To Pee, Or Not To Pee?

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

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

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

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

Help me out here, people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

The Verdict, and Other Items of a Personal Nature

So, did I like the movie, you asked?

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

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

____________________________________________________

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

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




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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HR 2892

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

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

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

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

Bridezilla!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Infertili-versary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Violation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leak Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A-Buh-Bye, Evil Eye!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

Shit Storm

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

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

No problems, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

PoonannyPalooza 2007

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

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


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

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

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

Then the conversation ensues:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xematiasma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah.

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

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

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

Defeated

That pretty much sums up how I've been feeling lately.

Today was actually a good day, as far as work goes. Except for the usual baby/pregancy talk, which inevitably happens in a faculty room. This time, it's a girl who was talking about how she and her husband are going to start trying in the summer, and how she's afraid that it won't happen right away, blah blah blee......so then it ultimately starts the "well, your egg quality goes down the older you get...." conversation, and how it was SO HARD when they didn't get pregnant right away and they thought SOMETHING WAS WRONG with them when it didn't happen that first month......and how they feel SO BADLY for me and my "situation"......

You know the drill. I don't need to go on, right? I just crammed my sandwich in my mouth to refrain from motherfucking them up and down, and got the hell out of Dodge.

Then, another teacher, a mother of three, who remarked on the bracelets that I was wearing: "God, how do you find the time to accesorize in the morning? I'm lucky I have clean underwear on.....". Yeah, well, when you're barren, it gives me a lot of time in the mornings to lounge out in my silk robe and ostrich-trimmed mules, idly picking out jewelry from a muscled hunk wearing no shirt.....NOT.

And, the third.......well, I just don't know how to feel about this. I (stupidly) did an audition at a theatre where I used to do A LOT of work. I stopped auditioning there when I was very obviously passed over for a part due to a snit between a director and producer, so it was a "tit for tat" situation. Well, my stupid ass decided to give it another try, and I was called back for a great part. A part that I did a really great callback for. And, didn't get the part-which, isn't the shitty part. The shitty part is that they offered it to a friend of mine, who DIDN'T EVEN AUDITION FOR THAT PART. She was going for another one, so they gave her a consolation prize, basically. Which she decided to accept. After she told me that if she didn't get XYZ part (the one she really wanted) she didn't want to do a show. Yeah, that lasted long. She actually emailed me and told me, and I really don't know how to respond to it. On one hand, I'm really upset and I want to call her out on it, but on the other hand, would I do the same thing? Probably not-I'm not in the habit for accepting roles that I'm not sure I'm right for. Plus, we're supposed to go out to a black-tie thingie with them on Sunday, and quite frankly, if I hadn't already spent money on a dress I'd tell her to piss off.

And, let's add into the mix that my HSG and saline sonogram are on Wednesday, I'm on Doryx again and it's seriously fucking up my stomach. I can't even take it with yogurt, since it says on the bottle not to take vitamins, antacids or dairy within two hours of taking the antibiotics.

*Sigh* It just seems a bit much sometimes, and sometimes just going from day to day is an exhausting chore.

Dude, I Can't Make This Shit Up Myself

I had one of my kindergarten classes on Tuesday afternoon. Their teacher, who is also a friend of mine, has a daughter who is a Music Ed. major in undergrad. Her daughter (let's call her Smiley, because she's cheerful and always has a smile on her face) has come into my classroom from time to time with her boyfriend (another Music Ed major) during her school breaks to observe the goings-on in my classes and pick up any pointers (which are ALWAYS eye-opening, I'm sure, since I'm a nutjob). Well, Smiley is now doing her senior field work, in preparation for graduating next month, and has been placed in a suburban district that's close to NYC. She started out in the high school and is now in the elementary schools (which is pretty typical in a program, since here in NJ Music, Art and PE teacher licenses are valid for teaching Kindergarten through 12th grade). So, her mother (my teacher friend) tells me that Smiley is starting to realize just how tough Elementary Ed can be, and how you need to be on your toes at all times.

She told her mother that she was observing the Cooperating Teacher one day last week in a primary lesson (I'm not sure if it was Kindergarten or 1st Grade), and she was teaching the song "Little Bunny Foo-Foo" to the class. She gets through the first two stanzas of the song with the children, then, just before she gets to the last verse (where Little Bunny Foo-Foo is turned into a Goon),she asks the class, "So, boys and girls, what do you think happens to Little Bunny Foo-Foo?"

And, one of the children promptly raises his hand and says:



"Little Bunny Foo-Foo's fucked!"



I swear to you, this is TRUE. Even I'm not that creative.


This, my friends, is the "educational miracle" that is the No Child Left Behind Law. Way to go, Dubya!

Ta-Dah!

Isn't it FABULOUS!?!?!

Denise from Moodswing Creations is a genius! Thanks for an awesome layout!

Spring Cleaning

Although, it's frickin' cold as HELL here. They're even talking about snow, for fuck's sake. SNOW, people. In April. In New Jersey, not Minnesota.

Sheesh..........I knew we should've gone away this year. Don't you hate when you don't trust your instincts?

So, I've been cleaning like a crazy woman today, especially since my friend Tina came over yesterday to find me still in my pajamas and the house a hellhole. Can we say "a little bit embarassed?" I know you can! I apparently misheard her voicemail message saying that she'd be over at 10:30, after her doctor's appointment (I thought she said her appointment ended at 10:30). So, I had to scramble to clean myself up so we could have a nice lunch date and do some shopping.

And today, I decided to get off of my fat rear (okay, it's not as fat as it was-the miracle of the gym! Woot!) and actually finish the laundry and run the vacuum cleaner and attempt to dust. Ergh.

It totally makes me think that perhaps, we need to employ a cleaning lady. The hubs thinks we'd seem snobbish if we did that. I maintain that it will free up time that we could potentially spend with each other. Let's face it-after working all week long, do you really want to spend the weekend cleaning the damn house? And, since I've got the church job and he does side carpentry on the weekends, we don't really have a full weekend free.

Of course, the MIL had to put her two cents in ("Oh, why would you want to do that? I'd hate to waste money like that, when I could do it myself"). Of course, if she's offering to do it, then cool. Otherwise, well...........you know what I'm thinking.......

I think I've almost got him convinced. Perhaps some "servicing" might be in order..........

Heh.

Oh, yeah-look out for some spring cleaning around here, too. I won't give away any details, but it's going to be really cool.......

I think I've almost got him convinced

The Results

Yesterday was the dreaded Failed Cycle Follow-Up appointment, also known in these here parts as the "Why Your Embryos Won't Get With The Fucking Program" meeting. Luckily, I didn't have to go alone, as Sean suddenly became "sick" (*cough, cough*) and took yesterday and today off.

So, there we were, again. Sitting on the same couch, waiting. It's like a fucking remake of "Groundhog Day", for God's sake.......and, did you ever notice how quiet it is in an RE's office in the afternoons? Like a morgue, I swear! And THEN...........

Oh, yeah. What was discussed-sorry. I digress.....

So, as we sat down, Dr. Pipsqueak apologized for keeping us waiting, but she was on the phone with the lab director going over our embryo thaw results. What they think is going on is not an egg quality or sperm quality problem, but that because I over-responded to the stims and was forced to do a freeze-all cycle. And, since embryos frozen tend to lose cells once thawed, it probably wasn't optimal for me to get pregnant, since they didn't cultivate the majority of them (they only took 6 to day three before freezing, and the rest were 2pn's). After consulting with all the RE's and the lab director, they all still "strongly feel" that this will work for us, and recommend doing another cycle whenever we're ready. They would obviously start me on lower doses of Follistim (she mentioned 125 IU to start) and I'd be monitored daily. They don't want my E2 levels to go over about 3,000, so the less eggs the better. She also felt that if we can make it to a fresh transfer we'd have the chance to have some blasts to work with, and they've been getting some great pregnancy results with them.

I did tell her that, since it's more than likely our last chance for doing IVF, due to insurance reasons, we want to make sure that every base was covered in terms of making this as successful as possible. So, since we've had repeated failures, she's sending both of us for karyotyping as a precaution (although she said that finding anything is "highly unlikely"), and we're having another saline sonogram to make sure everything is okay. I also brought up the whole tubal issue/surgery again, which she's still doesn't feel is necessary. But, since this whole hydro/non hydro thing has been going on for a bit (my very first RE diagnosed the hydro on my HSG, but Dr. Pipsqueak didn't find one on last year's SIS, and said that the diagnosis was made probably because the tube bulged when too much dye was forced through), I did question if the tubes were open at all. She did say that it was a possibility that either one or both were open, since the tubes could have been in spasm at the time of the test. So, for peace of mind (hey, you never know, right?), I'm going to have another HSG to see what the deal is (Dr. Pipsqueak is going to do it)-complete with the Holy Trinity of Pain Meds-Valium, Anaprox and Lidocaine. Woot! Who says infertility can't be fun? Pshaw!

So, we've decided that, once the SIS and the HSG is done next month, we'll take a month off, then start a fresh cycle the end of May/beginning of June, to coincide with the end of the school year, so I won't miss too much time. Plus, that way I can try to lose some of this blubber that I've put on since last year's cycle/FET fiasco, so I can look HOT in that backless gown. See-I knew that there was a reason to work my glutes in the gym yesterday! Did I mention that I my ass HURTS LIKE HELL TODAY?? No? Oh.........well, it does! It feels like I've had marathon sex......

Oh, wait a minute-we are talking about SEX, right? Come now-we infertiles don't have sex for pleasure (gasp!). Like, we could have fun doing that? NO WAY, MAN!

Okay, I digress again. Sorry.

So, have any of you out there done karyotyping; and, if so, can someone explain it to me? Is it the same as genetic testing? I've been trying to look information up, but I'm getting a bout of adult-ADD and can't focus on it all.

Right now, all I want to focus on is a nice glass of vino and perhaps a pizza, along with a movie tonight.

Oh, and maybe some sex........................

GOTCHA!! HAH!

Yo.

So, I am still here, and lurking about your blogs (hell, I'm even commenting on a few, too!). I haven't updated mine since I really don't have much to say lately, at least on the vajayjay front. I have an appointment with Dr. Pipsqueak on Thursday afternoon, so I'm sure that I'll update everyone as soon as I hear what she has to say.

The green cloud of ass has left the building; however, I think that it somehow passed through my colon on its way out the door, because I had the WORST ass-rippin' for about four days. I mean, BAD, people. What made it worse was the accompanying.....uh.....poopies (or should I say, "water-ca-ca") with the gas which had me living in the bathroom for about five days. Poor Buddy has scorch marks on the white parts of his fur, and won't sit on my lap anymore. Boo. Oh, well.

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

Let's see, what else? Work sucks large hairy testicles. I really don't talk in great detail about the specifics of work here, in case of any potential doocing, but it is getting to the point that I need to get into another district. The kids are getting ruder and ruder (I had a third grader tell me to kiss his ass today, and a fourth grader sass me back like I was one of the kids-nothing was done about it), the administration does nothing to support you in terms of discipline, and expect you to let shit like that roll off your back. Plus, because of what I teach, I'm at the bottom of the food chain as far as anyone is concerned (music? who needs that?). Then add a supervisor who, when you voice those concerns, says to you "Well, what do you want me to do about it?". Nice.

Here's the problem-it's not having to start all over in another district-I'm okay with that. It's starting over as an infertile teacher in a new district. I didn't start IVF cycles until I got tenure, so I could be protected, just in case. It's one of those things that I wonder about-is the stress of dealing with bullshit and passing the buck contributing to my cycle failure? If I removed myself from that situation and changed jobs, would my stress levels go down and make me more apt to get (and stay) pregnant? Or, does it really matter in the end? I could wait until I get pregnant, go on maternity leave and just not come back-either get a job in another district or maybe sub for a while (although subbing won't be counted into my pension and retirement benefits later on) until I find the right job. Of course, that all depends if I can get pregnant, right? Right.

These are the things that have been rolling around in my head for the past two weeks. There are times that I'd really love the burden could be taken off of me for awhile, just so I can breathe. I'm not asking that it be taken away from me altogether, but a vacation from it would be lovely.

Being a grownup just sucks sometimes.

Still Plugging Along, and The Green Cloud of Evil

Here I am *waving*.

I haven't forgotten anyone, it's just that there's not much going here in our household. It's been pretty boring, actually-as it usually is when there's no poonanny-related business going on (also known as "cycle hell"). But, I'm sure that all that will change on the 29th, since I have the "failed cycle" appointment. I've written down my list of questions for Dr. Pipsqueak (including the lap or no lap question), but really, what's there to say? Ergh.

Another cycle, another $20K. Ho-hum. Just another day in the life of an infertile, right?

So, we've (or should I say "Sean", but I'll be nice, for a change-we ARE a unit, after all) been having some flatulence issues over here. Let's just say that, should you have the opportunity to enter our home, you would need a respirator gas mask to combat the noxious cloud of ASS that has permeated any area that the hubs has even briefly walked through. I think it started on Saturday night, when we went to a friend's for dinner (Baja Fresh takeout). For some reason, the takeout place fucked up and gave us doubles of our entire order (boo!), yet didn't charge us (YAY!).

Of course, Sean's extra-large-could-feed-a-small-Amazonian-village burrito had beans inside. And since we took some of the leftovers, he got to enjoy them on Sunday and Monday for lunch. I, of course, didn't enjoy it AT ALL. In fact, I think that there are not only skids on the sheets from the sharting, but there is a green cloud that is constantly surrounding my husband, a la Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoons. I mean, the CATS have been looking for a way out, people-they even prefer sitting in the dirty litterbox rather than go near Sean. They RUN away when he comes in the door, and Peachy starts howling as if in pain (which she more than likely is, since she's probably holding her breath). Buddy, not being extremely vocal, has been writing his Last Will and Testament, "just in case", as he confided in me. I'm surprised that the smoke alarm hasn't been set off, actually.

So, please..................anyone want another husband? Pretty please?

Our respiratory systems will hearily thank you.......

The Children of Men

Intrigued by this book tour and want to read more about Children of Men? Hop along to more stops on the Barren Bitches Book Tour by visiting the master list at Stirrup Queens
(http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/).

I have to say, I really liked this book, and I wasn't sure if I would. However, the story sucked me in, and I finished about half the book in one sitting. So, I hope that my answers to some of these questions will get a good discussion going......

Though there are interesting female characters in the forefront of the novel, the cast of thousands of infertile women in the background are portrayed as crazy, desperate, and delusional. Did you feel P.D. James captured the emotions of infertility or do you think she merely repeated the image presented in the general media--infertile women are desperate and single-minded and obsessed with babies and pregnancy?

I think that she really did both-captured the fragility of the mind of an infertile woman, but by using those stereotypical images we see in today's media. In the novel, it's the men who are infertile, not the women (as opposed to the film version, where it's the women who can't conceive), and I think that is the motivation behind the behavior-that the women know that they are perfectly fertile, but that the men can't get them pregnant (which is relayed in Chapter 16, when Theo talks about how women became more and more intolerant and resentful of men throughout the 80's and 90's (when the fertility started to decline worldwide). I think that the desperation stems from the fact that NOBODY in the world can have children. For us infertiles (or, at least for me), if we can't bear our own children, there are options available-IVF, donor egg, adoption. We know that, should our current treatments don't work, we could still be parents. In the novel, there are no options-this is your life. We, as human beings, always desperately want what we can't have, and I think that was the author's intention, not to portray the stereotypes.

What do you think is the significance of the fact that the two people who are finally able to conceive are both considered "flawed?" (Luke had epilepsy and Julian had a deformed hand)

I think it's great, actually. It is such poetic justice, which I'm sure the author intended. The author reveals a society that is obsessed with "perfection" and bodily well-being, and that people who are less than genetically perfect are disregarded and are exempt from reproductive testing. It showed that humanity is only intent in passing along the "right" genes" (although, it's the state that decided what was an "appropriate" gene pool). Since they didn't screen people with either physical deformities or medical conditions (that may or may not be hereditary), they couldn't realize that perhaps there was a minority population that is more fertile than everyone else. It reminds me of Nazi Germany's process of weeding out all those who were not "examples" of Aryan genetics. I think that P.D. James was trying to show that perhaps the people who were flawed in her novel weren't the ones that had the obvious physical deformities, but those who were flawed morally and ethically.

Once Rolf discovers the truth about his child, in his anguish, he rubs his skin raw against the bark of a tree. Do you think he is mourning his wife's adulturous affair or his new-found knowledge of his own infertility (since he thought he had impregnanted his wife)?

I think that he's mourning the knowledge of his infertility. Throughout the book, there is no obvious "chemistry" that links Julian with Rolf as lovers or husband and wife. I felt that he was more proud that he got Julian pregnant and she was the vessel carrying his biological child rather than of Julian as his wife and the mother of his child. He's pretty much an arrogant ass, and his intent is to replace Xan as Warden by the sheer fact that he's the father of the new "alpha" generation, and not by ability as a ruler. He feels that he's entitled to the adulation and praise because he's got fertile sperm, and it's a slap in the face for him to realize that not only was his wife unfaithful to him with a member of the group, but with someone who inadvertanly ended up being the father of the new generation of mankind. Rolf could no longer lay claim to being the new "Adam", and that's why he ended up betraying the entire group-as revenge. He didn't care about Julian's well being, and he no longer cared about the child that wasn't "his"-all he cared about was that his moment in the sun was yanked from him.

In describing the world's "universal bereavement" over it's lack of children, the narrator tells us, "Only on tape and records to we now hear the voices of children, only on film or on television programmes do we see the bright, moving images of the young. Some find them unbearable to watch but most feed on them as they might a drug." How is this like your life dealing with infertility? How do you cope when you are confronted with images or reminders that are painful to you?

In my job (being a teacher of young children, from grades K-5), I'm around children all. day. long. I can't escape them-and it's what I've chosen to do with my life. I have kids who ask me if I have any children; and, when I answer no, they ask me if I want to have any. They have no idea that their innocent question might, some days, be like a knife in my heart. Or, how it angers me when I hear stories about some of the home lives of some of these students, and it's astounding to me that a parent would allow the shattering of such innocence by exposing them to drug taking, abuse, and neglecting their basic needs. And yet, at other times, I see children as a beacon of hope. How do I cope? Of course, it depends on my mental state of the day (or where I am in a cycle). I try to tell myself that, one way or another, I will be a mother. Like I said earlier, some days are easier than others-some days I just can't cope with news of another pregnancy, shower invitation, baby announcement or cute toddler in the store. Sometimes I have to figuratively bury my head in the sand and not deal with it, for my own mental state. Other times I can be perfectly okay in a room full of kids, and not carry my infertility on my back. And I think that it's okay to not be able to cope all of the time-there are times that you need the emotional release of crying or cursing the world-it makes you stronger, in the end.


If you were living in this time period and were given the ability to become pregnant but knew you would be the only person to do so, would you have that child knowing that they would be completely alone in an empty world for the last twenty-odd years of their life?


No, I wouldn't be able to do that. Not because I don't want a child, but because you have to want a child for the right reasons. What kind of life would you condemn that child to? I think that, for me, it would be a selfish thing to do, because it would be satisfying my own need to bear a child, rather than to produce a human being that is supposed to be a productive member of society (which, in this case, there would be no society to become a member of). I'd hate to have that child, only for it to later curse it's own lonely existence and, possibly, end it's own life rather than be alone.

Well, that's it-I hope they open a lot of discussions!!

Want to come along for the next tour? Sign up begins today for tour #3 ( The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger) and all are welcome to join along. All you need is a book and blog.

The Violet Shorts

When I read my last post, I was worried that I'd offend some people, because I know that losing 20 pounds doesn't seem like a lot, and that I'm bitching unnecessarily. So, I do apologize if it looks like I'm being a whiny bitch-it's not my intention. Honestly, when I tell people my weight they're surprised at the number, so I don't care about the number. I think that, for me, losing the weight and getting fit is more of a control issue than being the weight I am. I can't control if my uterus or tubes are working correctly, I can't control if I get OHSS in an IVF cycle or not, and I can't control whether an embryo will or won't implant into my uterus, but I CAN control what my body looks like. I do have the ability to become healthier, and that's what I'm going to try to do. Perhaps that's why I'm so determined-it's one of the things that I do have some sway over.

That's not to say that I'll always eat in a healthy way, but I'm not going to beat myself up over it, either. It's unrealistic to think that I won't fall off the bandwagon. But, I'm going to try my hardest not to. So, if anyone wants to join in on the bandwagon, feel free. It might be nice to have an exercise buddy, instead of a cycle buddy, for a change.

I stopped by the gym yesterday afternoon to make sure that all of my information was there (which it was). Did I actually go in and work out, do you ask?

No. But, I did get some exercise yesterday (and I didn't eat shitty food, either.......and I was in the mall! Now THAT's willpower, since Auntie Anne's pretzels were on the way to the sporting goods store.....mmm......)

Because I went to the sporting goods store and bought about $200 worth of exercise gear-sneakers, sweats, a gym bag (Buddy peed in the last one I had), two sport bras, made especially for the "well-endowed", socks, and a combination lock. Since I spent about an hour in the store lugging said items back and forth on two floors (they don't have carts in the store), I feel that I got some lifting and cardio out of it.......okay, perhaps I'm spreading that a little thing, but nonetheless.....

I also purchased a pair of cute violet shorts, on clearance. They're a little shorter than I'd normally wear (that length being the equivalent of two kitchen Hefty bags wrapped around my thighs), but I did it on purpose. I hung the shorts up in my closet, where I can see them every morning. They're my incentive to losing the pounds and toning my body. I WILL get into these shorts, and I'll wear them in the gym and strut my bad self around, albeit with a noticeably smaller tush and thighs.

It's all about the control, everyone. I've been putting my body in the hands of others for the past five years-doctors, nurses, acupuncturists-and I've let them have all the control in my life-what to eat or not eat, what OTC meds I should/shouldn't take, blah blah bloody blah. And, I've felt, by doing that, I've given up control over my own path in life. Now it's time to resume my own path, to take back the control from others.

There is that saying that "God helps those who helps themselves", and, in this instance, it's so true. Nobody can help me if I sit on my ever-growing ass and cry, "poor me". I can't control my fertility, but I can control whether or not it makes me the victim in all of this. I am not a victim-it's just bad fucking luck all around. No, I can't change my infertility, but I can look damn good while I'm in the middle of it all. I can try to feel good about what I look like on the outside, regardless of my body's inability to conceive. And, I really, truly need to feel good about myself, for a change.

Hopefully by Easter there will be a start of a change-like a metamorphosis of sorts. I will be the infertile chickie with the smokin' bod-I will wear a two piece bathing suit this summer.

I will. Just you wait and see.

Oink, Oink

Can you hear that? That oinking sound coming from your computer?

That's me. 'Cause I'm a big fat pig.

I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror right now. I actually got on the scale today (after digging it out of the bottom of the hall closet) and was shocked to see the needle hovering around 153lbs. Holy fucking shit.

Okay, before you say that's not a lot, it is for me, since I'm normally around 135lbs. I'm only about five-four and a half, and, although my chest is large (now up to a 34DD from a 34D), it's my belly that's the problem. The belly that is now every so obviously hanging over my pants. The belly that no shirt can completely cover. The belly that jiggles and gives a "muffin top" (hell, let's get real-it's a bundt cake) over every pair of pants I own.

And my thighs and ass.......oh my GOD. I actually now am beginning to resemble a whole oven stuffer roaster that's been lifted up so it's "standing" up-big belly and thighs and small from the knees down.

It's time to take off the pounds and get my life back in order.

It's about fucking time, as far as I'm concerned

Pity Party-Table for One

Well folks, the pity party is in full swing.

To say that I'm disappointed is an understatement. To say that I'm absolutely gutted is probably more accurate. I cried my eyes out on Monday-literally. I actually broke a blood vessel in my left eye due to all the crying and blowing of the nose, so now I look AND feel like shit. The "crime scene" also arrived promptly yesterday at lunchtime, and what a doozy it is. I had forgotten just how much I adore the After Progesterone Period-large clots and all. Wonderfuckingful. And then, Murphy's Law being a cruel thing with a nasty sense of humor, I had to wait in the self-serve line to buy the mega-box of Tampax at the supermarket next to a hugely pregnant woman, who was on a junk food binge, from looking at her handbasket.

*Sigh* Just another day in my fucked-up existence.

I'm angry, fuming. What the hell did I do wrong? Why won't this work for me? Why the hell do I have to be still in this position?

Of course, there are no answers-at least, not as of yet. But I seriously doubt that there will be any. I mean, what will be said "Oh, well, it's just the luck of the draw......your eggs are great, sperm is great, uterine lining was wonderful, hormone levels were spot-on....". See, I don't need the follow-up appointment-I can just recite that and save the gas money. But I DO want answers-we only have one more shot at this, and then we have to throw in the towel (unless we hit the lottery, then its FREE CYCLES FOR EVERYONE!), so I want to make sure that they are doing everything possible to get me (and keep me) pregnant. And, it keeps coming back to what's inside my body-those tubes. I don't know what they look like, nor does any doctor. Should they do an exploratory lap to find out exactly what's going on? I don't know. Dr. Pipsqueak doesn't think so-she's afraid that it will create scar tissue. But if it's fucked up in there already, what more harm can it do? Not that I want surgery, mind you; but I am so afraid of doing another cycle and having it fail.

I just don't know what to do anymore. I want to cry, but there are no tears left-just bitterness.

It Didn't Work

That pretty much sums it up, right?

All 18 embryos are gone. That's it. We have to start from the beginning-a fresh cycle.

Doesn't it suck that crack 'ho's get to have slews of kids and I can't even manage to have one? Or that two of my work colleagues, who had been having an affair with each other for years, divorced their spouses and married each other a month ago are "suddenly" three and a half months pregnant? Boy, what have we been doing wrong?

The moral of the story: Crack 'ho's and adulterers are obviously more fit in the eyes of God to be parents than Sean and me. So, don't try to live a good life, be morally just, or do the right thing-because that will have you end up screwed.

Thanks, God. For nada.

10dp3dt-The End is Near

And I don't mean that in a good way.

I started spotting this morning-brown, but still spotting. And cramping. The beginning of the end.

Yes, I know that technically it isn't the end, that I still could be pregnant; but, let's face it-I've never had a spotting episode that turned out positive in the end.

I'm not even going to bother calling the RE's office-the beta is tomorrow, so I'll just suck it up until then.

Plus, I think I'm getting a sinus infection, so not only will I get my period this week, but I'll end up on antibiotics too...........what a way to end the month.

**UPDATED**

So, the spotting has yet to hit the pantyliner that I've got on, and the only time I see the brown spotting is when I wipe, so who the hell knows. I still think that it didn't work, though. I guess we'll know by tomorrow afternoon, one way or the other.

9dp3dt-Progesterone is Evil

Or, as Sean likes to call them, "The Little White Pills of Despair and Insanity"

I am a fat, bloated mess. I two lovely zits on my face that are the size and consistency of Mt. Etna. I also have a lovely spread of acne on my chest.........my CHEST. Ugh, how gross. Let's not even go to the nasty place of swollen, sore titties; suffice it to say that I'm in the running to be the next Anna Nicole (minus the lack of intelligence, blonde hair-dye obvious addiction to SOMETHING and penchant for weird men). The constant cramping/aching feeling, especially on my right groin side-what joy. Oh, yeah-the constant peeing and sudden lack of self control when it comes to food doesn't make friends and influence people either.

All attributed to progesterone-that lovely steroid hormone that mimics every potential pregnancy symptom and plays havoc with our bodies and fucks with our minds. It's better than eating magic mushrooms...NOT.

(Not that I know anything about magic mushrooms.....nope......I have NO idea what that feels like....never tried 'em..)

Anywhoo.....

You have all talked me down from the ledge, so thank you (especially Thalia, you walking medical dictionary, you....MWAH!!). I do realistically know that it's way too early to get a positive HPT-I mean, the one and only time I got a BFP on one of those nasty things I was around 12dp5dt, so around 17 dpo.....and the beta the next day was at 37, so......It really isn't reasonable to get anything on an HPT now, especially if FET betas tend to have lower numbers than fresh cycles. Still, it's hard not to pee on anything resembling a litmus test strip right now. And yes, I have been peeing still, and nothing yet. I know that it doesn't mean anything, but I need to be prepared, so I don't ruin my entire holiday weekend assuming I'm knocked up and then getting the emotional blow on Monday, just in time to go back to work the next day.

So, that's where I stand right now. I think that today I'm going to do a little retail therapy (although why, since I can't really fit into my clothes well, is beyond me), and tonight Sean and I are going out to dinner with friends. Then church tomorrow, and perhaps a movie.....

Then Monday-beta day.

Ergh...........this whole thing just sucks.

7dp3dt-BFN#1

Hi, my name is S, and I'm a pee-stickaholic.

I know........I KNOW. I shouldn't have done it. I didn't want to, but I couldn't help myself. It's like crack to us infertile girls. Those lovely pink and blue boxes on the shelf, calling your name. Then add in the sale price.........ARRGH!

I do realize that it's probably waaay too early to get anything to show up on an HPT, but I did it. And I'm going to test every damn day, up until Monday's beta. Because I'm just into the drama, I guess. Or, mostly because I want to be prepared, one way or the other.

Plus, I've been congested since yesterday morning, so I'm snorting and sniffling and otherwise feeling crappy, and if this really is negative then I want to make sure that I can start cold meds on Monday....

So, I've hidden the Evil Sticks of Despair in the hall closet from the lovely Sean, otherwise he would be bitching me out something fierce. I'll take another one tomorrow.

So, reassure me..........it IS too early, right? RIGHT??

4dp3dt-Aje!

Today I had to go back to work. Of course it wasn't the easiest of days, since Killer Kenny had to flip out during class and decide to crawl on tables and punch kids, but I managed to get through the day without too much stress. I refused to let it get to me.

Since we're in the middle of Black History Month, we had an assembly this morning by a group that performed African drum music and dance (actually, the members of the group were related to our Vice Principal-his sisters, brothers, mother and young nephews-and I mean young....one was three and one was about 7), which the kids loved. As part of the assembly, they explained some geography about the continent, and stressed respect for elders, and the principles of African culture.

One of those concepts was about Aje (pronounced "Ah-zhay"). It was explained to the children as a manifestation of energy that people have, and when the word is spoken out loud, it's sending that energy, and your intention, forth to do your will, and that what you want will happen for you-that's how powerful the word is. It sent a bit of a shiver down my spine when he explained its meaning.

So, curious about this, I came home this afternoon and did a Google search on it. I didn't get a whole lot, surprisingly, but I did find this, so if you're interested, read away (or, if you know any more details about it, do share). What resonated to me about this article was the discussion that aje is a state of spiritual empowerment, is inherent in women, and represents life; more specifically, reproduction. Creating life.

It really resonated with me today, for some reason. It was if someone put a hand on my shoulder and just gave it a squeeze, to reassure me. To tell me that, perhaps I will make it through this after all. That my 5 years of barreness might soon be ending. That there is hope, as long as I believe and trust.

And I, along with 500 children, sent my energy forth to the winds to make my intentions known.

3dp3dt-Yet Another Example of Spousal Insanity

Last night, as we were settling in to bed, I told Sean that he had to "speak to the babies" before he fell asleep, just to remind them that they should be happily growing and enjoying their time at Camp Uterine Party. He, of course, thought that I was insane, or that perhaps it was an uncommon side effect of oral progesterone. But, after insisting that I wasn't hallucinating, he cupped his hands to his mouth, leaned over to my stomach, and said:

"HEY, yeah you in there.........you'd better be doing your thing. And you BETTER be two girls, because I want to be the only dick in this house..................GOT IT? I wanna be SURROUNDED BY PUSSY. Because it'll be the ONLY chance in my life that will ever happen. So, get on with it!"

Now, if that doesn't make them implant, I don't know what will.

And, yes......this really happened. I can't make this shit up-I'm just not that imaginative.

2dp3dt-Groundhog Day

Did'ja ever see the movie "Groundhog Day", when Bill Murray relives the same day over and over? I kind of feel that way right now.

Sore, angry boobies? Check.

Can't seem to stay awake past 10pm? Check.

Sudden urges to rip Sean's penis off? Check.

Feeling like a fat, bloated pig? Check.

The lovely oil slick that has suddenly appeared on my skin? Check.

Yeah, it's the same old story, different cycle. However, I feel more hopeful this time around. It's probably because that this is the last of the bunch, but still............I'm starting to let that auld girl Hope in for a stay.

Thanks for the suggestions, btw-I think that tomorrow afternoon I'm going to make a run to my local bookstore and stock up on some trashy books. I've been tempted to re-read Anne Rice's The Witching Hour, but I'm still on the fence with that. And, I'm going to indulge myself with a Moose Munch Bar that's been sitting in my purse since Wednesday (I KNOW-the willpower!). I've also found a somewhat trashy series on Sundance to watch: Ladettes to Ladies. A bunch of British twenty-something "free spirits" (aka wild 'ho's) who engage in a Survivor-type contest by going to a chi-chi finishing school in order to see who can get "cultured" the quickest. The first episode featured them going to a dinner party with eligible public school types, getting drunk and screwing around with the boys. Just up my alley.

Now, if it could only fill the next 8 days or so, I'll be happy.

The Last Great Hope

Transfer went well. We put back two, a three cell and a seven cell. They thawed all six to get those two, so that's it-the last of the bunch. If this doesn't work out, then it's back to the drawing board.

However..........they do look good, these two embryos. Sean has named them this time, Nate and Kate the Great. The RE said that the seven-cell is the best, but even the three cell is good-no fragmentation, all round, even-sized cells. So, that's that-all we can do is wait.

Now, all you out there in Bloglandia, you have a mission. Distract me until February 19th, which is scheduled to be beta day. Anything. Except weird porn. That's just not a good time.

Although, I do have some hope dwelling inside. Murphy's Law being what it is, I have a strange feeling about this transfer.......particularly that 3-celled one. I mean, we had a morula that didn't take, so you know that the least looking one of the whole batch has to be the one that takes. That, and I got my gym membership card in the mail this week. And the fact that I bought a few pair of new pants. And let's not forget the new bras that I bought.

Just hedging my bets, really. But, really.......let the uterine party get started!

God's Payback

I think that, perhaps, I've been given a sign that all is not lost. That maybe, just maybe God is smiling down on us and giving me hope.

It's karma in it's finest form.........or, at least it's God giving me a wink and saying "Hey, I got your back, babe".

Here then, is last night's conversation after Sean walked in the door:

Me: "Hey babe, how was your day?"

Him: "Not so bad..........wow, was I gassy today!"

Me (slightly nauseated and getting olfactory flashbacks): "Greeaaaaaaaaat"

Him: "Yeah, and then.........GUESS WHAT? Guess what happened next?"

Me: "Uh, did you set off the fire alarm?"

Him: "No......."

Me: "Did you asphyxiate someone and they needed to be sent to the emergency room?"

Him: "Nope, it's better than that......."

Me: "How can it get better than attempted murder?"

Him: "No, seriously............I farted and I slightly shit my pants!"

Me (gagging): "Whaa.........dude, how the fuck can you SLIGHTLY shit your pants??"

Him: "Well.........it wasn't a log or anything.......it was just a skid in my underpants......."

Me: .....................

Him: "Okay, you can stop laughing now. It's really not THAT funny."

Me: "Dude, it's God's payback for releasing the Kracken. I LOVE it!!"

Him: "Do you think it's good luck for us? Kind of like having a bird shit on you when you're walking or stepping in dog crap on the sidewalk or something?"

Me: "Well, if you think I'm rubbing your underpants on my head, you're insane"

Him: "It can't hurt, you know...."

Me: "You are SO doing the laundry this week....."


The moral of this story, kids? She who gets farted on gets the last laugh. And a free pass on doing the laundry for the rest of the week. WOOT!

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

Transfer is set for tomorrow-we have to be there at 12:30, and then the embryos will start the uterine party about an hour later. The final amount we transfer will depend on what they look like, and we won't know that until we get there. I'm still leaning towards two, but it's anyone's guess.

I'll be back to update tomorrow, once I'm home and burrowed safely on the couch.

Last, and Yet Least

I've been trying to post for the last few days-I kept starting a post, then canceling it. I do have so much that's been on my mind lately, but I can't seem to put it into words, which is odd for me.

I've been thinking a lot about being the last of my friends (who want kids) who are still trying to conceive, when people all have one (or two). A perfect example is my Futility Friend group that I started this journey on. They have all made it over to the Land of Mommyhood (Ilyse being the most recent one); but it's not to say that it happened easily for them. But, they all got their happy ending.

And it made me the last one left. The only one without a baby. And, in some ways it drove a little bit of a wedge between us, because there are certain things that I obviously can't participate with them. I haven't been through late-night feedings, teething, knowing which diaper is the best, how to potty train. But, that's not to say that I feel any differently about them-they are wonderful women and have always been there for me, no matter what. They've been there more than some of my IRL friends. And, I can write this with no worry that they will be upset or offended by what I say, because they've been there and they understand what I'm saying, even if the words I use might seem petty and jealous and childish.

So, I freely admit it here-I hate being the last one. It's like when you were in grammar school and you're chosen last out of the class for the kickball team-even the kid that has coke-bottle glasses and a limp gets picked before you. And you feel like a loser, as if there's a taint on you that everyone can see. I hate hate HATE being last.

But, here I am, the last in line. Last and yet least. Because being the only one without a child when everyone else has their babies makes you feel even more inadequate. It's bad enough that infertility has invaded my life, but at one time I had hope that it wouldn't take long-I was young, relatively healthy (even with my crappy tubes), didn't smoke or do drugs. Now, almost five years later, I feel so much more jaded about it. I'm not even sure that this will even work for me at all. It hasn't yet. And, even though the doctors seem positve, they're not absolutely sure. Nothing is 100% guaranteed. Some days I'm okay with it, and other days I'm an one emotion away from a nervous breakdown. I feel cheated a lot of the time, like I'm missing out on so much. Yet, there are some times that I'm okay with it, as if perhaps, if this didn't work out, I'd survive childless.

So, why the philosophical meanderings? Well, we've received a "go" on the FET. I started my antibiotics, Medrol and oral Progesterone this morning. I have a lining check on Wednesday, and we're going in on Thursday afternoon, time to be determined. We've got those 6 totsicles left to use, and hopefully they won't have to go through them all to get something good to transfer.

I'm feeling the pressure more with this cycle. This is it-the last of the 18 we got last June. If they go through all of the embryos, we've only got one more shot at a fresh cycle before the insurance craps out on us. And, I'm not sure if I even want to do another fresh cycle. I haven't thought that far ahead yet.

I know that I should be grateful that we even got that many embryos to begin with, since there are many people out there who get only a few (or even none that are viable). But hey, this is my pity party and I'll cry if I want to-I damn well deserve it. I just don't want to have to go through this all over again-the shots, the daily monitoring, the retrieval, transfer and waiting. It sucks, and let's face it-I'm getting older, and you know what they say about fertility declining with age. 35 is looming for me-that cut-off age when I won't be a "young" patient anymore, at least, as far as the medical establishment is concerned.

Seriously, though, I am just getting so weary of all of this babymaking crap. I hate that infertility is always in the back of mind, invading my thoughts and preying on my hopes and fears and anxiety. I can't remember what my life was like before it. Was I a happy-go-lucky type of person? What happened to that person? And, do I like who I am now?

I'm trying to stay "positive"; or, at least, I'm trying to stay neutral so as to not poison myself emotionally with this FET. But, it's getting harder to do with each failed cycle. And, it just sucks, all around.

I'll update with a FET time when Nurse Blondie calls me tomorrow.

Let the fun begin.