"It's all good..."

So, here's the low-down on the Church Job Drama. I haven't been able to write about this, since it's so upsetting, but it's been over a month, so.....

Back in February, our pastor was transferred to the position of Vicar-General in the Archdiocese (a pretty big promotion). He was at our parish for almost 12 years, and we loved him. He was the one who hired A as Music Director, he supported the music program at the parish immensely. It was sad to see him move on, and we were reassured that the former Vicar-General (who was now going to be pastor) was wonderful.

Well, he wasn't so wonderful. Within the next few months, we had a nickname for him-Monsignor Speedy Gonzalez, for his tendency to rush through the Mass (he had even got the Mass down to 38 minutes one Sunday-with music, and an organ prelude and postlude). He also didn't seem to be a "people person", which isn't a great thing for a man who, as a part of his profession, has to minister to others....hmmm.....

It all started with A's meeting with him. Monsignor Speedy stated that he didn't "do high church", and that he wanted to make changes to make it more "efficient". Then it was the change of not reading the names of the sick out during the Intercessions (they're now in a "Book of Intentions" located in the church). Then it was changes to the music-less organ, less Latin, more piano, less care in the congregational singing.

Needless to say, it was worse for A than for any one of us-he had to deal with him more. Finally, in November, he couldn't deal with it anymore-after 10 years, he handed in his resignation, effective the end of November. The assistant organist was hired as Interim Director, and everything went on as scheduled.

The new director is NOT a choral director-he's not even that great of an organist, to be honest-he plays waaay too quickly, has no sense of cadence, but he is a body available. The Carol Sing went on as scheduled, with "changes"; a lot of the music cut, a few things added in that were more than cheesy, and no rehearsal time. This guy can't conduct worth a hill of beans, and he rehearses not for the benefit of the choir, but so that he can play the accompaniment (which he can't do anyway!)-after a hasty run-thru, he declares it as "that's good" and moves quickly on. He's not even prepared, with the exception of the prelude and postlude.

He's not really a leader-kind of wishy washy-so other choir members have decided to take up the slack and be leaders. Which leads to the "too many cooks in the kitchen" syndrome that's typical anywhere. Not to mention the backbiting, people leaving the choir outright rather than stay, and the mere fact the Monsignor Speedy decided to address all of this mess at the Carol Sing dress rehearsal, one month after A left. He was even stupid enough to "open the floor for some questions", which was a BIG mistake-it was like opening Pandora's Box.

Monsignor Speedy is ignorant. He doesn't care ultimately about what happens-he could care less about music in general. He doesn't get how the music can set the tone and actually enhance the liturgy, and elevate people to a level of prayerfulness. This is a guy who keeps calling me "Jessica"-he's been there for almost a year, and SIGNS my PAYCHECK and still doesn't know my name. This is a man who talks and laughs with another priest while the celebrant is saying the Consecration, for crying out loud. By the way, when he was confronted with it by a parishioner, he told them not to "tell him how to be a pastor".......is this guy FOR REAL??

People are leaving left and right. Morale is shit. Camelot is over. Sean and I are so upset-this parish was like another branch of our family, and it was a wonderful place to be. Sean is leaving the choir after Sunday's mass, and I'm trying to hang in as long as I can, but it's so damn disheartening. We've been both grieving this loss-our faith has been shaken and both of us have been unable for weeks to pray (or even receive Communion), we've been so angry and sad.

Whenever we've been driving up to church for the past few weeks, we've been having to mentally prepare ourselves for rehearsals and Masses, so we can get through the ineptitude. So, Sean's been saying, "It's all good...." every time something goes wrong. Unfortunately, the meaning behind it has become more and more sarcastic as the weeks have gone on. It's our code word for the situation, which has become seriously FUBAR.

If it's "all good", then why do I feel like shit, then?

Nothing, Nada, Niente

The results are in. Well......actually, the results were in last week, but in the craziness that is Holiday Winter Concert Season, I haven't been able to post until now.

The tests found nothing wrong with me. Not a thing. Nada. So there.

Granted, I am happy about that-I mean, I really don't need anything else wrong with me right now......seriously, infertility is more than enough. However, there's a part of me is a little disappointed, since if I had a thrombophilic disorder then maybe, just maybe, there'd be a missing piece to the puzzle as to why none of the IVF's haven't worked.

Is it fucked up that I sort of wanted another diagnosis? Perhaps. I just wanted a more concrete answer from the medical establishment, instead of "Well....we can't understand why this hasn't worked yet...". As much as I love Big Important Clinic, and think that they're awesome, any human being with that much medical experience who tells you that makes you more than slightly unnerved.

So. We're back to square one. Again. We've made the choice that we're going through our fourth (and probably last) cycle, probably starting the Long Lupron protocol in January or February, with a retrieval/transfer in March. I'm not sure how I feel about this right now. I do want to do the cycle, but I'm just so damn afraid that it will be another bust, and that I'll end up in some psych ward somewhere, because I won't be able to handle the failure. Hell, I already feel that way some days, so perhaps it really won't be that much different.

I'm just trying to distance myself from the whole fertility thing these days-self-preservation at it's best. And, although my IRL friends are trying to be as supportive as they can, considering they have no clue what I'm going through, it isn't helping me. They are trying to be hopeful for me, even though I feel as if there's no hope left. And, the upcoming holidays aren't helping either-this time of the year always makes me sad, because, to me, Christmas has increasingly become a holiday not of celebrating family, but mourning the family that I don't, and possibly can't ever, have. I have no desire to decorate, put up a tree, or even shop for family gifts. I'd be perfectly happy to just stay home, to be honest. But we all know that's not going to happen.

I also got not one, but three more pregnancy announcements in the past two months-even though they were two IVF-related pregnancy announcements (and one announcement from a fellow IF'er that was a natural conception), it still makes me so sad and angry. I'm angry at everyone lately, especially at God-WTF?? What the hell did I do that was so bad that I'm not pregnant?

Jaysus, it seems that all I ever do these days is whinge and whine when I post. Sorry for being Debbie Downer and all, but it's just that kind of lifetime, know what I mean?

Next posting will be all about the Church Job Drama; and trust me, it's a doozy.

Do-Over

I just realized that, in my blechness of being ill, I forgot to update on the Thrombophilia Panel Saga of a few weeks ago.

In our last installment, I was on the phone with my IVF Coordinator, trying to get the results of the bloodwork that I had done on October 16th (which, incidentally, was my grandmother's birthday....how ironic....). I was told by the Coordinator (who I've monikered "The Great Deceiver"-you'll see why in a second) to call back that Friday, 11/2, and the results should be in.

So I called. To find out that The Great Deceiver was out of the office that day. And I didn't leave a message, figuring that I'd call back on Monday morning. Which I did-only to find out that her voicemail hadn't changed from Friday, and I left a message. I never heard from her, so I called back on Tuesday and got the SAME VOICEMAIL MESSAGE (because you never get her "live" during business hours) saying she was out on "Friday". Assuming that she was still out (sick?), I called Dr. Pipsqueak's admin and left a message detailing the whole mess. She called me back that afternoon around 4:45 letting me know that TGD was actually in the office, and that she had already let her know that I had called, and that she was going to personally walk down to her desk to remind her to call me. She sounded peeved, and I assumed that it was because I was calling her instead of TGD. I felt badly for about a total of a minute, but figured that it was worth it to get a call back.

Which of course, I didn't. And then, the shit hit the fan the next day.

I called the admin back on Wednesday and left a pissy message that I have yet to hear from anyone about the bloodwork I had FOUR WEEKS previously, did I need to make an appointment to go over results or would I get results over the phone, blah blah blah. I also left a terse email to TGD saying the same thing. Which FINALLY got a response from TGD in the form of a snotty phone call saying, "Well.....I THINK I have all the results, and I'll forward them on to the doctor who will call you, as I DON'T GIVE OUT TEST RESULTS". To which my reply was, "Well, perhaps if you TOLD ME THAT to begin with, I wouldn't be calling you constantly-but, then again, perhaps if you also RESPONDED TO MY MESSAGES you'd know that". And hung up on her. Bitch.

Admin called me back the next afternoon, and firmly told me that "TGD spoke to you and told you that Dr. Pipsqueak would be calling you with the results". I relayed that I had already spoken to her and gave her the play-by-play of the conversation, told her that it was the first time I had heard from her since the end of October, and that I wouldn't even be bothering her if I didn't think that TGD was still out of the office. There was a silence on the phone, then I was asked, "You mean, she didn't even call you back when you called the first time? I walked down to her desk last week and told her personally that she needed to call you back." Well, nope, she sure as hell didn't.

The upshot of the conversation was that, apparently, The Great Deceiver does this "a lot" and admin has heard this story before from other patients. She gave me TGD's manager's name and let me know that I needed to make a complaint to her so she knew what was going on. Which I did, because I don't let people fuck with me. EVER.

And, the results, you ask? Well.........I still don't know yet. Nurse Blondie called and left a message on Monday that she wanted to go over the results, it "wasn't urgent" but they needed a test repeated, and the doctor wanted to know if I was taking any medications or herbs that would affect the test results, which I'm not-I made sure that I was taking absolutely nothing for about four days before the blood was drawn. One of the tests, the Lupus Anticoagulant Panel, came back with high levels, so I had to have a regular PT/PTT done. I had the blood drawn Friday, and hopefully they'll get the results today or tomorrow and I'll hear sometime this week from the doctor. Nurse Blondie sent me the funky results along with the labslip, and it was interesting seeing the results on paper. Although....I'm not sure why the hell it would be a high clotting time-shouldn't it be lower if you have a thrombophilia disorder? Perhaps it's what the use in the culture medium that's different than a normal PT/PTT. If any of you out there have any clue as to what the hell it means, please let me know, since I'm a bit ignorant about this.....

Either way, I get the sneaking suspicion that they've found something (since Nurse Blondie stressed that she wasn't the one to be able to tell me the results, and that the doctor would be the best one to talk to), and they're just confirming the obvious.

So.....that's where we're at. I'll update when I get more information......

Hmmm.....

So.....should I be insulted, worried, or excited about this?

You Are The Fool

You are a fascinating person who is way beyond the concerns of this world. Young at heart, you are blissfully unaware of any dangers ahead. You are a true wanderer - it has be difficult finding your place in this world. Full of confidence, you are likely to take a leap of faith. Your fortune: You are about to embark on a new phase in your life. This may mean changing locations, jobs, friends, or love status. You are open about what the future will bring, and free of worry. You have made your peace with fate, and you're ready to start down your new path.

What Tarot Card Are You?

Anywhoo......Turkey Day went well-too much food, and lots of family around. We went yesterday to my parents and stayed overnight. I haven't been feeling well the past few days-nauseated, headache, just blechy feeling, and there's some stomach virus going 'round (I actually was "in vomitus flagrante" this afternoon), but otherwise, it's better than being at work, right?

At least, that's how I'm trying to justify it. Oh, well.

Hope all of my colonialist friends had a great Thanksgiving, and for my European friends, hope the weekend is going well.....

Personal Purgatory

It's been really difficult for me to blog lately. Not because I hate people, or that I don't care about anyone else out there. But, it's getting hard to really express myself. Call it writer's block, perhaps; but for me there are so many emotions and monologues running around in my head that I'm afraid to let out, so as not to seem bitter, angry and.....well.........insane, really.

But it's also getting hard to keep all of this inside. Sooner or later it's going to explode, like a volcano. And, like a volcano, it will be impossible to clean up.

Since turning 35 about three weeks or so ago, the thought that perhaps this won't work out for me has been eating away at my psyche. There's been the various pregnancy announcements (two in the last month alone) and, although I am happy for those people, the bitterness that I feel rises up like bile in my throat and chokes back those good wishes. And then, I feel so guilty, because I can't understand why I just can't be happy for someone's good news without first thinking of my own pain. I feel so selfish and self-absorbed-like I can't be the better person. And then I feel even worse.

Some days I wake up and I'm okay-I don't think of my infertility every five minutes. Other days I wake up and go through the day waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I feel as if I have my guard up constantly so as to not feel the pain. Oftentimes, I wake up feeling numb, as if I'm just going through the motions. As if its one more day in the life sentence that is infertility, and that it ain't going to change anytime soon-sort of like an axe murderer on a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Except that axe murderer more than likely has children who'll visit once a month.

Our friends and family have stopped asking us about it, and, while it is a relief in some ways not to feel that pressure, I'm not sure that people not asking us is any better. Perhaps they're afraid to bring it up because they don't want to hear it, or hear more crappy news. Or, perhaps they've given up on us ever having children at all.

I think it hit home the most when I redid my blog template and went through my blogroll. Out of the people that I originally started this journey with, I am the last person left without children. In fact, the majority of the people there have their babies or are pregnant. And, that hurts like hell. I get so angry, not at the people who've moved on, mind you, but at God that he's left me alone. I've more than paid my dues. I've gone through hell with treatments and procedures, prayed, visited shrines, had the Evil Eye removed, bought energy beads, and all for nothing. And if one more person tells me to "think positive" and read that horrible Sec.ret book I'll rip their eyes out with a spork. Seriously. Why put me through all of this? Why show me everyone else who can have children, and leave me standing on my own? What's the point of that? What do I need to learn from this that I haven't already been taught, the hard way?

I feel that life is moving forward, and yet I'm being left behind. I don't feel as if I'm alive, just living day to day in a perpetual state of waiting, much like the souls in Purgatory that are waiting for redemption and acceptance into Heaven. All I know is that I'm 35 years old and the mother of none, and as that number creeps forward the possibility of motherhood gets slimmer. What do I have to show for it? A box of unused syringes, unused meds on the top shelf of our fridge, some alcohol swabs, and a lot of insurance receipts. That's all. No children's laughter in our home. Just an empty room in our house painted yellow and white in expectation of things that may never come to fruition. A room with a door that's now kept closed so we're not reminded of it's presence. So we don't hear it mocking us for painting it those colors to begin with, and for being so naive and optimistic when we should have been on our guard.

I really feel as if I'm drowning. What happened to the person I was before? Did that person really exist to begin with? How do I define myself if I can't be a mother? I don't know who I am anymore. And that scares the shit out of me.

See, I told you I'm going off the deep end.

Large National Lab Blows

So, I called the IVF Coordinator today to find out where the dilly-o my blood results were. They were supposed to be in by today (according to IVF Coordinator).

Well, I called, and OF COURSE they weren't in, and she had to call Evil National Lab from Hell, who told her that they had SOME of the results ready, but the rest won't be ready until the end of the week. After they originally told her on Friday that the results would all be ready by today.

So, what the FUCK?? Does it normally take this long? It's starting to freak me out, because it's making me feel as if perhaps there is something wrong. Like they're going to find something.

Motherfuckers. May the fleas of a thousand camel infest the armpits and nether regions.

After they get the testing done, of course.......I'd hate to have fleas in my test results.

Ick

I've really been a shitty blogger, haven't I?

Don't answer that.....

Seriously, it's been hard to post lately. Not just because I've been busy with work and such, but also because there seems to be a lot of crappy things that have been going on the past few weeks, such as:

*Grandmother being in the hospital and being diagnosed with Factor V Leiden/S-protein defenciency (although she no longer has the PICC line in and is now home-yay!)

*Having 12 (!) vials of blood drawn for a thrombophilia panel and other lovely clotting tests to see if I have inherited this wonderful genetic mutation from Grams (haven't found out yet-probably tomorrow or Wednesday).

*Getting the monthly bloodflow AGAIN (what else is new, right?)

*My blog template sucking royal ASS because the designer skipped Virtual Town and leaving my blog high and dry, and getting a crash course in blog design (thanks to a handy-dandy program in my laptop that I didn't even know I had!) to try to fix it.

*A resigning from church as Music Director (due to differences between him and the new pastor), the choir pretty much falling apart, and me probably being out of the cantoring/church job in about two weeks.

*Oh, yeah........and I'm not pregnant. Again. So, what else is new?

Argh

Soooo...

Whaddya think of the new template??

And, guess what?

I DID IT ALL MYSELF!!! WOOT!!! Go me!

Okay, I'm done patting myself on the back now.....

A Missing Piece of the (Fertility) Puzzle?

Another one of the reasons that my postings have been spotty as of late is because my grandmother (my father's mother) is in the hospital. And, some very interesting things have developed due to this.

About three weeks ago, my grandmother (who lives in Boston with my 95 year old grandfather) was on the phone with my mother; she had been to the dentist earlier in the day and had Novocaine, and wanted to know how long it would take for the medication to wear off. During the conversation, she suddenly started babbling and garbling her speech-my mother went directly into "nurse-mode" and was trying to tell her to call for help.

At which point, my grandmother hung up the phone. And, my mother had no emergency numbers to call anyone else (my grandfather's nephew and his family live on the third floor of the building). Frantic, my mother kept redialing and tried to see how to call 911 when out of state.

Finally, my grandmother answered the phone. She was able to talk, and everything seemed fine. My mother insisted that she go to the doctor's the next day, but of course, my grandmother being the stubborn old bird that she is, hemmed and hawed about it.

Until the next day, when she still didn't feel well. My grandfather's nephew brought her (under duress) to the doctor. Who promptly admitted her to the hospital.

It was determined that she did have a stroke, but luckily it didn't affect her speech. She's been hospitalized before due to clots-once with a DVT (deep vein thrombosis) of the leg and a PE (pulmonary embollism) in her lung. But, up until this point, it never resulted in a stroke. So, she was observed, given medication, and released.

Three days later she ended up back in the hospital, because the arm in which they placed the IV began to swell. It turns out that she has a blood infection from the IV line (can we say "potential negligence due to a non-sterile field"?? Yah..). They also find ANOTHER CLOT in her arm, where the IV was, so they had to put in a PICC, gave her Coumadin, and now have to release her to a subacute facility for four weeks of additional IV antibiotic therapy. The hematologists then decided to do a more extensive blood analysis to see what's going on.

The testing shows that she has Factor V Leiden and Protein-S Deficiency. We're not yet sure whether the gene mutation is homo- or heterozygous, or what else is affected. But, she's had it her entire life. Which explains why it took so long for her to get pregnant. And why she had miscarriages before and after having my father, who is an only child, since FVL increases the risk of miscarriage, preeclampsia and placental abruption.

Ah, the wonders of modern medicine. For years, my grandmother thought that her infertility was "God's will", but it was just a case of genetics. It only took her 89 years to find it out.

So..........guess who's now getting tested for it? Yup. It's very likely that I have the mutation, given the family history (a few of my grandmother's sisters and brothers had strokes and similar clotting issues), but we won't know for sure until the tests are run. My father and brother also will need to be tested, and my mother is thinking of it also, because she has no idea if it's in her family.

Could this be the missing piece of the puzzle for me? Will finding this out help me get pregnant? Not that I want an additional diagnosis, really........but, if this is what's keeping me from getting (and staying pregnant), and it can be treated, then bring it on. I'm more than ready.

WTF???

You know the old saying, "when it rains, it pours"?

Yep. That's my life right now, in a nutshell. It seems as if everything's FUBAR.

Firstly, work is kicking my butt. I got new special ed classes added to my schedule this year-autistic kids. Who are nonverbal. Two who have "regular seizures" and are not on any medications. One of who had a seizure about half an hour after he left my class this morning.

Not much fun.

Then, my blog. For some reason, I no longer have my bitchin' graphic. Emails to Moodswing Creations are coming back to me with delivery failures, and the Moodswing site is down. So, no more bitchin' graphic, unless Denise contacts me.........hopefully everything's okay....

And then, I started spotting on 9/21. Since my period wasn't due until the 28th, and spotting for a week before isn't exactly normal, I called the RE's office. Who relayed that they wanted me in on Wednesday for bloodwork and a date with the wand.

Nurse Blondie called me back that afternoon-the wanding showed that I'm in my luteal phase (duh!), and they ran a beta just for shits and giggles.

Which came back at 2.61.

Since anything over 5 is considered preggo, I had to go back in on Friday for another bloodletting. Of course, I get my period within a half hour of getting home from the aforementioned bloodletting.

This beta came back at 2.7. So, back on Monday. I've now acquired a lovely bruise the size of a quarter on my right arm.

Monday's beta was 3.3. Still negative, as far as they were concerned. So, I have to go back in on the 8th for more torture........uh......I mean bloodwork.


Now, I asked Nurse Blondie why in the hell I would have any kind of beta number if I was so obviously not pregnant. She's calling it a "lab error" or "lab sensitivity". But......wouldn't the number be going down, not up? I did ask if I ever had this happen in any other cycling I did, and the answer was "no", so this definitely isn't normal for me. Of course, when you look up "HCG in non pregnant women", it comes up with wonderful references of ovarian tumors and pituitary tumors. God forbid. Anyone out there have this happen to them? Or am I just the only physiological freak here?

Isn't it the ultimate kick in the ass? Getting a beta number and knowing you're not pregnant-it's just another way that the universe is giving me the virtual finger and laughing hysterically.

Just my fucking bad luck, I guess. Honestly, though-I'm just tired of being the one who always has the crappy luck, though. I just want a baby. Why does that seem like it's too much to ask for?

Called Out

I have to admit-I lurve you guys. Seriously.

I haven't actually sat down and talked to the lovely Sean yet about all of this (we've actually not seen much of each other since it's Fashion Week and he's jobbing out), but I am leaning toward trying au naturale for a bit longer. Then, perhaps we'll do that last cycle. Your comments made me see that 35 isn't really the Fertility Kiss Of Death as the twatotologists make it seem to be. Hell, if that were the case, how the frick did people in my family have "late in life" babies? I mean, my great-grandmother was pregnant with her firstborn the same time her own mother was pregnant with her last baby? Seriously-I think that my great uncle was only a few months older than his youngest aunt. If they can do it, so can I, right?

Maybe we'll do a cycle in February or March, depending on the lab schedule. We can't do a cycle in December or January, because of M and Sexy J's wedding at the beginning of October (now labeled the Event of the Century)-they just don't make sexy maternity wear in an "I'm about to drop this baby out of my cooter onto the dance floor" size. Well, you get what I mean. Unless we go to the camping store and buy a nice tent-hmmm, there's an idea.......

Anyways, all bets might be off if the school district's contract negotiations don't resolve, as the Board of Ed want us to pay into our benefits and the union doesn't want to. Yes, I know that in the grand scheme of things, it isn't that big of a deal (Jaysus, I even payed into medical while working as an employee in a medical insurance company for 7 years), but when you've never payed into medical benefits before, it kind of sucks-especially since any raise in salary we get will then go towards medical insurance payments. And, we don't make a whole lot to begin with, even compared to other districts in our county. So, in effect, if we have to pay a percentage of our insurance, we're basically not getting a raise. Which blows large monkey anuses.

Needless to say, we're now working without a contract. The union tried to meet twice with the Board, but when the subject of paying for benefits came up, and the Board was told that it wasn't part of the agenda, the Board abruptly ended the meeting and walked out. Not good. So, let's hope that there isn't a "job action", because then we're REALLY screwed-and not just reproductively.

***************************************************

So, there's something that has been rolling around in one of the cavernous spots in my brain for about a few weeks now. It's regarding a comment left by the lovely Denise a few weeks ago (and I respectfully quote):

I just love your sense of humor you inject. While I don't know if it's natural for you or if it is a defensive technique, your blog is a joy to read. When we were TTC and going through all the crap that comes with infertility, I learned to be a great actress. While I consider myself a funny person, I also injected extra humor into things. Then I wouldn't cry.

Aww.....I'm blushing. You like me, you REALLY.....okay, you know the rest. Heh.

But seriously, Denise, what you said really struck me for a second, and it made me think about me and how I deal with all of this, and whether it's my personality or sense of self-preservation that shows through on this blog.

I totally get what you mean about being an "actress" when it comes to all of this crap. I try not to show my feelings in front of people, unless they're being total ignorant asshats-then I have to get my Infertility Freak On and "educate" them. I guess, to a point, my sense of humor could be a defensive measure (self-preservation and all that). But, have I always been the kind of person who finds something humorous in situations that are, in essence, not at all funny? Well.....yes. But, not deliberately. I like to tell stories, this is true, and I suppose that my theatre background helps in that regard. But, is it a part of my personality? I don't know.

I mean, I don't really consider myself having a great sense of humor (although, if those of you who know me IRL disagree, I stand corrected) or that I'm an extraordinarily funny person. I've thought about this, and I think that my particular brand of sarcasm is a direct result of infertility. A casualty, if you will. Oddly enough, between Sean and I, he's the one to be the "funny one" of the relationship. The one to make a joke in a TOTALLY inappropriate situation (like at a wake-and I'm serious about this). And, perhaps the twelve or so years that we've been together have rubbed off on me, and I've developed this too.

Yes, I do think that it's partly as a defense, but really I think this blog from the beginning has always been, for me, a form of therapy. A place to let things out. I suppose that, ideally, it's not entirely natural to find the humor in every aspect of infertility, and I really REALLY should go into "traditional" therapy but, for now, this has been enough for me. Will it always be enough? Who knows.

I think a lot of it is that I have to find the funny in the situation, to be able to deal with it. It's also to remind me that it's not always as bad as it can seem, because I sometimes overreact to things. That if I can laugh, and make someone else laugh, then it's not that horrible. Even if it is.

I also think that I try to put a sense of humor here because it isn't only a case of self-preservation, but perhaps it helps other people, too. I remember, even before I decided to blog, and in the early days, reading blogs like Julie's and Olivia Drab's (who just had her beautiful daughter yesterday-congrats!) and laughing my ass off, even when I felt like shit. And I was surprised that I felt better afterwards-that it didnt' make infertility "okay", but it made it more bearable for me. That doesn't mean that their reproductive lives are happy-go-lucky, but it helped me when I was in a low spot. So, maybe it's a case of "paying it forward".

I, too, rarely cry anymore when comes to infertility. Whether it's because I can laugh it off or because I'm desenstized to it I don't know-perhaps I'm just more accepting and used to it. But what I do know is that, regardless of whether you can laugh or cry about it, it all still sucks-no matter who you are, what your diagnosis is or whether or not you're still trying, in some sort of treatment, or have achieved your family. It still really really sucks.

But, thanks, Denise-your comment really made me think-and search myself to really get a grasp on my feelings........and that's always a good thing.

So, everyone-how do you get through? What do you do to cope?

And, booze doesn't count-that's a given.

Red Light, Green Light

I've been meaning to post on the results of Dr. Pipsqueak's appointment, but being that the first day of school is fast approaching (t-minus 4 days and counting-ouch!), I've been busy trying to get organized in both of my schools-getting schedules, dealing with additional special ed classes being added to my schedule last minute, tracking down supplies.........all those fun things that we teachers love to do to get ready for the arrival of the kids. That, and drinking heavily between now and the first day of school.

Now, onto the appointment results....

So, the upshot is that all the karyotyping and Fragile X testing came back normal for both Sean and myself, as well as the physical and ultrasound I had on Tuesday afternoon. Which I'm relieved about, because I was convinced that they were going to find that I was some reproductive mutant with latent pyrotechnic abilities that might trigger with a Lupron/Follistim cocktail (hmmm....gotta find an X-Men name for that one...). As for the HSG results, the right tube is open and ready for business, the left is blocked fimbrially, but there is no need to remove the tube as it wasn't dilated prior to the dye being introduced during the test. I did ask her if it was realistic to try on our own and hope for natural conception, and her exact words were, "I'd definitely try if I were you", but, if we want to do another cycle, we're cleared for it. If we do manage to get pregnant on our own, however, they still need to monitor me closely, since my risk of ectopic pregnancy jumps from 5% to 25%.

And that was that. Other than having the nurses in hysterics when I talked about getting the Follicular Lurve Wanding (and yes, I actually DID say that-why not!?). Now, the choice has to be made.

Do I go ahead with another cycle, or do we try this on our own? Am I really ready for the monitoring, injections, and stress? Do I want to put myself through the TTC au natural again?

ARRGH.....I hate this! On one hand, I feel like time is ticking away-I'll be 35 in six weeks time-and that with the passing of that birthday it will be like an Ovarian Death Sentence and that suddenly my body will not be as cooperative in the egg quality department. But, I don't want to rush into a cycle that could potentially fail just because I'm passing the Magic Fertility Cut-Off Number, especially as it's the last time it will be fully covered by insurance. On the other hand, I never really gave the TTC on our own a fighting chance-well, we did try on our own for almost a year, but I don't think that I ever really got the timing right, plus all the charting/temping crap just aggravated the hell out of me. Then, by the time I got the Fertility Monitor, I only used it one or two cycles before I got my initial diagnosis, then stopped as I thought it was a collosial waste of time-what was the point of knowing when I ovulated when I was being told that both of my tubes are blocked?

Of course, now that I'm being told that there's one open tube, it's throwing a wrench in everything. Yes, I know that I have a higher risk of ectopic, that just because the dye spilled doesn't mean that the inside of the tube isn't damaged in some way-I mean, we've been having unprotected sex for five years now and I've never gotten pregnant. But, I've also been looking up the probability of getting pregnant on my own, and as long as the tube and ovary are good, I have a shot as much as anyone. Hell, if my mother, who only has one tube and ovary (she lost the other side due to a dermoid cyst the size of a grapefruit on her ovary) and was told that she might never conceive managed to do it twice in 20 months (yeah, she got pregnant with my brother six weeks after I was born), and one more time 10 years later (and lost it), maybe I can, too.

But, the thing that is nagging me the most is the strong gut feeling that I'm having to try it on my own-a last hurrah, if you will. That it could work without medical intervention. I've never felt like this during this entire TTC journey. But, I'm afraid that this isn't a true instinct , but is just a reaction against doing a cycle, due to fear of failure.

Yet, I'm still getting this odd feeling that I'm being guided to this choice somehow. Needless to say, I'm more than confused as to which choice to make, and nobody around here (excepting present company, of course!) that has a clue to really hash it out with.

So, tell me.....................what would you do?

St. Anthony says, "Accio, Test Results!!"

....and they've been found! YAY!

Okay, the contest winner is Frank, because his creative cross-relation between St. Anthony of Padua and Harry Potter. As a child, we had a plinth in our front yard with a four-foot statue of St. Anthony on it......and no, I didn't live in a convent-we're ITALIAN, for God's sake! It's almost as if it's MANDATORY to have a saint's statue in the front yard (that is, if you don't have a mini-grotto dedicated to the Blessed Mother). Anyway, Frank-you got brownie points due to the fact that I had a bit of nostalgia going on. Plus, in an eerie co-winkeedink, he is also one of the Patron Saints of infertility and/or barrenness. Betcha didn't know THAT!!

Heh. But, thanks to you guys for your answers-they gave me a giggle when I needed it.

Anywhoo........I finally got a message back the end of last week, so I have an appointment on the 28th with Dr. Pipsqueak to go over the results and also for a physical and date with the Follicular Lurve Wand......damn, should I wear my lacy DKNY bra and matching silk and lace panties for the event? Maybe shave my va-jay-jay in the shape of a heart? It's just that it's been a long time since I've had a wanding, and I'm all of a-flutter.

More than likely, since I'm 13dpo and I'm sure that I'll be Rebooting the Ovarian Operating System any day now, I'll show up in my graying period panties (aka "quitters" around here) with the rip in the waistband and a poonanny that looks like I took a Flowbee to it. Let's complete the "Snaggle Bush" look with hairy legs, too. Because I just. Don't. Give a shit.

I mean, really......do RE's (or twatotologists) REALLY CARE that you're....uh....cleaned up down there? Do they compare and contrast with other patients? I seriously doubt it-doctors, in general, don't look at patients as "human" when doing a clinical exam (and, that's not meant as a crack against doctors), so as to be less embarrassing for everyone involved. But really, wouldn't you love to know what they're thinking?

Okay, maybe I just want to know what they're thinking. 'Cause I'm just weird like that

Oh, who am I kidding? I'll make sure that my undies aren't quitters....

Le Sigh. Such is the life of an infertile.

Dude, Where's My Bloodwork?

In the last installment of the saga titled, "S and the Mysteriously Disappearing Test Results", a certain blood drawing center beginning with the letter "L" somehow had no record of my Offering to the Phlebotomy Gods. Which meant an instant replay of those aforementioned events. Although it was extremely annoying (and really, what isn't annoying about infertility? And why should this be any different, right?), they only needed to take 4 vials. No biggie.

Isn't it sad that I don't think that's a big deal? Or perhaps I'm just desensitized to the whole thing by now.

Anywho.....since this past Saturday marked my three week "veni-versarry", I decided to email my IVF Coordinator early Friday afternoon the following to see if they received the results yet, as well as my PAP results that the twatotologist's office neglected to send:

Hi IVF Coordinator:

I'm just following up to check and see if you've received the copy of my PAP results from Twato that I requested from them three weeks ago, and if you perhaps received back results from the bloodwork that we had re-done (also three weeks ago).

Is there anything else that we need to do, besides scheduling a physical for me? Will we need to make an appointment with Dr. Pipsqueak to go over any results of all the new tests before proceeding with a new cycle?

If you could let me know, I'd appreciate it-you can either respond via email, or call me at home: (INF) ERT-ILE1.

Thanks for your help (and hope you're staying dry today!)

S

And waited. And waited some more. I finally got a response (almost three and a half hours later):

Hello,

To date I have received your pap results dated September 06'. I have not received your bloodwork. What lab did you go to? The only thing that will be missing is the physical exam that you can schedule with Dr. Pipsqueak's admin.

Now, did that answer all of my questions? Uh....nope. I have a sneaking suspicion that she didn't read the whole email. So, I sent this response (about a half hour later):

Hi:

Sean and I both had our blood drawn at Evil Lab on July 28th. When I asked the intake person how long it would take, she said around 7-10 days...

Thanks,S

And haven't heard a thing since. Nada. Niente.

So, what the FUCK is the deal here? As much as I love Big Important Clinic, I'm not loving my Coordinator. Every time I've had to contact her, she takes tons of time to respond. Now, I know that they're busy (when I asked her about not receiving my HSG results, she told me that she was "very busy and can't get back to everyone with test results-huh???), but when I met her for the very first time, she made a point of saying how she was ALWAYS reachable by phone or email. I have yet to call her without reaching voicemail, or email her with her responding in less than three hours.

Reachable my fat, saggy ass. So, I guess when I go for my physical, I need to get my Italian Bitch on and complain to Dr. Pipsqueak. Which I hate to do, as I don't want to seem difficult.........but TOO LATE.

So, I'm sending out a little assignment to everyone out there-be creative and guess where the hell my bloodwork is. The winner will will have their answer be the title for my next post.

So, get thinking!

Nectar of the Gods

Blerch.

So, when it rains, it pours, right?

I have a fricking "cold" (or sinus infection, virus, whatever). I went to the beach on Thursday and came home with a slight headache, from what I thought was from being out in the sun. Then came the nausea, chills and fever, along with some lovely congestion and a sore throat.

Which has made me a blob that's been vacillating between the couch and my bed ever since.

NyQuill is wonderful, however it makes me so out of it, not to mention that sleep is elusive for everyone else in the house, including me. I've apparently been snoring so badly that I've woken up poor Sean not once, but TWICE last night. Unfortunately, in his attempts to get me to roll over he ended up waking me (you know how it is when you're sick-you truly don't get into a deep sleep), and I couldn't get back to sleep right away-at least, not until I dosed myself with more NyQuill.

Sean said that it was pretty funny though, to hear me snoring like a lumberjack. Of course, I have NO MEMORY of any of this, so I'm treating all of this as hearsay...

My mother insinuated that it's the alcohol in the medication that's knocking me out and later making me loopy. Perhaps I'll just have a slug of Brandy before bed and hope for the best. Or more NyQuill.

Ah, NyQuill - the Nectar of the (Infirm) Gods-I salute you-as long as you make me better.

And The Shit Keeps Rolling Downhill

It looks as if August isn't going to be the month for an IVF cycle.

I called the RE's office last week to leave a message that I was at the lovely CD#1, but the nurse was out for the day, so I left a message. The next morning my IVF coordinator called me back and told me that my IVF checklist wasn't completed yet-I still had to do a physical, get my PAP results in and do a buttload of bloodwork. WTF? I already did the frickin' bloodwork and my gyno was supposed to forward the PAP results. So, the coordinator called LapCorp (which I DETEST) to see where the bloodwork was, while I called the gyno's office to see what was up.

LapCorp lost it. They don't even have a record that we were there. The gyno's office also doesn't have a record of the fax I sent, so I had to resend it. Again.

Motherfuckers. I hope they all get crabs.

So, guess who had to redo bloodwork that will apparently take 2-4 weeks? Yup. The coordinator was supposed to fax me the request form "right away" so we could do the bloodwork on Friday (Sean had a half day from work), but "right away" turned out to be at 3:15pm, and of course the lab closes as 3pm, so we had to get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday to get blood drawn. Oh, yeah-they also added some other tests to it, so I was having blood drawn for CMV, TSH, karyotyping and Fragile X (DNA). So, now I'm freaking out thinking that they're going to find some wacky genetic disorder and then we're screwed, because PGD isn't covered by insurance (as far as I know), and we don't have about $8,000 for it......

Hopefully it won't take 2-4 weeks. The intake person at the lab said that it should only take about a week, regardless of what the tests are, but the RE's office says it takes that long. So, in the meantime, I wait. Which it seems that I'm really really good at. And which will also put me squarely into September for an IVF cycle-right at the beginning of the school year. Just fucking brilliant.

Anyone want to take bets that perhaps this cycle isn't the best of ideas?

I Guess That Haircut Has To Wait

BFN today, 12 DPO

I probably didn't even need to test, really, since I've been spotting brown since yesterday.

Ah, well-I guess it's on to Syringeville next month.....

To Pee, Or Not To Pee?

"To pee, or not to pee, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the bladder to suffer
The emptying of urine without testing,
Or to use sticks against a tide of unsurety,

And by peeing, end them. To pee, to know;
The answer; and by peeing to say we end
the heart-ache and endless obsessing
That we infertiles are heiresses to-'tis an all-consuming

Desire to be had. To pee, to know;
To pee, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub;
For in using that HPT we can confirm what dreams may come...."
*shamelessly raped from Hamlet, Act III

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm going back and forth between obsessing over the last Harry Potter book and obsessing over whether or not to POAS-on the very last stick I have in the house, as a matter of fact. Since I can't afford to get any more pee-sticks, I'm trying to hold out as long as possible, but today's temptation is tough. I mean, it really IS too early, right? RIGHT?

Help me out here, people.

Let's obsess over potential signs and symptoms, shall we?

Spotting and cramping on 8dpo (and some residual today)? Check.
Ever-so-slightly-sore boobs? Check.
Frequent peeing? Check (although it just might be due to the amount of water I'm chugging down).
Sudden hunger pangs? Check.
Bloated a tiny bit? Check.
Can't stay up past 10pm? Check.

It could be PMS, but it could also be a BFP.

God, I loathe progesterone-it's the ultimate mind fuck.

Unless,of course, I really am the P word (I refuse to say it, I won't!).....then it could be my Bestest Friend in the World.

I'm still prepping for the call to the RE next week to start the Poonanny Circus that will come to be known as "IVF#4" . If things work the way they should (because let's face it-me getting "P" on a natural cycle is akin to pigs suddenly taking flight), you, my lucky friends, will get a chance to enter the "name my next IVF cycle" contest that I'm planning. The winner will get their slogan duly noted for posterity.

Hey, you've got to make SOMETHING about this crap fun where you can, right?



Totally Necessary Disclaimer: Okay, I freely admit-my iambic pentameter's not perfect, so if there are any English or Lit instructors out there, please please don't crucify me.

The Verdict, and Other Items of a Personal Nature

So, did I like the movie, you asked?

Well......after seeing it a total of twice already (once with the loverly Shelli, and once with Sean), I have to say that I really did like it. Granted, there's a lot that's left out of the movie that is in the book, but I kind of expected that-it IS difficult to fit an 800+ page novel into a two hour and twenty minute movie. But.........I thought it was very well acted (you can see how, with age, the main characters have matured in their craft), was fast paced, and had a kick-ass final scene. Sean, who has never read the books (blasphemer!) remarked after seeing it that it left him wanting more, and I guess, in that regard, the movie succeeded. He also said that it was confusing to him in the sense that you didn't know what was going on specifically, but I assured him that the book was very much the same. The novel is a psychological/psychic mind screwing, really, so the movie does give you that slight paranoid feeling which is paralleled in the books.

So, yeah, I did like it. A lot. And now, we wait for the last novel.....

____________________________________________________

In Poonanny-related news, I am at 8DPO of what is probably the last cycle trying on our own before IVF#4. I think we did pretty well in terms of doing the sexy time on the correct days (with help from that handy-dandy Fertility Monitor). I'm feeling good (and lost 5 pounds to boot-yay!), but, of course, I just HAVE to have spotting and cramping today (the spotting is gone now, but I'm still slightly crampy)-I mean, why should I have a normal luteal phase like anyone else? Other than that, it's just the normal "am I or aren't I" obsessing over potential signs and symptoms that is par for the course at this point.

I had a haircut and color done today, and, whilst talking to my hairdresser about cutting off my hair, which comes up every now and then, I saw this FABULOUS haircut and color on a mannequin:




No, I didn't do it (although I was tempted to), but I made a deal with my hairdresser (who is in on my Infertility Adventure):

If I get knocked up, he can cut my hair in this exact style. No questions asked.


So, people-let's hope I get a makeover, STAT.

SQQUUUEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's here!!!! I'm so excited I could wet my panties!!!

TODAY HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX OPENS!!!!!

Well, technically.....it opens tomorrow. However, Shelli and I will be watching the 12:01am showing in Midtown.........and I get to have dinner and a sleepover too-WOOOOOOTTTT!!!

All this AND I got a "peak" on my monitor for the past two days............I just can't STAND all the excitement! Ah needs someone to pass me thuh vapors *fanning myself furiously whilst lying on a chaise in a gauzy dress trimmed with maribou feathers*

14 and a half more hours to go......

HR 2892

In browsing my one of my favorite IVF boards, I came upon this thread in regards to the proposed Family Building Act of 2007, which could potentially mandate coverage for millions of currently uninsured infertiles (there's a lot of information as to how to lobby, in case you're a newbie).

I thank God every day that I live in one of the few states that requires insurance companies to cover infertility, and I know that if I weren't so lucky the dream of a family would be unreachable to Sean and I, since we could never afford to pay out of pocket for any of the tests, procedures and treatments throughout the past four years. There are so many of you out there who read this blog who go through that hell every day of your lives.............now, it's your chance to make a difference.

Lobby your congressperson. Let your voices be heard. Even if you're done building your families, or if you've decided to go on child-free....do it for every one of us, and for those who are as yet undiagnosed with this horrible disease.

Congress-make HR 2892 become Law! Let this country know that infertility IS a disease and should have the same coverage as any healthcare issue!

Bridezilla!

Wow, A LOT has gone on in the last week and a half. But first, thanks for the comments. It's wonderful to know that there are so many of you who are in my corner, whatever the outcome. I love you all-I truly do. Let's hope, for all of our sakes, that these Infertili-versaries won't need to be remembered next year....

So.....let's backtrack, shall we?

It seems that I will now be Matron of Honor in not only one, but two weddings next year. M and Sexy J got engaged whilst on vacation in Rhode Island last week, and G and A told us last Friday that they were going to have a Civil Union ceremony in April '08, and want us to be their "Best Lady and Man". YAY!

Actually, I'm very happy for both couples. G and A are going to have something small at a Unitarian Church, with a reception in the church hall afterwards, and Sean and I get to help plan the reception, which is cool-Sean has got his set designing chops out as to how to transform the normally dark church hall into something beautiful (with the help of fabrics, of course!). We've written down some ideas, so once the boys come back from Hawaii we'll show them what we've got.

As for M, well.............she's a bit of a Bridezilla. I don't remember if she was this bad the first time around, but holy motherfucking shit! She JUST HAS to find the reception place because she JUST HAS to get married next October and it JUST HAS to be at a country club blah blah blee......

Now, I know that originally she didn't want a big deal, but since this is Sexy J's first time, she's having a wedding. She originally was going to marry in the Episcopal church (because she JUST HAS to marry in a church), since she's divorced and her annulment process hasn't finished yet, so at least she's come around and is going to marry at the reception place. She is driving me motherfucking nuts, she's had the ring on her finger for less than two weeks and she's already popping Tums like it's SweetTarts. The rate she's going, she won't worry about how the food tastes, because she won't have a stomach left.
c
She's also talking about getting liposuction if she can't lose weight by the wedding..........I shit you not. LIPO! And planning a WEDDING! And PAYING for it herself! She has gone off the deep end. I tried to be the Voice of Reason, but she's not in any frame of mind to take advice right now, so I'm backing off and letting the trainwreck start.

See, it's not that I don't love her like she's my sister. It's just that she is the type of person that is really into appearances, which is why I sometimes don't get her, because I really don't care what people think of me, my home, my wardrobe or my car. They don't live my life, so they can fuck themselves. But M is the opposite of me, which is okay (since we all can't be the same-how boring would that be?), but can be irritating. Like now. She's more worried about getting a raw bar than how much she's paying. Yesterday, when we were supposed to "dress shop" (I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a dirty spork) she decided that she wanted to go visit a wedding reception site. Now, she had an appointment for Thursday afternoon, but she didn't want to drag her daughter with them, so she called and asked if she could go that very moment. The guy was nice and said that he could squeeze us in. So off we went. I liked the place-the ceremony site was beautiful, the chef was originally from another well-known place, the bakery that makes the cakes is one we've both used before, and loved. The price was what she was looking for, too. So after we get the tour and spiel, I ask her what she thinks. She thinks for a moment, and says that the wallpaper downstairs in the cocktail rooms are "too gaudy" for her. Uh..........okay..........it IS a colonial mansion that's decorated in keeping with the period......what did you expect? Then she starts going on about how the dresses have to match the decor and blah blah blah.

See what I mean? Here's her first and second choices. I like the first, the second is okay, but-it's not my wedding, so whatever she picks is her decision. She's all hung up on having foliage, since it's an October wedding, however she's planning for the first Friday in October, and there won't be much on the trees yet. The mansion place has tons of seasonal flowers, which is nice.

Whatever. I'm just annoyed that she changes our plans, drags me up and back (in traffic) to a place that she doesn't like very much. I guess that's just part of the Matron of Honor duties, right?

Oh, well........at least school's out.

Infertili-versary

Well, since we're now chugging towards the end of June, I'm also coming up on a pretty significant date: it marks my 5 year "anniversary" of my infertility diagnosis. Actually, I think the actual "date" is early next week, but I refuse to even try to find out when that specific day is-what's the point, right?

I've recently been thinking a lot about all that has transpired in those 60 months-the months of trying, temping (thank GOD I don't even bother with that crap anymore), getting over the "ewww" factor of having to stick my fingers in my cooter to check my mucus, the doctors, doctors and MORE doctors, and having every medical instrument known to mankind introduced to my poonanny. Then, let's factor in the IVF cycles, the OHSS and having to get a liter of fluid drained from my abdomen, the FET and, later, miscarriage, the two subsequent IVF failures and 4 failed FET's that followed.

The heartache, pain, fear, tears and suffering. The anticipation, and the eventual letdown when my period arrived. The building of hope and dashing of it with that red flow. Walking that fine line between sanity and jumping over the edge. The uncertainty of what the outcome of all those pills, injections, and invasion to my Private Lady Parts will eventually be.

My infertility diagnosis has changed me, that is for certain. I'm cautious, and not as likely to share things with others when it comes to babies and families. I avoid the baby sections of department stores; I try, whenever possible, not to go to baby showers or visit newborns and new mothers. I've developed a wall of self-preservation. I try to keep out the things that will make my heart hurt.

I've stopped dreaming of a family. I refuse to place even a hand on my belly to wonder on it, as I'm lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. I try to accept that what will be will be, that I can't change my fate. That I need to be patient, and hold on to the hope that "good things come to those who wait".

However, I've learned a lot about myself too; things that I wouldn't have ever found out had I not been infertile. I can inject meds faster than Billy the Kid on speed. I can take PIO injections WITHOUT icing my ass, thankyouverymuch. Also, my ovaries are the Queen of Overcompensation. And let's not forget that I'm a Card-Carrying Member of the Dildocam Club.

But, I've learned other things, too. I have a more of a sense of fighting for what I really want, and how lucky I am that I live in a state that has mandated infertility coverage. That I have a strong marriage to a man that loves me for ME, not just for my (broken) girly bits. That it just might be okay if we can't have children. Not easier, but we have each other, at least.

I have real friends who support me in whatever path I choose. I have met so many people who are just like me-some have had success and are currently holding their babies in their arms, some are currently pregnant and loving it, and some haven't reached their goal. And, I'm blessed to know them, and their families-and I wouldn't have ever met them (online or in "real" life) if I hadn't been diagnosed as infertile. They've made me laugh when I was feeling like shit, and they've made me cry when hearing about their own loss and pain. It's like being in a sorority-everyone is different, yet you have that one thing that unites you, that defines you as a group. And, like a sorority, once you're initiated, you're a member for life.

I've learned compassion. And strength-strength that I never knew I had. If I can handle this, I can take anything. I've also learned that life is too damn short, and to have no regrets about anything.

Do I still feel envious of other's success? Do I still have days that I feel shame with my "situation"? Do I still get angry? Sure-I'm only human, after all. It's normal. But, I've learned not to take it personally. I've been dealt a shitty hand, but I'm trying my best to make lemonade from the mound of lemons in front of me.

I really feel that, lately, I'm in a better place. I don't know if it's due to the repeated HSG and results, or that I'm coming to terms with my infertility and it's place in my life. I'm not letting it rule over me as I once did; in fact, I'm slowly learning to coexist peacefully with it, like an eccentric grandmother who likes to wash used tinfoil, fold it up and put it away in a drawer (okay.......maybe that's just MY grandmother who did that. I'm not kidding-after she died we found an ENTIRE DRAWER FILLED with little folded squares of tinfoil. I shit you not-I can't make that up.). You just accept the weirdness, because it ain't gonna change. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, and it's the same with infertility-it's not going to be cooperative when you want it to be.

Oh...............did I mention that I'm 11DPO? Yeah. Don't get all antsy in the pantsy, though-I had my usual PMS migraine last night, and some cramping/slight brownish mucus today. So, I'm probably out for this cycle, and probably on the way to IVF #4. And, I'm okay with that. Disappointed, but okay.

So, yeah.............infertility does still suck. But, maybe it'll still end up okay, after all.

Violation

And I'm not talking the dildocam-in-your-va-jay-jay kind of violation.

We arrived home last night around 6:45 to find that our front door wasn't pulled closed. After confirming that we did, in fact lock the door behind us earlier that day, we also saw that our inner foyer door was also open (with a bewildered Buddy standing in the foyer), and then, we saw the sight that made our hearts sink into our toes.

Our back door was wide open, with the moldings and part of the frame ripped from the plaster wall. Our house was broken into while we were gone for the afternoon.

911 was called, we were advised out of the house, and the police were there within minutes. It was a shocking site to see one of the officers draw his pistol while going up the stairs to our second floor (I hastily told him that Peachy was probably hiding under our bed), and, after the house was shown to be empty, we were allowed back inside.

Now, here is the amazing part of this whole thing-nothing was taken. Nothing. Everything was in the place (albeit messy) that we left it in that morning. My car keys were on the peg, the laptop was in its spot in the living room, Sean's tools were in the foyer. All the jewelry, mail and passports still in their hiding places. My infertility meds and sharps were still in their cupboard (gotta check for that, right?).

So, what happened, you wonder? Well, so did we. The police told us that something must have startled whoever it was and they left out the front door. It could have been the cats upstairs on the hardwood floor, a neighbor coming home (both were out for the day); whatever the reason, we were spared from the added disaster of losing valuables precious to both of us. We were also told that there has been a rash of burglaries in our neighborhood lately (and another one across town), so they would "be keeping an eye on things". Needless to say, not one police car cruised by our house last night or today. Great.

Sean spent three hours last night reinforcing the doorjam and frame with steel rods and 2-by-4's-he said that when they replaced the kitchen door they didn't really stabilize it correctly, which was why the intruder was able to smash their way through ( you can see the dent above the doorknob where it is obvious some kind of object was used). I, of course, couldn't get to sleep and finally dropped off at around 4am, after calling out of work-there was NO WAY that I was leaving the house the next morning for work.

It could have been a lot worse-we could've been in the house when it happened, or come home to find them; one of us could've been hurt. So, we're thankful for that. However, that feeling of being violated is something that is harder to shake. I no longer feel safe. I loathe the fact that someone forced their way into our home with the intention of stealing our things. I'm bitter and angry that I'm now fearful of being here alone, or at night.

So, after Sean finishes the bathroom this week, we're cleaning out the basement, and putting the house up for sale (probably within the next month or so). We've been batting the idea around for awhile (in fact, yesterday afternoon we were talking about how we were willing to wait until next year to move, to allow more time to fix up the house and find something new that we really want), but now, this break-in is the catalyst we needed to get our asses in gear.

Time for a change. Not the change we hoped for, but perhaps it will lead to better things for us, all around.

Leak Week

Cycle day 1 is here again,
The uterine highway is clear again,
So come sing along, we'll try again,
Cycle Day 1 is here again!

So, in honor of that annual tradition here in the Tri-State area called Fleet Week (where hundreds of hottie sailors roam the streets of NYC looking for a good time), I had my own dishonorable discharge, but from the Uterine Navy.

Yes folks, we've got bleeding! It started this morning, after the usual spotting/killer "progesterone is falling" headache last night. Oddly though, there isn't a lot of cramping or bloating, but that's a good thing.

How do I feel about this? I mean, since we actually made a go of having "baby making sex" this month? Surprisingly, I'm not really upset that my period is here. Really. Now, pick yourselves up off of the floor and check your panties for skids, because I'm not kidding. SERIOUSLY.

I really didn't expect it to work this month-not because I'm being all Miss Negativity and Doom and Gloom (which I'm good at, I know). But, I usually have ovulation pain, and I had it on my left side this month (the blocked side), and, since there's only a slight chance (around 5%) that an egg will migrate and be swept up into a good tube, I kinda had a feeling that the odds wouldn't be in my favor this month. So, we'll give it the good 'ol college try again this cycle, with the added bonus of using that handy-dandy digital fertility monitor that I have (once I can dig it out of wherever the hell it's cowering in fear)-I've forgotten how much I hate OPK's and the "is-it-or-is-it-not-a-surge" game. C'mon, you KNOW what I'm talking about-that little ritual where you hold the OPK up to the light source of your choice, squint at the stick and use quantum physics to determine whether or not the line is AS DARK OR DARKER than the control line. You end up looking like one of those Central Park painters who hold out their paintbrushes to "find the right angle" in their subject. You get the mental image, right?

I'm not devastated that it didn't work this month. I was contemplating doing another cycle this month (the last day to start stims at my clinic before they close is June 11th) and bypassing this TTC shit, but something is telling me to hold off one more month, to wait until they reopen in July. And, I'm okay with that-I need more time to relax, maybe lose a few more pounds, center myself a bit more, enjoy part of the summer IVF-free. And, I have to listen to that little voice more than I do, because it's most often right (which was another thing that the Tarot reader told me). I'm still feeling the good Va-jay-jay juju and all that. I just need to enjoy the good mojo feeling a little more, so I can figure out how to channel that into an IVF cycle. If it gets to another cycle, I mean.

And so, here I am-sitting on my parent's couch at the Jersey Shore watching bad daytime TV, with the dog sleeping next to me and waiting for my mother to come home from work to do a little retail therapy. Since we only used two of the allotted five snow days built into our schedule this year, our district gave us a little Memorial Day Break, with today and Tuesday off. So, I decided to drive down here after work on Thursday and go home tomorrow night, in time for church on Sunday. Then Monday at G&A's, and Tuesday to hang out at home. Then, we're in the home stretch with 17 days left of school (actually, only 10 full days of school and 7 half day sessions), and I'm officially on break, with my (hopefully not-so) fat ass in a bathing suit on the beach with a trashy novel.

Oh, yeah, and sex. LOTS of sex. Because life is for living, right?

A-Buh-Bye, Evil Eye!

I am, apparently, just about cured of the Xema. Today's findings in the water glass showed two drops of oil, along with a few smaller droplets floating on the surface of the water. I need to go one more time, then I should be evil-eye free!

Thank fucking GOD. I was beginning to think that I was seriously screwed there.

So.......wanna hear about my Tarot card reading? Huh? Do ya?

I left off in my tale with me hauling ass to the New Age shop for another bracelet (which is now FIRMLY lodged on my left wrist). While I was there I bought another one titled "miracles", because........well......I figured that it was good to hedge my bets, ya know? Plus, it was green and purple and SO cute....

Anyway, the store still looked open, and the sign was still up, so I opened the door, only to find out that they were, in fact, closed. I offered to come back the next day, but the owner said not to worry about it, since the register wasn't closed out yet. As I was buying the bracelet, she pointed out a new bracelet they got in, which was an "evil eye" bracelet (it kinda looks like this). I get a few emails from the store too, so I inquired about a reader that they were having the next day, and the owner told me that she JUST HAPPENED to have one appointment left in her schedule, so I snapped it up.

I showed up on Sunday and met the woman for the reading. Now, I'm not a Tarot-a-holic, so I'm not up on the specifics on how to read each and every card, but every card that she put out pointed toward a new opportunity for me, creatively, and that right now, whatever I want is within my grasp-all I have to do is focus my energy into it, and it's all mine. I did ask about the baby thing, and, after pulling more cards, she told me that I did have a good doctor and I was in the right place for things to happen. The cards did show me to be successful, but that I had to be patient. She also said that I needed to be more open spiritually and not let other people's negativity drag me down, especially at work. She felt that these negative thoughts might potentially affect my health in one way or another. She suggested sending petitions and anointing a candle and lighting it to the Archangel Raphael in regards to my infertility, so of course I left the store with those things firmly in my shopping bag (candle and oil, I mean).

Oh, yeah, and I need to take pleasure in more things in a creative way. And that my husband rocks. Can't get much better than that, right?



Now, here's some freaky shit that's just up Watson's alley. This happened about a week and a half ago, but I didn't have time to post it:

'Lil' Man (my BIL) called one night to talk to Sean, and, while they were bullshitting, he asked how/where we are in the babymaking process. Sean just said that we were gearing up for another cycle (not that we had the HSG or the results of that). 'Lil' Man then said that he had a very vivid dream the night before that I was pregnant and that we waited to tell people (he said because we were afraid to) until it was so obvious that we couldn't hide it anymore. He said that we knew the gender, but weren't telling anyone, and that it was so realistic it woke him up out of a sound sleep, and, for a moment, he wasn't sure if he had just dreamed it or if it really happened.

Freaky, huh? Can these signs all be pointing toward something?

Maybe. It's not to say that it will happen immediately, because I'm certainly not expecting it to. It's hard to explain, but lately I feel "lighter", less stressed out. Perhaps my mental state is attributing to it, who knows. But I really feel that all these things aren't coincidences, and that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for me, and that we will soon know the ending of this chapter.

Or else I'm a SERIOUS sort of crazy. Take your pick.

Shit Storm

About a month or so ago, during Spring Break, I went to lunch with a friend, and afterwards we wandered up the street to find this little New-Age type store. We went in, and I ended up buying a Karma Bracelet, which was made of hematite. The woman behind the counter said that it would absorb negative energy from me and those around me, and, when it was "finished" absorbing that negativity, it would break.

Curiously, from the moment I put it on, I wasn't having such shitty days at work. The problem kids were actually pleasant to me. I got the good HSG results, we did the sexing numerous times and numerous ways.

No problems, right?

Until the bracelet broke on Monday night. I was taking it off when it got caught on my watchband and snapped-hematite beads rolling all over the hardwood floor.

On Tuesday, I had an issue with a student. Later that morning, he ran into me while going with his class into the cafeteria, promptly starting screaming that I "hit him", then threatened to slap me. All this, from a ten-year old. So, I had to deal with the aftermath of that, which meant dealing with the principal, the parent, suspension, did I want to PRESS CHARGES..........ergh.

Last night, the neighbors had a birthday party for their teenage daughter/step-daughter and all of her friends, and JUST HAD to blast House music and scream for about two hours. In surburbia, this is a definite no-no, so Sean had to get up and go next door and tell them to cut the shit out. So, let's just say that neighbor relations are not going well around here.

Now, the main sewer line in our basement has decided to back up onto the basement floor. It does drain, albeit slowly. Needless to say, we're currently waiting for a call from a 24-hour plumber, who will surely financially try to rape us for what I'm sure will end up being a simple15 minute job unclogging the drain to allow the yummy "soup" to go through the pipes and out to the street.

Oh, yeah......did I also mention that I'm in the 2WW, and I've been spotting/staining (not majorly, just on the toilet paper, or a slight stain on the panties) since Friday afternoon? Cramping, too. And, I'm not due for my period until Thursday at the earliest, so WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?

Coincidence? Maybe. But I quickly hauled ass back to the store last night for a new bracelet, and other goodies. Better safe than sorry.

Stay tuned tomorrow for the next installment of "My Foray into New Age Mysticism-The Evil Eye Update, Guardian Angel candles and Tarot Readings Galore"-whee!


*Watson-I know that you totally live for this shit, so if you can drag your ass out of that first-trimester coma, have fun reading!

PoonannyPalooza 2007

I've learned three important things during yesterday's coochie-fest:

1. Valium is the awesomist drug ever fabricated by mankind.
2. Do NOT take your mother to your exam and dildocam wanding and act as your official drive home person. Especially my mother-BAD idea. I'd rather eat lint out of my belly button.
3. Hydrogen peroxide is GREAT for removing blood from your white sports socks.


My mother (also known as the "designated driver") showed up at my house after 11 am due to nasty traffic on the Garden State Parkway, which put us running late. Since I know that she is the slowest person in the history of the state of New Jersey when driving, I offered to drive to Dr. Pipsqueak's office. Plus, I must confess, I wanted the opportunity to drive her bitchin' BMW X3. So, I spent the next twenty-five minutes or so with her nagging me that I was driving "too fast" and that she gets nervous when in the passenger seat. Short of pulling over on the highway and stuffing her ass in the trunk, we made it to the hospital in time, with me relishing the thought of taking that one Valium stashed in my purse.

Once I get there, Dr. Pipsqueak informed me that we weren't doing the saline sono, only an exam and a date with the dildocam, then the HSG. She leads me (and mom) into the room, where I strip down to my goodies and put on that oh-so stylin' robe they have. Nursey then comes in to take the vitals-height, and weight. I hem and haw, since I am seriously allergic to scales, so the nurse tells me to give a ballpark figure............so I blurt out: 140 lbs.

Only to hear my mother pipe up: "Wow, that's a LOT".

Then the conversation ensues:

"Well, didn't you USED to weigh like 110 lbs?"
"Yeah mom, in college, when I smoked and didn't eat. It's mostly boob weight, I guess"
"More like from the waist down. Your legs got big."
"Yeah, well mom, you shoot up fertility drugs and tell me if you don't gain any weight".
"Well, when you started teaching you DID gain a bit"
"Uh.....I'm on my feet all day, how would that happen?"
"Oh..........well, maybe it's muscle weight then......."

Now, mind you, this is going on while the nurse is trying to take my blood pressure. I still don't understand how it stayed low-I was sure that my head was about to explode.

Anyway, that part (with the exception of my mother's diarreha of the mouth) went well. I've got a couple of follicles happily buzzing away in the ovaries, the cyst on the left ovary is still there, but no larger, the usual. Then it was off to admitting in the main hospital for the HSG. I check in, get my pass, down the Anaprox and Valium and trundle down to radiology to start my trip to Shiny Happy Land. And, trust me, I didn't have to wait long for that.

The next thing I know my mother is calling my name to tell me that it's time to go-apparently, I fell asleep for about 10 minutes. Nice radiology nurse has to lead me down the hall, since I almost ran into the wall (whoops!). She hands me a gown, shows me to the bathroom and tells me to remove everything from the waist down, but I can leave my socks on. As I leave the bathroom, Dr. C shows up and asks how I am, at which point I tell her that I'm in my happy place (which got a laugh).

I get settled up onto the table (NO stirrups, just some towels to prop up my butt, and my legs in the "frog position"), they put in the speculum and explain the whole procedure. Then, Dr. C warns me that the injection of Lidocaine is about to be administered.

Holy motherfucking OUCH! That shit sobered me up, let me tell you. But, then the catheter was inserted and I thankfully felt nada. And then, the dye was injected, which was bearable but not entirely comfortable. Turned to the left, turned to the right. It was done in less than 10 minutes. Everything was pulled out, and Dr. C warned me that perhaps I might need to change my socks when I got home, since when they pulled everything out they got splattered---great. Then she told me that she would go over the results with the radiologist and Dr. Pipsqueak, but also reviewed the films with me right then and there on the screen.

My left tube is blocked. It looked like a sausage at the bottom where the dye collected. I was told that normally they would remove the tube to prevent the fluid from washing back into the uterus, but since they've never seen the hydro during the stim cycle that perhaps they'd leave it alone, but couldn't give me a definite answer either way. Honestly, if it's crap, take it out, and the ovarian cyst on that side right along with it. Hmmm.....perhaps that "cyst" is part of the hydro?

And the right one, which wasn't visualized on the first HSG and was assumed to be a proximal blockage?

Open. Completely and utterly open. The dye passed easily through and into the abdominal cavity. She even suggested that we try on our own, since an HSG tends to slightly increase pregancy rates.

I was in shock. I started to cry right then and there. I tried to apologize, but I told her that we basically stopped trying on our own, since we were told many times that there was no reason to. She pointed to the screen, then took my hand and said to me, "Well, you do definitely have a shot on your own-you only need one good tube, so why not try?"

Why not? Perhaps the xematiasma is working and the curse is slowly being lifted.

It gave me hope that perhaps this will work out for me, after all.

Xematiasma

It seems, people, that there is a reason for my troubles. And it's fucking weird as hell, so strap yourselves in for this one.....

Friday afternoon I got a phone call from a friend I teach with (she teaches art in my school). (Just a little background-she's been out on child rearing leave since she had her son back in September, and started working again yesterday). She told me that she had to take her son to the doctor that morning, and her mother tagged along, and that my name came up in conversation. Her mother asked how long we were trying to get pregnant, blah blah blah...........and then she told her daughter that she thought that perhaps I had "the mati" and she wanted to see me to find out by doing something called the "xematiasma".

Now, for anyone out there who has no idea what I'm talking about, it's the Greek version of the "evil eye". We Italians call it "malocchio", and it's a common belief in Meditteranean and Middle Eastern cultures. When I was a kid it was a common thing in my mother's family-it was said that if someone "overlooked you" (ie. coveted you or something of yours) they could give you the evil eye. Many times, when I had a horrible headache or didn't feel well, my grandparents would say that I had "the eyes", then they would take a possession of mine, and say prayers over it to get rid of it. I distinctly remember watching them do if for people (the affected person doesn't have to be in the room, by the way), and as they silently said the prayers, their eyes would start to stream with tears, they would yawn incessantly, and do that dry spitting thing that Nia Vardalos made famous in her movie. So, the point is, once my friend explained what the mati was I knew exactly what she was talking about, and I didn't think she was nuts..

So, what did I do, you're wondering. Well, I booked my ass over there with her yesterday afternoon after school to see her mother. And it was the freakiest thing EVER.

She came out into the living room with a glass of water and some olive oil on a spoon. Then, she made the sign of the cross (Orthodox version, of course) three times, said a silent prayer, made the sign of the cross again three times. She then dipped her pinky finger into the oil, and dropped the oil into the water. Then she repeated it three times.

Now, all you science people out there-what happens when you place a drop of oil into a glass of water? It floats on the surface, right? Well, each time she did that , the oil dropped into the bottom of the glass, and stayed there. STAYED THERE. Weird, right? The last time, just to show me, she did it to herself, and the drop of the oil floated on the surface of the water. As she went through the ritual, she kept saying "Oh, my God", then said something to my friend in Greek.

Apparently, I have the evil eye. Bad. I have to go back two more times for her to do it again.

Now, realistically I know that it can't be possible, but you know what weirder shit has happened. And, it's not altogether implausible that someone's bad thoughts or malicious intentions can affect another person. But make them infertile? Huh?

So, after this weirdness I called my mother to tell her about this, and she ACTUALLY AGREED. My mother then tells me that she's convinced that someone put a fattura on me (it means "spell" in Italian) and she's almost positive she knows who it is.

Here's where the story get's weirder, like sicko weird-so bear with me.

My mother is convinced that my father's grandmother put the fattura on me as a child. When I was really small (from birth to about 6 years old) we lived with my father's grandmother's house (she lived downstairs, we lived upstairs). She wasn't a nice woman (she was a midwife), really-the little I remember of her she was constantly yelling and screaming at us, and telling our parents that we were horrible children. Anyways.........when I was six or so we moved out of that house to another town to live in my mother's grandmother's house, in Orange, NJ. My father's grandmother apparently told her daughter-in-law (my dad's mother) "Go ahead, let them move there.........and I hope S gets raped when they're there, too!" Nice, huh? My mother said that, ever since that day, our family has had bad luck.

I called my friend last night to talk to her about it, and relayed what my mother said about my great-grandmother and the fattura. She then got freaked out and said, "well, didn't you hear what my mother said?". I told her that they were talking in Greek (which she didn't realize). She then said that her mother told her, "She's got it bad. It's really old, and been there for LONG time". She said that her mother is CONVINCED that this is the reason I can't get pregnant.

Even Sean, who said that he "neither believes or disbelieves" this, said that it's entirely possible.

So, the upshot is that I've been cursed, probably by my evil great-grandmother, and I'm going this week to my friends Greek mother to get it removed.

Yeah.

I'll let you know how it plays out. So, if anyone out there knows how to remove a curse, please let me know-I'd like to hedge my bets, if you know what I mean.

Now, I'm off to PoonannyPalooza 2007 (saline sono and HSG day-hooray!). If I'm not too fucked up from Captain Valium and the Anaprox, I'll be back later to update you on that hot steaming pile of mess.

Hell, who am I kidding-I'll post later..........just for the sheer entertainment value of blogging on meds. I'm sure you all will be amused, anyway.