Out, damned egg! Out I say!

The More You Love Someone, The More You Want to Kill Him

I was looking forward to a quiet night at home last night. The mister and I hadn't really slept much the night before so all I wanted to do after work was go straight home, put on my lounge clothes (aka soft purple pjs), watch Dancing with the Stars, and go to bed.

Nice plan, eh?

I was half-way into said purple pjs when it happened. Dog #2 was on top of the bed, rolling around, scratching her back. Dog #1 decided to jump up on the bed. It probably wouldn't have been a big deal but she jumped right on the other dogs belly.

Have I mentioned how lately the stress level has been really high in my house in general? There's the long work hours, the lack of sleep and just a lot of stress. Dogs are sensitive and our dogs are really tuned into us. Dog #2 hasn't been eating well unless we put her in her crate (it's her safe place).

Back to our story. On a normal night there might have been a snap or something. This was no normal night. The dogs went at it like it was the Rumble in the Jumble. They haven't fought like that in years. Every time it happens it freaks the hell out of us. I was half naked and screaming for the mister to help. It took what seemed like an hour to break them up. It was probably a good 5-10 minutes. It was awful.

When we finally separated them there was some blood. Not as much as you might expect but some. I took Dog #1 into the bathroom with me and the mister stayed with Dog#2. Pippi was justifiably freaked out of her little kitten mind.

Then we traded dogs so we could each access both. Dog#2 had a bloody eye. That really scared me.

So I asked the mister if I should take her to the emergency vet. He did what he typically does in situation like this and it PISSES ME OFF. He said "I don't know."

I don't know why this is his standard response. I don't know why it pushes all of my buttons. But it does. I really need for him not to shut down. I need for him to participate in these decisions. I don't want to be one of those dog owners who goes running to the vet for the slightest thing. I worry this means I'll be one of those annoying parents who is always on the phone with the pediatrician and bothering the crap out of them.

Mostly I really worry that my dogs (or even worse, my future kids) will really need help and I won't get it for them.

So "I don't know" drives me batshit.

Long story somewhat shorter, I call the emergency vet. They give me a thing to do. I do it and am still worried and load up the dog in the car and drive the all too familiar path. Oh, I did get dressed again btw. I thought it would be pretty bad to show up half naked.

Dog#2 did not actually tear her cornea like we'd suspected. She did have a pretty deep puncture wound in one paw. She totally freaked out at the vet. She's usually super calm there because she spent so much time there 4 years ago. She's on antibiotics and will be fine.

Dog#1 had me worried this morning. She's limping pretty badly on her front paws. So I took her to the regular vet. I didn't bother to even ask the mister. She'll be fine and it was totally worth $42 to get that kind of peace of mind.

We're all a little freaked out. We're all drained and exhausted. The dogs will be separated for today and the next few days. Long time readers (and friends) might remember we had to keep them completely separated for more than a year when we were doing some intensive training with them. I sooooo can not deal with that now. We can't go through that again.

Up Next: More Garden State Craziness

I got this pain in my heart, that's all

This is so not the post I wanted to write but I am just heartsick.

I'm tired of the fighting between friends. I'm tired of people saying mean things to people I care about. Or even just to people I don't know at all but who are close to people I care about.

I hated junior high. The lyrics from this song are so appropriate today for a lot of reasons. If you don't know this song, you really should. It's by the amazing Ben Folds back when he was with the full five. Nothing reminds me of home like Ben. We walked the same streets, knew a lot of the same people and have the same cultural references. It's like he writes songs JUST FOR ME.

I suppose that's one more thing that makes me crazy, right? When you think the songs are meant for you?

Why am I heartsick today? I was trying to plan something nice for another friend. How hard could that be right? Turns out a friend thinks I betrayed her. I read the post a while back where she talked about it. I've been so busy I haven't even had a chance to comment. In all honesty I wasn't sure what to say because I thought she was talking about another friend. I sure as hell didn't think she was talking about me.

But she was. She thinks I hurt her. She thinks I did something I'd never do. It just makes me so very sad.

I know there had been problems between some of my blogging friends. I tried to be Switzerland. I don't want to choose sides, especially when I think it really isn't any of my business.

This has always been a place of great support for me. I've always tried to support my infertile sisters (and brothers).  I don't have time or energy for hating of any kind (except perhaps those lying celebrities and annoying SILS, but that is different). I am generally out of the loop when there's insider stuff going on in the blogosphere. Just like I was out of the loop in junior high. Guess some things haven't changed at all.

So now I head into the holiday season with a heavy heart. Maybe a little more BFF is in order:

Underground, underground
Everything's happy underground
You been kicked around
Did life bring you down here
Everything's heavy underground

Stone cold sober as a matter of fact

I was going to attempt a humorous post, singing a little Elton John all the while.

But I am pretty pissed off at the world right now. The universe is toying with my dear friend  Pamplemousse and that pisses me off. She just got back from a trip to my favorite country and stayed in my very favorite hotel in the entire world. Life should be good, right? Most people would get a second line on a hpt and start jumping up and down with joy. We're not most people. I'm hoping she gets unequivocal good news soon. It's way past time for her happy ending. Please go give Pamp your support as she waits out this limbo.

As for me, the bitch is back. I don't need no stinkin' lab results. HSG to be scheduled first thing in the morning.

Thinking of my SoCal friends

I just wanted to let all my SoCal friends know how much I'm thinking of them right now. It's scary, scary times down there. May the winds change and the rains come. Please let us know how we can help. You are all so much on my mind.

If you haven't heard, there are horrible, horrible fires going on all through Southern California.

Care to guess what's going on here?

That's a big fat nothing.

Today was CD 52. A whole deck of cards. No period in sight. I'm so not digging this.

I did see the lovely lady acupuncturist last week and I asked her to do some magic. Apparently she's not as good a magician as I'd like, though I must admit the extra needles she put in for my wrist pain were quite lovely.

She thinks my feedback loops are all messed up. I hope that's what it is. She also, in a very thoughtful way, asked how patient did I want to be with this crappy situation. She said I was probably the most patient person she'd ever worked with so it was hard for her to even speak that word.

And I just don't have an answer. How ironic is it that the cycle I decide to do as natural as possible is the one that just won't freaking start? Is it a hint? Or just a bitch of a coincidence?

I'm going to give it a few more days then call in the calvary. The rest of my weekend you ask? I'm now sick, thanks to the mister. He tried hard not to give me his cold but he has officially failed.

And how do you know if you're the bitterest of the infertiles? One possibility is when you're at a fondue birthday party (which was really so very much fun---melted cheese and a lot of things and melted chocolate and others) and the people next to you start talking about ivf and you just walk away. Because one of them actually thinks it will work and the other's wife recently had success. You realize you have absolutely nothing in common with them except perhaps some lingo.

That'd be the mister night before last. He really is the King of Bitter Infertiles. He realized he should have worn his Extra Bitter shirt but wore another chocolate swag shirt instead. He's going to wear that Extra Bitter shirt out before long.

More Fun with Numbers

I do appreciate the helpful comments telling me I shouldn't worry about the long cycles. And I didn't worry at all the first cycle after the FET, when I had a 46 day cycle.

And I didn't worry two much the second time my cycle went that long. Or even at the beginning of this cycle.

But, people. this is my THIRD long cycle in a row. It's not looking good for the home team.

I called the nice needle lady and I'll see her on Thursday. I'm debating calling the clinic and seeing if I should go on bcp just so I can better schedule everything for my cycle.

In other news, my RSI aka carpal tunnel is acting up a bit. Like a big bit. So I'm typing with my wrist brace on and sleeping with a different brace. I think last week's work really took a heavy toll.

I had a fun weekend though. The mister and I had a date night on Friday (saw Across the Universe and have been singing Beatles songs ever since), did some shopping on Saturday and went to a free bluegrass concert with several hundred thousand of our closest friends. It's a super cool event that is just so very San Francisco. A local investor who loves the banjo and decided to put on a show for the city. It gets bigger and bigger every year.  It's totally free with amazing music, stupendous weather and even the Blue Angels fly by to see what's going on. Many of the bands are from the Great State of North Carolina so you know that makes me feel all warm and tingly.

Life is pretty damn good here.

Not Digging the Digits

I have this thing about numbers. I have favorite numbers and numbers that I just don't like. I've written about it before but just to remind y'all, I tend to like even numbers. Really even numbers like multiples of 4 or 12 (I know 12 isn't a totally even number but it's a super nice one). I love 2 because it's prime, and prime numbers are cool and all but except for 2 they're all odd.

There's a new number in my life that I'm hating: 46. Now some of you might think 46 is just the ticket for someone still trying to build her family. 46 is highly desirable when it comes to chromosomes. 46 is not so desirable when it comes to cycle lengths.

I promise I haven't been holding on on y'all about the scheduling of my hsg. Today is freakin' CD44 and all of my cycles since the last failed one (ED#1) have been 46 days long. Dr. Africa didn't think that was caused by being on lupron for such a long time. She just thinks that's the way it is now. I'm not so sure. Before lupron I never had a cycle that long; after it  I've had three in row that were each 46 days.

I'm a little pissed and more than a little freaked out. Is this the not-so-fabulous Ms Menopause coming into my life at the tender age of 42? She is most definitely not welcome here.

I don't know what to do about this so feel free to leave some assvice below or email it to me. I'm planning on starting acupuncture again because that can't hurt. I suppose I should consider going on the pill so I can at least be somewhat regular for my upcoming cycle but I'm not sure I want to add more synthetic hormones to the mix.

In other news I survived my hellish travel week. I made all my flights, no thanks to the security folks at O'Hare (but a big thank you to the nice guy from my home state who let me go before him). I found a fabulous boutique hotel in Chicago where they upgraded me to a king suite even though I paid less than 1/3 of the lowest published rate (yay for H0twire). I paid considerably more in The Valley for a characterless chain hotel room with a much less comfy bed. I spent a good hour on The 405 trying to go 15 miles and remembering my former SoCal life and not missing it a whit. I also quickly realized how very thankful I am not to travel for work very often these days. I have no idea how I survived so many years of spending more nights in hotel rooms than my own and knowing some flight attendants better than my friends.  I'm glad I did it and glad I'll never have to  do that again.

Work was good but I'm completely drained by the long days and lack of sleep all week. I really really really want to cut my hours back soon but I just don't see that happening until November or so. I read an interesting article about how many women would love the opportunity of part-time work and I do think I fit into that category. I just can't fit what I want to fit into my days. I want to be able to go to acupuncture and pilates and yoga and not cancel my dentist and doctor's appointments. I suppose cutting back to 40 hours would allow me that, but how the hell did that get to be part-time these days?

Perhaps this rant means that CD1 is just around the corner. Now that would be good news.

Weekend Update

This time last year I was still going to the clinic way too often for repeat betas, and not the fun kind. I'd been given special permission from Dr Local to leave the 510 and we took a road trip down south (he still hadn't given me clearance to fly which probably turned out to be a good thing). It's really hard to believe that was a year ago.

It also seems like this cycle that recently got extended (I decided to no longer say canceled because that seems much more negative, it's still happening just in a little bit) really started about a year ago because I started planning for it even back then.

I thought about writing the obligatory post about how this day can be hard or how next year it will all be better but so many others have done that so much better.

In the last few months I've seen several of my friends become mom's through adoption, donor eggs, and even (*gasp*) s-e-x. There have been some really tough times including bedrests, long hospital bedrests and other scary hospital things. There have also been a couple of heartbreaking losses. I am thinking of all of you so much on this day.

I'm also thinking of a certain red-headed momma who is a great mother and how bittersweet this day must be because she lost her own mother so many years ago.

But mostly I'm hunkering down with the mister. We watched all four of our Netflix movies over the weekend (we joined such a long time ago we were grandfathered in at that level). We finally called out own mother's and told them how much we loved them. We went shopping in The City and lunched in an Italian cafe and enjoyed the beautiful weather. We also split a strawberry Nutella crepe in the cutest tiny French bistro you've ever seen. We ordered in chicken wonton soup and dumplings to help us fight colds. We took our dogs out for a long walk and enjoyed even more of the beautiful weather.

And, because we are truly evil, we came up for a game plan to defeat the in-laws we'll have to deal with later this summer. The mister is having a very tough time these days. The cycle extension bothered him a lot more than me and he's not looking forward several days with a minimum of 12 kids aged 1 to 15. So I devised a plan of attack: make them jealous.

Every time someone brings up kids we'll just bring up something from our recent travels. Oh, your baby is walking? Yah, I remember how cool it was to feed that baby elephant in Thailand on it's first birthday. You can't wait for school to start and get the kids back on schedule? Yah, we're still trying to decide where to go for two months. Argentina? Mexico? Tango lessons? Cooking? Oh, that minivan sure holds a lot of people. No, we'd hate to trade our Mini for anything. Look after your brats because you want anyone else to parent them while you act foot loose and fancy free? Nooooooo, I really don't think so. That's what you wanted (or didn't want in the case of the bil). Oh, we'll just head back to our quiet b&b room while y'all deal with all your younguns.

You get the picture. Y'all know we'll be crying on the inside. But, boy, will they all be jealous of our spontaneous, globe-trotting, expensive-toys, quiet life.

It started out like so many other days recently. The mister and I got up and planned to day the dogs for a nice long walk. Then I was going to have a leisurely breakfast and wait for him to have his weekly chiropractic.

The first thing that went wrong was the mister slicing his thumb open when he was cutting up an old credit card. I'm not sure why it was imperative to activate his new credit card and cut up the old one before our walk (or more importantly, before our much needed coffee) but it was. Using new scissors that are super sharp. And not paying enough attention. Let's just say there was a lot of blood. And he was more interested in washing it off than applying pressure.

Once I forced him to apply some gauze pads the bleeding stopped. A band-aid was applied but it wasn't one of the cool Harry Potter glow-in-the-dark ones. He likes to save those for me.

We skipped the walk in favor of bagels and lattes. He really needed to eat. We had a nice conversation about the mayor from across the bridge who's been in the news so much lately. I got to continue that particular conversation with a cool woman who was hanging out in the bagel shop. I think it's all people are talking about here.

If you haven't heard, said mayor just admitted to an affair. With someone who worked for him. With someone who worked for him who is married to someone else who worked for him. And that someone else was a really close friend.

Now I generally think we shouldn't be so concerned with our politician's sex lives unless they involve minors. Or subordinates. Or best friend's wives. He would be in a whole heap of trouble if he worked for the private sector. I do have a big problem with sexual harassment and I think when one person has power over the other that's a bad situation. But mostly I feel sorry for the best friend who everybody says is such a good guy. And I question the wife's motives for telling her husband at such a late date.

I digress.

So the dogs and I had our walk and I decided to go and meet the mister near the end of his appointment. I used to see our chiro as well but the yodeling job messed up my schedule.

I had a sinking feeling she was going to be pregnant as I walked up the stairs. I don't know why but it just hit me from the blue.

Then I thought to myself. Don't be silly, Self. She's turning 40 this week. We're scheduled to go to her party. She just barely got married last year. If anything she might need a nudge to see a specialist and she might want a recommendation.

I should have listened to my gut. Yup, she's pregnant. Very early. The mister just found out today. She's taking an early maternity leave because she's feeling so poorly. I wanted to be happy for her. Truly I did. It just felt like such a sucker-punch.

The worst part was the look on the mister's face as he walked out. It hit him hard. We truly don't wish infertility on anyone else and certainly not her. But we've been trying so long and been through so much. I hate that infertility even makes me sad when it's someone else's good news. It is good news. I want to be able to celebrate it. Damn this infertility.

But I couldn't be happy when my man was in tears by the time we got to the car. I drove him to work knowing he was going to continue to have a hard day. It hurts me so deeply to see him hurt so.

I started the recipe testing for his birthday cupcakes. I made 4 dozen Chocolate Stout with Espresso Cream Cheese. I took them to his work for their Friday Happy Hour and everyone loved them. At least the day ended really well.

Bitter Ramblings

So I wrote up this long, oh-so-amusing (at least to me) post but somehow it got lost. Woe is me.

I got a reminder call yesterday from Dr. Endo's nice nurse. My appointment to check all things thyroid is tomorrow afternoon. One hitch: I had yet to have my thyroid retested.

Oh, sure she'd given me a standing order which I put somewhere very very safe so I could easily find it. She'd given me an appointment card as well but it never made it into my calendar. You know how that goes.

After turning the spare room nearly upside down, I found it and called the lab. They told me the doc could get the results in time so I rushed right over. They were efficient, taking a few vials of blood and not even leaving a bruise.

I know I'm being more than a bit passive aggressive about the whole thing. I know my meds are off. I'm jittery most of the night and not sleeping well. I know I should be all over this. But now that the cycle is indefinitely postponed I've got plenty of time. At least it feels that way.

I haven't been having the best of weeks. I need a bit more structure to my days. I'm waiting to hear back about a really cool project that might start as early as next week (the decider is on vacation this week).

I figured today I'd put the spare room back to order and even organize the closet. It was stuffed full of all kinds of crap in preparation for Initial Girl's visit. I made good progress for quite some time. Then I came across something I hadn't opened in a couple of years: my very professional laptop bag I use when traveling for work.

It turns out the last time I used it was October/November of 2004. How do I know? When I was pulling out various ethernet cables (how very quaint) and business cards I found a photograph. From my first trip to Garden State.

It's a picture of a lovely 6-celled embryo. From my first ivf back when I had something to transfer. Back when I still had a glimmer of hope.

Monday was the anniversary of my bfn from Cape Town. I didn't realize it until I read about the worst day of the year. Yup, January 24th last year was pretty crappy. Of course my year, like way too many of my friends, got crappier.

I was talking to a friend from my RESOLVE group yesterday. I'd given her some tips on decorating her daughter's first birthday cake just before leaving for Thailand. The last time I cycled with my own eggs we were cycle buddies. She was talking about how 2007 was going to be the year for the mister and me. I wish I could believe that but I just don't.

I'm just so tired of all of this. I'm tired of talking about it with anyone. Especially other infertiles, it seems. I know as a good infertile I should be working the next plan but I'm just going through the motions. We haven't committed to any particular course of action and nothing is going on. I'm just so tired of saying there is no news. There is never any news.

I wasn't having a great day before I saw that picture but it sure didn't help. I've got a couple of hours to pull myself a bit more together before the mister gets home. I think I can do that. At least my boys in blue are playing tonight so I can rechannel my energies into yelling at the tv instead of just feeling sad and empty. If I were feeling more optimistic, even about my team, I might be planning a trip to Atlanta for the first weekend in April. But I'm feeling so sorry for myself I'm sure I'd be a bad luck charm (much like the last time I attended the Final Four).

Good grief, I need to shake this. Maybe I'll make some cupcakes. They make everything better, right?

Worried for a friend

Last night as I was getting ready for the last adoption class I got a phone call from my friend Pocket. I hadn't talked to her since just before leaving for Thailand. I'd been meaning to schedule a lunch or walk or something but just hadn't had a chance to yet. I was so happy to hear her voice.

Then she told me she had bad news. Really bad news.

She'd had a lap just before I left to deal with some incredible pesky cysts that she had from that evilest of evil drugs, clomid. The lap went fine, the cysts were gone. The drugs she was on the last time we talked had her loopy and dreamy sounding. Yesterday was her follow-up appointment.

Ovarian cancer.

Luckily it's the very early stages. She'll have another scan soon and surgery to remove that ovary soon. She's been given an excellent prognosis for a full recovery and it's likely she won't need chemotherapy at this point.

It turns out the evil clomid may have been a good thing because this was caught so early. I'm not sure I'm ready to feel all warm and fuzzy towards the evil one, but if Pocket is ok I may have to love it. May even have to marry it.

I'm so very worried for my friend. I can't imagine how scared she must be. How scared her husband and her family must be. Please keep her in your thoughts.

Fuck. I really thought this year would be better.

Sounds like someone had a case of the Monday's

I was gonna post this yesterday but I did have a case of the Mondays.

My *new* alarm clock went off at the properly set time of 3:45 am. That is seriously early. I am soooooooo not a morning person.

I hopped stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. I'd thoughtfully gathered everything I needed the night before so as not to disturb the mister. I was dressed and out the door in 15 minutes. That included making a big travel mug of tea for the drive. The lovely free coffee bars don't open until 7:30 so I needed some caffeine.

Work was fine. I didn't have a ton to do so I made a lot of headway on an incredibly boring project. Think, copy, paste, save, scroll down, repeat. I wish I were kidding.

My car started acting a bit goofy on the way home. Ok, I lie.  She was acting WAYYYYY goofy. The speedometer and tachometer were all over the place. A bad light came on and stayed on. (Not the check engine light, another one). I didn't have a lot of faith that she'd make it the 45 miles. But she did. Just barely.

I pulled off the highway on the way to the dealership and barely got her to turn the corner. Then she wouldn't budge. I called the mister away from an important appointment to help me jump start her. I thought it was the alternator. He disagreed.

It took 4 or 5 jump starts and nearly an hour to get her about 15 blocks. Again, I wish I were kidding.

The dealer wanted to hook me up with a rental for a day. The mister thought I should drive his gas guzzling manual transmission with very stiff suspension for a couple of days. (The dealer won).

I finally got home, ate a bowl of cereal, and was in bed by 8 pm. It was no where near dark.

And to top things off, my lower back was killing me.* I was so glad the day was finally over. I'm gonna have to figure out how to blog at work (kind depends on how closely my network usage is being tracked, I think).

Guess I learned the hard way not to talk about replacing my car when I was driving her. That's my other news. We're thinking of buying a new car.Shhhh. Don't tell my current one, k? Dooooh. Too late.

*We took a couple of medium walks with the dogs this weekend and I think I over did it a bit. Now my back really, really hurts. I'm guessing that I hurt it compensating for the abs I had punctured in the surgery. I'm back on the vicodin at night, back to the chiro and had a lovely restorative yoga class (using props) today.

i do the best imitation of myself

One of the lasting effects of this latest ectopic (and perhaps infertility in general) for me is that I don't feel like I can count on things actually happening until they do. I have no faith at all that things will work out for me.

I've lost my ability to make any concrete plans. I find myself using the word "maybe" a lot. I find myself saying things like "if it actually works out" or "it might be that..."  I find myself qualifying nearly every statement that comes out of my mouth that might relate to anything positive or anything that I want to happen.

This is not me. At least it's not the first 37 or so years of the me that I thought I knew.

I'm normally a fairly decisive person (see? I even had to qualify that). I was a fairly optimistic person. Things came easy to me. School came easy. High test scores came easy. Jobs fell into my lap. Better jobs feel into my lap. I won all expense paid trips to the South Pacific. On my birthday. I would bemoan my lack of a relationship in the few weeks I had between relationships (at least once I entered my mid 20s...there were plenty of dry spells earlier). Good things happened to me and that didn't surprise me.

Now bad things happen to me and that doesn't surprise me either. The tables have turned and I find myself counting on bad things happening (very low probability bad things) while seeming high probability good things skip over me.

I've never been a very creative person but I can now easily think of horrible things that might go awry. Old time bloggers (and lurkers) might remember the fun tales getupgrrl told of her meditation class. Remember that great first session when everyone had to tell what they were most afraid of or something like that? Maybe it was even the worst thing about death they could think of? And some of her classmates said things like 'dying alone'? And the wonderful grrl said something to the effect of 'being kidnapped by a serial killer and tortured in his basement before being killed?"

Of course she said it much better than I ever could but you get the idea. If you remember that post you probably have a smile on your face thinking about it all (and her nemesis? god how I loved that! good times).

Lately I've been channeling my inner grrl. The mister asked me, shortly before the second shot of methotrexate, what was the worst thing that could happen. I think it was kind of a rhetorical question so I called him on it. What's the worst thing YOU think could happen? He said "well, maybe it doesn't work and we'll have to schedule surgery and you'll lose your other tube."

Amateur.

"Nope. I was thinking even if I have the second shot and the ectopic could rupture causing my entire uterus to rupture and I need an emergency hysterectomy. Or I bleed out internally and die before making it to the ER. THAT's the worst thing that could happen."

See how my mind works these days? Not a pretty sight. Well, it's now seeping into everything.

I found myself saying all week long 'there's a chance I might be starting a job sometime soon.' Sometime soon like Tuesday.

I didn't think of it as a done deal (I'm not sure I think of it as a done deal now). I used every kind of qualifier in the book. I hesitated to tell anyone while also refraining from making any kind of plans.

Meanwhile  over at Yodeling Inc! my Swedish friend who may soon be my Swedish boss was asking me what network id I preferred (oh, and by the way Yodeling Inc! is very particular about punctuation as it applies to their name. They are very, very picky about the capitalization and exclamation point. VERY PICKY but I digress).

The Swede said we could 'assume we're a go.'

What is this 'assume' he so easily spoke of? Assume things will work out? What if they found something awful in my background check? What if someone waltzed through the door who offered to work at half my fee and had every amazing technical skills, process skills, spoke 12 languages and was the founder's close relative?

There was no contract. Nothing was signed. There was no badge on a purple lanyard.

Maybe normal sane folk would assume that network ids and assumptions meant all was a go. I am not a normal sane person.

That's the lasting gift of the last few months (maybe years). I kind of look like a normal person. Then I'll unexpectedly say the strangest things or behave in some way to show everyone I'm really not one of them. A wild look might come into my eyes. I feel more like a feral animal, cornered in an alternate world where good things just happen and things go according to plan.

Anyways, finally got the email confirmation at the end of the day Friday. I need to report to orientation first thing Tuesday morning. I should bring two forms of id. A badge will be give to me on a purple lanyard. Maybe I'll believe it once the badge is in hand. Maybe I won't believe it until I put in my 90 days. We'll see.

Guess I'm a workin' gal once again. Yodel amongst yourselves. (And make sure you pay the appropriate royalty to the yodeler or I'll sic my trademark attorney on you).

One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

I really don't know where to begin this time. I feel like such a broken record.

This weekend passed in a haze. I had an obligation on Saturday morning that I couldn't get out of. It's this volunteer organization that I belong to and I'd already skipped a couple of meetings last week. Luckily there was only one annoying pregnant woman there.* And no babies. It could have been worse.

Sunday was a pretty good day. We met a couple of friends for brunch at our favorite place. They'd also been to South Africa (just for vacation--not even fertility related. Can you believe it?) It was nice to talk about the trip with people that had been there.

They did call us out on a fib. Something that James Frey would have greatly exaggerated. Something that only people who'd been on safari would even understand. They asked if we saw the Big Five.** We said we saw 4 of the Big Five.

Ok, I said we saw 4 of the Big Five. The mister hesitated. That's how they get the weak ones.

So we admitted that we saw white rhinos but not black ones. Only someone else who'd been on safari and only seen white rhinos as well would even ask this question.

After brunch we went to Home Depot. It was the first of four trips that day to home improvement stores. You'd think we would have learned after the first couple, but I guess we're pretty slow.

We spent the afternoon working on small projects around the house: the mister framed out our glass block windows in the pantry and I tried to match the stain on some new molding in the foyer where we closed up a door.

It was really nice to work on something concrete. We haven't been doing much around the house because the kitchen remodel is so overwhelming.

Finish off with some beautiful flowers sent by a friend, a couple of massage certificates that mysteriously appeared in our mailbox from our support group, a couple of episodes of The Shield to numb us, a viewing of the very funny Aristocrats*** which had us laughing, some wine and an early bedtime for both.

Monday morning is therapy morning for me. The mister decided to tag along with me. My therapist was also the facilitator for our RESOLVE support group so we both have a relationship with her. He comes with me when he needs it. We both really, really need it right now.

It was a rough session. We're both feeling so hopeless and down. We did accomplish a lot but were totally drained afterward.

We realized we need some time to grieve and some way to grieve. A ritual of some sort. We'd been talking about going to play in the snow in about a month. I think we might move that up. Getting back to nature is something that brings us both great comfort, especially the mister.

The mister called me from work that afternoon asking my advice. He was having a really hard time working. It just doesn't matter to him. He wanted to take the rest of the week off but not tell anyone at work why. I didn't think that was a great idea.

See, if you've just gone on vacation for nearly a month and you come back and just 'don't feel like working' I think that gets frowned upon. I didn't think he had to tell everyone but did feel like he owed his boss at least some kind of explanation. He did some 'splaining and I picked him up from work. He's hurting so very much this time and there's nothing I can do to make it better.

So here we are. Hanging out at home. Crying some. Working some. Cuddling with our dogs and each other. We both want to cook in our new kitchen, but have no interest in food and nothing sounds good. We might go play in the snow this weekend or head to a remote beach near us for the day. We both want to start exercising and I think he'll push me to do it. With any luck at all we'll make it to yoga at our gym tonight. Which will mark the first time in many moons that I make it through the doors at the gym.

I'm trying to plan and get to a place where I can feel the tiniest sliver of hope again. I wanna work out, eat right, yada yada yada. I'm hoping to feel like heading back to Cape Town come March or April. Those totsicles are calling to me, ever so quietly.

I need to get a job to get some cash to feed my infertility addiction. I'm nowhere near being able to interview or think about all that stuff. We're getting to that point where there are tough decisions to be made. Not enough money for what we need to do if the fet doesn't work out. And with a 20-30% success rate that's a real possibility.

I'm trying to catch up with my friends in the computer. Please know how much I'm thinking of you. And how much your words mean to us right now. I promise to be back to being a better internet friend soon.

*She's over 40 and got pregnant on her first ivf. I hate her. She even did it at the clinic I hate most here. She still seems to think ivf=sure pregnancy. She's rubbing her belly and hitching her maternity pants up. Did I say I hate her?

**The Big Five are elephants, lions, leopards, buffalo and black rhinos. These are the animals hardest to hunt and what everyone wants to see on safari.

***Thanks to a very special friend who knows just the perfect thing to send when we're feeling down.

not ready for prime time

I wanted to update earlier but don't feel like I've really got anything to say. I'm not doing very well. Neither of us are doing well. Ok, that's a totaly understatement. I'm not functional. I have gotten out of bed every morning but only because I force myself to drive my husband to work and take my dogs for a long walk. The dogs like this new schedule. The husband, not so much. I think he'd just rather stay in bed as well.

We're both just devastated. Our hearts are broken and we're back to beyond hopeless. It was so great to feel some real hope. It'd been years since we had that. But this pain is just so raw. And life is so bleak right now. Nothing seems to get us any closer to what we want. How much more of this shit are we going to have to go through? When do we get our break?

So, I do get dressed most days. If jeans or sweats count. Whatever is still lying on the floor and is easiest to pick up.Occasionally I even shower. Not often enough. I'm not taking my meds like I should. I'm not doing much of anything that I should. I'm not answering the phone. Hell, I'm not listening to messages. I'm not answering emails either, much less initiating them. Things are really, really bad when I'm not emailing.

There just isn't any point to doing anything.

I went out to run a few errands today. The mister had forgotten his cute little game system that I gave him for Christmas. I really gave it to him because I thought it'd help him pass the time on the long plane rides. I also knew that all the other kids at work had one. THEY all got it as soon as it came out.

We went to the chiro together this morning* and he left it in my car. He didn't ask for me to bring it by work but he did im me and say the other kids were gonna play Mario Kart at lunch and I knew they'd been making fun of him earlier in the week. He hasn't played as much as the other kids at work so they beat up on him. I've been encouraging him to practise.*

Like I said, he didn't ask me to bring it to him but he's only about a mile away and I needed some new bubble bath. He never asks for much. Right now he's so torn up that anything that makes his day slightly more bearable is something I wanna make happen.

It's been really hard for him to work at all this week. He just doesn't give a damn. He came home very early on Wednesday. So not like him. He didn't want to even go in on Thursday morning. He just didn't see the point.

He read my last post a couple of days ago. He's always known where this blog is and always had an open invitation to read it. That was the first time he needed to.

He read it for your comments. He was incredibly touched. He cried. And then he came home from work very early to give me a big hug and tell me how much it meant to him. How great and supportive you all were.

I've read all your comments as well. I wish I had the energy to reply but I just don't. Maybe soon. It means so incredibly much to both of us though. I know I've said it before but it really, really, really does. You guys are keeping me clinging to the edge of sanity.

Anyway, I went to a couple of stores after I dropped the game off. All I wanted to do was buy some bubble bath. I didn't want some pushy salesperson. Hell, I didn't wany ANY salesperson. If ever there was a time for a robot or self-pay, this was it. I tried to be nice. Truly. I told her I was just browsing. That I just wanted to look around. She was all alone and probably bored out of her mind. She was just doing her job. She kept asking me questions/ My answers got shorter and even terser and then I lost it.***

I knew I was probably better off staying home--now I know the rest of the world could use a break from me as well.

*I shouldn't admit that we get adjusted together but we do. Chris will really think we're too schmaltzy now. I'll never be able to convince her otherwise.

**Frankly I think the mere fact I got him such a cool present should count for tons of points. What other wife does that? AND I tell him to play video games more. For reals.

***I did, however, persevere, and buy two kinds of bubble bath and one kind of bath melt. I don't even know what the hell a 'bath melt' is or how to use the honey dripper thing that came attached to it. No way I could ask her after yelling at her though. Now thanks to my purchases and my spiffy tank-less water heater that ensures I can never, ever run out of how water, I might never get out of the tub again. At least we have wireless so I can still surf the 'net.

i wanna be sedated

Remember that giddyness? It's gone. Totally. I'm hoping at least some of it comes back but today was rough. Really rough.

this one goes out to the one i love

Today is my grandmother's birthday. She would have turned 90 today. I've been wanting to write a post about her since I went home for her funeral but decided to do it today on her special day.

Why are there so many songs about rainbows

So lately I've been pondering connections. Mostly that pesky genetic one but then I heard a little voice in my head. There was a slight croak in it. You might say it was even a green froggy sounding voice. I often get songs stuck in my head and the Rainbow Connection is the song du jour.

I wish I could just trade the genetic connection for the rainbow one and be done with it. But life isn't that easy.

I wrote recently about wanting to be able to move to donor eggs if the wait for embryos becomes overbearing. I just don't know that I have it in me. Why is it so hard?

I spend hours pouring over online profiles and trying to pick a donor. I've found a couple of donors that I like a lot. I'm even considering making an appointment at an agency near me that a friend used and really liked. I'm getting excited about the possibility of going to South Africa where several friends have gone. I'm making lists and checking them twice.

But I'm still not 'there' yet. I hate myself for it. I feel ugly, mean thoughts and I really don't like that. There's this mean, petty voice that tells me it's just not fair. That is angry at my husband for his part in all of this. Why should I have to completely forgo the genetic connection? Why should my parents never have genetic grandchildren?  Why should my husband get all of that? Why should his evil mother get even more genetic grandchildren? She's already got 4 more than she deserves. I met my husband 10 years ago this month. I spent my entire 30s with him--my likely much more fertile early 30s included. He wasn't ready or willing to commit for a long time. 7 years.

Now, when I'm being totally honest I can acknowledge my part in all of this. I chose to stay with him. I chose to take a fun job that required a lot of traveling and focus on my career. I chose not to push him at all on the commitment thing. I chose to put off trying to have a baby until we were both ready-separately and together. I could have left him and started over. I know part of the blame/responsibility/whatever you want to call it lies squarely on my shoulders.

It would be easier in some respects to make this jump if we'd been older when we met. I wouldn't be able to be angry at him for taking something away from me. Something that seems to be more important to me than it is to him.

I think it would be easier to be angry at my husband if he was pushing for donor eggs or the genetic link was more important to him. But he isn't and it really isn't important to him. He just wants for us to be parents as soon as possible. He isn't even the one suggesting our new plan at all right now. It's just me trying to find some resolution more quickly.

My husband is one of the most open, generous, non-judgmental, kind-hearted people I've ever known. And that's not just me being nice. He really, really is. I have no idea how he got that way. Genetic anomaly? He's so different from the rest of his family in that way.

I want to be truly open to all the possibilities that could help us be parents. Maybe that's asking too much of myself. I'm not sure. Maybe this is just something I can't do and I should accept it. Maybe it really is just too much.

I know the playing field changed entirely, irrevocably for my husband when I was laying in the operating room and he thought he might lose me. That was the hardest day of his life and the scariest.  I know he would gladly trade places and use donor sperm and my eggs if that were possible. I know he would do anything in the world to make me happy. To make our dreams come true. Absolutely anything without hesitation.

Why can't I be the same way? What else can I do to 'get there'? What can I have him do? I just don't know what else to try.

The suggestion box is open.

(If you aren't up on your muppet lyrics (or Sarah McLachlan) here are the words:

Why are there so many songs about rainbows
and what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
and rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it.
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard
and answered when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.
Look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us star gazing
and what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

All of us under its spell. We know that it's probably magic.

Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors.
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.)

boy, are my feet tired

Man. I'm tired. Bone tired. Can barely keep my eyes open tired. And it's not even prime time yet.

I'm working all week this week teaching teens. I think it'll be fun---as long as I get some sleep tonight. Y'all are going to think I'm such an incredible wimp. Well,  I guess I am. Or just nowhere near a morning person.

The mister and I had a super busy weekend. Three picnics/cookouts/barbecues in two days. I know it makes us sound tres social but those are our only outdoor cooking parties for the entire summer.

The first one was an alumni event for my alma mater. We do this once a year because we miss bobbycue (that's how we say it, not how we spell it) so very much. When we speak of barbecue, we mean pulled pork in a hot pepper vinegar sauce. No ketchup. No sugar. Ahhhh. It was a slice of heaven.

We went directly from there to a friend's 40th birthday party. Great food. Yummy sangria. Even bingo. Lots of bingo. I guess he's saving the shuffleboard for next year.

Yesterday's festivities involved a baby shower for a couple in our support group. Our whole group was there and it was actually great.  There are only a handful of baby showers I could possibly even consider attending these days but this one was high on the list.

But what got me thinking about blogging was a conversation at the birthday party. The birthday boy and is wife are adopting internationally. In fact, they are expecting a call any day with their match news. Then it'll be 3-5 months before they can travel to pick up their son. All very cool.

We had a nice long chat with them. They're the only ones in this particular group who are doing anything like this. It is different talking with them though. They went straight to adoption.  Did not try at all before adoption. So they get the whole 'alternative family building thing' but not infertility. It's still nice having them in our group.

We were giving them a little update of where we are and while it sounded good, it all got put into perspective.  A perspective that has me a bit frustrated now. It could take us 6 months to a year to match. Then we have a frozen cycle where we try to get pregnant. Then, if we're EXTREMELY lucky (and we haven't been yet so why should we start now) another nine months will go by before we get a baby or two from this whole thing.

That's a freaking year and a half to two years away. I don't know if I can't wait that long. Truly. I'm ready. I wanna baby yesterday.

So then I told the Mister we needed to change the plan. My guy just said "oh?" in that slightly worried tone he gets when I come up with new great ideas.

And that new plan has me researching donor egg options today. I figure if we can't get our grubby paws on some embryos by the end of the fall we just go for broke (and perhaps go broke at the same time).

Donor eggs for the holidays, anyone? Ummmm. Bring on the egg nog.

PS It's really not a great idea to go to therapy when you didn't sleep a wink all night and are trying to work through all kinds of big things at once. I do, however, think I did a month's worth of therapy in only 50 minutes.

i know life isn't fair but geez...

So I was working on a frivolous post but decided that these are just not frivolous times.

The past few days have been really hard for some fellow bloggers.

So many of us are told to consider donor eggs and that will work for us. We're given statistics and lectures. Over on the high FSH boards it's called "the speech." Many of us who get the speech fight hard--first to receive treatment because we still have hope (however small it may be) that we can have a genetic child, then we struggle to accept the donor option as a good one for us, then finally to find the best agency/donor/clinic.

We're told that once we make the decision to go donor, things will get easy. They should. They really should. But they don't always. Wessel writes about this with her characteristic eloquence and says it far better than I.

My dear friend Teendoc (Liana)  over at Welcome to the Dollhouse got some bad news about her donor. This is the THIRD donor she has chosen. One got taken, one was a virgin and now the last one is pregnant. It's hard enough to choose to do donor eggs. Then it's hard to find a donor you like and feel a connection to...much less three donors. I know she'll find another donor but this is a lot to have to deal with.

And the lovely Wessel struggled so very hard to find her donor only to have the clinic screw it up and allow her to overstimulate. We're all hoping she'll be able to cycle while she's still on summer vacation.

The wonderful Bee over at Hard Boiled Egg: A Donor Blog just got bad news about her quad screen and level 2 ultrasound. She's been suffering mightily with morning sickness and hasn't been posting much. She could really use our support now.

My mom always says "I never told you life was fair." I can accept that. But does it have to be THIS unfair?

it just keeps getting better

So, tomorrow morning I get to haul myself out of bed at the crack of dawn and head to my local radiology department where I get to wait and wait until they can fit me in. I suppose that technically 8:30 isn't exactly the crack of dawn, but, as you've probably guessed by now, I'm not exactly a morning person.

I think I forgot to mention this here. Do not let it be said that Denial is just some river in Egypt. I personally find it to be a very beneficial defensive mechanism. Actually it's one of my top 3 or 4 (you just can't beat a good Intellectualization and who doesn't like a little Sublimation, but I digress---see, all that time in grad school really paid off).

I had a mammogram done a few weeks ago due to some discomfort in my breast and my impending 40th and then got a scary follow-up letter last week saying I need an ultrasound. Pronto. There was something on the right side they couldn't determine from the mammogram. So, I called up my local breast health center and they suggested I come in June 6th.

That didn't sit too well with me. Luckily, the radiology department can fit me in tomorrow but I have to be willing to wait. No problem here. I'll take a book or two to pass the time. And try hard not to freak out.

Everyone keeps telling me that because I'm feeling pain in my breast that's a 'good sign' because 'cancer doesn't hurt.' Um, how can pain ever be a good thing?

At least this is keeping my mind off my current cycle and heavy drug cocktail. That's something, right?

UPDATE

I just got back from the ultrasound. First, y'all are so very sweet. Thank you so much for your support and kind words. Seriously.

The good news is there is much good news. Absolutely, positively nothing to worry about. The tech saw nothing except lumpy and bumpy breasts. No cysts. No nodules. No lumps. Just breasts. I'm sure the lovely cocktail I'm on is not exactly helping the situation with the discomfort but there is nothing to be concerned about. Here I was all willing to take Wessel up on her bet but there's nothing at all. Whew!!!

I do have something funny to share with y'all at least. The woman who checked me in was a bit of a sourpuss. Ok, she was totally a sourpuss. I tried to be friendly, joked a little about my name. Nothing. Nada. I figured she was hopeless.

Then when she was looking at the insurance card, she asked about the mister's company and wondered what they did. Now, not to brag too much or anything but like all good wives I'm very proud of my husband. And he's got a pretty cool job to boot. He makes things that I think add a lot of enjoyment to people's lives. Kids are always impressed. 40-something sourpusses at radiology departments are usually not.

But this one was. She's started smiling and chatting and telling me all about her experiences and how much she loved what he did. She went on and on and on. It was very cool. She had a great smile. I'm so glad I got to see it.

When I called the mister with the good news I had to thank him for his job. At least I get to be a little cool, if only by association.

oh look at the sparkles

So I few days ago I went jewelry shopping with my friend, Peaches. Her SO has asked her what kind of 'ring' she'd like. Peaches has never, ever tried on a ring in her life. She has scoured the internet to see what suits her and she finally came up with some things she liked.

Now, much like me but in a different way, Peaches is more than a little picky. Personally, I think picky is good. She wants something unusual (don't even get me started on red roses on Valentine's Day, round diamond solitaires or proposing in a restaurant--they're all fine if you kwim but none of those requires the firing of a single neuron). All of this is good.

I think it's important to try things on, see what looks good on your hand, all that stuff. Even though her SO has told her he wants to know, she's a little hesitant to take him into the big scary stores. More fun for me, right?

So first we go to the Blue Store. You know the one. Man, are they ever full of themselves. They were soooooo snotty. She tried on the internet ring, and what do you know? She hated it on. Good thing we went, right?

Then we went to a smaller, friendlier, more custom kind of place. They spent hours with us. We found the perfect thing for her. It will be custom done and one of a kind. Not the biggest flashiest bling--just the perfect one for the two of them.

While we were there I did a bit of looking myself. I was thinking how nice it would be to get something meaningful for my big 4-0. I tossed a few ideas around then was drawn to the sparkly studs. Oh, how shiny. Oh, how perfect. I found the perfect pair but they were 48k. Then I found the next perfect pair, and they were 40k less. Only 8k (yes, I'm being sarcastic).

Just the right size. Just the right shape. Just the right setting. Oh, so sparkly. Just the right everything. Kind of pricey, but hey you only turn 40 a few times, right?

I've spent the last few days thinking about those earrings. Even dreaming about them. Then it finally hit me last night.

While they are gorgeous and would be great, they're just not what I want at all. I don't care about earrings or jewelry. I'm just trying to find something to fill the bottomless hole. Carats ain't gonna cut it.

All I want is a baby. Nothing else will do.

2 years and counting

Today is my second anniversary. I'm not sure it's off to such a great start because I can't sleep. I didn't sleep much the night before the wedding because I was so excited. Now, I'm not sure why I'm not sleeping.

I think this infertility has been taking quite a toll on my. It's been forever since I posted here-maybe self-preservation because I didn't want to lose too much time to the blogs or maybe just denial.

Since my last post, I had my first round of ivf. I had lots and lots of things I wanted to talk about here but obviously that didn't happen. I spent several weeks in the lovely Garden State for my cycle. It went as well as I could have hoped. Ok, I'll be honest. I hoped for more.

I did a minimal stim cycle. I took ethinyl estradiol to lower my fsh (worked like a charm for me) and stimmed for a few days. We only got one follicle, but retrieval went well, it fertilized and grew and was a lover-ly embryo. I've got the picture to prove it.

Transfer was good, bedrest was boring but good. My laptop totally died on me (hard drive crashed) so I wasn't able to do much except watch many episodes of all the flavors of Law and Order.

Anywho, the beta was negative. Of course I took an hpt the day before and day of so I knew what to expect. But this was much much harder than I thought it would be. IVF is soooooo much more intense than iuis or anything else I've done.

So now I'm taking a break. I figure I've got 2 more ivf cycles in me and no money until the new year so why not take a complete break. It's been great. No temping. No fertility monitor. No supplements (for now). Not even acupuncture. I'm thinking of ramping things up again in Jan or Feb but I really need this break for my sanity.

And for my marriage. We were together for 7 years before we got married. We got married to have kids. We both want them so badly. It's been hard on both of us. Anniversaries, holidays, etc. aren't making it any easier.

So for the rest of the post I'm thinking only good thoughts. I love my husband dearly. This if stuff has brought us even closer, and I didn't think that was possible. I know we're going to be parents-it's becoming less important every day how that happens. for the next few days, I'm going to try to rekindle the magic time that surrounded our wedding and honeymoon.

So, in closing this post I'll quote one of my favorite parts of our vows:

I marry you with this ring,

with my heart,

with my body, and

with all the syllables of my soul.

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

Man. I suck at keeping up with this blog. I'm trying, truly I am.

This cycle I'm trying to take it easy. I'm taking it sooooo easy I have no idea if I've even O'd or not. I'm guessing I did but don't really care.

I feel myself turing into bitter infertile girl more day by day. The nice thing is I've had lots more to obsess over the last few weeks. And none of it involves temping or peeing on a stick.

I'll get into all that good stuff in the next post, promise. Something to look forward to.

Right now, I can't sleep and am incredibly sad. I know it's par for the course. I haven't slept well for nearly 3 weeks now. It was really helpful when my acupuncturist's assistant told me this week that 'no baby will come and stick around if you're stressed...why would it want to stay?'

Why indeed?

I was trying to finish this post on September 1 but obviously that didn't happen. Maybe I can borrow a few hours from Hawaii?

I think I figured out the whole not sleeping thing. See, usually I love September. In fact, it's is my favorite month of the year. It's my birthday, my mom's and my grandma's. It was also the beginning of school, which I looooooved as a kid. It's all about new beginings and sapphires (lucky for me). My favorite part was picking out new notebooks and school supplies.

This year I'm really dreading it. School is finishing, not beginning. I'm turning 39, which if I were pregnant or had a baby would be no big deal, but just makes the infertile clock sound much more like a bomb that's going off.

And most of all we had this tradition in my family.

You see, my mom was born one week before my grandmother turned 25. I was born eight days before my mom turned 25 (and 15 days before my grandma turned 50). Obviously, I blew the whole 'baby before 25' thing.

But there should have been a September baby for me this year. Only it was an ectopic pregnancy instead. And while it would have been tough to deal with my due date for any loss, it's especially hard to deal what should have been a September baby. Most days it's ok, and I can deal pretty well, but I think the next few days and maybe weeks aren't going to be so ok. At least it's only 30 days, right?