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.......
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
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.
(http://stirrup-queens.blogspot
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.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
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
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
Thursday, February 22, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, February 19, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
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??
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??
Monday, February 12, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
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.
"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.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, February 05, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Mahna Mahna
Do DOO Do do do.................
Okay, after the Great Gassing of 'aught-seven (which himself is STILL paying for, btw), I had to prepare for the most wonderful time of the year.........RE appointments! Yah! High-five!
Oh, yeah, and I did check-PGD doesn't factor out any flatulence problems. Bully for me, I guess. I'll have to go to Costco and get an industrial size bottle of Beano or Gas-X, to save my sex life.
I got up this morning at the butt-crack of dawn to be able to get to the RE's office around 6:30-ish. Of course, I wasn't really factoring in that since we had a dusting of snow overnight it would turn the entire driving population of New Jersey into babbling idiots. So, got there at 6:30, got my blood drawn, and then waited for my dildocam date. I didn't end up getting into the exam room until almost 8am, and was late for work (blech!). But, there is a lovely follicle growing on my left side, and I get a reprieve until my next date on Wednesday for more bloodletting and wanding. Gee, should I ask for flowers and candy for this date, or would that be too presumptious of me?
So, no news yet as to when the transfer will be. I guess we'll get more news as it comes. So, for now, enjoy this blast from the past (God, I LOVE this-lovelovelove it!) that has been in my head for days now. Actually, it's really reminiscent of the way that my students look at me sometimes when I get a little wacky in the classroom......heh.....
Okay, after the Great Gassing of 'aught-seven (which himself is STILL paying for, btw), I had to prepare for the most wonderful time of the year.........RE appointments! Yah! High-five!
Oh, yeah, and I did check-PGD doesn't factor out any flatulence problems. Bully for me, I guess. I'll have to go to Costco and get an industrial size bottle of Beano or Gas-X, to save my sex life.
I got up this morning at the butt-crack of dawn to be able to get to the RE's office around 6:30-ish. Of course, I wasn't really factoring in that since we had a dusting of snow overnight it would turn the entire driving population of New Jersey into babbling idiots. So, got there at 6:30, got my blood drawn, and then waited for my dildocam date. I didn't end up getting into the exam room until almost 8am, and was late for work (blech!). But, there is a lovely follicle growing on my left side, and I get a reprieve until my next date on Wednesday for more bloodletting and wanding. Gee, should I ask for flowers and candy for this date, or would that be too presumptious of me?
So, no news yet as to when the transfer will be. I guess we'll get more news as it comes. So, for now, enjoy this blast from the past (God, I LOVE this-lovelovelove it!) that has been in my head for days now. Actually, it's really reminiscent of the way that my students look at me sometimes when I get a little wacky in the classroom......heh.....
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Reason #5205 That I Might Seriously Reconsider Procreating With My Husband
Okay, my husband is officially a sick bastard.
Really sick. Like, ill in the head.
Here's the story:
After school I went to the salon for my haircut and highlighting (which looks FABOO, btw). I leave the salon, feeling all sassy and sexy, to go home, where my hot husband is wating (well, not waiting for me, really, but for his dinner-however, we'll get back to that in a second). He's looking so cute and I'm feeling so sexy and sassy that......well........I go to give him a hug and I'm feeling frisky and........I unzip his jeans and stick my hands down the front.......
Okay, you're seeing the setup, right? And, I know what you're thinking-that we had hot sex on the kitchen floor.
NOT.
As my hands undid his belt.....he farted. FARTED, people. Not a loud one-oh, no no no. That would've been funny (at least, in our house). No, he decided to do an SBD (Silent But Deadly) and not give me a warning.
So you can just picture that, as I unzipped his jeans and stick my hands in the front.....I unknowingly released the noxious fumes that had just fallen out of his ass. Or, "Releasing the Kracken", as we have now christened it.
Dude, I almost threw up on him. It STUNK so bad, I thought he shit himself.....SERIOUSLY. I couldn't stop gagging and I had to check my hands for fart-burns.
Now, ask me if he even apologized for this frat-house antic.
Again............NOT.
All he said was, "Oops.....I forgot to tell you about that......they're really gross, aren't they-I was making myself nauseous all day at work".
Oops? OOPS? Are you kidding me? And, how can you FORGET to tell someone who just happens to have their hands around your shaft that YOU JUST PUSHED A STINKY FART OUT OF YOUR ASS?? It's not like you forgot something on the grocery list or didn't pick up the dry cleaning or neglected picking up the mail-you forgot that you laid a stinky? How can you FORGET you're making that "a small woodland creature just crawled up your ass and died" stench?? It's kinda hard to ignore, ya know.
Needless to say, his stinky ass made dinner last night. And cocoa. And dessert. Because, let's face it-friends don't let friends fart before foreplay and ruin the sexing. And, if they do, they're in the doghouse. Where they can breathe in the foul smell creeping out of their bowels.
Oh, God- and I still want children with this man? Is stinky gas a genetic trait that'll be passed on? Do you think that Dr. Pipsqueak could do PGD for stinky ass-gassiness?
Just. Plain. Nasty.
Really sick. Like, ill in the head.
Here's the story:
After school I went to the salon for my haircut and highlighting (which looks FABOO, btw). I leave the salon, feeling all sassy and sexy, to go home, where my hot husband is wating (well, not waiting for me, really, but for his dinner-however, we'll get back to that in a second). He's looking so cute and I'm feeling so sexy and sassy that......well........I go to give him a hug and I'm feeling frisky and........I unzip his jeans and stick my hands down the front.......
Okay, you're seeing the setup, right? And, I know what you're thinking-that we had hot sex on the kitchen floor.
NOT.
As my hands undid his belt.....he farted. FARTED, people. Not a loud one-oh, no no no. That would've been funny (at least, in our house). No, he decided to do an SBD (Silent But Deadly) and not give me a warning.
So you can just picture that, as I unzipped his jeans and stick my hands in the front.....I unknowingly released the noxious fumes that had just fallen out of his ass. Or, "Releasing the Kracken", as we have now christened it.
Dude, I almost threw up on him. It STUNK so bad, I thought he shit himself.....SERIOUSLY. I couldn't stop gagging and I had to check my hands for fart-burns.
Now, ask me if he even apologized for this frat-house antic.
Again............NOT.
All he said was, "Oops.....I forgot to tell you about that......they're really gross, aren't they-I was making myself nauseous all day at work".
Oops? OOPS? Are you kidding me? And, how can you FORGET to tell someone who just happens to have their hands around your shaft that YOU JUST PUSHED A STINKY FART OUT OF YOUR ASS?? It's not like you forgot something on the grocery list or didn't pick up the dry cleaning or neglected picking up the mail-you forgot that you laid a stinky? How can you FORGET you're making that "a small woodland creature just crawled up your ass and died" stench?? It's kinda hard to ignore, ya know.
Needless to say, his stinky ass made dinner last night. And cocoa. And dessert. Because, let's face it-friends don't let friends fart before foreplay and ruin the sexing. And, if they do, they're in the doghouse. Where they can breathe in the foul smell creeping out of their bowels.
Oh, God- and I still want children with this man? Is stinky gas a genetic trait that'll be passed on? Do you think that Dr. Pipsqueak could do PGD for stinky ass-gassiness?
Just. Plain. Nasty.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Uh.......
Manuela? Do I offend?
WHY CAN'T I GET ON YOUR BLOG WITHOUT A PASSWORD????
Help!!!! Email me and let me know what the deal is!
:)
WHY CAN'T I GET ON YOUR BLOG WITHOUT A PASSWORD????
Help!!!! Email me and let me know what the deal is!
:)
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Blah, Blah, Sis Boom Bah
I finally did it. I joined the gym, so I can get this blubber off of my body and I can wear a teeny-weenie bikini on the beach this summer......
BWAHAHAHAHAHA! That was a good one, wasn't it? I think I tinkled in my panties.
Seriously, I did send in the $$ to join a local fitness center (starting with B and ending with an 's). I honestly would've never done it on my own, due to the cost, but we get an educator's discount through our union, which is pretty damn cool. I need to get my ass moving, get physically fit and feeling better about my body. Plus, I got one of those IPod Shuffles for Christmas, and I can't wait to try it out on the treadmill. Now, I just need to get some new sneakers and sweats-they're really old and looking a little tired. M also belongs to the same location (although, through the deal we can go to any location in the country), so we were talking about going together a few days out of the week and be each other's moral support.
Well, what else has been going on? School has settled in, although not in the smoothest of ways. It didn't help that one of the BD kids flipped out last week (he had to be removed from school in an ambulance), so it put people on edge. That, and the visit from the Dept of Ed at our other school-there was a scurrying about to prep and primp and show our best work. It was one of the few times that I was glad I'm not a classroom teacher-they don't really care about the "Specials" as much, and I wasn't under the scrutiny.
Nothing much on the fertility front, unless you can count waiting for "You Know Who" (and no, it ain't Voldemort). I've decided that this month I'll be calling it "Playing banjo in Sgt. Zygote's Ragtime Band"-it sounds catchy, no? Once that happens, we'll be on board for "FET#4-The Last of the Red-Hot Embryos". We're really hoping that perhaps these 3-day ones might be a little stronger for us and, uh.........perhaps work. Although I know that it's a lot to ask, but I'll dare to.
I do have to say I'm quite proud to made it through the holidays with the minimum amount of feeling down, which is a positive thing. And, that's even with not one, but two pregnancy announcements (one from Sean's cousin and his wife, who go to our church, the other, his best friend S). I'm actually amazed that it didn't upset me as it usually would. Could it be that perhaps I'm more accepting of my infertility? Or maybe I'm more accepting of my fate-I've come to the point that I almost expect the FET's to fail, and, to be honest, if it did work for me I'd be shocked. Who knows, really. But, I do know this-I need to see it through to the end, whatever the outcome. Whether or not we'll continue treatments after this has never been discussed. There's never been a "Plan B". Sean once mentioned that he's not altogether comfortable with adoption, which I have to respect. A decision like that has to be in 100% agreement, and you can't force someone to do something that they aren't sure of. Anyways, we aren't at that point of a "Plan B" yet. We still have a little fight left in us.
And we're going to fight like hell.
BWAHAHAHAHAHA! That was a good one, wasn't it? I think I tinkled in my panties.
Seriously, I did send in the $$ to join a local fitness center (starting with B and ending with an 's). I honestly would've never done it on my own, due to the cost, but we get an educator's discount through our union, which is pretty damn cool. I need to get my ass moving, get physically fit and feeling better about my body. Plus, I got one of those IPod Shuffles for Christmas, and I can't wait to try it out on the treadmill. Now, I just need to get some new sneakers and sweats-they're really old and looking a little tired. M also belongs to the same location (although, through the deal we can go to any location in the country), so we were talking about going together a few days out of the week and be each other's moral support.
Well, what else has been going on? School has settled in, although not in the smoothest of ways. It didn't help that one of the BD kids flipped out last week (he had to be removed from school in an ambulance), so it put people on edge. That, and the visit from the Dept of Ed at our other school-there was a scurrying about to prep and primp and show our best work. It was one of the few times that I was glad I'm not a classroom teacher-they don't really care about the "Specials" as much, and I wasn't under the scrutiny.
Nothing much on the fertility front, unless you can count waiting for "You Know Who" (and no, it ain't Voldemort). I've decided that this month I'll be calling it "Playing banjo in Sgt. Zygote's Ragtime Band"-it sounds catchy, no? Once that happens, we'll be on board for "FET#4-The Last of the Red-Hot Embryos". We're really hoping that perhaps these 3-day ones might be a little stronger for us and, uh.........perhaps work. Although I know that it's a lot to ask, but I'll dare to.
I do have to say I'm quite proud to made it through the holidays with the minimum amount of feeling down, which is a positive thing. And, that's even with not one, but two pregnancy announcements (one from Sean's cousin and his wife, who go to our church, the other, his best friend S). I'm actually amazed that it didn't upset me as it usually would. Could it be that perhaps I'm more accepting of my infertility? Or maybe I'm more accepting of my fate-I've come to the point that I almost expect the FET's to fail, and, to be honest, if it did work for me I'd be shocked. Who knows, really. But, I do know this-I need to see it through to the end, whatever the outcome. Whether or not we'll continue treatments after this has never been discussed. There's never been a "Plan B". Sean once mentioned that he's not altogether comfortable with adoption, which I have to respect. A decision like that has to be in 100% agreement, and you can't force someone to do something that they aren't sure of. Anyways, we aren't at that point of a "Plan B" yet. We still have a little fight left in us.
And we're going to fight like hell.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
2006 Can Kiss My Saggy Fat Ass
Well, on my little hiatus I did a lot of thinking. And drinking. LOTS of drinking, because, let's face it-2006 sucked large hairy wrinkly testicles. And, here's what I came up with:
* I need to start blogging more often. I've missed it, even though I have been reading your blogs, I've been neglectful of my own. So, no more silences. I need the emotional release of it.
* I'm tired of worrying and stressing about this. I'm not getting any younger, and the stress is worse than the trying to conceive crap. I'm going to start 2007 trying to worry less.
* I'm sick of planning my life around whether or not my reproductive system is going to cooperate. It might never happen, so I can't deny myself opportunities just because I "might" get pregnant. Broadway, here I come! No, seriously, I need to take more time for me, and for my relationship with Sean.
*I am a fat pig. No really. Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit, but we all know that ART treatments pack on the pounds (especially those meds). I've decided to take advantage of our union's deal with a popular area gym and join. I used to belong to another gym, and I did feel more empowered and active. Also, since it seems as if my boobages have grown yet another cup size (we're up to DD's now), I need to lose the boob blubber, or else I'll be scooping them off the floor, putting them in bonnets and a stroller and tell everyone that they're twins. Not cool.
* I'm getting a bit weary on the job front. Not my actual job, because I love to teach. I think, however, that perhaps the place I'm in isn't for me. There's a lot of politics abound. And yes, I know that it's everywhere, but it's so blatant here. Let's just say that it's so blatant that it's a joke in other districts. Perhaps a change of scenery is best.
* Our bathroom sucks. We're (or should I say, the lovely Sean) renovating it, because......
* We've come to the conclusion that we've outgrown the house we're in. How we can come to that conclusion based on the fact that, well, we haven't actually added people to this "family" (I'm not counting my boobs. Yet.) I have no idea, but it looks as if we're going to put the house on the market by February or March. We've alreadly found a house we love one town over, that's been on the market for almost a year and needs a lot of work. Perfect. Also, we know someone who knows the current owner, so that's a plus for us (we hope).
So, based on all of this thinking, what's the solution, you're wondering?
Well, why not do another frozen cycle, for starters! WOOT! Yeah, I'm a glutton for punishment. Don't remind me.
I finally had my "failed cycle" appointment yesterday. It was rescheduled because Dr. Pipsqueak had a surgery that was moved up, so I got bumped. After the whole conversational redux of "well, I don't know why it didn't work, the embryos were wonderful, your lining was perfect, hormones good", which we got earlier in the summer, I found out that none of the other 2pn embryos made it to blast. Which means that we have 6 day 3's left. So, she gave me the choice of either a medicated or non-medicated cycle for the next one. Since there really is no medical reason for me to do a medicated cycle (hormone levels are great, no lining issues, no extra long cycles), I immediately chose another natural cycle. It also gives the advantage that we aren't going to tell anyone about this one (present company excluded of course-I mean family or friends), since we won't have to rely on anyone giving me ass-shots. Of course, it does have the disadvantage that I have to be pretty much moving in to the clinic, since I'll be there almost every morning for bloodwork, but it could be worse. I could be doing another fresh cycle, which would be depressing as hell. So, we're looking at a transfer sometime in February, once my period comes (which will be sometime in the middle to end of January). And, hopefully we could squeeze another one in before the lab closes again (another advantage to a natural cycle), assuming that we don't lose too many of these embryos.
One thing that she did say is that she still feels that it will work. My eggs were retrieved at what are still considered a "young" age, she doesn't want to try PGD (which is great, since it ain't covered under insurance and we don't have $7K of "fuck you" money lying around) as she feels it wouldn't help, and the quality of eggs and sperm, and uterus aren't the issue. It's just, as she reiterated, just bad luck. We did discuss the 2 embryo vs. 3 embryo transfer, and we left the discussion at what she sees at transfer time. If the thawed embryos aren't great, we'll do three. If they're great, we'll do 2, because adding one more isn't going to increase chances of my getting pregnant, it'll only increase the likelihood of triplets, and all I want is a healthy child, not a litter, at least if I can help it.
We did have a nice chat afterwards though-I guess it's the upside of having one the last appointments. She asked how my break was, about my singing (I found out that Dr. C sang with an a capella group while still in school) and told me about her ski trip out West (although she luckily didn't get caught in the blizzard hell, she was delayed in Texas coming home). She also asked about my job, and I regaled her with tales of my students, and she was in hysterics about my some of my more......uh.......interesting kids. Like the kindergartner I have who is a streaker. I shit you not. The primary classrooms all have bathrooms, and this kid has a habit of going in to do his business, then takes off his pants and underwear, and proceeds to run out of the bathroom naked from the waist down and runs around the classroom. Yeah. And the child study team says that there's "nothing wrong with him". Riiiight.......
So, other than that, the break was blah. I did get sick on Christmas Day and spent most of it in a cold-medicine-induced haze. I lost my voice and everything, and the family kept calling me "Kathleen Turner" all night. Turns out I had a sinus infection. Yay. So I spent the next 5 days on mega dose horsepills of antibiotics. And then I got plastered on New Year's and felt slightly hungover the next day. And, that's it.
I hope that you all had a decent holiday. Now, let's all give the finger to '06, and tell it to screw.
Kiss my ass, 2006. Here's hoping 2007 brings all of us better days ahead.
* I need to start blogging more often. I've missed it, even though I have been reading your blogs, I've been neglectful of my own. So, no more silences. I need the emotional release of it.
* I'm tired of worrying and stressing about this. I'm not getting any younger, and the stress is worse than the trying to conceive crap. I'm going to start 2007 trying to worry less.
* I'm sick of planning my life around whether or not my reproductive system is going to cooperate. It might never happen, so I can't deny myself opportunities just because I "might" get pregnant. Broadway, here I come! No, seriously, I need to take more time for me, and for my relationship with Sean.
*I am a fat pig. No really. Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit, but we all know that ART treatments pack on the pounds (especially those meds). I've decided to take advantage of our union's deal with a popular area gym and join. I used to belong to another gym, and I did feel more empowered and active. Also, since it seems as if my boobages have grown yet another cup size (we're up to DD's now), I need to lose the boob blubber, or else I'll be scooping them off the floor, putting them in bonnets and a stroller and tell everyone that they're twins. Not cool.
* I'm getting a bit weary on the job front. Not my actual job, because I love to teach. I think, however, that perhaps the place I'm in isn't for me. There's a lot of politics abound. And yes, I know that it's everywhere, but it's so blatant here. Let's just say that it's so blatant that it's a joke in other districts. Perhaps a change of scenery is best.
* Our bathroom sucks. We're (or should I say, the lovely Sean) renovating it, because......
* We've come to the conclusion that we've outgrown the house we're in. How we can come to that conclusion based on the fact that, well, we haven't actually added people to this "family" (I'm not counting my boobs. Yet.) I have no idea, but it looks as if we're going to put the house on the market by February or March. We've alreadly found a house we love one town over, that's been on the market for almost a year and needs a lot of work. Perfect. Also, we know someone who knows the current owner, so that's a plus for us (we hope).
So, based on all of this thinking, what's the solution, you're wondering?
Well, why not do another frozen cycle, for starters! WOOT! Yeah, I'm a glutton for punishment. Don't remind me.
I finally had my "failed cycle" appointment yesterday. It was rescheduled because Dr. Pipsqueak had a surgery that was moved up, so I got bumped. After the whole conversational redux of "well, I don't know why it didn't work, the embryos were wonderful, your lining was perfect, hormones good", which we got earlier in the summer, I found out that none of the other 2pn embryos made it to blast. Which means that we have 6 day 3's left. So, she gave me the choice of either a medicated or non-medicated cycle for the next one. Since there really is no medical reason for me to do a medicated cycle (hormone levels are great, no lining issues, no extra long cycles), I immediately chose another natural cycle. It also gives the advantage that we aren't going to tell anyone about this one (present company excluded of course-I mean family or friends), since we won't have to rely on anyone giving me ass-shots. Of course, it does have the disadvantage that I have to be pretty much moving in to the clinic, since I'll be there almost every morning for bloodwork, but it could be worse. I could be doing another fresh cycle, which would be depressing as hell. So, we're looking at a transfer sometime in February, once my period comes (which will be sometime in the middle to end of January). And, hopefully we could squeeze another one in before the lab closes again (another advantage to a natural cycle), assuming that we don't lose too many of these embryos.
One thing that she did say is that she still feels that it will work. My eggs were retrieved at what are still considered a "young" age, she doesn't want to try PGD (which is great, since it ain't covered under insurance and we don't have $7K of "fuck you" money lying around) as she feels it wouldn't help, and the quality of eggs and sperm, and uterus aren't the issue. It's just, as she reiterated, just bad luck. We did discuss the 2 embryo vs. 3 embryo transfer, and we left the discussion at what she sees at transfer time. If the thawed embryos aren't great, we'll do three. If they're great, we'll do 2, because adding one more isn't going to increase chances of my getting pregnant, it'll only increase the likelihood of triplets, and all I want is a healthy child, not a litter, at least if I can help it.
We did have a nice chat afterwards though-I guess it's the upside of having one the last appointments. She asked how my break was, about my singing (I found out that Dr. C sang with an a capella group while still in school) and told me about her ski trip out West (although she luckily didn't get caught in the blizzard hell, she was delayed in Texas coming home). She also asked about my job, and I regaled her with tales of my students, and she was in hysterics about my some of my more......uh.......interesting kids. Like the kindergartner I have who is a streaker. I shit you not. The primary classrooms all have bathrooms, and this kid has a habit of going in to do his business, then takes off his pants and underwear, and proceeds to run out of the bathroom naked from the waist down and runs around the classroom. Yeah. And the child study team says that there's "nothing wrong with him". Riiiight.......
So, other than that, the break was blah. I did get sick on Christmas Day and spent most of it in a cold-medicine-induced haze. I lost my voice and everything, and the family kept calling me "Kathleen Turner" all night. Turns out I had a sinus infection. Yay. So I spent the next 5 days on mega dose horsepills of antibiotics. And then I got plastered on New Year's and felt slightly hungover the next day. And, that's it.
I hope that you all had a decent holiday. Now, let's all give the finger to '06, and tell it to screw.
Kiss my ass, 2006. Here's hoping 2007 brings all of us better days ahead.
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