried desperately to reach my doctor's office, to no avail. She finally checked the phone book, verified that there is no Quest Diagnostics listed on First or Shields, but mentioned that she found a location which had opened at 7AM, and was 5 minutes from my house. (But 15 from where I was now.)

At this point, it's 7:35, and I would have cheerfully walked up to a box in an alley staffed entirely by feral cats in order to allow them to claw my blood out of my arm. I thanked Barbara profusely, threw my phone across the car, and threw myself on the mercy of the nice ladies at the lab. They got me in and out of there in 5 minutes. No claws.
(Love. Them.)

Then I went into my ultrasound at 9:45 and explained, and they looked at me like I was a moron.

"It's right behind the Target! They are the only location that has the means to read the sample ASAP!"

I said (rather tartly) that if they hadn't seen fit to supply me with that info, how could I be expected to know which directive was more important? Time, or location?

In any case, it doesn't matter. My ovaries evidently do weigh about 8 lbs each (Righty is SINKING due to the extra weight, which is a little daunting) But he came through for me on this cycle...sort of. Two follicles on each side, 13 & 14 mm on the left, 12 and 13mm on the right.

I have to order another freaking pen of Gonal-F though. And do a new blood draw and ultrasound on Wednesday.

I have concrete plans...so why am I feeling so disappointed? Maybe I just need to have a good cry. I am so frustrated with this doctor's office.

This time, they gave me a pre-printed sheet explaining that it's actually 7:30 AM or at least two hours before your appointment. Oh, and it has an actual address and contact info for the lab. Why the hell didn't I get this last time?

At least I am not taking Clomid, so I know that I am not the insane person in this scenario.

So anyway, thanks for making it this far, and if you get a spare minute please send some happy "Miracle-Gro" type thoughts in the direction of our 4 follicles. And to my mother'ssmoking credit card (5 pens of Gonal-F! Aiiiigh!)

Edited to add: Here (because I CANNOT let it go) is the First/Shields Map:

View Larger Map

And here is the map for where the lab actually is:

View Larger Map

No wonder I couldn't freaking find it!

The only time MTV still plays actual music is 1AM

2007-08-20T00:51:00.000-07:00

Although, they're constantly interrupted by those stupid "Text WASH to blah blah blah, and we'll send you SEXY girls to SQUEEGEE your DIRTY cell phone!!!!!"

I must be getting old. The stuff on VH-1 is infinitely better. I better makes some notes on videos where it actually might be worth it to buy the CD.
Oh! For those of you who want a concert update, you can read about it here.

So, the reason I am awake at 1AM is infertility-related.

Although, what isn't infertility related? Are there actually people who don't plan their lives around pharmaceutical deliveries and ultrasounds and blood draws and intimate encounters with a modified turkey baster?

Really???

My blood draw has to be done before 7:30 this morning. For some reason, I have gotten myself all worked up about it, and I can't sleep.

This morning was the last Ghetto Gonal-F Syringe transfer, and it happily went by without incident. My sharps container is developing a sort of "Collect the whole set!!" ambience, what with the ghetto syringes, the Gonal-F needle tips, and the Ovidrel syringes from previous cycles.

Ok, I need to get the KT Tunstall and the Rooney CD's. However, I am going to pass on Spoon.

I am concerned about my next dance with Ovidrel. I am freaked out that I may actually have ovaries the size of grapefruits, and that the trigger shot will couse them to explode within me like two much-abused little time bombs.

Why is it that I never feel positive about anything when it's 1AM and I can't sleep?

Not a squirt gun.

2007-08-17T14:02:00.000-07:00

Today is day 5 of my Gonal-F injections, and the last day of my 225 IU dosage.

I ordered four 300 IU pens from the online pharmacy, which means today was "ghetto medication retrieval day."

It was going OK until, OF COURSE, I squeezed the plunger on the syringe just a wee bit too firmly when tapping out the air bubbles, and basically sent 50 bucks hurtling through the air to splatter against my bathroom mirror. Such was my horror that I immediately fumbled the syringe, and I somehow managed a spectacular mid-air grab without stabbing myself anywhere or contaminating the needle.

Infertility definitely gives you the opportunity to explore talents that you would otherwise never realized that you posessed.

I read about the "heavy ovaries" side effect of this medication, and as of today, I am experiencing it. I suppose the male equivalent is calling the bowling alley to ask the guy if he has eight pound balls. If I was a guy, I could say, "Actually, they're both weighing in at about ten right now. Thank you for your concern."

Eight pound ovaries? Not as funny. Madame Ovary still is good for a giggle, but hey, it's been done.

Anyway, I am amusing myself by picturing Lefty and Righty as Easter baskets full of eggs right now. Husbandly commentary: "If anyone has brightly colored sparkly eggs, sweetheart, it would be you." Thanks sweetie!

D-Day for bloodwork and my second ultrasound is Monday the 20th, so I'll know in a few days (ohmigod, on Monday!) if this is anywhere near accurate.

How are you all doing? It's the weekend!

My concert buddy and I are planning a jaunt this December to see Social Distortion at the House Of Blues in Anaheim- The fact that we could go to Disneyland is just a bonus. We make this trek every year or so to celebrate our joint birthdays. So it will be a good time, even if I may not be able to swing the Tower Of Terror.

I am going to a show tonight (with the same concert buddy, natch) and it should be a blast. We're pretty much all about The Pretenders and The Stray Cats (ZZ Top...kinda meh.)

Anyone else have fun stuff planned?

We are now approaching 98% normalcy

2007-08-16T17:31:00.000-07:00

The worst part of taking Clomid wasn't that it made me nuts. It was that underneath it all, there was a rational part of my mind monitoring every crazy moment and cataloguing it, then triggering a tiny little voice which just said, "You're being psycho....you're being psycho...."over and over again. And being unable to control my reactions or emotions, regardless of what my rational voice said.

It was a truly horrible feeling. Like the rational part of you is locked up in a tiny little cage, surrounded by your hormones, which are surrounding it and jeering and poking it with pointy sticks.

Which is why this cycle has been such a pleasant surprise so far. I finally feel like I am off the crazy train. After three months of manic-depressive weepiness, this is like being on vacation. Of course, the Clomid was covered by insurance. Of course, the fact that I have finally returned to normal is making me wonder if the drugs are working. However, I am feeling distinct twinges from good ol' Lefty, and it may not be time to send Righty to the glue factory yet...there's a distant pinging that bodes well.

Let's see:

Clomid: Pros- free, and you can just take a pill. Cons: hot flashes, random weeping, and screaming one-sided arguments about the way my husband folds underwear.

vs.

Gonal-F: Cons: $1000 a month and lack of psychotic side effects makes me wonder if it's working. Potential for track marks on my tummy. Pros: getting to keep my sanity.

Tough call.

I went out with the girls last night, and we had a blast and didn't discuss the current fertility situation with me. I even got hit on a couple of times. I totally needed that! Going through all this medical treatment sort of makes me feel like a lab experiment. Like I am ovulation robot or an under performing baby factory. I have been feeling puffy and unattractive, so the ego boost was a nice bonus.

It was actually kind of a nice reminder that I can leave the house and focus on other things besides my current cycle. I actually lived dangerously and had a couple of drinks!

I haven't felt this good in a long time. Hopefully,I can ditch Moaning Myrtle by the wayside, at least for a couple of weeks.

By the way readers, thanks for all your well-wishes, commiserations, and advice. I am so new to this, and so clueless in a lot of ways (although, I am learning fast!) and I greatly appreciate all of your input.

Borderline (Come on! Sing Along!)

2007-08-13T17:03:00.000-07:00

Feels like I'm goooooing to loooose my miiiiind!

Before I go into all that, welcome to all of the Stirrup Queens (and SPJ's) who found me via the Lost and Found Page. It's great to start a new blog and see actual traffic, and I am pleased to have finally bitten the bullet and joined the online infertility community and been made to feel so welcome so quickly. You guys rock.

I met with Mom for lunch today, and she seems to have assimilated the conversation of last night. I do count myself as being incredibly lucky- she and Dad are offering to subsidize my drug costs. Never underestimate the determination of Armenians who want to be grandparents.

Well, plus they probably don't want another Christmas Day when my aunt in Chicago calls to announce that my cousin is going to make her a grandmother for the fourth time, isn't it amazing! I'm a fourth time grandma! And your Dad doesn't have any grandkinds yet, and he just turned 59! You guys better get crackin'! I ended up choking back tears over the post-dinner Scrabble fiasco.

In my defense, it was exacerbated by the fact that my freshly married brother bought his new bride an SUV with third row seating, and I added one and one and made three, and then panic set in. I'm not the only one whose done this. Right? Right?

It turned out that no, they're not pregnant, they're just yuppies. (Actually, they want the room for their Jack Russell Terriers. Go know.)

So. Ultrasound. Otherwise known Chez Jenna as "My date with the all-seeing dildo."

Yes, I am that classy.

Evidently, my ovaries are happy little sacks of sunshine and rainbows. No cysts. They found Righty with a minimum of problems, so perhaps he has made up his mind to actually do some work this cycle, as opposed to resting on his laurels. Whatever the ovarian equivalent of laurels might be. Lefty (AKA Ol' Faithful) was as usual present and accounted for. When I finish this whole thing, I think I want to send him movie tickets and a gift certificate to Chili's.

As for my uterine disco lounge, it is open for business.

The ultrasound lady also told me the inspirational story of a woman with the same stats as me- three cycles with Clomid, luteal phase defect, got pregnant on her first cycle of Gonal-F.

So, everything was par for the course. I put my clothes on, went into room 5 (which whould have my name on the door, I feel like I live in there.)

I am going to be doing 225 IU for the first 5 days, 150 IU for two days after that, then bloodwork and ultrasound, then another IUI, followed by progesterone suppositories from hell.
(I had to call Freedom Pharmacy to order another 300 IU pen to make up my full dosage.) They showed me how to prime the Gonal-F pens, and the ghetto method of siphoning out the extra meds with a spare syringe. I was feeling pretty good, until I started to ask questions.

I waited until I had mastered the Gonal-F pen, and then made a squinchy face and said,

"So, what do we know, exactly? My husband and I are both basically fine, right?"

"Right."

"Except for the luteal phase thing."

"Right."

"Ok, so there's no way of testing if my eggs can actually be fertilized until an IVF procedure, right? Are we just going by the fact that I am under 35, as far as egg quality goes?

"Well, your FSH is borderline, so...."

Hold the phone. Because nobody has ever mentioned that any of my levels were anything but stellar, so this came as kind of a shock to me.

"What exactly do we mean by borderline?"

"We ideally want something under 8. You're just above, at 8.4. It's not a big deal. We just usually pursue more aggressive treatment if the FSH is up above the 9 range."

So, have they been wasting my time with the whole Clomid thing? Because that's how I feel. I am PISSED. Super pissed. Because if I had known all of this, I would have started injectables three freaking months ago.

I think I am going to look into my other options. I am not necessarily attached to Dr. Combover, and while I like his office staff, if we are going to be shelling out thousands of dollars out-of-pocket, we better get results.

According to my OB-Gyn (whom I love) this clinic is the best game in town. However, going out of town is an option. Luckily, we're three hours away from both L.A. and San Francisco, so if it gets to the point of IVF, I have a feeling we are going to go with another clinic...and realistically, I am going to have to get my name in there pretty soon if I want to stick to our timetable. I need to look at success percentages and see how the clincs statewide measure up.

Ok. Off to go prime my pen!

Edited to add: Ok, what was I worried about? After Ovidrel, this stuff is cake!

Fragile

2007-08-12T22:51:00.000-07:00

Three couples of our acquaintance are expecting right now.

They're all at the 4-5 months mark. Two of them openly admit that it was an accident. The third is a first child, and the couple is substantially younger than my husband (who is younger than me.) Normally I wouldn't enumerate that among things that bother me, but it transpires that everyone else knew about the pregnancies(including my husband) but were afraid to tell me.

God, I hate that. I would much rather know ahead of time so I can steel myself for the belly band and the aversion of alcohol and raw fish. It's really better than if I hop out of the car and am confronted with suddenly-six-months-pregnant lady.

One of the accidental pregnant couples has a ten year old and a five year old, and got pregnant while on the pill. The other couple has a two year old who was supposed to be an only child, but they evidently had a latex malfunction.

Sometimes, it's just really hard to have a sense of humor.

I had this conversation with my mom today:

"So how is this different than the Clomid?"

"Clomid is 8%. With the IUI, it's around 12%."

"Those aren't such good odds. How is this new medicine better?"

"The percentages increase to around 20-25%."

"That doesn't sound so hot."

"Those are pretty much the odds for people with regular fertility, actually." (Defensive tone? Yeah, that's me.)

"And they still don't know what the problem is?"

"No Mom. Except for the luteal phase thing. They can't figure it out. His counts are great, and my body is doing everything it's supposed to do, as far as we can tell."

"Why don't you just move on to the thing with the petri dish?"

"IVF is really expensive, and insurance doesn't cover any of it. We don't want to go there until we have to."

"So how long are you going to do this new thing? How expensive is IVF? Can they do more tests? Do you want me to go with you to your appointment tomorrow?"

It went like that....on, and on, and on. I know it's because she cares. But for some reason, all the informed decisions we made regarding treatment now seem completely ridiculous, and I am wallowing in massive swamps of self-doubt.

All Hail the Mylar Envelope

2007-08-11T11:24:00.000-07:00

Aaaaaaand, my drugs have arrived!

I exhaustively read the enclosed information, and I am feeling a lot more confident about the shots, mainly because I can just inject myself in the stomach, like with the Ovidrel. Hallelujah!

Not to mention, I have been researching online, and it looks like I may no longer be insane, now that I have bid farewell to Clomid. The most common cited issues were "heavy feeling in ovaries" and ....wait for it..."tiredness". Uh oh. Maybe that will react with the tiredness from the progesterone and make me super-energetic?

Why are you laughing? It could happen.

So I may be comatose, but at least I won't be sobbing uncontrollably at pictues of baby penguins or dog food commercials.

Freedom!

2007-08-10T22:45:00.000-07:00

Well, it's Freedom Fertility Pharmacy for the win!

My Gonal-F (GonalF? Gonal F? Gonal Eff? Whatever) will be arriving tomorrow along with my Ovidrel shot...presumably chilling in its usual mylar envelope.

In the meantime, I called the FC about it being Day One and all. Because they wanted a "day three" ultrasound. A nurse was supposed to call me back. I waited until 1PM, then stupidly called back and got shunted into Dr.'s Office Phone Exchange Limbo, where they told me to call back at two.

Called back at two. "We'll have a nurse call you!"

OK. You want a day three ultra sound. Today is Day One. It's now 2PM. You're open until 4PM. I am doing the math, and something does not compute. Maybe I am stupid, but by Day Three ultrasound, I was under the impression that it was supposed to be done on day 1, 2, or 3?

After some more thinking, I realized that I would need to get my meds ordered ASAP, and due to the weekend, if they didn't get ordered by 5, we would probably have to skip the cycle.

I started semi-panicking. I finally called back at 3:50 PM and got...the exchange.

$@#&!!!!

I actually used the exchange to leave a message this time. The RN called me back a little after 4, set up an appointment for Monday, said she'd call Freedom Pharmacy, and to her credit, I had my order placed and ready to ship out for Saturday delivery by 5PM.
Thank Heaven for small favors.

And for the record, Freedom Pharmacy is awesome.

Now I am just sort of dreading my nightly shots. The Man informs me that he is comfortable with giving them to me, since military training evidently covers giving shots. Also, my practical side says that he would probably appreciate being a little more involved in what's going on with us than his usual 7:30 AM scramble to make "the deposit" into a vial.

The irrational side of me is somewhat preoccupied with my lily white skin, and that scene in Pulp Fiction where John Travolta is administering the shot of adrenaline after Uma overdoses.

I've slated this week for getting caught up on laundry and pulling the house out of chaos, in preparation for my inevitable decline once the progesterone coma falls back upon me. I am at least enjoying being able to work outside and lift heavy objects without the niggling fear in the back of my mind that I may be screwing things up.

Well...

2007-08-09T07:50:00.001-07:00

We're officially entering the world of injectables. Part of me is a little upset that I am not more upset about not getting pregnant this month. Is that weird?

The test yesterday morning seemed ridiculously anti-climactic. I called the clinic to report my negative.

They told me to discontinue my progesterone (Yes! Yes!) and call back on Day One.

So I went out and had sushi and an alcoholic beverage. Because hey, that is my silver lining. Well, that and not having to load up the progesterone suppositories every night.

I questioned the RN over the phone re: dollar amounts, because of course, our insurance doesn't cover injectables.

Evidently we have two choices- one online pharmacy offers a discount price each month, and the other has a "buy two months, get one free" plan.

I forced myself not to say, "So...one plan for the optimist, one for the pessimist!" because these people already think I am a little nuts.

Possibly because last time, when they were explaining about my endometrial lining, I interrupted them to say, "So basically, it's like a happy little waterbed in there."

You know, as opposed to the Gobi Desert. Or the Louvre.

And now I am picturing my interior regions furnished with a round red velvet bed, a white sheepskin rug, a leopard chaise longue, and a disco ball. And also a really large stereo system. Because hey, my uterus likes to party like it's 1979.

Oh, and when they gave me my last ultrasound, and found that my left ovary had three follicles and the right NONE for the second month in a row, the ultrasound tech may have heard me accuse my right ovary of "not earning its keep". I also may have threatened to have it evicted, although I did not verbalize the "It's my body, and I make the rules" lecture that was brewing inside my head.

Oh God, they must think I'm insane.

So now I am agonizing over which plan to choose. The Man just wanted dollar amounts, and he was obviously not helping, so I called my best friend for her take on things.

"Well, here's what I think. If you go with the 'buy two months get one free' plan...."

"Yes?" I prompted.

"Well, you would probably get pregnant on the first cycle. I think you should go with that one."

Yes, this is why she is my friend. She just gets me.

Ok, I am now officially up and around. I have a huge to-do list, and since I seem to have finally trancended my progesterone coma, I have to get to the gym and work off the results of a month of obsessive ice cream and chocolate consumption.

Keep on keepin' on

2007-08-08T02:00:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow (well, technically today) is pregnancy test day.

I know I haven't been around..things have been better this cycle with regards to my emtional stability, but that may be because I seem to be asleep 90% of the time.

Seriously. It's like I have progesterone-induced narcolepsy. I will sit down to watch TV and read a book, and that's all she wrote. The Man keeps discovering me curled up in what he calls my "nests" throughout the house.

So if you have been wondering, that's where I have been. Sleeping. And eating ice cream.

I wish I could say I have high hopes for this cycle, but last month's emotional smackdown is evidently still in effect. I haven't even googled "early pregnancy symptoms" yet.

Plus, I don't "feel pregnant", not that I know what pregnant feels like.

I just have that feeling that my period is going to start, and I am dreading it, mainly because last month's was absolutely horrific, to the point that I was hyper-ventilating in the bathroom, because I seriously thought I was having a miscarriage.

I asked the RN at the RE's office about it, and she basically said it was thanks to my three follicles. Maybe I should be happy that my left ovary does all the work every cycle, and my right ovary is just phoning it in?

Huh. Alright...test tomorrow! Here's hoping that I flunk with flying colors (preferably double pink lines.)

I Got You, Babe.

2007-07-27T21:07:00.000-07:00

Happy Anniversary, my love. I cannot put into words how much it means to me that we have made it this far. If we have to go through this mess, I am glad we are in it together. You have been endlessly patient, upbeat, and tolerant through it all, and hopefully it will all pay off in the end.

But if it doesn't, we're definitely taking that big trip to Europe.

Love,

J

Today is it...the big number five!

The Man and I were lying in bed together this morning, and ended up spending most of the early afternoon holed up together- still in the bed, lounging and talking.

The general concensus was that it has been a good five years, and that on the whole, we're two very lucky people. Lucky to have found each other, lucky to have supportive families and wonderful friends, and a nice house.

Unfortunately, somehow counting my blessings made me think of the one thing that we don't have. I started to tear up, and The Man immediately and wordlessly held out his arms and wrapped them around me. I managed to keep my cool, and somehow pulled back from the brink.

I feel incredibly selfish. Why do I have to remind myself that five wonderful years with the love of my life should be enough? And while we both want children more than anything, would we have been able to sleep in and spend the day together and sort of drift through the afternoon if we had kids? Probably not. Would we be able to pick up and go away for the weekend at a moment's notice? Definitely not. Evenings out at nice restaurants would be forsaken, unless we could scrounge a sitter.

We went out tonight for a lovely celebratory evening, where I ate a positively ridiculous amount of food (although we skipped both lunch and dinner in favor of staying in bed today) and had creme brulee for dessert. No alcohol though, because hey, hope springs eternal.

Expect the Unexpected

2007-07-26T00:31:00.000-07:00

So, we've been diagnosed with unexplained infertility.

July 27th will be the anniversary of the day The Man and I got married...nearly five years ago.
At the end of November, he was deployed to the Middle East. Before he came home the next May, he asked me not to go to the doctor to get my pill prescription refilled.

He was readyfor kids, and I wasn't quite there yet. But he came home, we had lots of unprotected sex, and we bought a house with three bedrooms and a big yard and access to the best schools in town.

When a year had passed and there was no sign of children, I went to the doctor. He checked things out, said everything was in working order. I read books. I charted. I took blood tests. Of course, if you are reading this, you probably know the drill. At this point, they like to check your husband, so the Man got checked. Outwardly at least, we were both supposed to be in stellar health and should have been a shoo-in at baby-making. It was baffling.

Another year went by. I graduated from lying in bed with my hips elevated to trying Clomid, Clomid with Metformin, and peeing on ovulation predictor sticks. A tenative diagnosis of PCOS came up empty. I was disgustingly healthy. My period was never even one day late. My doctor sent me to get an HSG to check to see if my tubes were blocked.

As it turns out, the procedure showed a blockage in my right tube. My wonderful OB/Gyn sent me to a fertility specialist (who has the bedside manner of a dead flounder) to get laprascopic surgery to open things up.

I didn't find out until three weeks later, at my post-op checkup, that the tube was actually open the whole time, and the surgery was unnecessary. Having seen this surgery as something that might solve our problems with starting a family, I was stunned, and crushed.

The specialist had dropped that bombshell, and I guess he wanted a "Plan B" right there and then. He started throwing around percentages and likelihoods and dollar amounts, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been cornered by a used car salesman.

It left a really bad taste in my mouth, and took a few more months to come around, and decide that we needed more medical intervention.

My third IUI was today. It was my last cycle with Clomid, and I am up and starting this blog because I can't sleep. I feel like I am being kicked in the left ovary. Repeatedly. By a cross-eyed mule.

Just like last month, I have three big fat follicles on the left side. Just like last month, I slipped into the stirrups and scooted down, and had to be coerced into splaying (I hate it. I hate the splaying) and the lady administering the syringe said, "Well, you're definitely ovulating!"

It made me feel like I have a vaginal version of the Krispy Kreme "HOT NOW" neon doughnut sign in there.

So between the Clomid, the ultrasound, the Ovidrel injection, the IUI procedure, and the prenatal vitamins, baby aspirins, and progesterone suppositores, I am feeling like a walking talking (screaming, crying, bubbling mess of crazy) lab experiment.

At least I know it's working. I can tell by the fact that the way my poor husband is trying to cook chicken is infuriating to me. The RN tells me that three follicles on my Clomid dosage is a big deal, that my husband's counts are amazing! Everything looks fantastic. It's going to be this month! Third time's the charm, she can feel it. I asked her about the next move, which drugs, and she just shook her head. "Focus on this cycle," she said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I am the type of person who's like, "What? There's a bridge? Is there a body of water or just a gaping chasm? What about a flesh-eating troll? Can I get a Mapquest printout?

Anyway. On the way out of the office, she wished me luck. So did the other RN, the lady who does my ultrasounds, the two bubbly check-in desk girls, and the lady who took my check for the procedure. It was sort of like that "Good Game!" handslapping thing that kids do at the end of a ball game, except more heartfelt.

I know, I need to be positive. But the thought of what last month was like when our hopes were dashed is making me reluctant to open myself up to it. I need to open myself up to possibilities! And if that means crying inconsolably in my bed for two days again, then so be it. I can't accept the good things in life when I am curled up like a frightened hedgehog, hiding my vulnerable middle from the world.

Right? Right?!!

2007-07-07T22:35:00.000-07:00