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!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, June 04, 2007
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.
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.
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