Bon Voyage

Triduum is almost over. I've been singing almost every day since Palm Sunday (I had one day off on Tuesday), whether it be a rehearsal or Mass, as well as trying to fit in cleaning, washing clothes, packing, and running out for last-minute things for our trip. Oh, yeah, and making a cake and the poopie cupcakes, which turned out quite well-gotta try to take a pic of them tomorrow.

So far, everything with Big Important Clinic is doing well. I had my cycle day 3 bloodwork, which looks good, and yesterday I went for the bloodletting from hell-nine vials. NINE. Plus, I had to fast for the bloodwork (not to mention that it was Good Friday and I was fasting anyway. Sheesh.). I now have a lovely purple bruise the size of Iowa on my left arm. I'm sure it will go with the beautiful blue dress I bought for the cruise *grumble grumble* Then, we had to go to see Dr. Petite for our saline sonohystogram, and we were given the all-clear. Of course, I was crampy and leaking saline for the rest of the day, which wasn't fun-especially since I had to sing all day. Note to self: Have some brains and do not schedule invasive reproductive tests when you know you have to perform five hours later. It's just not that fun.

So now, we just need to take our IVF medication class on May 11th (I mean, what's the point? Oh, yeah, it's required.......), Sean's gotta spank the monkey for a sperm sample to test (and he can see if the hospital has any new porn since the last year's visit), and we're on our way. Fresh cycle #3. Whoopee.

It's weird-all weekend I've been thinking about the past year. This time, last year, I was bloated and miserable and in the middle of the two-week wait from hell from my first cycle, which we all know was a bust. Then, in the middle of everything yesterday, I realized that, had I not miscarried, I would have been due Monday, April 17th-coincidentally, the day we leave for our holiday. More than likely, Triduum this year probably wouldn't have happened for me-I might have been in the hospital either giving birth or recuperating from it.

Just another reason to cry on Good Friday.

I might not be back on until next week (sorry, much as I love you all, I will be sucking down margaritas poolside and will be waaay too drunk to type, or even string a sentence together-at least, that's my goal for the week), so-Happy Passover to those who celebrate, A Happy and Blessed Easter for my Christian friends, and, for those who celebrate neither-have a wonderful warm and sunny Spring week.

Peace out-see y'all on the 22nd or so.

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, it's Cycle Day 1. Again.

I had to call Big Important Clinic today to let the on-call nurse that dear Auntie is here for a visit. I talked to a very nice nursey and gave her the goods, and she told me that (since we're still working on our "checklist" ie. bloodwork, saline sonohystogram, etc) I need to come in on Tuesday for Cycle Day 3 bloodwork, as a baseline. Whoopee-the sticking has begun. At least it's one-stop shopping for the bloodletting and the wanding.

I also have to call Dr. Petite's admin to schedule the saline sonohystogram. Hopefully we can squeeze it in (no pun intended there) before we leave for vacation.......otherwise, it's gonna seriously suck ass.

Seven days...................

Heh......I just felt like that freaky dead girl in "The Ring".


Seriously, though-I can't wait. I had to sing the whole of Palm Sunday weekend (5 masses), which is exhausting. This week coming up is Holy (Hell) Week-we have a huge rehearsal tomorrow night, a cantor rehearsal on Wednesday, then we're singing for Maundy Thursday, two services on Good Friday (the Veneration of the Cross and then a "living" Stations of the Cross, performed by our Youth Group), then the Easter Vigil on Saturday and Easter Mass on Sunday. Not to mention that, afterwards, we're driving to Sean's uncle and aunt's house in Pennsylvania for dinner. I'm going to be mush by then.

Speaking of Easter dinner-I've volunteered to bring dessert, which will be a carrot cake with cream-cheese frosting. We went to Williams-Sonoma (LOVE that store) last week, after the consult, and saw the cutest stuff there for the holiday. They had these adorable little chicks hatching out of their shells, all make out of white chocolate.....yummy. Anyway, they had these sweet plates there, with little bunnies on them (here's a pic-you can't see it very well, but there's little paw tracks on them), and I pointed them out to Sean. He told me that he would color the paw prints brown so they look like rabbit turds. Well..........

THEN he got it into his head that he is going to make a special "dessert" for Easter dinner. He's going to make chocolate cupcakes, dye some cream-cheese frosting green and ice them, sprinke some dyed-green coconut on top to look like grass, get some little chocolate bunnies to put on top, and then...........

Get some mini-chocolate chips and put them on so it looks like the rabbit pooed and then ran away.

He's serious, folks. He's already gone out and got half the ingredients.

The sick thing is, his family would think that it was hilarious. It will be the hit of the holiday.

And I thought that MY family was fucked-up. Go figure.

Hope Springs Eternal (Yet Again)

Thanks ladies, for the encouraging words. It's hard not to get excited, but, I've been through this before. I just don't want to get my hopes up yet again.

I was feeling sort of disloyal after we got home, about changing doctors. Sean thinks that I'm insane-we're ultimately paying, albeit through insurance, for services, and if we can get them elsewhere in a better place I shouldn't feel bad about changing. Which, deep down, I do know (and I'm still switching). But, it's like changing your hairdresser-as much as you hate not getting an appointment and getting bullied into that "new" cut that you just can't style the same way at home as in the salon, you don't want to start over, either. Don't worry, I'll get over it.

It also seems as if that auld 'ho Auntie Flo should be here within the next day or so, which is great. If she shows up tomorrow (which I have the feeling she will), then I can go on Saturday morning to the Big Important Clinic to get my cycle day 3 bloodwork, and not have to miss any work-yay! One of the advantages of a big clinic-weekend hours and monitoring hours starting at 6:30am. Not to mention that coffee machine and pastry basket. Yeah, I know-the small things make me happy.

Everyone tells me that they have a "good feeling" about making the move; that, under the eye of a large, successful clinic in a teaching hospital I'll have the odds going for me. Realistically, it's probably true. Emotionally, well..........that's another issue. I'm afraid to get excited. Perhaps the stress of having to micromanage myself medically in Dr. Vest's office, as well as the wacky office hours (monitoring three days a week, the other two days closed by 11:30 am, and no weekends) added to the stress of having to do a cycle. It seems as if there's many more people to call if you have a question, not to mention a nurse on-call in the evenings. I guess it's the mark of a good, professional clinic-one that realizes that a woman's cycle doesn't comply with the 9-5, Monday through Friday mentality.

Okay, I admit it-I'm sort of excited. Scared shitless, but still excited.

A Change in Scenery

In other non-reproductive news, it looks like I have, in addition to my lovely bout of sinusitis,
a small case of fungal infection of the toe (my big toe). When I got out of the shower this morning, I looked down, as I was drying off, and saw that a bit of my toe (close to the outside part) was discolored. I thought at first it was a bruise, since sometimes the little kids step on your feet accidentally. When I looked closer, though, it didn't look like that-it was soft and a little flaky, but didn't hurt. And, just for the record, I have extremely strong nails that never flake. Uh-oh. Although I've never personally had one, I know what they look like, so I freaked out and looked it up on Dr. Google. Fuckfuckfuck. There goes the pedicure for the cruise.

I called M up to pick her nursing brain (she also used to be a manicurist, pre-nursing days), and she told me that if it isn't spread across the nail, which it's not, you can soak the nail in hydrogen peroxide three times a day for about 5-10 minutes and it should clear up in about a week. I have to make sure that I keep it clean and dry, and disinfect everything-nail clippers, etc.-because you can spread the infection (apparently it's a type of ringworm-urgh). Just what I needed, right?

13 days until vacation. I'll be really pissed if I can't have pretty toes by then.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, on to today's consult. Well, what's to say?

Holy crap. What a difference. It's like comparing a beat-up Ford station wagon to a Mercedes.

The meeting went very well. We got there on time, checked out the waiting room-very large, with a coffee machine and pastries/muffins available for patients (as well as a mini-fridge). The staff was very friendly and professional. The doctor personally came out to get us, which I wasn't expecting; usually, a nurse does that. The RE is a very tiny, cute Asian lady in her 40's (all the RE's in the practice are women, which is cool), so let's call her Dr. Petite. Firm handshake, looked you in the eye and gave us a smile while she led us to her office.

She had our medical information right in front of us, and seemed like she took her time to review the records. She told us that she feels that the combo of drugs that I've been on (long Lupron protocol with Follistim, HcG trigger and PIO) is good, however, since it's been proven that I can produce a fair amount of eggs, to start at half the dosage I've been having, maybe stim a bit longer to let us get the most amount of mature eggs. The problem, she feels, is that my estrogen levels were way too high and that it might have impeded in implantation. She also feels that the lab played a big part as to our success. Yes, I know that they're trying to sell their lab; but, to be honest, it IS one of the best around. And, let's face it-the lab that Dr. Vest uses is okay, but nothing spectacular. Like comparing a Ford to a Mercedes.

So, Dr. Petite said that we can start a cycle in May, if we'd like. I did ask her about whether, due to the tubal issue, a laparoscopy is in order; she felt, since the original HSG showed that the bulging tube was spilling, that tube is still considered viable. She did explain that when you use a large amount of dye during an HSG (which they did), sometimes it will cause a bulge in the tube. She feels that if no other ultrasounds, especially during any of the stim phases of my cycles, showed a hydro that there's a good chance there either really isn't one, or that there is a small one but the tube is still opened, so it's okay. Just in case, she's going to schedule a saline sonohysterogram once I get my period, to see what's going on-which is a hell of a lot easier than another HSG or a lap-woot!

I had an ultrasound, done by the doctor (which we got to watch on a monitor that's right above the exam table-cool), where she pronounced that everything looks great-normal uterus, saw the ovaries and showed me where I ovulated. She also took some cultures (required), and we met with our patient coordinator who seems really nice, scheduled an IVF class (also required, but no big deal) and a financial person. Luckily, insurance will cover this, so it's just a formality.

So, now I have to get a shitload of bloodwork that apparently Dr. Vest never had me do-CMV, syphillis, Hepatitis B and C, HIV, Indirect Coombs, Varicella titer, Cystic Fibrosis profile, type and cross match, TSH, prolactin. Sean has to go for bloodwork too (hah!) and another spankfest at the semen analysis lab. I also have to get the results of my last Pap, and then get blood drawn on cycle day three and schedule the sonohysterogram. Whew! That seems like a hell of a lot of work, doesn't it? But, once we're done, we'll meet our IVF nurse, and we're back on the rollercoaster. I really wasn't expecting this. I was fully prepared to talk about surgery, what to expect, what would happen. I'm starting to feel like it's a new lease on my (reproductive) life.

The upshot was-if it were legal, I'd marry this woman. I liked her a lot-she took the time to answer our questions, really listened to us, and was very reassuring. She feels, especially since I got pregnant once before, that it will happen. I just find it kinda funny that I was orignally referred to her, couldn't go because of cost at the time, but was led back to her anyway. It looks like it was meant to be.

Perhaps a change of scenery is just-at least, in this case- what the doctor ordered.

D-Day

Tomorrow's the big day.

Had to go to my primary doc today-turns out that I have a sinus infection, brought on by my allergies. Wonderful. So, I got my drugs and hopefully they'll work.

Anyways, that's all for now-I'll update when I get back from Big Important Clinic to let you all know what happened.

Infertility IS funny, Dammit!

In making a consultation with A Big Important Clinic, there are tons of forms that need to be filled out. For our upcoming appointment next Tuesday, I had to fill out a twelve page medical application, release forms and also send out a copy of my medical records along with the completed application prior to the consult. As a part of the paperwork, there was a section of the application titled "Genetic Screening", to see if we were candidates for genetic counseling. I sort of knew my history (I have a cousin who is a hemophiliac and I was once tested for thalassemia), but I had to call the Mother-In-Law for Sean's history. The conversation went like this:

Me: "Okay, I have to ask you some questions for this medical consult to see if there are any genetic disorders-you just have to answer yes or no."

MIL: "Okay"

Me: "Thalassemia?"

MIL: "What's that?" (Yeah, and she's a nurse-really comforting, right?)

Me: "It's a blood disorder-a type of anemia that's inherited."

MIL: "Oh.........no"

Me: "Huntington's Chorea, Muscular Dystrophy or Neural Tube Defect?"

MIL: "No"

Me: "Cystic Fibrosis, Hemophilia, Tay Sachs, or Down Syndrome?"

MIL: "Nope"

Me: "Mental Retardation?"

MIL: ".........."

Me: "Hello?"

MIL: "Well........you DID marry him, you know"

Heh.

It's good to have a sense of humor when you're doing this, or else you're fucked.

Figuratively, of course-hence the need for the IVF consult.

HARHARHAHAHAA-I fucking slay me.

Ba-Da Choo Choo

The Dutch Oven Olympic Event originally scheduled ended up being a draw. I think we both burned our nosehairs out due to the gas. However, the next day was when all the tasty goodness smelling stuff really came out.........just in time for Mass. Grrreat.....

I have to admit something horrible, and I can't even believe that I'm going to post it; but, here goes:

If I'm teaching and I have gas, I'll walk around the classroom, let one loose behind the kids, then watch as they totally turn on each other to find out who farted. It's actually pretty hilarious, especially with third and fourth graders.

There, I said it. And, depending on which school I'm in, it's quite satisfying.

___________________________________________________________

On Sunday, after Mass, we went to my aunt and uncle's for my cousin Joseph's 2nd birthday party. The theme was "Thomas the Tank Engine", which he is currently obsessed with. He runs around and yells "Ba-Da CHOO CHOO" whenever the show goes on the air. Well, the house was filled with kids-my aunt has four nephews, Gigi had a friend there. Presents were opened, and I totally couldn't deal with it. I started out okay, then started having a small panic attack, made up a fictitious headache, and told Sean we had to live NOW. Now I know why I should swear off children's parties. It's getting harder and harder to be around kids lately. Especially since it's still unclear as to whether or not we'll have children of our own.

15 days and counting until the consult with BigImportantClinic. And I can't wait. I'd never have thought that I would miss infertilty treatment. Actually, it isn't the treatment itself that I miss, but the hope that it brings with it.

If you could call sticking yourself with needles, getting felt up by a wand monkey and becoming a hormonal, fat mess hopeful. But, when IVF is your only option, I guess hope is all you've got.

Oh, Gawd.......

Please pump my stomach........please.....

Had the small, requisite bit of CB&C (corned beef and cabbage), salmon, boiled potato and carrot so as to not offend the mother-in-law. I do have to give props out to her, though-she is a good cook. She even made boiled meat and veg taste good, which alone is a feat considering how it's cooked-blech. Gimme a plate of ziti with sugo and a hunk of crusty panelle any day-at least it has some taste to it. But, it wasn't that bad, really.

She even made homemade soda bread, which was damn good. I had a few slices of that, too-yummy.

Which is why I think that my stomach will explode any minute. I need a colonic, anything to remove the gas pains. I even had to UNBUTTON MY PANTS..........yikes. I need to SERIOUSLY go back on the South Beach Diet-this is ridiculous. I'm not going to be able to fit into my faboo new dress I bought today for the formal night on our cruise. I can barely fit into my comfy jeans right now, and the thought of getting into a bathing suit in four weeks is enough to get me scrambling for a Xanax. In other words, ladies-I'm seriously fucked. If I don't lose 10 pounds, I might as well get two Hefty Cinch-Sacks and some kitchen twine and make myself a tankini, because that's about all I'm gonna fit into right now.

Of course, Sean had three full helpings, along with cake and two cups of coffee (Irish Creme, 'natch). I almost left him at his mothers so she can enjoy the noxious fumes that will undoubtedly start to leak from his rectum. At least I didn't put the new comforter set on the extra bed yet. That way, if he gets kicked out of the bed tonight, we won't have the EPA knocking on our door and declaring that lovely new set part of a toxic waste area.

Although, at this moment I'm starting to feel a "rumble in the Bronx", so I bet that I give Sean a run for his money, flatulence-ly speaking. So if he tries to smoke me out, he's in for a big shock.

Let the Dutch-Oven Olympic Games Begin! If I'm still alive tomorrow, I'll post the results. If not..........well, I'm sure it will be on the news.......

Bleh-What a week.

Yeah, I'm still here. There really hasn't been much to write about.

No, that's really not totally true-there has been a lot, but it's work related and I swore that I wouldn't post about anything job related just in case. In a nutshell, things at one of my schools is getting out of control, there is no admin support and it's becoming a toxic environment. My director won't transfer me, so, it's either deal with it or look for a job in another district.

You know it's bad when an para tells you that the principal told her that "in our school there are three groups: 'my' girls, Mr. VP's 'girls', and the group that nobody else likes".

Nice, huh? Can you guess which group I'm in? Can you? Let's just say that I'm not anyone's "girl". Not that I care anyway. I'm not one for being in a group-I like it my own way.

Needless to say, it's been stressful at the jobfront. I'm not really in the position right now to get a job in another district, not with infertility treatments looming over us. As a tenured teacher, I'm in a much better position when it comes to this-if I were non-tenured and doing IVF, I'd probably be let go at the end of the year due to numerous absences. Plus, I want to finish my graduate degree (only 20 credits-three semesters-to go); that way, I'm more marketable when looking for a new job (and I can get more money). Sigh.........just another worry to add on to the pile.

Be back later-we're going to the mother-in-law's for a belated Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner (I can't stand the stuff....must be the Italian in me)-can you tell that I'm excited?

I'd rather poke a badger with a spoon right now, actually.

RESOLVE this!

I've decided to start something weekly, just for fun. Some people are doing the Photo Friday thing (which looks pretty cool-once we get the new desktop I'll have to start to participate), so I thought that perhaps I'll also do something.

It's going to be called the "Fuck You, Jobu!" Award. If you're not sure what I'm talking about, there's a prior post I did about my buddy Jobu. So, it's for that special someone out there who's pissing you off, whether it be a boss, friend, enemy, or a general all-around asshole. You can award it to whoever or whatever in your life pisses you the fuck off. Yeah, it's childish, but I guarantee screaming "FUCK YOU, JOBU!!!" a few times will make you feel better (if not, some Valium might be sufficient) and give you a little giggle.

I thought that this first award should go to to Mr. Sensitivity himself, Joe Issacs, RESOLVE President and CEO, for this interesting little interview which appeared in Newsweek. Supposedly, Mr. Issacs contends that his remarks were taken "out of context". Riiiight........

He pretty much said that younger women undergoing IF have infertility problems (which I guess I am, since I started trying this bullshit when I was 29) because they drink, smoke, are promiscuous, and are overweight. That's akin to saying that old adage, pre-Kinsey, that kissing would make you pregnant. What a freaking retard. If that were true, I'd be able to populate a small country by now, and I'd be picking my uterus up off the floor from overuse.

Now, that's not to say that there was total untruth in the article. Yeah, there are much more infertilte women, and infertile younger women, in society today. But, isn't it also true that the testing methods today as opposed to even 10 years ago are more sophisticated? It took my grandmother (my dad's mom) seven years to get pregnant with my dad, who's an only child due to miscarriages afterwards. And, that was almost 70 years ago, when there was basically no way to know why people couldn't get pregnant. Medical testing has gotten so sensitive that you can tell 5 days before your period is due whether or not you're up the pole, so why, pray tell, wouldn't we be able to diagnose infertility issues earlier in women?

What about the women, like me, with tubal infertility? Yes, many cases of tubal infertility are caused by undiagnosed STD's, but not in my case. I remember distinctly asking Dr. Vest about that, and he said that a lot of tubal cases are as simple as an undiagnosed bowel infection, ruptured appendix, or any kind of infection or disease that is resistent to antibiotics. And, that's not even getting into genetic or congenital disorders. So, Joe, are you implying that a 25 year old with uterine/tubal abnormalities who got it from a mother or grandmother who took DES is at fault? What about Premature Ovarian Failure? PCOS? Secondary Infertility? Environmental factors? Paleeze.....

Maybe I'm overreacting, but it's like telling a woman who was date-raped that she "brought it on herself". How neandrathal is that? And, people, this guy is the PRESIDENT AND CEO OF A NATIONAL INFERTILITY GROUP. Un-fucking-belivable. They should nail his balls to the wall after that fiasco. I almost fell over when I read the article. It's a slap in the face of every woman and man (because, yeah, there are infertile men too) who have gone through hell and back to have a child. And, I think that it's sad that there are so many people who have actually given money to this organization to help other infertiles, when their own president has such ass-backwards thinking. And, didn't try to do enough damage control when the article first came out. Just blamed the media, saying that he was misquoted. Boo-fucking-hoo.

Regardless as to whether or not the article was written out of context, the fact remains that he, as the public face of an organization, needs to be extremely careful that what he says in public can't be misconstrued. Many people have preconceived (heh, there's that word again....) notions about the hows and whys of infertilty, and this guy just validated them all. Yeah, let's try to lobby for the Family Building Act in Congress now, folks. Like those Senators and Congressmen who are against it won't be using that article as fuel for their fire.

Yeah, I smoked, years and years ago. I socially drink. I'm not (and never did) sleep around or got an STD. And, the 10 or so pounds I put on is due to fertility medication. So, what's my excuse for not having children? I guess I'm not the "norm", according to the article.

So, Joe, a hearty "FUCK YOU, JO(E)BU" goes out to you and your stupidity. Hopefully none of these infertiles will ever find out where you live, otherwise I'm sure you'll have tons of dog shit on your doorstep.

Now, go out and get me another carton of Marlboro's while I finish this case of beer and bucket o' wings before the merchant marines get here for a good 'ol time later. Oh, yeah, don't forget to get the Trojans, either-I want to preserve my fertility, dammit!

I did'n do it.......I was dead at the time

Heh-you all are funny. I really didn't mean the last post to be funny-it was just stream-of-consciousness writing. I reread it today and laughed my ass off, though. It's like "drunk dialing" a former boyfriend, but it's put down for posterity.....

Well, there was no hangover today. Which is unfortunate because:

(1). That means I didn't drink nearly as much as I should have, and
(2). It doesn't excuse the shit-ass mood I was in today at school.

I gave 7 kids detention today, because, well.........they were acting like assholes. Typical third-graders acting like kindergarteners (actually, my kindergarteners don't act like they do). I teach in a "cafetorium", which is a cafeteria by day and, when special events allow, an auditorium when needed. So, I teach on the stage all day (except for lunch periods-could you imagine?), and the kid sit on the stage, legs (ideally) folded. I'm usually pretty strict about this, since I'm supposedly teaching singing, and you can't properly sing while lying on your belly, right? I gave one girl detention because she was lying all over the floor of the stage while I was teaching a lesson, like she was watching reruns of "Full House". Fuck that. She was pissed (I heard the famous "I din' do it!" or "Wha' I do?" about three hundred times today), but I could care less.

The other kids got detention because they got snotty with me. I definitely don't take that shit. Especially not from 8 and 9 year olds. So, they're screwed. And, I felt better since I got to yell and scream at them, because, in general, the third graders are lazy as hell. Heh.

Otherwise, I'm still in a shit-ass mood. Tonight, I'm meeting a friend from college for dinner and drinks. I haven't seen her since September, and I miss her-she's so funny and smart and gorgeous -seriously. When we were in school we hated going out with her to the local hangouts because, compared to Irene, we were the ugly step-sisters. The boys literally tripped over themselves trying to get to her, with her strawberry-blond hair, big boobs, petite figure and green eyes. Plus, she's a dirty-birdie-she once shaved her pubes in the shape of a heart for a boyfriend as a Valentine's Day present. Heh-my kinda woman.

I'll update more when I get home (probably drunk again). You guys rock.

P.S. I think I got my period-at least, it looks strangely like a period, minus cramping..........we'll see if this is actually the real thing this time and not a dress rehearsal.

Life Just Sucks

Today, I go to my crap school, and my friend, the art teacher, tells me that she's 10 weeks pregnant.

Damn.

But, I was glad that she told me privately, before she told the rest of the faculty. It still felt like a knife in my heart, though.

So, now that's two people that I know. One is a friend of mine who's pregnant after a miscarriage. She doesn't know that I know yet, but I saw it on a board I frequent, so I'll wait until she feels comfortable telling me. Well, they say that these things come in "threes"........so, who's the third?

Me.





HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! GOTCHA!!!!!! That was fucking funny. And, it's not even April Fool's Day yet!!

Whew *wiping eyes*..........Rule Number 1-Don't Blog when you've had a lot of red wine.


In other poonanny-related news-my consult for my second opinion at Big Important Clinic is scheduled for April 4, 2005, at 10 am. Perhaps I'll finally get some answers.

Yeah, right.

Can you tell I'm a cynical bitch? Must be that I'm still waiting for the old bitch to show up. My cycles have been a little long since failed IVF#2. I'm now on cycle day 36, and I think that perhaps it should be here within a day or so. Maybe, since I've had the equivalent of three years worth of eggs sucked out of my ovaries, I'm going through early menopause. My mom started the 'pause at 37 (she just finally ended it last year at age 54), so it's not totally inconceivable.

Heh-I made a funny.........."inconceivable". How appropriate.

Gotta go and pass out now-don't want to be hung over for school tomorrow.

Later

Popping Cherries

I've finally got myself a makeover! I think it's rather appropriate, don't you? Special props go out to Denise at Moodswing Creations. Thanks-you rock! Check out their button at the bottom of my blog, by the counter.

Anywho, it's that time of the year again-Lent. The period before Easter that's about being, prayerful, penitent and charitable. Since I'm really feeling neither this time around I've been wondering what I should use as my Lenten sacrifice this year. For you non-Catholics who are unfamiliar with this tradition, and lest you think that we ritually slaughter people or small woodland animals during the 40 day period, let me 'splain ("Looocy...."). As Catholics, we are taught that it is good to make a symbolic "sacrifice" during Lent-you give up something you would really miss-chocolate, for example. It's like you're saying "no" to something you really enjoy in order to say "yes" to God.

Since my Lenten sacrifice last year didn't seem to work out all that well, I really debated as to whether to do anything at all. So, I've temporarily decided to give up the 10lbs or so that I've gained due to all my shots. Really, it is a sacrifice, since I'll have to give up breads and pastas, and ice cream, so id does count. I ws going to try to give up being a bitter infertile bitch, but.....well..........you know how it is.......

I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one who gets hot and bothered (and not in a good way) with those stupid "Preferred Pregnancy/Mommy Parking" spaces. I actually parked in one yesterday-there!! Fuck you, Jobu!! *giving rude hand gesture* Hey, it wasn't like I ran over a pregnant woman to get it. So dumb........

I've realized that I'm slowly becoming bitter and jaded about this whole infertility thing. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism, or perhaps it's just because I've never really allowed myself to in the first place. It's not to say that I've completely lost hope, because I haven't. It's just, now that I'm coming up to my four year anniversary of "TTC #1", I'm more realistic. I know that things are more likely not to happen that happen. I've lost my innocence.....or, sexually speaking, my cherry has been popped. And, I didn't get the "Big O", cuddle, champers and smoke afterwards

That just sucks.

Infertility sure is an emotional cheapstake.

The Best Line EVER on Television-or, the New Word of the Day

Grey's Anatomy, Season 2; "As We Know It" (otherwise known as the second part of the "Code Black" episode)

Dr. Bailey, to George, as he was watching Bailey give birth:

"O'Malley.............stop LOOKING at my Va-jay-jay!"

Sweet-A new poonanny word. I watched Oprah this afternoon, and they replayed that clip and I peed my pants all over again-Shonda Rimes is fucking brilliant.

So, here's a challenge for you out there:

Try to use the word "va-jay-jay" in a sentence tomorrow. It's just too fucking funny not to.

Am I A Heartless Bitch.....

Or am I the only person who gets pissed off at those "courtesy parking" spaces for the pregnant/mommies at the front of supermarkets?

I park there anyway-screw 'em. I don't see "infertile parking" at clinics or labs.

Sorry for the rant (and, if your a pregger/mommy, don't take offense-it's just the principle of it).

Fuck it, I'm just bitter-I admit it.

Okay, now I feel better....

The Entertainer

Sean and I went to see Billy Joel Saturday night at Madison Square Garden. I've seen him once before, while in college (also at the Garden), and I've forgotten just how fucking brilliant he is.

He did not play one crappy song-not one. He is certainly worth every penny that was shelled out. It was even better, considering the tickets were a Christmas gift from my brother, also known as "Mr. Mogul" or "APK (Alex P. Keaton, from Family Ties)-in-Training" around our house. My brother works for a huge pharmaceutical company in NJ, one of the largest corporations in the state (it begins with a "J"), in some managerial capacity. He makes shitloads of money-has the Beemer X5, has a tailor, gives lavish gifts for birthdays and holidays......you know the type I mean.

Ewww......can you tell that my brother and I are total opposites? Yeah, like night and day. Hey, it's not like I'm not a label whore, but I'm perfectly happy shopping at Marshalls for labels. Not him. But, I digress....

Yesterday we had mass, then I went to a baptism for C's baby (the woman in choir who sits next to me, who just had her fifth child). She was so appreciative that we were there (me and E and her husband)-she knew that it was hard for me to be there, so it made me feel good.

Haven't done anything about the sex thing yet (although I have noted the suggestions!!). It would be nice if Sean was actually home more often to do something about it, but he's at crunch time for the two high school musicals that he's building (they both open in two weeks), so he's been a miserable crankpot. Hopefully once his schedule lightens up we'll try the horizontal mambo again.........watch, I'll end up having that old whore AF show up........fucking bitch........

Deep Thoughts

Here's something that's been on mind, that I've been dying to bring up to everyone out there, but didn't have the cojones until now.

Sex.

Or, lack of.

Or..............The effect of infertility on your sex life.

Let's face it, sex becomes a chore when you're "fertiley challenged". You know, the charting/temping/checking your poonanny to see if your cervical mucus is the perfect stretchiness for those little spermies to swim. Then, annoying the hell out of your spouse/partner for sex. More often than not, resulting in the "I'm not a machine" argument. Not fun, but means to an end.

Then, you move on to Advanced Methods of Reproduction-jacking off into a cup, washing sperm for only the "best" ones (like it's a popularity contest for sperm), legs propped up, and your RE seeing more of your intimate parts than your own husband. Then, of course (Murphy's Law being what it is), they want sex ALL THE TIME, and you can't be bothered. Between the RE, wand monkey and nurses looking at your choch, you can't deal with having anyone else being invited to the Poonanny Party. And, that's only the beginning.

Let's not talk about being poked and prodded, shooting yourself up several times a day with drugs that make you feel insane and horny at the same time, watching your abdomen distend with follicles, trying to have sex but it's too damn uncomfortable so you just give up. You're distracted, self-absorbed with the end result of IVF. And, then the egg retrieval, being so sore you can't roll over in bed without feeling like your ovaries are going to explode, the waiting on pins and needles for fertilization reports, embryo quality, then the stress of the embryo transfer, daily shots in the ass with a needle the thickness of a dart, and the lovely "2 week wait", which is really 16 days, just because clinics are sadists. And, OF COURSE, there is to be no lovin' after ET, just to be safe.

Then, the beta and letdown-not pregnant, again. You just want to curl up in a ball and die. You're miserable and fat, due to the drugs. You feel OH SO SEXY.

You feel like, hell, what's the point? Why bother, when it's not resulting in conception? Of course, it doesn't help that Catholicism reinforces the "sex resulting in procreation" ideal. You don't feel attractive, physically and psychologically. You feel like your partner can't possibly find you attractive, especially since you're apparently as barren as the Sahara Desert. Yet, they do. And, it's a mystery to you.

So, how do you deal with it? Needless to say, my libido is shot. It's not that I don't find my husband sexy and attractive, because he's a damn hot man (and you can ask around, he is a babe). But, I'd rather sleep than take off all of my clothes and watch my fat jiggle around, to be honest. Does that make me a bad person? Perhaps.

I do have to say, Sean is a saint. He never pushes me. He's concerned, yes (since he's a red-blooded normal American man), but he's been kind about the issue. And, it's not to say that there hasn't been any sex, because there has. But, it isn't nearly as much as even a year ago, when we started this second chapter in our lives, titled "IVF Sucks Big Moose Balls". At least we were getting some, even though it was fraught with stress and pain and disappointment. So, to be honest, Pre-IVF sex wasn't that great either-it was a job, a chore that had to be fit in between the grocery shopping, laundry and cleaning the toilet.

Here's my question-how can this be fixed? Can it be fixed? I know that it's really my problem, in the sense that it's my perception of my body as "sexual object of desire" vs. "incubator". For the past three years and nine months, the perception of the latter has been enforced by numerous medical professionals, and the former had to be mentally put away in a cupboard. I need to be able to break the lock of the cupboard and dust that off.

Am I the only one who thinks like this, or is this normal? I' m going to assume that I'm not alone, that other people have experienced that infertility not only destroys the ability to create and nourish life, but it also destroys the intimacy of physical contact. It's another casualty of this war, and it's one that isn't often verbalized-and I'm curious to see what you out there in Blog Land think.

Just my deep thought for the evening.

"FYJ" is much better than "OM"

Wow, I feel so much better. Thanks for letting me see that I'm not the only one, and for making sure that I didn't start the pity party. Anyways, I didn't have a new outfit, so it's good I didn't end up in that bad place........I'm a firm believer that one must dress nicely when being committed.

I did do a few more "FYJ's" (Fuck You Jobu's) the past couple of days at the insensitives, though, and I felt great afterwards! When in doubt, just mutter "FYJ" under your breath about a couple of hundred times-it's as good as chanting during meditation, seriously.

Tomorrow I get to have a professional day-yay! It's the annual Music Educator's state conference, in East Brunswick. I usually go on Friday, take a shitload of seminars and then meet my friend M for dinner afterwards. But, alas, not this year-she's working and Sean, in his infinite wisdom, decided to schedule our tax return appointment for 7:30 that evening. Fucker. Of course, he's not even going, since he has to work, so it's me going solo. Hopefully a nice, fat refund will magically erase the inconvenience from my mind. Mama needs a new pair of shoes!

I also finally got my records in the mail, and they're a very interesting read. Of course, if I knew half of what they really say, it would be a bestseller. I have to make myself a few copies and then, it's time to make the appointment for the second opinion. I really don't think that they're going to tell me anything that I haven't heard before, but perhaps a different perspective will help. I'm just so damn tired of waiting-I was never good at it.

In other news, unrelated to the state of my reproductive organs, Boo-Boo Baby Bite Face has a name!! Go over to Shelli's blog and check it out.

I'll be back later-time to decide on supper-Chinese, or Italian? *sigh*-the choices never cease!

Fuck you, Jobu!

I'm pissed now, Jobu. Look, I go to you. I stick up for you. You no help me now, I say, fuck you, Jobu. I do it myself.
-Pedro Cerrano (played by Dennis Haysbert, aka the Allstate spokesman), Major League

That has to be the best line in Major League. The movie is, in general, okay (besides the haircuts and the 80's clothes, that's laughable enough), but Pedro Cerrano is my favorite character. Sean and I keep telling each other that we should have named Peachy "Jobu" because who the hell would name a cat that?? Too bad it ain't a saint's name, huh? It would make a hell of a middle name for a kid.....heh. Whenever we think that the other is getting weird/unreasonable/out of hand, we just yell "Fuck you, Jobu!" to break the tension. It makes our house pretty entertaining. Perhaps that's why the neighbors don't talk to us very much.

Jobu is pretty relevant to me right now, because lately I just want to say a special "fuck you" to the whole world. I'm tired of waiting for things to happen to me-it's time to do it on my own. Unfortunately, it sounds easier than it actually is. And, it's not just in the context of infertility. My job, although I love it, is stressful, especially at one of my schools, where discipline from administration is a dirty joke amongst the faculty. If I even posted one-tenth of what goes on there, you wouldn't believe it (and, I won't, because you never know who's reading), but, trust me to say that it's pretty bad sometimes. Of course, I'm sure that the stress is not exactly conducive to conceiving a child, but hey, if I didn't have a job there won't be a way to feed/clothe/medicate (because, given who its parents would be, you'd need to hedge your bets) said hypothetical child. You know, hierarchy of needs and all that. Pretty important.

But, it's getting more and more difficult for me to stay afloat lately. I'm trying to do that by focusing on others rather than myself, because I feel that if I focus on myself I'll end up curled in the fetal position rocking back and forth with my thumb in my mouth in a corner of the living room, and that's not good. Lately I've been feeling like that kid who's picked last for kickball in P.E. class-that everyone else is getting what they want, and I'm still wishing to be that first kid who is picked and get the status associated with it-being number one.

I just feel so alone sometimes. Everyone (and I mean just about everyone, I'm not being a drama-queen) has their babies or are pregnant. On my TTC buddy group through Fertility Family, I, and another girl, are the only ones left-everyone else has moved on to the "mommy" board. I have nothing in common with pregnant women or mommies. And, the "insensitives" that I talked about earlier don't get it either. So, where do I belong? It seems like I'm destined for limbo, at least for now.

So, up yours, Jobu! You suck!

Impatience

Sean I went yesterday to Shelli's to meet my new niece, a.k.a. "Boo-Boo Baby Bite-Face"........or, at least until the end of the week, when we'll hear her name for the first time, according to Jewish tradition. She is AWESOME-just adorable. Shelli and Narda are elated. Sleep-deprived, but still, elated.

It was nice to be there. That doesn't mean to say that it was easy to be there, but it was nice. But, I can say that without any guilt, because I know that Shelli (as well as others who struggle with infertility) "gets it". She even said to me, at one point, that she knew how it must be difficult to be around a baby. And, to an extent, it was. But, it wasn't for my own sake-the hardest part wasn't seeing Shelli or Narda cuddling, feeding, or changing her; it was seeing my own husband holding a baby in his arms and realizing that there is a chance that he will never get to hold a child of ours like that. And, it was like a knife being shoved in my heart.

I just get so frustrated sometimes. Please don't misunderstand me-I am so happy for my infertile girls when they finally get pregnant and make it through the minefield of pregnancy with their babies in tow (adopted or not, it's still the same). I might even be happier for them than a friend who had an "oops" pregnancy or one who wasn't trying for long, because I know that they went through hell and back for their baby.

It also pisses me off that there are some people, some of whom are my closest friends (however, they also didn't have IF problems) who don't "get it". Case in point: I went to dinner tonight with my friend M, to a local pizza/Italian joint. She told me that she asked another friend to come along, who is hugely pregnant. This friend had an "oops" pregnancy and initially wasn't happy about it, because she didn't want to have children, which of course pissed me off. M tells me that she asked her, but that she "probably wouldn't come along". Well, she did, and I didn't know for sure until right before I got to the restaurant. So, now I get to spend dinner listening to two women comparing pregnancy issues, and not be able to join in on the conversation. What fun, right? Well, at least the bread was good-I probably ate half a loaf listening to the flatulence issue alone. Now, do you think that M even deigned to consider that perhaps being around a pregnant woman who didn't want a baby might bother me? Nope. Perhaps it's the infertility mindset to be overly sensitive, but come ON!

But still, every time I see a baby, pregnant woman, or have to endure this insensitivity, a little part of me still dies inside, because I begin to doubt that this will ever happen for me. That it won't be "my turn". That all these doctor's appointments, surgeries, second opinions won't mean shit if I can't get pregnant and carry a child to term. That these things are a sign from God that motherhood isn't meant for me, and I will end up childless. And it's sad and frightening and unimaginable.

It sucks. Unfortunately, it seems, at least for the time being, to be my cross to bear. But it's getting heavier and heavier, and at times I feel that it's too much for me to hold. So, when will my burden be lifted off my shoulders?

It's a question that, unfortunately, has no answer right now. And, I hate that.

Welcome, Baby Girl!

I just got off the phone with Shelli, from Hydrangeas Are Pretty, and they're basking in the glow of their baby daughter. What a cutie!

So, if you get a chance, go over and give her a shout-out (there's a pic up on the site, and she's absolutely adorable!). I can't wait to finally meet her (and spoil the hell out of her-what are aunties for, right?).

I can't even put into words how happy I am-may you two be blessed with happiness!

Heh....

Sean just came home about twenty minutes ago (which was a surprise in of itself, since he was supposed to work late) and said the following to me:

"Hey babe-a............Happy V.D."

V.D.-I LOVE it. It puts the whole holiday into perspective, doesn't it?

And then I sent him out to get a pizza. Because that's what this day's supposed to be about, isn't it? Dinner and a, well........you get the idea.

Heh.

The "Club"

I had an unexpected visitor today (and no, it's not an eggie-GAHHAHAHA! Sorry, had to insert that-couldn't help it). A former colleague of mine, who was RIF'd last year (RIF stands for Reduction In Force, which pretty much mean laid off, or, in the gentile manner of the British, "made redundant"-God, I love that!) came to visit after school. She had a miscarriage last year, at the end of the school year at around 8 weeks. We kind of lost touch after that-I had heard that she was going back to school to become a Reading Specialist-but she's a great person. Really funny, a Harry Potter freak like me-just a cool person.

So, after I give her a big hug, she says to me "Now I know what you've gone through". She told me that, two weeks ago, she miscarried again. She went in for her second ultrasound and they couldn't find a heartbeat, and they scheduled a D&C. She was also referred to an RE to see what's going on. The funny thing was who she was referred to-Dr. VEST!! Yup. But, her husband's insurance isn't taken by the office, so she was looking around for someone else. We talked about different clinics and the "infertility sucks ass and it's shitty" conversation, and I gave her my cell and home phone numbers and told her to call me ANY time, and that I know how hard it is to talk about this with people who don't "get it". And, she said that she was glad that she saw me (and that she came to school that day specifically to see me) and that she felt a little better already.

It's so sad, really. You don't ever want to wish this on anyone. Especially when you've got personal experience with it. But, it helps that there's someone out there who, well, just KNOWS. I was lucky, when I began this journey, to have a wonderful group on women to share my fears and frustration with (and still know). I'm also lucky that I've found blogging my experiences helpful-it's led me to meeting some amazing women. But, I also realized today that not everyone is as lucky as I am. And, it felt good to be on the other side of that, to help someone else out.

So, Carrie, welcome to the "club". Although it is nice to see you, please take no offense at the next statement- I hope your stay here is short.

I Guess It Is!

Got a call from the twato's office-the ultrasound was clear! YAY!

Of course, I haven't had any pain since yesterday, so it's probably a follie growing.....

Cool. One less thing to worry about!

Is No News Good News?

I haven't heard yet from the twato's office about yesterday's wanding festivities. It usually takes about 24 hours for them to get the results, so perhaps I'll hear back tomorrow.

The pain is still there, although it's not as fierce. Perhaps it's just pre-o pains.

The wanding was pretty funny, though. The Wand Monkey told me that my bladder was too full (wtf?) and I had to, ahem, "evacuate slightly" so my uterus wasn't so squashed. I actually had to go into the potty and pee for about 5 seconds, then stop the flow. It was definitely a lesson in self control, let me tell you. Unfortunately, even after that, it was apparently still too full. How that happened when I drank the requisite 40 oz of water at the appropriate time is beyond me, but whatever. Just call me "Princess Tiny Bladder", I guess.

The other slightly cool yet disturbing thing that happened is that the Wand Monkey, during the dildocam portion of the exam, turned on the sound at one point and I hear this thumping. I almost sat up because I had no idea what it was (and yes, the thought ran through my head that it was a baby's heartbeat), but she told me that it was the sound of the blood running through my ovaries. She seemed to listen to both sides, so whether or not she saw anything is another story. But, it was kinda creepy to hear, nonetheless.

So, there you have it. Once I hear more, I'll post an update.

Later.

Hooray for the Dildocam!

Apparently, the nurse/practitioner felt "something" on my right side, so she wrote out a prescription for a dildocam. I go tomorrow afternoon, 5:30pm.

I like this gal-really nice, put me at ease right away. My twato did a good thing when he hired her.

I also got a 'script for Anaprox to help with the pain. And yeah, ever since I got prodded it hurts even more-fun fun fun.

She seems to think that it "could" be a small cyst, compounded with the fact that I should ovulate within a week or so. We'll know by Wednesday, one way or another.

Achy Breaky Pelvis (Redux)

Okay, in one of my posts from last week I relayed the lovely information about my achy breaky pelvis. I thought that the pain would go away once lovely AF decided to make her monthly visit.

Wrong. The pain is still there. In fact, it's gotten bad enough that yesterday I had to take Tylenol with codeine. And, I hate taking that crap-it makes me feel weird and I have fucked-up dreams.

Sean is (understandibly) upset by this latest development, and by the fact that I wasn't about to call a medical professional about it, aside from my mother. You know how it is-once you become an IF patient (or, a patient for any medical condition, really) and are there so often that you're basically setting up house in your doctor's office, you're not about to voluntarily go back. But, he is forcing me to call my regular twatotologist this morning to see what's up. So, now I have to wait until the office opens to call and speak to someone, and probably drive over there.

I'd be lying if I said that I'm not worried-obviously, I should not be having pain in the ovarian region, especially if I'm not ovulating (I'm only on cycle day 8). I have a sneaking suspicion that there might be a cyst in there-apparently, Dr. Google tells me that it's quite common to get them when you've used fertility drugs. Hopefully it isn't something more-like an inflamed tube (it's the side where the hydrosalpinx tube is)........that would REALLY suck, because you know that it would have to be snipped out ASAP, which isn't in the plan for another four months or so.

I've learned, however, that this lovely disease I call infertility isn't actually "into" planning. Why should this situation be any different?

Go On, Share the Love

Just wanted to send a hearty congrats to Shelli-she and her partner Narda are going to be proud mommies to a baby girl (my new niece*) in two weeks!

I've known them both for a while now-Shelli and I (along with Cat) were in a buddy group together on Fertility Friend. She's such a wonderful, warm and caring person, and I'm so glad not only to know her and Narda, but to be able to witness such joy and happiness. They totally deserve it.

Mazel Tov, girls-I can't wait to meet your daughter!

yes, Shelli.........I edited it-Sean and I are having a niece!! Hee hee!

Sniffle Sniffle Snort Snort, Hack Hack

I've caught a cold. I'm actually astounded that I haven't caught one before now, considering I work with small children. Especially since they have a wonderful habit of sneezing or coughing into their hands, then try to give you a BIG hug or touch your hair. I love that.

NOT.

I started feeling wonky yesterday afternoon-scratchy throat, stuffy head, achy. I stocked up on all those cold medicine goodies at the supermarket, came home and made a Shepherd's Pie (was okay), self-medicated with some NyQuil and crashed.

I had total "medicine head" all day today (from the NyQuil-it's mostly alcohol)-in fact, there was one point that I zoned out in class-I could see the kids moving their mouths, but it was like I couldn't hear any voices. Sheesh. I think that tomorrow will be a sick day. I can't afford to be like that with teaching Kindergarten classes all day long.

Anyway, I sent off my $25 check to Nursey P to get a copy of my records. It might be an interesting read, who knows. However, once I get them, I'll be making an appointment for a second opinion faster than shit out of a goose. I'm getting weary of my self-imposed infertility "vacation"; especially since there's no warm sun, sand, a cold drink or sex included.

I'm starting to feel as if life is passing me by, that if I'm not proactive, I'm wasting valuable fertility time. Then again, the past three and a half years has revolved around fertility issues, and I wonder if it's a case that I'm so used to this routine I now know no other way.

Sean says that I need to relax, that I'm pressuring myself too much. Perhaps, he's right (for a change!).

Yeah, a sick day is DEFINITELY in order for tomorrow-a "mental health" day as much as a physical health day.

Sounds nice.

The "State" of the Union

Dubya is a freakin' asswipe. If I had to hear "nucular" one more time I thought that I was going to reach into the T.V. and rip out the tube.

Why did I watch it? Well, there was nothing else on.

Although, I did like the flubs, especially when he was trying to say that he wanted to get AIDS patients "access to drugs", and tripped over his words, so it came out as "access to JUGS" HARHARHAHAR! I had a good giggle over that one.

Yeah, he's definitely a douchebag. It was just another example of glad-handing by our good 'ol boy. I did like the democrats getting up to applaud, however, when he tried to be a smug bastard about how Congress blocked his attempt "to save social security". Heh. Good one, Hillary. I love her. She rocks.

And, what of Justice Alito, Jersey Boy? Blech. We're so screwed with him on the bench. It's enough to make me revoke my New Jersey residency and call Seton Hall University to hand back my diploma.

Politics just SUCKS. Why can't they just cut through the bullshit and actually ACCOMPLISH something, instead of talk about it? It totally reminds me of working in corporate America-the management would always be "discussing" how they can "plan" changes. Sounded like a reason for a company-paid lunch or dinner out, IMHO. I guess things don't get much better, especially when it's the taxpayer's money that's being used.

Okay, enough with being aggravated-it's time for bed.

Achy Breaky Pelvis

Well, today is cycle day #1, again. Don't ask me what cycle-I stopped counting after 13 or so. It was too damn depressing to keep the tally up, if ya know what I mean.

This makes me have my period twice this month. I had my period on January 1st, now today (the 30th). It happens occasionally, since I'm usually a 28-30 day cycle kinda gurl. But still, it blows.

I've been having these pains recently in my groin/reproductive area, on both sides, for the past few days. Similar to those lovely mittelschmerz pains, but, of course, my egg popped out long ago, so it isn't that. It isn't to the point that I'm rolling on the floor in agony, but it's pretty damn uncomfortable. And, really, it isn't a stabbing pain, it's a constant, dull, nagging ache that radiates from my ovary-ish region down and out. But, it's annoying all the same.

So now I'm paranoid and convinced that I have endo. Of course, I know nothing about endo, but why the hell would I have achiness like that?? The only other thing that I can think of is that perhaps my crappy tubes are inflamed somehow and they're irritated. Of course, there's no real way to find that out, until I have the lap, so I'll just have to file that away under the title "Obsessive Reproductive Thoughts" and remember to ask that whenever I have my consult for the second opinion. Which will hopefully be soon-I sent the payment to get my medical records copied and sent out to me, so once I get them, then I can schedule the appointment.

All these burning questions will be answered in due time.

Yay.

Scooby Doo and the Case of the Missing Medical Records

It seems that the medical records issue has been resolved.

I called my twatotologist's office and spoke to the woman "in charge" of medical records. Of course, when I called she had "just left for the day" (figures), and I had to call back the next day. I hate that. It's always my shitty luck to call for someone who's just walked out for the day. And, of course, being a teacher it's not like I can just call as soon as the office opens. Especially if they don't open until 10am. And close their office between 12:00-1:30pm for lunch. Jeez, how do they actually get anything done??

But, I digress. I called again on Wednesday, after school, and reached the aforementioned woman, who had a heavy accent and was difficult, at first, to understand. I explained that I was a patient in the practice, have been seeing an RE who was supposed to be sending copies of my medical records and I was checking to see if they were received. The woman had "to check the computer" and call me back, as they've been transferring their paper files to electronic. Half an hour later she called back, saying that they only got two pages from Dr. Vest. Hmmm......sounds strange, right? So, I called Dr. Vest's office and left a message for Nursey P, explaining the situation, and ended up playing phone tag until this morning. When I talked to her she told me that they sent over a lot more paperwork than two pages, and I had to tell her that I think that they lost some information in the conversion. We then agreed that I would pay a fee, they'd copy my entire chart, release it to me, and then I could copy and forward it on the the gyn's office-that way, if they fuck up again, I don't have to bother Nursey P. a gazillion times.

Also, it gives me the records, which I should have anyway. And, I can finally get down to getting that second opinion that I've decided on.

It seems that it's all falling into place-hopefully the momentum will last.

P.S. I've got "Oprah" on right now-it's a live show because of the whole James Frey book scandal. She's been ripping into the author and now the publisher about the apparent embellishments of the book. Holy shit-she is PISSED!! She's giving it out to them, saying that she's "embarrassed and disappointed". WOW.............and I totally don't blame her. It's just another example that people are fucked up.

The Closed Door

Piss Boy struck again.

I know that I've posted about this before, but Buddy has, well, an occasional problem with peeing outside the litter box. It's not like we don't keep the catbox clean as we're (or, should I say, Sean is-I don't "do" litter) pretty vigilant about making sure it's scooped out daily. We also have two boxes, with hoods, as was recommended by our vet when we took Buddy to him when the whole thing started. Basically, it seems as if our dear kitty is super-sensitive to the cleanliness of the box. Or, he's got a psychological problem. Sean thinks the latter.

I just bought a lovely new comforter set for the extra bedroom, complete with new sheets and matching valance for the window. Not that I'm a label whore (okay, I AM a label whore), but it was a Laura Ashley pattern that I've been salivating over for six months, and got at Marshall's for peanuts (half was on clearance). We happily made up the bedroom, intentionally avoiding the glaring fact that, had I not miscarried, we'd be making up a crib in this room, not a full-sized bed. Sean voiced his misgivings about putting "nice things" on the bed, as Piss Boy might tag it, but I reassured him that I would check the bedding every day.

Piss Boy won. I went into the bedroom Monday morning to find a stain on the delicate white sheets, comforter and pillowcase on one side---FUCK!!! So, everything came off and into the washer it went. Luckily it didn't soak down into the mattress, but I cleaned the hell out of it as a precaution with baking soda and white vinegar, and flipped over the mattress. And, as another precaution, we decided to keep the bedroom door permanently closed, which is unfortunate for Peachy as she loves to sleep on "her" bed. Perhaps that's why he did it-maybe it's territorial, who knows.

Also unfortunate is, when you pass the room, you can't see the lovely new comforter set and matching valance. You also don't get the wonderfully bright light that comes through every morning, accentuated by the butter-yellow color on the walls and white trim.

Just a sucky situation, all around.

We tried to justify closing the door-the cats shouldn't be there anyway, they'd just claw up the new comforter (I didn't have the heart to declaw them), we'd have cat fur everywhere, and, anyway, it will someday be a nursery, so the cats need to get used to not being allowed to sleep in there. That it's not really "their" room. So, the door was shut.

The door faces our bedroom door, so every morning after I wake up, I see the closed door facing me, reminding me that my hope for a baby is, for the present, as inaccesible to me as this room is to the cat. It symbolizes the stubborness of my body to cooperate, the fact that my shitty Fallopian tube portal is also blocked off. It glares at me, accusingly, saying "Hey, where's the baby you promised me? You painted me yellow, refinished the floor, but there's no crib-what the FUCK!?". The closed door nags at me that time is ticking away, that my biological clock will wait only so long, that I need to GET ON THE BALL and make decisions.

I hate that fucking door. Every time I pass it, on my way down the stairs, I want to kick it and tell it to piss off.

But, for now, it's a necessary evil to live with, just like my crappy tubes. For how long, only time and fate will tell.

Old 200th

Hey, this is my 200th post! Whod've thought, right?

So, in honor of that, I added some goodies to the sidebar of my blog-I made an account with Bravenet and went a-downloading. So, post your pin there and let yourself be known!

I decided to call my regular gyno (also known as the "twatologist") to get a copy of all my records-I'll get both his and Dr. Vest's all in one shot. Yeah, I'm a wimp, but so be it. Then I just need to call IRMS to get an appointment-I'll ask my gyno which RE he recommends seeing (there are three, all women-whee!). I really don't want to put it off any more than I have to....

On the reproductive front, I've been having some pains in my ovarian region-last night it was pretty uncomfortable, like a throbbing ache that came and went (heh, I said "throbbing"-too bad it ain' t porn!) on both sides. I'm still a bit sore today as well. It makes me wonder if I have a cyst or two-apparently it's pretty common after you take fertility drugs, and you get pain in the second half of your cycle. If it still hurts I'll call the regular gyno on Monday to see what's up. It also makes me wonder if there isn't something else that's going on in the soupy mess that's my reproductive system-I guess that's what the lap would find out, right?

Jaysus, I must be bored today-I'm actually watching "Dancing with the Stars" and, well, LIKING IT. Shit. What's next-reality TV? Blech.

Happy Friday everyone-don't forget to put a pin in!

Monkey Wrench

Well, I've decided to get a second opinion on doing the laparoscopy. It isn't that I don't trust my doctor (I do), but perhaps, after two failed fresh cycles and a failed FET, it's time to move on to a bigger clinic with more resources. It makes me sad, in a way-it would be nice to be successful with Dr. Vest, considering all we've been through. But realistically, we only have two more chances for this to succeed without having to pay for the entire cycle, so we have to make this count. So now I have to get my records in able to make an appointment.

Sounds easy, right? Nope. I'm a wimp. I don't want to offend anyone or have bad feelings, so I asked Nursey P if I could get a copy to send to my regular gyno (which isn't a total lie, really-they DID ask me to get a copy for them of my treatment plan). Nursey P had told me that she would find out how much the copying costs would be, and she wold let me know. I also had to submit a letter to them to release the records to me (on Nursey P's recommendation).

So, last Friday I called the office to follow up, since I hadn't heard anything. Guess what? Nursey P said that Dr. Vest told her to just copy the relevent info and mail it out to my gyno directly--FUCK! Fuckfuckedyfuck. So, now I have to either a.) Call my gyno and get a copy of my records or b.) Call Nursey P back and see if they'll send me a copy as well.

I might just call my gyno-I mean, they probably need some of those records as well. I have copies of my records from my first RE, who did the initial IF workup, so that's not a problem. I don't really want to get into trying to call the RE's office-what if I go for the second opinion and still decide to stay with Dr. Vest? Then I would be afraid that they would be all weird with me because I doubted the doctor's treatment plan (yeah, I know that it's really overthinking, but I tend to be overly sensitive to other's feelings-it's the Libra in me coming out).

Sigh-even something as simple as this has to be a big production. Why can't anything be easy for me?

Argh!

Okay, I did do something productive today; besides going to the supermarket, that is. I finally added some more blogs to my list that I've been reading (lurking?) for awhile now. I also want to apologize profusely for not commenting on other's blogs-it is something that will be rectified from here on in.......now that I've got my shit together.

My blog is starting to bore me, so I'm off to find a new and improved template. If anyone out there has expertise in blog design (or knows someone who is) and can help me, I'd greatly appreciate it.....

Mittelschmerz

For the past few days I've been getting my usual mid-cycle pain in the abdomen that signifies the monthly onset of another lovely egg being released from one of my ovaries. I am one of those 20% of women that gets pain (or "mittelschmerz"-mid-cycle pain) around the time of ovulation. Of course, it's great in the sense that at least I know that I'm ovulating, but it's also a huge, if you'll pardon my French, dicktease from an IF standpoint.

That pain-well, to tell the truth, it's really not that painful, just an achiness-tells me that, no matter how many times we have baby-making sex (and, let's face it, baby-making sex, or any sex for that matter, ain't as good as it was way back in those pre-TTC days), that the chances of it actually working are nil. Which is pretty fucking depressing, really. My body is saying to me, "Hey.........HEY..........guess what......I'm OVULAAAAAATING! Where's the fricking sperm?" To which I reply ,"Hey, don't ask me, talk to those stupid gummed-up tubes that are right next to you-they're fucking everthing up".

And, the sad thing is, even though I have a snowball's chance in hell of ever conceiving "naturally" and I know it's not going to work, every time I feel the pain I'm still "doing the deed" and hoping against hope that maybe a few of those swimmers will make it down the 90-car pileup that is my Fallopian highway and hit the jackpot. Why do I make myself crazy? Why go on hoping, when, realistically, I know that I have a better chance of getting hit by a Mack truck?

I think it's because hope (delusional thoughts?) is one of the few things that I have left to call my own. Infertility robs you of so much-your privacy, dignity, intimacy with your partner-and fills you with knowledge that you don't want to know. It takes away that blissful ignorance that most fertile women have about the process of reproduction. But, for some reason, even though infertility took all that away from me (and then some), it didn't banish that bitch Hope completely. Perhaps it's because I allow myself to hope, despite the shitty things that I've been through. Perhaps it's because I know, if I didn't let myself hope, I'd be a right fucking mess and probably in a locked ward somewhere, waiting for my meds.

So, despite the knowledge that the odds are reproductively against me, we still humped like rabbits this week. And, it's all because of hope.

Either that, or it's the fact that I'm addicted to trying to conceive-once you start, you can't stop yourself. It's like crack.

Addiction or Hope of Conception-you decide.

I *heart* my laptop

Oh, my lovely laptop, I've been ignoring you this past week. Please forgive me for neglecting you, not taking you to school every day, not using you at night, but it wasn't intentional, really it wasn't.

Okay, perhaps it was intentional. Deal with it.

Just accept my apology and know that I've resolved to use you more frequently, as my sanity seems to depend on it. Especially when I've got to poop and can take you into the bathroom with me (with your wonderful wireless connection). It giveth you a new nickname in our household-"Crap-top"-bestowed on you by the sort of jealous hubby who realizes, for the first time, that being able to pee standing up does have its disadvantages.

Of course, I can't totally ignore the hubby, mind you, so I'll have to share. He does get jealous of our "relationship", you know. When I visit with you too often he starts to call you "Crack-top", and I know that it hurts your feelings. Don't be angry with him, please. He just wants sex and conversation, and he knows that, in those areas, he's at a distinct advantage. We need to all "play nicely" and get along.

Now that we've got that all out into the open, I'll sign off now. My left leg has fallen asleep because I've been sitting here too long and I need to get up and flush the toilet.

Smooches to you, dear lovely bamboo-green covered laptop. Have a nice nap.

Post-Holidays Blech

I'm not a big fan of January, I've decided.

January is one of those months that seems like a total letdown to me, after Christmas and Thanksgiving. It's cold and gray outside, there's nothing really going on (well, except for NYC Restaurant Week-yummy) and all I want to do is sleep.

I stepped on the scale today (the last time I did that was after my retrieval, when I had to monitor my weight daily for OHSS) and almost shit myself....10 lbs overweight...actually, if I had shit myself, perhaps it would have been a lesser number......heh.

I know that it isn't a lot of weight, in the grand scheme of things, but for me it feels like so much more, especially when your pants feel tight your belly is starting to hang over them, and it's not because you're pregnant. And, since I don't have the luxury of being able to splurge on a new wardrobe, it's time to lose the poundage and stop eating crap (and stop eating later at night). Sigh.........the whole process of losing weight just sucks.

Other than that, it's a blech kind of day. I'm just happy to be home from work and able to relax for a bit. Tomorrow we're having Lil' Man and The Dementor, and Sean's dad and girlfriend over for dinner, and I still have no idea what I'm making. I'm kind of not into having a big dinner party, but Sean wanted to.........plus, it won't be that bad, unless The Dementor starts acting all weird and then I'd have to poke my own eyes out with a rusty butter knife.

Or drink my face off.........that sounds like a much better option, right?

Yappy Hew Near, or What I did on my Winter Break

The party went well, considering that, only twenty minutes before the first guests arrived, my house looked like the stock room of a retail store. Everyone ate, drank, and was merry. As for me, I sort of ate, didn't feel like drinking (except for the Piper and Veuve Cliquot that was brought by some thoughtful guests), and felt anything but merry. In fact, I was feeling quite happy to see the back of the year 2005-to me, the past year was generally shitty. I mean, two failed IVF attempts, a bout of OHSS, a surgery and a miscarriage doesn't add up to a great year. Whether or not 2006 ends up being a better year is yet to be seen. I hope it does, for the sake of my marriage and my sanity, because if I have to go through another year like the past one I'll end up insane, broke and divorced, probably. Better than sticky, broke and confused, right?

So, I basically fucked around (no, not fucked, but you'll see why in a minute) all week, in between frantic bouts of running to the Mikasa outlet as our guest list grew from 7 to 12. I watched a LOT of TV (successfully staying away from "A Baby Story"), alternated between wearing my pj's and sweats, ate really shitty food, and acted like a bitch. Why, do you ask? Well, I was waiting (and waiting, and WAITING) for my period to show up, the lazy bitch. And, no, I didn't think for one minute that I was pregnant--silly wabbit, you actually have to HAVE SEX to get pregnant! Holy shit, I can't remember the last time I did that......let's just say that I haven't been feeling my sexiest lately-it must be the terry-cloth bathrobe I've been living in. Anywho..... I thought that I had gotten it on Friday (after 40 days of torture, bloating, mood swings and the lovely appearance of acne), but alas, it was just a tease. I actually, finally, did become the lucky recipient of Aunt Flo's charms last night, along with a door prize of major clotting and cramping. I'm not usually a whiner when it comes to my cycle-in fact, I must say that, apart from the occasional crappy cycle, I'm as regular as a stopwatch. Anyway, the cramping was pretty bad last night, bad enough that I had to take a Tylenol with Codeine, crashed, and didn't wake up until almost 11 this morning.

Tomorrow I get to go back to school, which is good and bad. Good in the sense that I need to get back into the groove, but I'm a lazy bitch and sort of like being home...sigh...if only Sean could make a gazillion dollars and I could stay home.....but that ain't likely to happen.

Tomorrow also starts my "eating better so I can wear a bathing suit on vacation without shame" campaign, as well as my "let's get a second opinion on my infertility treatment" plan. I was supposed to call Nursey P to see about getting a copy of my medical records today, but I totally slacked off (okay, I watched Star Wars Episode III, but who's asking, right?) and forgot, so now I have to call tomorrow and get them sent to me. Actually, I'm curious to see what's in them-you learn a lot by looking at all that doctor speak, assuming that you can decipher the required bad handwriting (they must have a class on that in med school). Hopefully I can lose the weight before I decide on when to do the laparoscopy.

Yes, I decided to do the lap-why the fuck not? I've done everything else, why not that too? Whether I stay with Dr. Vest or go with a bigger, more renowned clinic (which, through my insurance, I now have access to) is something that I need to work out. I will go for a second opinion, probably at IRMS at St. Barnabas. I've been thinking about it, and, with two failed cycles using the same protocol, it might be time for a change. But, I think that I'd do the surgery the end of May/beginning of June sometime, then hopefully be able to cycle shortly after that. Then again, there might be the slim chance that a lap might be able to open one of my tubes, depending on how bad the damage is in there-if that's the case I might be able to try the "old-fashioned way" for a while first. Wouldn't that be a nice change?

Let's face it, a change of any kind in that department would be welcome right about now.

Hopefully everyone out there in BlogLandia enjoyed their holidays. May the New Year bring joy, peace and balance to all of us, no matter what may happen.

Mr. Pink Paws and Christmas Day

Well, I hope that everyone had a nice holiday, if you celebrate (and, if you celebrate Chanukah, hope you're still having a nice holiday!). Ours was pretty uneventful, for the most part. We sang at Midnight Mass (which for some reason our church has at 10pm.....it ends by midnight), then we went home and opened presents, because I had to get my ass up at 6:30 and sing the 8, 9:30 and 11am Masses. Then we trekked up to my parents house for the foodfest and family interaction.

My aunts and uncles were there, minus one uncle, who freaked out that his divorce became final the day before Christmas and was holed up in his apartment in SoHo, which was pretty stupid, in my opinion-they've been seperated for 3 years and, quite frankly, he missed the yummy food, but, whatever. My one uncle and aunt have two kids, one who's 8 and another who's 20 months old-holy shit, he's like a cross between the Energizer Bunny and Baby Taz! It was exhausting just watching him buzz around the house and terrorize the dog, who kept running away from him like he had the plague. We got lots of goodies, but one of the best is tickets to Billy Joel's concert at Madison Square Garden in February-they're really good seats and it's a sold-out show, so that was cool. It was kind of sad, though-since my parents are moving in June to Barnegat (down the Jersey Shore, across from Long Beach Island), we all realized that it was our last Christmas in the house.

It was weird, though-occasionally I'd think "you know, if I hadn't miscarried, I'd be showing by now and probably getting baby stuff instead of another purse from mom", or "if that last cycle of IVF had worked we'd be announcing that I'm pregnant today"-but it wasn't as horribly depressing or upsetting as I thought it would be. I think that I'm more at peace with all of this now. That doesn't mean to say that it's always easy, because it's not, but I'm more accepting of it all. This is my lot in life, and I need to make the best of it. I can't pretend that it hadn't happened, or that it hasn't affected me in some way, but I won't let infertility rule my life.

We decided to re-do the living room in our house as an anniversary present to each other this year (yeah, boring old married couple shit, right?), so we got a new couch, tables, repainted-all that happy horseshit. Sean wanted it done by Christmas, so when we put up the tree and decorated it would look fabulous (and it does!). I always try to get a few more ornaments every year to put on the tree, and this year I found this great tree-skirt at HomeGoods-it's a deep red velvet with green and gold bands at the edge, and it looks great against the light beige carpet and the tree (decorated with red, white and gold ornaments)..........I'll have to take a pic of it before I take it down.

Our cats like to hang out underneath the tree for some odd reason-I guess we're lucky that they don't like to climb it-and just crash on the tree skirt. Every year when we take the tree down we have to clean the tree skirt, because it's full of kitty hair. One of our cats is an orange tabby (Peaches) and the other is a tuxedo kitty (Buddy). Last night we noticed that Buddy's paws were a distinct shade of pink-in fact, every white part of buddy's body (except his face) was pink. What the fuck? we said to ourselves. We originally thought that it was because he was rolling around on a red cardboard box we had in the living room that had decorations in it, but we realized that we took that box down to the basement last week. We finally figured out that it was from the fricking tree skirt! I was getting upset about the state of his (normally) white fur, especially since Sean started calling him "Pinky Bud-a-dero" and whistling the "Happy Days" theme. It looks less pink today, probably since he's cleaning his fur, but I'm trying to keep him away from the tree. So far, it ain't working.

So here I am, still in my pj's, with a cup a coffee, my laptop, and nothing planned for today, except for a trip to the supermarket. Ain't Winter Break grand?

Etiquette Updates and New Arrivals

Well, I finally heard from people. Sean was right (for a change)-I was overreacting.

K actually hasn't been around-she does professional caroling gigs at this time of the year, and since we're not doing the annual holiday performance of "Joseph", she's been singing at gigs up the wazoo-she had 8 in the last five days alone. But, we do have people coming, so yay! Now I can play Martha Stewart/Rachael Ray/Nigella Lawson-I really do love to cook and entertain. If I ever had to make a career change I'd open a catering business, but that's another story.....

L (who did IVF at the same time as my first cycle and got pregnant with twins) had the babies on Monday night, after being induced at 36 weeks. Her daughter's birth was fine (natural), but her son was caught under her ribs and wouldn't move down, so she ended up having a c-section with a vacuum extraction. He had fluid in his lungs and was jaundiced, so they had him in the NICU with IV fluids. I went to see her today-she's in pain from both the vaginal birth and c-section, and still swollen, but she looks great. I got to see her daughter, who's so tiny and cute-holy shit, she's also got a pair of lungs on her too! But so cute!

I was actually okay about going to see her, surprisingly. I thought that I wouldn't be able to do it, but I really didn't feel any jealousy or sadness. Perhaps it's because she went through infertility and made it through-I'm not sure. But, she was so happy that I went to see her today-she knew that it might be tough for me-and was so appreciative. Of course, the box of Godiva chocolates helped, I'm sure.....heh.

Anyway, the week is winding down-my concerts are over, there's only a day and a half left of school, the gifts are just about done, and the stockings are stuffed (yeah, I'm a dork about that). I'm really looking forward to the week off to recharge for the new year ahead. And, let's face it-it looks like I'll need all the help I can get for 2006.

Peace out-I'm off to stuff my face with some pasta.

Celebrations and Etiquette

So, I have a small dilemma. Of course, I could be overreacting, but, perhaps not.

We usually spend New Years with a certain group of friends that we met through the theatre circuit. We've celebrated each other's weddings and have hung out together for the past 8 years or so. We started celebrating New Year's together in 2000, the year that Sean and I were married, and alternated between our house and another friend's house ("K"). K was married last year (I sang at her beautiful Vermont wedding), and she hosted the holiday last year as she had the new home. So, this year is supposed to be my year.

Although I'm really not in the mood to celebrate the holidays, I thought that perhaps planning this party will put me in the spirit, so I sent an email out last Friday to our regular crew of 12 to find out who was planning to come. The last time that I saw or spoke to any of them was around Halloween, when we went to K's house for a pumpkin-carving party, and of course my IVF woes kept me busy after that (I was on Lupron then) As of today, I have only heard from two couples, and they aren't sure whether or not they are able to come.

Now, here's the thing. K is the type of person who is a stickler on etiquette-I wouldn't be surprised if she had a signed copy of Emily Post's Guide to Etiquette stashed under her bed. She has yet to contact me (I even called her and left a message before I sent out the mass email, and haven't heard back from her). Now, I could say that perhaps she and her husband are away, but she's addicted to technology, and carries her laptop everywhere-she can't live without her email-so I can't say that she hasn't gotten it. I've also seen her on IM, but she hasn't even IM'd me. If it were her throwing the party and nobody responded, she'd be upset (she's actually commented about that kind of behavior before with other people). WTF?

So, what do I do? Should I send another email, saying "Yo, WTF'? Ignore it and accept that everyone is perhaps blowing me off, which is really shitty and horrible? I don't know how to handle this. I am a little bit upset about it-I mean, respond back with a simple "yes" or "no". I feel like people are seeing if they have anything better going on first, which is really crappy if true because we've spent the last five New Year's together.........if they wanted to stop the tradition, just say it, you know? It would make me especially sad to stop it as it would be a great distraction for me-having to shop and cook and make the house all pretty knowing we were having a party is fun. And then, it makes me wonder-if they do want to stop it, is it because I'm a different person? Maybe I'm not fun to be around anymore, because of all this infertility shit? Maybe these people are just "fair-weather friends"-you know the type, the ones that are around when the going's good, but when you're going through shit, they are suddenly MIA-and I'm expecting way too much from them? Who knows.

I have no idea what to think, or do. New Year's Eve is about two weeks away, so I need to know quickly. I know that I need to just get the balls and just find out, but I'm afraid of what I'll hear.

Sigh.....just so complicated.

Edgy

This is the hectic week for me-I had a concert last night at one of my schools, a senior citizen's performance this afternoon, and a concert/dress rehearsal tomorrow at my other school. Once this week's over, then it's smooth sailing until Winter Break.

Of course, theoretically, it would be smooth sailing if I actually finished my Christmas shopping, decorated the house, and actually put up the tree. Right now that ship is marooned. I have no desire to even start.

I totally don't feel like doing much of anything, apart from sacking out on the couch and watching "Oprah". I feel like shit, I look like shit (the 7 or so post IVF pounds are annoying the shit out of me-it's just enough extra weight to make all of my pants uncomfortably tight), and I just want the holidays to be over with, which is a shame, because I usually love this time of the year. I'm just crabby and all I want to do is sleep. Perhaps, if I could actually sleep and not wake up ten times a night, I would be less exhausted.

18 days until the crappiest year of my adult life is over. I never thought that I'd be happy to see the back of 2005. It was supposed to be a year of hope, but it turned into a year of shit, disappointment and aggravation.

As you can tell, I'm in a shit mood. I've been edgy and pissy for a week now-as if I'm on the verge of just going ape-shit on someone (which is why I've been pretty quiet-I don't want to end up institutionalized). Everything seems to be closing in on me-my infertility, my age, my job situation (although okay, it could be better) my relationships with friends (more on that later-it's too complicated and long for this entry) and family. I feel stifled.

I just wish that I could be happy and naive again. I wish that I wasn't so jaded about everything.
I'm just a bitter barren bitch. Bet you can't say that five times fast.

Thanks

You're all the best.

Smooch smooch and hugs.

It's nice to know that I'm not going insane-that what I'm feeling is not the result of delusion or chemical imbalance, but is common among us. It doesn't take the pain away, but it does make me more aware that I'm not alone in the fight-you're all beside me, with paper gowns on (tied in the back and naked underneath, of course), speculums and dildocams in hand, facing the enemy that is our own personal nemesis-the dreaded infertility.

I only wish that we knew a magic spell to take all of it away, but we don't. However, having all of you around for support is a comfort and a blessing. Thank you for reading my whiny posts, for listening to me bitch, for being, well, you-for the kind words and the sarcasm, and for making me laugh.

Infertility still SUCKS, but it's been much easier to bear since you all came into my life. Thank you, again.

Rock on, girls!

S

Exposed

It's been a few days since I've updated, but there isn't much going on that you already don't know.

I'm miserable. I'm still infertile. I'm still stressed. Yay for me.

Usually, I love preparing for Christmas-the whole ritual of dragging the tree and ornaments and holiday decorations up from the basement, buying a wreath from the church Caritas group and hanging it up on the house, shopping, preparing for concerts-it's comforting and familiar. Now, it just makes me sad and angry-what's the fucking point? I tell myself. Is there a point?

I see pregnant women and babies everywhere. I feel like that they're stalking me, mocking me with their bellies and Graco travel systems and diaper bags. It's like a blow to the side of the head sometimes. And, the shit kicker of it all is that, no matter where I go, from the mall to the post office to the women's public restroom, I can't escape them.

I feel like life is moving forward around me like a stream, and I'm stuck behind, like stagnant water-infected and unclean. I feel like the people I know look at me and think that I'm a failure for not being able to do the one thing that's supposed to be "natural" and "normal" to every woman. There are some days that I wish that I could just reach into my body and rip out my womb and thus release that contamination from me and make myself pure.

There are the okay days; the days that I don't have this baggage constantly buzzing through my head like a bee's nest, but those days are few and far between. More often than not, I feel such bitterness about all of this-that I can't get a break. I try nowadays to keep my mouth shut, because I'm afraid I'll say something that will give away just how much of a nasty bitch I am inside of my head.

The four weeks of Advent is a time, in the Catholic Church, of waiting, of expectation. We, as Catholics, are waiting for the announcement of the birth of the Messiah, the Chosen One. I feel this more so this year as in previous ones. I am in a constant state of waiting, of expecting something to happen that will miraculously change my situation. I feel as if I'm in Limbo, unsure of what the future holds for me. Is it my fate to die without seeing my children, or grandchildren? Is this the way it's supposed to be-just me and Sean and the cats, for the rest of my life? To know that what my life now is what it will be for the next 50 years or so? And, can I be satisfied with just that, and nothing more?

I don't know if I believe in miracles anymore. I'm too afraid to let that bitch Hope back in and believe that things will work out for me.

Sometimes I wish that I had the power to glimpse into the future. Maybe if I could, everything would be so different-the choices I made, the relationships I had. Maybe I wouldn't have taken so much for granted. I just wish that I knew what the future had in store for me and my fucked up reproductive system-it would save me from this constant uncertainty. I think that it would help me accept things more if I knew how they would end up.

Unfortunately, life's not like that-there's no way to predict the future. I was told one time, after expressing curiosity about seeing a psychic, that people who see into the future only see one path that your life can take-and that it's up to you to choose whether or not you want to go down that path. Would I have chosen the path that I'm now on? That's hard to say. In one sense, maybe-I don't think that I'd have the relationship with Sean I now have if this hadn't happened to me. I don't think that I'd realize just how badly I want my own children. But, truly, I don't want this cross to bear. I'm not a bad person, I didn't do anything horrible to deserve this pain and emptiness. So, why am I singled out to go through this? Why me, and not someone else? What is the reasoning in the Grand Scheme Of Things to make me barren?

They're questions that I can't wait to ask God one day. Hopefully by then I'd get a straight answer out of Him, since He doesn't seem to want to provide me with one right now.

Lately I feel much like a kid who's being bullied in the schoolyard-you know that kid, the one who doesn't quite fit in. Unfortunately, because they're "different", they get the shit kicked out of them, physically and psychologically. And, these kids begin to wonder if they really are the freaks that the bullies make them out to be. They start to believe the bad press.

I guess I 'm just tired of feeling like a freak, that I'm not like everyone else.

I just want to fit in.