Out, damned egg! Out I say!

Peet's is Looking Better and Better

First it was Oprah and her general insensitivity to us infertiles. Yesterday it was Liana telling us about Amazon's adoption-unfriendly baby registry. Now it's coming at us when we're just trying to get caffeinated enough to face our days.

I was all set to write a post lambasting Starbucks and their poor choice for #208 in The Way I See It Marketing Ploy.

But Julie wrote a brilliant post so I'm just gonna link to hers. It's hilarious. If you haven't read it go read it now. Seriously.

What were those Starbucks suits thinking? Is there something in the air in Seattle these days?

So I'll be sticking to my lovely local Peet's for a bit.

~~~~~~
And now for a little housekeeping. The movie I quoted the other day (Do you concur?... Why didn't I concur?) was Catch Me if You Can starring the easy on the eyes Leo D.

The check the mister will be getting from his parents? I'm pretty sure I didn't use any adjectives because I was trying not to be about the money. But it won't be 'big' or 'substantial'. Hell, it won't come close to paying for our discount rental car when we go East much less  airfare or anything else.

Of course I'm relieved I won't have to see these lovely people in the next few weeks but I know the mister is a bit sad. Even sadder, he's used to being disappointed by his family and honestly will have a better time without them present.

Remember our chiro? We just found out two weeks ago that she was pregnant. Well, yesterday we got the awful news that she's suffered a loss. I'm gonna make her some brownies and just drop them off at her house.

The plot thickens...

Could our least favorite over-achiever be pregnant with twins again? Apparently she's been spending tons of money buying two of everything.

If she is it will make it a lot harder to brush off those ARTy rumors. Maybe she'll even come clean?

I think a more likely explanation is outfitting nurseries in multiple homes. Two changing tables? Two gliders? I can see two cribs but the others aren't making much sense.

I'm still trying to decide which is better, twins or singleton. Oh, wait. Either way it still sucks.

Soooooo Not What I Needed to Hear

I'm sure this is old news for most of you. I just couldn't let it go by without commenting. I'm wrapping up my long holiday and trying to make some plans to get a ride home from the airport on January 1 when what do I see on my (normally nice) Yahoo Entertainment News?

The 'over-achiever' is at it again. Yup, this is just the way I wanted to end my year. Lapped by an over-achiever. Guess that corny NY clinic really is that good. Anyone else wondering fresh or frozen? Or is it just me?

Still trying to be good here

I knew y'all would get it. You'd understand why that ambush was so hurtful. Why she should know better. I do tend to Bonnie's point of view and I hope we can be friends again one day. Just not too soon, for my own mental health.

I realized my last post did a fairly good job of setting up the situation. And I adequately expressed my hurt and dismay. However,I left out the anger part. 

I talked to another member of our little group today. She's the only one so far to respond to the evite. She reminded the mom-to-be-again that the brunch in on her daughter's first birthday.

I know I should just ignore the evite. Or choose "NO" without saying anything. It's a bit sickening to look at the responses that are currently there. I think it's high time for a little reality.

Miss Millie regrets that she can not attend your lovely brunch because she will be too busy packing for her glorious trip to Thailand, which is only possible because she's still barren. She will raise a glass to your second daughter and she hopes you will toast her recently departed fallopian tube  and  remember had she not the worst luck in the word, she would be giving birth a few days hence.

Ah, wouldn't it be fun to see that along with the smarmy replies?

Next up: Taking Thalia's cookbook challenge and talking about the conference. For reals.

Fool me once...you know the rest

This is the post I haven't wanted to write for a few months now. I realized it's been eating away at me and I want to get it off my chest so that I can move forward. It's about the (hopefully temporary) loss of a friendship.

There are few people in real life that I've told about this blog. Most are friends who've also dealt with or are dealing with infertility. I want to keep this a place where I can write about whatever it is that I need to, and not worry about the repercussions. I didn't want to feel the need to watch what I said or worry about who might be reading. That's one of the reasons that I don't use my real name. I'm sure if someone is motivated and intelligent and really wanted to find this blog, it wouldn't be difficult. I wrote a fairytale a while back for someone I know read this blog occasionally. I had foolishly told my friend he couldn't find my blog, knowing full well he could if he wanted. And I didn't want him to feel bad. I gave him full permission to read it but he hadn't been back (until late last week when I sent him the link above). As I've written before, the mister and I were in a RESOLVE support group and really close to the other group members. I only told one of them about the blog. I suppose I need a nickname for her, I think I'll call her The Shopper. She read it for a while but stopped many months past.

In some ways, she became one of my closest friends. I'm close to everyone in the group but she and I had a lot in common. We also had very similar schedules until I went back to work. We talked on the phone a lot. We got coffee, lunch, walked our dogs. She and her mister had us over to dinner repeatedly during our kitchen renovations. They also had the mister over a couple of times when I was in Cape Town by myself. They were among our biggest cheerleaders.

They'd experienced a lot of loss before we met them. Then they got lucky. They were the second couple in the group to have a successful pregnancy. She found out just before my cycle at Garden State, two years ago. We were thrilled for them. In fact, her baby shower is the last one I was able to attend.

Anyway, just as I was going back to work and dealing with ectopic #2, they started trying again. She would talk about it some but obviously it wasn't something I wanted to talk about. Well, maybe not so obvious because we'd talked about it so much before. And I was still trying. I found myself withdrawing from her a bit. It just hurt too much, ya know?

I talked to a couple of the other group members and they got it. These folks have always 'gotten' it from the first night we met.

The mister and I wanted to have The Shopper and her man over for dinner for a long time. The date that finally worked was the first Friday in June. The first Friday I was to work at my new job. No big deal, right?

Oh, wait. There was that whole "ectopic pregnancy ruptures even though I had an incredibly low beta on the first day of my new job." Remember that one? Well, I decided at the time that cooking a really nice dinner would be a great way for me to deal with some of what I was feeling. You know, in between crying jags and all. And that having a couple of good friends over would be a great comfort.

You know where this is going, right? Actually it's probably better than any of you can even imagine.

The Shopper shows up on time (not something she's known for). Her man was to follow a bit behind. She comes in the door and ambushes us. I swear. Worst. Ambush. Ever.

She had just POAS. After two freakin' months of trying, she was pregnant again. I'd had to listen to her horrible time trying to find a sitter for the RE and did I think it would be ok just once to take her toddler (HELL TO THE NO). She thought she was having an anovulatory cycle but figured she should rule out the obvious. Two freaking months.

She couldn't reach her husband to tell him. So she pulled out the stick to show it to us. The mister and I just looked at each other.

The mister had always said one of the only things he couldn't bear was to be lapped by someone in our support group. We'd accepted we were going to be the last to become parents. We'd given up the genetic link-the only ones in the group to do that. He just didn't want to be lapped. Was that really just too much to ask? Apparently it was.

By the time The Shopper's husband showed up, it was all the mister and I could do to serve dinner and drink wine. We drank a lot of wine.  A LOT. I was grateful for the vicodin that I mixed along with it. The Shopper suddenly developed food aversions. The Shopper's husband was completely clueless. Dinner was long and awkward. They finally left. I suppose she shared her good news in the car. I don't really know.

She realized right away that she'd been incredibly insensitive. I'm sure she hated herself for it. In fact, I know she did. She called the other group members to ask what she should do. They gave her hell. She wrote an email to me that I couldn't answer for a very long time. I knew they were going out of town but I just couldn't deal with it yet. It just hurt way too much. It wasn't the being lapped so much as how she handled it.

I wish I could just suck it up but I can't. I have emailed her back (though the first one took a couple of months) and our relationship is now an email here and there. I was just getting close to the point where I thought I could see her again.

Then came the second punch. I'm afraid this one might be the knock-out one. The day after I got a nice chatty email from her (I'd invited all the gals in the group to a girls night out in December), I got an evite. To a brunch for her second daughter. It's true that I would have been super pissed not to be invited (I know any fertiles reading this will not understand or find it hypocritical) but she KNEW the evite was going out (hell, she sent it--not exactly tops on etiquette if you ask me) and it would have been nice to have warned me in the email the day prior. You know just a "I'm sure you'll be too busy planning your trip and I know it would probably be too hard for you. I don't expect you to say yes but I didn't want to hurt you buy not inviting you."

And the shower brunch? That's right: four days before my would-have-been-due date. With her 9 months pregnant sister in attendance. You know, unless she's giving birth then herself. Um, I think I'll be busy packing for the trip I planned to help me forget about that date and the holidays.

So here I sit. Missing one of my best friends. Still hurting from all the events of the summer. Still shocked and surprised that one of the most sensitive inferitles could be so insensitive. And hating myself because I can't seem to get pass this one.

Sandy, why-y-y-y,oh Sandy

Give 'em hell, Sandy! Let's hear it for my current favorite spunky actress, Ms Congeniality herself. The press might feel differently today but I totally love her. When someone asked her at a premiere of Infamous, for probably the thousandth time in recent history, if she was expecting she gave them a piece of her mind.

She got right into the reporter's face, pointed and said: “Oh my god that is just a disgusting question. And you know what? What if I couldn't have kids? You know what? That’s the way you make women feel when you ask them that question."

We're with you, sister. We might boycott that other Southern actress who says she's just 'an overachiever' and 'twins run' in her family. But I will pay money to see every movie you are in from now until the end of time. Even if Keanu has a speaking role.

 

Why Can't I Have All the Power?

I should warn y'all I'm in a pretty pissy mood today. Please don't take it personally. It's not mean for you, unless you are a stoopid infertile.

Now, I'll fully admit I have a problem with stoopid people. In fact, I got into trouble for saying just that a few weeks ago at a board of directors training. I know. Can you believe they let me be on the board of directors for a non-profit? What were they thinking. I know I have issues. I know I need to work on it. But I just have no patience for stoopid people. Bitter people? Hell yes. Stoopid people? Not so much.

And like I wrote last year, it really pisses me off when infertiles are stoopid. At least this time it's not someone I know IRL it's just the stoopid infertiles on the internets. And they don't have blogs. So if you have a blog I couldn't possibly be talking about you, ok?

Now another thing I have a problem with is stoopid Americans. I know there are millions of us. I hope that I'm not one very often. I know I am one sometimes and I hate myself when I find I'm acting like a stoopid American.

Combine the two and you get a powder-keg and a very pissed off Millie.

If I ever act like a stoopid American infertile then just shoot me, ok? Please put me (and the rest of you) out of my misery.

So why this rant? Now I'm as interested in my own medical care as the next infertile, and I research things all to hell. BUT when I chose a great doctor in a good clinic halfway around the world, I trusted him. Actually, I trusted all my REs when I cycled with them. I did things their way. I figured I had my chance during the discovery phase to see if it would work. And then I gave myself over to them. Zen infertile that I am.

I'm only human so I might have questioned a thing or two. But I hope I didn't demand a bunch of extra stuff just to make me feel better. I didn't demand a level of attention that certain clinics here in the great US of A offer, along with a really high price tag. I didn't demand a cell phone number. And I sure as hell didn't advise other people to be that demanding in the future.

I did have doubts. And I was told to trust in the man and the process. They do do things differently. They have great success. You know what you are getting into when you choose a clinic such as that and I think it's really part of the package. Because some REs are just really nice folks, trying to make their patients happy. Like say, my lovely Dr. Champagne. He sure as hell doesn't need to deal with demanding patients.

And when you do get pregnant, even if you are a stoopid infertile, please realize that you ARE pregnant. There are plenty of people you can talk to, another whole pink world is out there all shiny and new and just waiting for you. So talk to them. Because those of us that aren't pregnant really don't want to hear too much about it. Show some sensitivity, people. It's really not that hard. How can you forget that in a matter of days?

Now it's time for me to be really honest. These stoopid infertiles wouldn't be bugging me so much right now if I had the power. You know, if I had the power I'd use it wisely. I'd be a benevolent giver to the very deserving, and then the stoopid ones could have their turns too. The blog voices that I miss the most would still be missed, but for very different reasons: they'd be too busy with their babes.

Oh, I can give lip service to 'everyone deserves success' but I think deep down I don't really believe that. It breaks my heart when stoopid people get their stoopid success and the people I love get failure. Two of my friends are really hurting today. Too much bad news for my friends lately. And I don't have any power. Not even a tiny bit. All I can do is cry for them. And rant about the stoopid ones.

 

(extra) bitter

I'm not sure I want to get into the 'who's more bitter' game. But I'm pretty sure I'd win it. I have a friend up north who foolishly thinks she's more bitter. Trust me, she's not.

There's a new inductee into the Great Hall of Bitter. She's learning all too quickly what it means to be truly, deeply, madly bitter. All it takes is one failed donor cycle. Or an ectopic pregnancy, preferably donor. But, I've had both so that really makes me Queen of the Bitter. And I've got the tiara to prove it.

Don't get me wrong, I've been bitter for a while. I thought when I had failed cycles I was bitter. I thought when my evil SIL triumphed and hit the IVF lotto I was bitter. In January, and again in April, I found new depths to my bitterness. It's much more complex flavor with a bit more earthiness and no sweetness whatsovever. Most people would say that it's too tanic and won't age well. Only a few people can handle 99% bitter.

Good news for us extra bitters: we can now proclaim it to the world. And reconize each other much more easily, don't ya think?

did you ever think that 50% of all doctors graduate in the bottom half of their class?

I had ambitious plans of posting many witty observations of my recent emergency room experiences.

That's not going to happen anytime soon, thanks to the lovely little pills I take every four hours. They do let me stay nice and fuzzy headed. I feel witty and charming, at least in my own head.

Instead I'll just pose a simple question: why do so many doctors not get ivf?

The youngish doc who treated me in the ER until a real doc (read ob gyn surgeon) could arrive kept talking about what day we IMPLANTED the embryo on and how pregnant was I. He was really lucky that he was the keeper of the morphine because I was nicer than I probably would have been. And the morphine kept me fuzzier and friendlier than I was actually feeling at the time.

I told him we TRANSFERRED the embryo on March 27. He continued to say IMPLANTED and I kept saying TRANSFERRED. I wish they'd implanted the stupid embryo. Then there wouldn't have been an ectopic.

He's a freaking DOCTOR. Don't they cover this stuff? I expect that kind of crap from civilians but, geesh, he should know better.

He did get quite an earful when he asked for details. I think he was a bit relieved because he was worried he was going to have to tell us we were having an ectopic pregnancy. He kept asking how far along I was in the pregnancy and I kept talking about doses of methotrexate.

And I recited every beta level I'd had over the last couple of months. He said I knew enough to be an OB/GYN. I told him that was an insult and I should at least be an RE.

He thought I was joking. I let him think that so I could have continued access to the morphine.

Is it just me? Or is this really stupid?

I'm trying to figure out whether our nifty new infertility insurance coverage will actually cover anything meaningful for the mister and I. It's not so clear.

Here are two excerpts from the website (just the revelant parts for y'all):

Covered Health Services for infertility services and   associated expenses including:

·  Embryo transport.

·  Donor ovum and semen and related costs, including collection and preparation. (my bolding)

And then directly below that section is this one:

 

Coverage excludes: (THEIR bolding, which might count more)

  ·  Donor cycles;

Hmmm, pretty confusing. I feel like I'm in the movie Chinatown. It's coverd/It's not covered/It's covered.

So I called up my oh-so-friendly insurance company yesterday to ask what was covered. The phone dude said he couldn't actually answer any questions about coverage on the phone. But he'd have someone call me in a day or two.

Great.

This morning Nurse Grandma called and tried to answer my questions. She didn't do such a good job. She's the one that is supposed to know things but I guess she doesn't get asked too many hard questions.

She said Donor Cycles weren't covered until it involved me. Um, how does it not involve me? So I asked if icsi was covered for a donor cycle. She didn't know. What about a frozen embryo transfer? She wasn't sure. What about a fet after a de cycle? Didn't know. What about a donor embryo cycle? Didn't know. What about drugs for any of this? Didn't know. What about my monitoring for a donor cycle? No idea.

She wasn't very happy when I pointed out that I could spend a lot of money on a very low probability cycle (my eggs) but couldn't seem to spend money on something that might actually work. Wouldn't that be better?

She also couldn't answer my questions very well about their 'Centers of Excellence'. To get ANYTHING covered you have to go to one of their CoE. And you guessed it. NONE of my clinics are on the list. Ok, technically one is on the list but I hate, hate, HATE them and wild horses would not drag me back there. I asked why the two university based clinics with many accolades weren't on the list. No idea.

I think I got Nurse Grandma both mad at me and more than a little afraid of me. She's supposed to call back with more information in a day or two. I bet she's hoping to get my voice mail.