Alrighty.
For posterity I will bang out what happened when I called back the docotr's office yesterday.
As per my instructions, I made the call at 11:15 (I didn't want to seem too nudgy, so I waited a bit.) The nurse answered, and told me to hold on, she would get the doctor on the phone, she was just in the examining room with a patient. Ok... so I waited, and waited... and waited.
Finally, the nurse came back on the phone and said, "Ms. C, it's a disaster here today, just come in to talk to the doctor." Alright, so I did.
And when I got there the waiting room was packed... with wildly pregnant women. Loads of them. I gave in my medicare card, and sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. And then the nurse came out and announced that the doctor had to go to the hospital for a delivery and wouldn't be back for at least an hour. When the waiting room cleared I went up to the receptionist and told her I was here to get my records. She sent me to the back to the nurse's desk. As I approached the back the nurse caught sight of me, and said "Ms. C, you can't sit here, go sit in the front!" To which I replied, as the tears started to flow, "Well the receptionist just told me to come back here..." Crying and all, she told me just to sit right there and wait. (I felt like a big baby, but I was a step closer to the records that I came for.
The nurse went about her merry way doing tasks and ignoring me as I sniffling nearby. Finally she turned to me and said, "What do you want exactly? We faxed your husband's semen analysis to Dr. Pfifer."
Me: "We are not going to Dr. Pfifer. We have an appointment with Dr. Chan. And I need the rest of the file because I have 2 other appointments as well."
Nurse: "Well you have to tell me what you want, I can't photocopy the entire file! And who are you going to see?!"
Me: "I don't understand why you can't just be nice to me. All I need are my records. You guys are the doctor's office, you should know what would be relevant to another doctor that I am going to see. It's really difficult to be here sitting in a room of pregnant women, I wish that were me, but it's not. I really wish you would be a little more sensitive to my sistuation, it isn't easy what I am goign through. All I am asking for are my records!"
At which point I FREAKED OUT, started BAWLING, and as a bonus my nose started bleeding.
A lot of back rubbing, calming down, and kind tones ensued. (No one wants a raving lunatic patient in the office!) Also the nurse picked up my file and started photocopying.
Nurse: "I have photocopied allt he test results that we have from you in the past year. I think that will be good. Is there anything else you would like?"
Me: "I'm not sure. Is that all that is relevant? I did have surgery in 97, do I need that?"
Nurse: "I don't think so."
(For the record, I think that is pertinet, so lucky I have my own copy of that report stashed in my personal files.)
Nurse and Receotionist: "If you need anything else, let us know, we will fax it to the appropriate doctor for you."
Me: "Ummm, ok. Thanks." and I got up to leave.
I was almost at the door when the Nurse called me back.
Nurse: "Ms. C, I have this note about Dr. Pfifer."
Me: "OH YA! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE STORY IS WITH THAT."
Nurse: "It seems we weren't able to get in touch with him to get a refferal, so we decided on Dr. Chan instead."
Me: "Thanks for clearing that up." and walked out.
So I walked out with blood on my pants and jacket, wondering what exactly they had faxed to Dr. Pfifer (whom we weren't going to see), with my files tucked neatly inside my book. I still do not understand what all the hastle was about.
I mean really. I have been seeing this doctor for 13 years (and my mother has been seeing her for 25 years). Up until last year I have needed her services once a year for a pap. In the past year I have been to her office 5 times. Until there was an issue to deal with they were happy with my once a year service call. But if the doctor and the support staff think that I am asking too much of them when I actually need their help for the first time in 13 years, I'm not so sure what to think of their service skills...
Thanks to all of you who commented with words of support. This is the reason I have joined the blogging community. I can't imagine having been able to get through yesterday without you. Someone mentioned not returning to this doctor, and I am seriously thinking about it. At least I don't have to go back to that office until I am pregnant. At which point I may take my Mommy to stick up for me. (When I told my mother what happened, in a shorter version, she could not believe that they would treat me in this manner. As in: I must have said something rude to have them treat me like that, because they have never been anything but nice to her. Thanks, mom.)
On one hand I feel relief that I am done with the gyn's office for now. On the other hand I am fearful of what lies ahead. What if I am treated like this everywhere I go?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
PREPARATIONS
First things first: the shower. It was ok. Actually it was fun. And the baby was cute. And gorgeous. And so well behaved. Really, everything you can desire in an infant. This is probably all due to the fact that the mother is amazing. (Such a nice woman that I can almost forgive her for marrying and procreating with a man who dumped me for not having sex with him.) The saving grace was that said guy did not show up at the shower as I was certain that he would. Thank the lord. I really was not looking forward to that interaction.
What did annoy me a bit was the bride-to-be going on and on about how she can't wait to get married so that she can start popping out babies. Because that's what you do: you get married and then boom, get pregnant just like that. We all know how well that works!
(I don't wish to dwell on this today, as I am getting frustrating just writing about it) so, MOVING ON...
Tomorrow we see the urologist.
Digression: I just called my gyn's office. I fucking hate the receptionist. I requested a copy of my records early last week, and I was told they would be prepared in a few days and they would call me to let me know. OF COURSE I never received a call, so I am calling this morning to get this taken care of (as I need the records for tomorrow's appointment!) This is the ensuing converstation:
Me: Hi this is Ms. C, I called last week to get a copy of my records.
Her: You know, this is an emergency line [a fact I did not know], I am waiting for Dr. S to call, You should not be using this line to ask me such questions, call back at xxx-xxxx. [Hang up]
Of course now I am calling the other line (I swear I did not know the number I had was an emergency line! No one ever told me that!), and it's busy. Which I guess is a good thing because if that shit assed receptionist actually piked up the phone the first time I tried the number I might have lost it on her. OOO... this is real time blogging... I just got through, but now am on hold. I will have to restrain myself from yelling at her/letting my emotions get in the way (ie crying) when she comes back on the line. Ooop-here she is, and back on hold I am!
I had to interrupt my real time blogging...
When someone finally came back on the phone, it was the nurse, who said to me: "Ms. C, why didn't you call on the private line?" At which point I LOST it. I started crying. The nurse is a sweetheart, and is always kind to me, but it is rare that the receptionist will let me talk to her. This is how the conversation unfolded:
Me: I just called on that line, and was yelled at for doing so.
Nurse: Well that's rediculous. So you want your records to send to Dr. Pfifer?
Me (really losing it): Dr. Pfifer??!!! (sob sob) You know, this is crazy, I can't get anywhere when I call your office!
Nurse: Ms. C, what do you mean???
Me: I asked for a referral for a urologist for my husband in August, and it took 5 weeks till someone got back to me, and when I finally got a name, it was a Dr. Chan, not a Dr. Pfifer.
(Slight digression: Incidentally, Dr. Chan is who we have our appointment with tomorrow, he is the doctor that works at clinic#2 that we are looking into. When my gyn's office gave me the number to call Dr. Chan, the actually referred me to another office that he works in. Where the hell did Dr. Pfifer come from?)
Nurse: Well your husband should see Dr. Pfifer, and we have sent the records there.
Me: I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! (sob sob) This is all besides the point. I need my records to take to an appointment that I have at a fertility clinic. Actually 2 different clinics. So I need my records! And I don't know what all this is about Dr. Pfifer! Why wasn't I given his name in the first place.
Nurse: Ms. C... Can you call back at 11 on the private line so you can speak to Dr. S? Please do that, ok? (sweetly)
Me: alright. (sob sob)
Why can't they get their act together? Why can they not realize that this is my life, and our chances for a baby that they are screwing with? I am not asking for my records so that I can use the paper to build a bonfire. I am trying to get us some help! Why can't they see how trying this is for me? And be a little sensitive. I am really not asking for much here. A referral to a specialist, a copy of my records. Not difficult tasks. Fuck!
I will get back to the normally scheduled program of PREPARATIONS for tomorrow's urologist appointment and Thursday's RE appointment when I get to the bottom of this reconds crap.
What did annoy me a bit was the bride-to-be going on and on about how she can't wait to get married so that she can start popping out babies. Because that's what you do: you get married and then boom, get pregnant just like that. We all know how well that works!
(I don't wish to dwell on this today, as I am getting frustrating just writing about it) so, MOVING ON...
Tomorrow we see the urologist.
Digression: I just called my gyn's office. I fucking hate the receptionist. I requested a copy of my records early last week, and I was told they would be prepared in a few days and they would call me to let me know. OF COURSE I never received a call, so I am calling this morning to get this taken care of (as I need the records for tomorrow's appointment!) This is the ensuing converstation:
Me: Hi this is Ms. C, I called last week to get a copy of my records.
Her: You know, this is an emergency line [a fact I did not know], I am waiting for Dr. S to call, You should not be using this line to ask me such questions, call back at xxx-xxxx. [Hang up]
Of course now I am calling the other line (I swear I did not know the number I had was an emergency line! No one ever told me that!), and it's busy. Which I guess is a good thing because if that shit assed receptionist actually piked up the phone the first time I tried the number I might have lost it on her. OOO... this is real time blogging... I just got through, but now am on hold. I will have to restrain myself from yelling at her/letting my emotions get in the way (ie crying) when she comes back on the line. Ooop-here she is, and back on hold I am!
I had to interrupt my real time blogging...
When someone finally came back on the phone, it was the nurse, who said to me: "Ms. C, why didn't you call on the private line?" At which point I LOST it. I started crying. The nurse is a sweetheart, and is always kind to me, but it is rare that the receptionist will let me talk to her. This is how the conversation unfolded:
Me: I just called on that line, and was yelled at for doing so.
Nurse: Well that's rediculous. So you want your records to send to Dr. Pfifer?
Me (really losing it): Dr. Pfifer??!!! (sob sob) You know, this is crazy, I can't get anywhere when I call your office!
Nurse: Ms. C, what do you mean???
Me: I asked for a referral for a urologist for my husband in August, and it took 5 weeks till someone got back to me, and when I finally got a name, it was a Dr. Chan, not a Dr. Pfifer.
(Slight digression: Incidentally, Dr. Chan is who we have our appointment with tomorrow, he is the doctor that works at clinic#2 that we are looking into. When my gyn's office gave me the number to call Dr. Chan, the actually referred me to another office that he works in. Where the hell did Dr. Pfifer come from?)
Nurse: Well your husband should see Dr. Pfifer, and we have sent the records there.
Me: I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! (sob sob) This is all besides the point. I need my records to take to an appointment that I have at a fertility clinic. Actually 2 different clinics. So I need my records! And I don't know what all this is about Dr. Pfifer! Why wasn't I given his name in the first place.
Nurse: Ms. C... Can you call back at 11 on the private line so you can speak to Dr. S? Please do that, ok? (sweetly)
Me: alright. (sob sob)
Why can't they get their act together? Why can they not realize that this is my life, and our chances for a baby that they are screwing with? I am not asking for my records so that I can use the paper to build a bonfire. I am trying to get us some help! Why can't they see how trying this is for me? And be a little sensitive. I am really not asking for much here. A referral to a specialist, a copy of my records. Not difficult tasks. Fuck!
I will get back to the normally scheduled program of PREPARATIONS for tomorrow's urologist appointment and Thursday's RE appointment when I get to the bottom of this reconds crap.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
A BRIDAL SHOWER, A TODDLER, AN INFANT AND THE UROLOGIST
Ugh.
This afternoon I am to attend a bridal shower for the future daughter-in-law of a friend of my mother. It will be a livingroom full of women in their 50s giggling with the poor bride about condoms and the like (nothing more embarassing, in my opinion!) Aside from me and the bride-to-be, there will two other young women there... with their children aged 3 months and 16 months. How very fortunate for me.
(A digression: the infant is the daughter of a guy I dated when I was 19. This guy dumped me when I wouldn't sleep with him. He is the nephew of the woman giving the shower, and there will be no avoiding seeing him. I add him to the list of people who I hate for having children before me.)
Bridal Showers are the precursors to weddings, which I have not been so happy with these days. The Anonymous Infertile wrote about why wedding make her sad, I couldn't agree with her more. (She wrote about it much more eloquently that I am about to...) Although my wedding was my personal fairytale day, I can't help thinking that my story isn't following the path to the happy ending. And I feel envious of the hope that the married couple-to-be has that everything their future is full of roses and rainbows. Selfish, I know.
***
Wednesday is our urologist appointment, and Thursday is the RE. I am compiling a list of questions to ask each specialist (which I will try to get down here over the weekend...) I am looking to you guys for support here. What questions do you think I should be asking (this especially for the urologist, as I have no experience with this one!)? I would so appreciate your input, and thanks in advance...
This afternoon I am to attend a bridal shower for the future daughter-in-law of a friend of my mother. It will be a livingroom full of women in their 50s giggling with the poor bride about condoms and the like (nothing more embarassing, in my opinion!) Aside from me and the bride-to-be, there will two other young women there... with their children aged 3 months and 16 months. How very fortunate for me.
(A digression: the infant is the daughter of a guy I dated when I was 19. This guy dumped me when I wouldn't sleep with him. He is the nephew of the woman giving the shower, and there will be no avoiding seeing him. I add him to the list of people who I hate for having children before me.)
Bridal Showers are the precursors to weddings, which I have not been so happy with these days. The Anonymous Infertile wrote about why wedding make her sad, I couldn't agree with her more. (She wrote about it much more eloquently that I am about to...) Although my wedding was my personal fairytale day, I can't help thinking that my story isn't following the path to the happy ending. And I feel envious of the hope that the married couple-to-be has that everything their future is full of roses and rainbows. Selfish, I know.
***
Wednesday is our urologist appointment, and Thursday is the RE. I am compiling a list of questions to ask each specialist (which I will try to get down here over the weekend...) I am looking to you guys for support here. What questions do you think I should be asking (this especially for the urologist, as I have no experience with this one!)? I would so appreciate your input, and thanks in advance...
Thursday, October 05, 2006
ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE YOU TO MY FRIEND
Yes! Yes! I have a friend. A real life friend. Who blogs about IF.
Ok, she started her blog today, but she's been lurking for a while. She took the leap, so I'm sending all of you to support her.
Her name is Shlomit, and you can find her at You're Still Young*. We met about five years ago when the wtwo of us were embarking on a life changing journey. Since then we have been each others' support through a number of others. The latest is this crazy ride called infertility. I don't really want to share this voyage with anybody (no! not any of you!), but having Shlomit by my side and understanding how I feel every step of the way has helped me tons. She is so kind, caring, strong and compassionate. And unlike most, she usually knows exactly what to say.
She started her blog with a disclaimer stating that she is great at starting new things, but less so at continuing them. I know this is true ablout her, but I hope she will prove us wrong. She has so much to gain by joining our community. We all know about the network of support we provide for each other. But there are other benefits. Like keeping an accurate record of treatments. And having a space to go to when you need to sort out your thoughts.
But ladies! (And gentlemen! Are there any gentlemen?) The best thing aobut Shlomit blogging? Is that she is now here for you. So go visit her, and welcome her to your worlds.
*"You're still Young" ranks right up there with "it could take three months": the stupid shit people say to you when you tell them you're trying to conceive. Shlomit is young... at heart. Her body... not so. Any of you in the same situation, please-PLEASE-run over to introduce yourselves.
Ok, she started her blog today, but she's been lurking for a while. She took the leap, so I'm sending all of you to support her.
Her name is Shlomit, and you can find her at You're Still Young*. We met about five years ago when the wtwo of us were embarking on a life changing journey. Since then we have been each others' support through a number of others. The latest is this crazy ride called infertility. I don't really want to share this voyage with anybody (no! not any of you!), but having Shlomit by my side and understanding how I feel every step of the way has helped me tons. She is so kind, caring, strong and compassionate. And unlike most, she usually knows exactly what to say.
She started her blog with a disclaimer stating that she is great at starting new things, but less so at continuing them. I know this is true ablout her, but I hope she will prove us wrong. She has so much to gain by joining our community. We all know about the network of support we provide for each other. But there are other benefits. Like keeping an accurate record of treatments. And having a space to go to when you need to sort out your thoughts.
But ladies! (And gentlemen! Are there any gentlemen?) The best thing aobut Shlomit blogging? Is that she is now here for you. So go visit her, and welcome her to your worlds.
*"You're still Young" ranks right up there with "it could take three months": the stupid shit people say to you when you tell them you're trying to conceive. Shlomit is young... at heart. Her body... not so. Any of you in the same situation, please-PLEASE-run over to introduce yourselves.
Monday, October 02, 2006
I SHOULDN'T BE BLOGGING
Because it's Yom Kippur. But I can't sleep, and I have some shit that is bothering me. (Maybe I can refrain from swearing on this holiest of holy days.)
There are two items on today's "I need to talk about this" list. I will go in chronological order, rather than in order of "weighing my brain down to my toes".
I noted in my previous post my surprise of the lack of nosiness my parents displayed upon us mentioning the time needed for appointments. It seemed we had gotten off easy, for at least a while. Let me state that that while lasted a mere 22 hours.
The following night my parents came over again for dinner. (This time for a bbq, which they do often as they donated their ultra wonderful bbq to us when they moved to a condo.) Dinner was served and we weren't sitting for 2 minutes when my dad says: "I bet you were surprised that we didn't ask you any questions about your appointments. Let me know if this conversation makes you uncomfortable, and we don't have to have it." OMG, the return of the heart palpitations.
I have told you before how much I love my husband. Man, did I adore him at this moment. After only skipping a beat or two, he explained very succinctly that we are trying to have a baby, and it's not working so easily, so we are getting some help.
Ms. C: exhale.
My parents' reply (practically in unison): "Oh, we figured that months ago, and were wondering when you were going to tell us. Which didn't happen, so we figured we would ask."
That was pretty much the end of the discussion for the evening, except for my father joking about 50 too many times how I shouldn't be drinking wine, because I might be pregnant.
How do I feel about how this went? I'm glad you asked. Here is my list on the matter:
1. For some reason, I always imagined this conversation with me crying. I didn't do much speaking, so I stayed pretty calm.
2. The C's taking control over the conversation made it much easier for me too. He is so the greatest in the whole wide world.
3. Seeing as they pretty much already figured out what was going on, we didn't have to go into too many details.
4. "A mother knows her daughter," said my mother. She knew I was off the pill because my face was breaking out, and my chin was sprouting hairs galore (O, PCO symptoms, how I heart thee. One day I will write a post entirely dedicated to you.) Unfortunately, they may not know how long we have been trying, as these symptoms (which I had in my teens) only started reappearing after about 6 months off the pill.
5. Comments like "you shouldn't be drinking wine, you could be pregnant" show that my father doesn't really understand what is going on here. After about 5 more comments in this vein, I looked at him completely seriously and said: "Those comments are entirely inappropriate. Please stop. I am not pregnant."
6. They didn't ask what was wrong, and we didn't volunteer this info. They may think that we have no idea what treatment would be (as far as they know we are just getting medical help starting soon), and it was apparent that they have no idea how infertility (not that we used that word) can be dealt with. I think I'm ok with their lack of knowledge at this point, but what it means is that we will have to have more conversations in the future.
7. Leaving all this aside, they were almost as thrilled to hear it from our own mouths that we want to get pregnant (and give them more wonderful grandchildren!), than if we had actually told that we were pregnant. I was in shock. I always thought that they thought that we should wait for having a family (as sometimes I think they still see me as their baby.) That they are excited is exciting to me.
What we didn't talk about is how emotionally difficult and draining this has been on me so far. We didn't tell them that hearing announcements and progress reports of all their friends' children was very painful to me. Which brings me to thing number two that is so important to get off my chest that I am blogging on Yom Kippur.
Man, this is hard to write without me seeming like an awful person. Here is some background on the situation. My parents have these awesome best friends. I love them practically like they are my own parents. They are the kind of people of an older generation that you wish were your parents sometimes, you know what I mean? These super-duper friends have four sons, the oldest being the same age (within days) as me. Let’s call him Alfred.
Though our families lived on opposite ends of the continent, as we got older we visited with each other lots. I was close to Alfred by default; we were always being thrown together. The summer we were 14 we shared our first kiss. I pretty much see him as my first boyfriend, and though there were other guys in my life throughout my teen years, when ever we met up there was instant attraction. We experienced a number of other firsts together (he taught me to roll my first joint at 17…), so although in the long run it wasn’t destined to work out, he holds a special place in my heart.
In our 20s we moved on with our lives, emailing sporadically, and getting updates about each other from our parents. We met our respective partners, and talked about wedding plans. The C and I were engaged for five years, and I was ok with not being married (I really wanted to finish my master’s first), except, for some nagging reason, I felt the need to be married before Alfred. I don’t know why I felt so competitive about this. I remember telling a friend about this feeling, and she validated it, but still-weird. We did (finally) get married, a year before Alfred and his partner.
I’m not very good at writing suspenseful stories, so we know where this is going, right?
This summer my Alfred’s mom was here visiting and we were preparing dinner together. And she was going on and on about her son planning their family. A familiar thought popped into my head: omg, not before me, we have been waiting so much longer for this! Later in the summer Alfred was in town for a few days. We caught up, and laughed a lot as we usually do when together. It amazes me how well he and The C get along. And then the conversation turned to having kids. And how they were planning. And how if we wanted to start a family, well we should get going because we’re not getting any younger, and well, you know, it could take a few months.*
Anyways. Guess what news we received last night, via my parents (who you would think would be a bit sensitive to pregnancy announcements, now that some of our hardships are out in the open)? You’ve got it! Due in April.
I had anger, pain, resentment, (you name it) boiling in me all night. I am so upset. It’s not fair! I want this too! How come they can have what I can't? Why does it seem like for everyone else all they have to do it talk about getting pregnant and then they are? Why why why?
And as The C said to me: “Why can't you just be happy for them?”
*Please note that this is the second man to tell me how long it might take for us to conceive. The first being my friend’s husband after whose words this blog was named
There are two items on today's "I need to talk about this" list. I will go in chronological order, rather than in order of "weighing my brain down to my toes".
I noted in my previous post my surprise of the lack of nosiness my parents displayed upon us mentioning the time needed for appointments. It seemed we had gotten off easy, for at least a while. Let me state that that while lasted a mere 22 hours.
The following night my parents came over again for dinner. (This time for a bbq, which they do often as they donated their ultra wonderful bbq to us when they moved to a condo.) Dinner was served and we weren't sitting for 2 minutes when my dad says: "I bet you were surprised that we didn't ask you any questions about your appointments. Let me know if this conversation makes you uncomfortable, and we don't have to have it." OMG, the return of the heart palpitations.
I have told you before how much I love my husband. Man, did I adore him at this moment. After only skipping a beat or two, he explained very succinctly that we are trying to have a baby, and it's not working so easily, so we are getting some help.
Ms. C: exhale.
My parents' reply (practically in unison): "Oh, we figured that months ago, and were wondering when you were going to tell us. Which didn't happen, so we figured we would ask."
That was pretty much the end of the discussion for the evening, except for my father joking about 50 too many times how I shouldn't be drinking wine, because I might be pregnant.
How do I feel about how this went? I'm glad you asked. Here is my list on the matter:
1. For some reason, I always imagined this conversation with me crying. I didn't do much speaking, so I stayed pretty calm.
2. The C's taking control over the conversation made it much easier for me too. He is so the greatest in the whole wide world.
3. Seeing as they pretty much already figured out what was going on, we didn't have to go into too many details.
4. "A mother knows her daughter," said my mother. She knew I was off the pill because my face was breaking out, and my chin was sprouting hairs galore (O, PCO symptoms, how I heart thee. One day I will write a post entirely dedicated to you.) Unfortunately, they may not know how long we have been trying, as these symptoms (which I had in my teens) only started reappearing after about 6 months off the pill.
5. Comments like "you shouldn't be drinking wine, you could be pregnant" show that my father doesn't really understand what is going on here. After about 5 more comments in this vein, I looked at him completely seriously and said: "Those comments are entirely inappropriate. Please stop. I am not pregnant."
6. They didn't ask what was wrong, and we didn't volunteer this info. They may think that we have no idea what treatment would be (as far as they know we are just getting medical help starting soon), and it was apparent that they have no idea how infertility (not that we used that word) can be dealt with. I think I'm ok with their lack of knowledge at this point, but what it means is that we will have to have more conversations in the future.
7. Leaving all this aside, they were almost as thrilled to hear it from our own mouths that we want to get pregnant (and give them more wonderful grandchildren!), than if we had actually told that we were pregnant. I was in shock. I always thought that they thought that we should wait for having a family (as sometimes I think they still see me as their baby.) That they are excited is exciting to me.
What we didn't talk about is how emotionally difficult and draining this has been on me so far. We didn't tell them that hearing announcements and progress reports of all their friends' children was very painful to me. Which brings me to thing number two that is so important to get off my chest that I am blogging on Yom Kippur.
Man, this is hard to write without me seeming like an awful person. Here is some background on the situation. My parents have these awesome best friends. I love them practically like they are my own parents. They are the kind of people of an older generation that you wish were your parents sometimes, you know what I mean? These super-duper friends have four sons, the oldest being the same age (within days) as me. Let’s call him Alfred.
Though our families lived on opposite ends of the continent, as we got older we visited with each other lots. I was close to Alfred by default; we were always being thrown together. The summer we were 14 we shared our first kiss. I pretty much see him as my first boyfriend, and though there were other guys in my life throughout my teen years, when ever we met up there was instant attraction. We experienced a number of other firsts together (he taught me to roll my first joint at 17…), so although in the long run it wasn’t destined to work out, he holds a special place in my heart.
In our 20s we moved on with our lives, emailing sporadically, and getting updates about each other from our parents. We met our respective partners, and talked about wedding plans. The C and I were engaged for five years, and I was ok with not being married (I really wanted to finish my master’s first), except, for some nagging reason, I felt the need to be married before Alfred. I don’t know why I felt so competitive about this. I remember telling a friend about this feeling, and she validated it, but still-weird. We did (finally) get married, a year before Alfred and his partner.
I’m not very good at writing suspenseful stories, so we know where this is going, right?
This summer my Alfred’s mom was here visiting and we were preparing dinner together. And she was going on and on about her son planning their family. A familiar thought popped into my head: omg, not before me, we have been waiting so much longer for this! Later in the summer Alfred was in town for a few days. We caught up, and laughed a lot as we usually do when together. It amazes me how well he and The C get along. And then the conversation turned to having kids. And how they were planning. And how if we wanted to start a family, well we should get going because we’re not getting any younger, and well, you know, it could take a few months.*
Anyways. Guess what news we received last night, via my parents (who you would think would be a bit sensitive to pregnancy announcements, now that some of our hardships are out in the open)? You’ve got it! Due in April.
I had anger, pain, resentment, (you name it) boiling in me all night. I am so upset. It’s not fair! I want this too! How come they can have what I can't? Why does it seem like for everyone else all they have to do it talk about getting pregnant and then they are? Why why why?
And as The C said to me: “Why can't you just be happy for them?”
*Please note that this is the second man to tell me how long it might take for us to conceive. The first being my friend’s husband after whose words this blog was named
Friday, September 29, 2006
AND...BREATHE OUT
Thank you everyone for your encouraging words vis a vis my last post. It really helped to hear about your personal experiences, and your advice how to handle the situation.
Yesterday morning I told The C that I couldn't take thinking about what will happen when he asks my dad for the time for the appointments anymore. The night before I was having terrible stomach pains, most definately from anxiety. I was clearly driving myself nuts. My wonderful husband assured me that he would speak to my father that very day. I went to pick up my mom at their place of business, and enquired if he had done the asking as of yet. He hadn't, so I told him to invite my parents for dinner, so that we can do it at home, and I can be with him (rather than doing it at work, and making him deal with this all alone.)
Dinner plans got a bit screwed up, and my parents finally arrived at our place at 9:00. I was on the verge of being ill by this time, I was dreading this, but I knew we had to do it. We sat down to eat the take out my parents brought, and the entire meal went by. I kept looking over at The C with the "c'mon already, I am going to die" look. And dinner ended. And we kept talking about other things. And then my mom got up and said, "well I better head home"... (OMG, panic...)
The C took a deep breath and said: "I have to take a couple of hours off for 2 appointments that I have in October. We made them long ago (I interjected 7 months) so it is not possible to cancel or reschedule." And told them the date. There was a pause. It is quite possible that I stopped breathing.
"Alright, then." was my father's reply.
And that was the end of the conversation. My normally nosey parents did not say another word. They got up, bid us good night and they left.
We closed the door behind them and The C hugged me so hard. I felt like the biggest weight had been lifted off my chest. I tink my stomach pains instantly vanished. I was no longer nauseous. "I think they know," said The C, as he kept holding me tight. He's right, I'm pretty sure they have some kind of idea what's going on. The "coming out" that I thought would occur last night didn't happen, but I'm okay with that for now.
The plan of action is for us to see a urologist for The C on the 11th, then I will go alone to the RE appointment on the 12th (the one that I see as our second opinion, even though it comes first...) Then we will go to RE Original together on the 26th. Hopefully we will be able to decide which clinic to go with, and then make a game plan.
Two other bits of info for today. First, I finally got a name for a urologist from my gyn (she told me before we went away in mid-August that she would find us someone to see.) I called this doctor, and the soonest they were booking was for November. Which, like October, is no good. I made an appointment for mid-December. If that's the amount of time it takes for us to get our ducks in a row, I guess that's how long it will take. (Maybe we will decide to go with the clinic that has the urologist on staff... I don't know...)
Second, I finally got the results for The C's second semen analysis. (The woman on the phone was so patient, and took the time to explain everything to me. I thanked he many times for this.) It is in someways better, and some ways worse:
Concentration: 8 million (Normal=greater than 20 million)
Motility: 40% rapid moving, 75% overall (Normal=25% rapid, 50% overall)
Morphology: 10% (Normal=14%, but more realisitcally 6-8%)
Index calculation # of abnormalities: 1.18 (Normal=lower than 1.6)
Anti-sperm antibodies: 15-17% (Normal=lass than 50%)
Viscosity: Normal
The results of the previous analysis were: count at 20 million, it was "very viscose", and the rest of the stats "didn't look so good". (Quoted directly from my gyn, thankyouverymuch.)
I am happy we opted for the way too expensive semen analysis. no doubt about it.
So why the change? Have any of you had such a varience? And 8 million should be enough is the motility and morphology are alright, shouldn't it? (Obviously not to get me pregnant naturally, I am aware of that! Don't forget that I don't ovulate either...)
Onto the next hurdle...
Yesterday morning I told The C that I couldn't take thinking about what will happen when he asks my dad for the time for the appointments anymore. The night before I was having terrible stomach pains, most definately from anxiety. I was clearly driving myself nuts. My wonderful husband assured me that he would speak to my father that very day. I went to pick up my mom at their place of business, and enquired if he had done the asking as of yet. He hadn't, so I told him to invite my parents for dinner, so that we can do it at home, and I can be with him (rather than doing it at work, and making him deal with this all alone.)
Dinner plans got a bit screwed up, and my parents finally arrived at our place at 9:00. I was on the verge of being ill by this time, I was dreading this, but I knew we had to do it. We sat down to eat the take out my parents brought, and the entire meal went by. I kept looking over at The C with the "c'mon already, I am going to die" look. And dinner ended. And we kept talking about other things. And then my mom got up and said, "well I better head home"... (OMG, panic...)
The C took a deep breath and said: "I have to take a couple of hours off for 2 appointments that I have in October. We made them long ago (I interjected 7 months) so it is not possible to cancel or reschedule." And told them the date. There was a pause. It is quite possible that I stopped breathing.
"Alright, then." was my father's reply.
And that was the end of the conversation. My normally nosey parents did not say another word. They got up, bid us good night and they left.
We closed the door behind them and The C hugged me so hard. I felt like the biggest weight had been lifted off my chest. I tink my stomach pains instantly vanished. I was no longer nauseous. "I think they know," said The C, as he kept holding me tight. He's right, I'm pretty sure they have some kind of idea what's going on. The "coming out" that I thought would occur last night didn't happen, but I'm okay with that for now.
The plan of action is for us to see a urologist for The C on the 11th, then I will go alone to the RE appointment on the 12th (the one that I see as our second opinion, even though it comes first...) Then we will go to RE Original together on the 26th. Hopefully we will be able to decide which clinic to go with, and then make a game plan.
Two other bits of info for today. First, I finally got a name for a urologist from my gyn (she told me before we went away in mid-August that she would find us someone to see.) I called this doctor, and the soonest they were booking was for November. Which, like October, is no good. I made an appointment for mid-December. If that's the amount of time it takes for us to get our ducks in a row, I guess that's how long it will take. (Maybe we will decide to go with the clinic that has the urologist on staff... I don't know...)
Second, I finally got the results for The C's second semen analysis. (The woman on the phone was so patient, and took the time to explain everything to me. I thanked he many times for this.) It is in someways better, and some ways worse:
Concentration: 8 million (Normal=greater than 20 million)
Motility: 40% rapid moving, 75% overall (Normal=25% rapid, 50% overall)
Morphology: 10% (Normal=14%, but more realisitcally 6-8%)
Index calculation # of abnormalities: 1.18 (Normal=lower than 1.6)
Anti-sperm antibodies: 15-17% (Normal=lass than 50%)
Viscosity: Normal
The results of the previous analysis were: count at 20 million, it was "very viscose", and the rest of the stats "didn't look so good". (Quoted directly from my gyn, thankyouverymuch.)
I am happy we opted for the way too expensive semen analysis. no doubt about it.
So why the change? Have any of you had such a varience? And 8 million should be enough is the motility and morphology are alright, shouldn't it? (Obviously not to get me pregnant naturally, I am aware of that! Don't forget that I don't ovulate either...)
Onto the next hurdle...
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
WHAT NOW?
I am good with lists. They keep my thoughts clear. I know I tend to ramble in my posts, and the only one that truly appreciates all my verbiage is my husband. (Because he loves me and cherishes every word that spews forth from my fingers. Oh barf.) The rest of you, I am sure, are all like: hurry up and get to the point, you are losing me here. Growing up, the only negative remark that was consitently on my report card? Talks too much. Old habits doe hard. But I digress. Here is my list for today, September 27, 2006, one month less one day until the RE appointment.
1. I ended my last post saying how I loved the atmoshere of the clinic where The C deposited his sperm, and so I made some appointments. The Urologist for him, the RE for me. What is the lead time for first appointments at this clinic, you ask? Four weeks, people. FOUR WEEKS. And when I pushed them, the four became a three. I am so bruised from kicking myself it's not even funny. Why did I not call them sooner? Why... I do not know. So... October 11=urologist; October 12=RE. Which is GREAT. Except for see List Item Six.
2. I am still going to keep our October 26 appointment with the Original RE at the clinic that comes highly recommended by my gyn. Very highly. To heights so high that she claims that he and his clinic are the absolute best. (There is only one RE, and so the clinic is very personalized. Which is why, I can imagine my wait to see him has been 7 months.) Also, the receptionist at my gyn's office told me about her son and his wife seeking the help of said RE (after seeing another, but not at the clinic where I have made appointments in List Item One,) and are now the proud parents of two children.
3. I'm not sure that the office of RE Original has a urologist. Is it not better to have the urologist right there in the clinic if out IF is MF and FF? Those of you in this situation, can you pass along some advice?
4. Really, I am treating the new appointments I have made as the second opinions, even though we will be seeing those doctors first. (Does that make sense?) I like the idea of the small clinic of RE Original, even though I haven’t been there yet. And it’s close to home, and The C’s work.
5. I feel like I am going insane. I am making judgments before I have been there. Before I have met the doctors and staff. I just want this so fucking much, and feel like we have waited so long, and my brain is killing me just thinking about this 25 hours a day, and The C doesn’t really understand how come my brain thinks about this 25 hours a day, and…
6. Nevermind the insanity in my head. I must go on. So. Many appointments in October. Some new, some old. Which I mentioned in List Item One as “GREAT”. Except here is why they are not so great. Two reasons. A) My husband works with my parents. Having an appointment means asking for time off from my dad. Which normally is not a problem. Stating: “I have an appointment, and it’s private,” usually does the trick. Except for B) The business my family runs is seasonal. As in this year the “season” is starting October 10. As in they work 7 days a week, fourteen hours a day, and NO APPOINTMENTS allowed, because, well, it’s busy, so no one can eat lunch, much less LEAVE the premises for an hour or two. And even less for two appointments! (The C and I have come to the conclusion that I can go to the appointment that I am seeing as the second opinion alone, because there is no way in hell he can ask for 3 different times off.)
7. We have waited 7 months for these appointments. I AM NOT GOING ALONE. I AM NOT RESCEDULING. (Rescheduling to a less busy time would mean January.) (Have any of you gone to the initial consult alone? Can you do that? And how bad does that look? Especially seeing as we have MF involved too.) But this means that The C will have to make a pretty convincing argument as to why he should be allowed time off. Which will probably involve telling him the truth. And my dad is a tough bastard (whom I love), with little empathy or understanding for personal situations that interfere with the running of his business. Which is why The C hasn’t told him about the time he will need. And so my stress surrounding the appointments is compounded.
8. Maybe some of you understand why I am having heart palpitations?
Oy vey. I tried making a list in an attempt in keeping this concise. Which I did not. I can’t seem to write a short and sweet post. There is too much in my head.
1. I ended my last post saying how I loved the atmoshere of the clinic where The C deposited his sperm, and so I made some appointments. The Urologist for him, the RE for me. What is the lead time for first appointments at this clinic, you ask? Four weeks, people. FOUR WEEKS. And when I pushed them, the four became a three. I am so bruised from kicking myself it's not even funny. Why did I not call them sooner? Why... I do not know. So... October 11=urologist; October 12=RE. Which is GREAT. Except for see List Item Six.
2. I am still going to keep our October 26 appointment with the Original RE at the clinic that comes highly recommended by my gyn. Very highly. To heights so high that she claims that he and his clinic are the absolute best. (There is only one RE, and so the clinic is very personalized. Which is why, I can imagine my wait to see him has been 7 months.) Also, the receptionist at my gyn's office told me about her son and his wife seeking the help of said RE (after seeing another, but not at the clinic where I have made appointments in List Item One,) and are now the proud parents of two children.
3. I'm not sure that the office of RE Original has a urologist. Is it not better to have the urologist right there in the clinic if out IF is MF and FF? Those of you in this situation, can you pass along some advice?
4. Really, I am treating the new appointments I have made as the second opinions, even though we will be seeing those doctors first. (Does that make sense?) I like the idea of the small clinic of RE Original, even though I haven’t been there yet. And it’s close to home, and The C’s work.
5. I feel like I am going insane. I am making judgments before I have been there. Before I have met the doctors and staff. I just want this so fucking much, and feel like we have waited so long, and my brain is killing me just thinking about this 25 hours a day, and The C doesn’t really understand how come my brain thinks about this 25 hours a day, and…
6. Nevermind the insanity in my head. I must go on. So. Many appointments in October. Some new, some old. Which I mentioned in List Item One as “GREAT”. Except here is why they are not so great. Two reasons. A) My husband works with my parents. Having an appointment means asking for time off from my dad. Which normally is not a problem. Stating: “I have an appointment, and it’s private,” usually does the trick. Except for B) The business my family runs is seasonal. As in this year the “season” is starting October 10. As in they work 7 days a week, fourteen hours a day, and NO APPOINTMENTS allowed, because, well, it’s busy, so no one can eat lunch, much less LEAVE the premises for an hour or two. And even less for two appointments! (The C and I have come to the conclusion that I can go to the appointment that I am seeing as the second opinion alone, because there is no way in hell he can ask for 3 different times off.)
7. We have waited 7 months for these appointments. I AM NOT GOING ALONE. I AM NOT RESCEDULING. (Rescheduling to a less busy time would mean January.) (Have any of you gone to the initial consult alone? Can you do that? And how bad does that look? Especially seeing as we have MF involved too.) But this means that The C will have to make a pretty convincing argument as to why he should be allowed time off. Which will probably involve telling him the truth. And my dad is a tough bastard (whom I love), with little empathy or understanding for personal situations that interfere with the running of his business. Which is why The C hasn’t told him about the time he will need. And so my stress surrounding the appointments is compounded.
8. Maybe some of you understand why I am having heart palpitations?
Oy vey. I tried making a list in an attempt in keeping this concise. Which I did not. I can’t seem to write a short and sweet post. There is too much in my head.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
SA2
I alluded to the high price of Tuesday's semen analysis in my previous post. It was definately the most expensive orgasm The C has ever had. And I have to say, at this juncture, that it was 90% worth the price tag. (If you are wondering what would make it 100% worth it, it would be if the report comes back with "normal" stamped all over it.) (Oh, that, and if our insurance covers it.)
I waited for The C outside the office building where the clinic was. I was a bit nervous... I mentioned before that this was going to be my first time walking into a fertility clinic (albeit not the one with the much anticipated October 26th appointment,) so I didn't know quite what to expect. Let me say that the foyer blew me away. It was like walking into an upscale lawyer's office, not into a medical joint. It was almost homey, with leather sofas, a wall of books, and a fireplace. And the receptionist was a sweetheart. It was all very discreet. (Although all the couples there obviously knew what the others were there for, as they only schedule SAs at this time of day.)
A nurse called The C and escorted us to the back of the clinic (where I got a peak at many different rooms and was impressed with the impeccability of it all.) We were brought to one of the "Salles d'homme", equiped with leather chair, various paraphernalia, and a sink. Oh, and mood lighting. Our instructions were easy. Do what you have to do, place the sample cup inside another provided cup, and place that one in a secure box in the wall that can only be opened by the clinic, and then depart, leaving the door open. (Wow, no carrying the sample from a bathroom across a waiting room full of people like last time!)
By the time I had locked the door, The C had chosen and popped in a chosen Hustler DVD. The lighting was good, the audio visual aids were a hit, and I had donned appropriate lingerie under my street clothes. Suffice to say it did not take my man long to complete his business. THe place was so comfortable that it almost felt like we were meeting for a nooner.
Thank you up above for expensive priviate labs.
***
I was so impressed with the clinic that I did schedule an appointment with an RE for me, and a urologist for The C. I will post more on that in another post, because I have to sort out my thoughts on how we are going to proceed.
I waited for The C outside the office building where the clinic was. I was a bit nervous... I mentioned before that this was going to be my first time walking into a fertility clinic (albeit not the one with the much anticipated October 26th appointment,) so I didn't know quite what to expect. Let me say that the foyer blew me away. It was like walking into an upscale lawyer's office, not into a medical joint. It was almost homey, with leather sofas, a wall of books, and a fireplace. And the receptionist was a sweetheart. It was all very discreet. (Although all the couples there obviously knew what the others were there for, as they only schedule SAs at this time of day.)
A nurse called The C and escorted us to the back of the clinic (where I got a peak at many different rooms and was impressed with the impeccability of it all.) We were brought to one of the "Salles d'homme", equiped with leather chair, various paraphernalia, and a sink. Oh, and mood lighting. Our instructions were easy. Do what you have to do, place the sample cup inside another provided cup, and place that one in a secure box in the wall that can only be opened by the clinic, and then depart, leaving the door open. (Wow, no carrying the sample from a bathroom across a waiting room full of people like last time!)
By the time I had locked the door, The C had chosen and popped in a chosen Hustler DVD. The lighting was good, the audio visual aids were a hit, and I had donned appropriate lingerie under my street clothes. Suffice to say it did not take my man long to complete his business. THe place was so comfortable that it almost felt like we were meeting for a nooner.
Thank you up above for expensive priviate labs.
***
I was so impressed with the clinic that I did schedule an appointment with an RE for me, and a urologist for The C. I will post more on that in another post, because I have to sort out my thoughts on how we are going to proceed.
Monday, September 18, 2006
BITS OF STUFF
Thanks all for the anniversary wishes. Mel inquired about the celebration, and so I will share.
Our anniversary evening was pretty uneventful. We went to my parents and had sushi and lots of wine, and then came home and fell asleep. This was fine with me because while we were in London we treated ourselves to an awesome night on the town and justified it by saying it would be our anniversary celebration. Allow me to tell you about that.
Our evening started with theatre tickets. I am a musical theatre fanatic, something I inherited from my dad who loves to sing show tunes. All my life I have been dying to see Guys and Dolls, the show my dad says is one of the best "oldies". The C splurged to 8th row tickets to the show, and I was thrilled! I didn't even think we would be able to get seats, because Patrick Swayze was starring! Patrick Swayze! Live! Like 8 rows from me! At various intervals The C inquired whether the price was worth it. Oh yes it was! What an indulgence. On top of it all, The C presented me with chocolate ice cream during intermission. A real treat! I love that you can purchase this fine dessert in a cup at West End theatres.
Basking in the afterglow of the show, we decided to check out a restaurant in St Martins Lane that we had heard about.
We strutted into St Martins Lane Hotel, and strode over to Asia de Cuba. This place is so ultra chic and hip it was a little daunting being there (being that we are neither chic nor hip.) I enjoy outstanding design and formidable food, and the restaurant and hotel were the most exquisite marriage of the two. The C and I are shameless design and food snobs, and our choice of post-theatre dining did not disappoint. While this is by far the most expensive meal I have ever eaten, I have to tell you that it was worth every hard earned British Pound. People, if I were a religious girl, this is what worship would be.
Drunk, stuffed and wowed to the nth degree, we staggered back to our (much less cool) hotel and partook in some HOT sex. I will not go into further details.
Two weeks early, but Happy Anniversary indeed.
***
Tomorrow The C is off for semen analysis numero deux. (You see, I'm from Montreal, I speak French!) I booked an appointment at one of the clinics (not the clinic that we are waiting for our October 26th apointment at. They don't do lab work unless you are a patient.) I am excited about going to this place for a number of reasons. The first one is the facilities. Before even booking I was very forward in inquiring about the place that The C would have to work in. I explained the last time, and how anything near that would be unacceptable. I was assured it was like being at home. Second is that this is in a real live fertility place. It will be the first time that I am stepping into such a venue. I am looking forward to seeing what it is like, and looking into booking an appointment (something tell me they give out appointments with more fervor than the joint we have been waiting 7 months for) if by chance we will want a second opinion.
What I am indeed NOT looking forward to is the price. This expedition will cost three times (yes THREE TIMES) what it cost to analyse at the lab. Hopefully our insurance will cover it, and if not, that it is worth the hefty price tag.
Wish us luck, and stay tuned for the story which will surely ensue.
***
Hmm... I had a stird bit of stuff to report, but it seems to have escaped my mind. No matter, I have to change from my stinky gym clothes as I have a client who will ring the bell momentarily. If said item pops back into my head (and is of any importance whatsoever) I will be certain to ammend this post.
***
Oh ya! Are there any other Montrealers out there? I'm just wondering...
Our anniversary evening was pretty uneventful. We went to my parents and had sushi and lots of wine, and then came home and fell asleep. This was fine with me because while we were in London we treated ourselves to an awesome night on the town and justified it by saying it would be our anniversary celebration. Allow me to tell you about that.
Our evening started with theatre tickets. I am a musical theatre fanatic, something I inherited from my dad who loves to sing show tunes. All my life I have been dying to see Guys and Dolls, the show my dad says is one of the best "oldies". The C splurged to 8th row tickets to the show, and I was thrilled! I didn't even think we would be able to get seats, because Patrick Swayze was starring! Patrick Swayze! Live! Like 8 rows from me! At various intervals The C inquired whether the price was worth it. Oh yes it was! What an indulgence. On top of it all, The C presented me with chocolate ice cream during intermission. A real treat! I love that you can purchase this fine dessert in a cup at West End theatres.
Basking in the afterglow of the show, we decided to check out a restaurant in St Martins Lane that we had heard about.
We strutted into St Martins Lane Hotel, and strode over to Asia de Cuba. This place is so ultra chic and hip it was a little daunting being there (being that we are neither chic nor hip.) I enjoy outstanding design and formidable food, and the restaurant and hotel were the most exquisite marriage of the two. The C and I are shameless design and food snobs, and our choice of post-theatre dining did not disappoint. While this is by far the most expensive meal I have ever eaten, I have to tell you that it was worth every hard earned British Pound. People, if I were a religious girl, this is what worship would be.
Drunk, stuffed and wowed to the nth degree, we staggered back to our (much less cool) hotel and partook in some HOT sex. I will not go into further details.
Two weeks early, but Happy Anniversary indeed.
***
Tomorrow The C is off for semen analysis numero deux. (You see, I'm from Montreal, I speak French!) I booked an appointment at one of the clinics (not the clinic that we are waiting for our October 26th apointment at. They don't do lab work unless you are a patient.) I am excited about going to this place for a number of reasons. The first one is the facilities. Before even booking I was very forward in inquiring about the place that The C would have to work in. I explained the last time, and how anything near that would be unacceptable. I was assured it was like being at home. Second is that this is in a real live fertility place. It will be the first time that I am stepping into such a venue. I am looking forward to seeing what it is like, and looking into booking an appointment (something tell me they give out appointments with more fervor than the joint we have been waiting 7 months for) if by chance we will want a second opinion.
What I am indeed NOT looking forward to is the price. This expedition will cost three times (yes THREE TIMES) what it cost to analyse at the lab. Hopefully our insurance will cover it, and if not, that it is worth the hefty price tag.
Wish us luck, and stay tuned for the story which will surely ensue.
***
Hmm... I had a stird bit of stuff to report, but it seems to have escaped my mind. No matter, I have to change from my stinky gym clothes as I have a client who will ring the bell momentarily. If said item pops back into my head (and is of any importance whatsoever) I will be certain to ammend this post.
***
Oh ya! Are there any other Montrealers out there? I'm just wondering...
Friday, September 15, 2006
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, HONEY
Three years ago we giggled all day, making it the best day in our lives so far. Each day I love you more and more. I can't imagine my life without you. Thank you for being you, and loving me the way only you know how.
(Our anniversary was yesterday, but you know, I'm a little slow on the uptake.)
(Our anniversary was yesterday, but you know, I'm a little slow on the uptake.)
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
BABY SEASON
A while ago I was blogged about all the pregnancy announcements that were slapping me in the face left, right and centre. It seemed like everyone in the world was pregnant (except me and you guys), and it sent me into the worst funk that I think that I have ever experienced in my entire life. Those of you who follow along closely at home will probably remember it. For my friends joining the program recently, you can read all about it here. Meltdown city, and thankfully I am in a much better place these days.
Seven months ago my best friend told me that her sister was two months pregnant. It was unplanned and accidental, but I knew that having a baby was something that my friend's sister, let's call her Yolanda, had wanted for a long time, so I was thrilled for her. Our fertility problems were just coming into the light at the time, and though I wasn't pregnant yet, I naively thought that I very well may be soon. Yolanda came back to Montreal to be with her family so that they could help out when the baby came. At first I was so so excited to see her. I had just started my first round of clomid and was thinking "that could be me any time!" Of course we know how the this has panned out for me. And Yolanda's belly kept growing and looked more beautiful by the day, making it very difficult to be around her and hear of all the cute baby stuff she was experiencing. I was at once so torn with being happy for her, and wanting to obsessively know what was going on with her body because I wanted to learn all about pregnancy, and wanting nothing to do with her. At the time of my meltdown I decided taht I would try to steer clear of my friend's sister, but kindly ask my friend for updates and to pass along my good wishes. I felt bad doing this, but I was in self-preservation mode.
Yolanda's pregnancy announcement was the first that I had to deal with as the reality of IF was settling into my brain. I was really worried about how I would react to the news when my friend called to tell me about the birth of her nephew.
Well I wonder no more. Baby season has begun. Yolanda gave birth to her perfect son early Sunday morning. When my friend called to tell me she had gone into labour I nearly started crying from happiness. When she called the following day to recount the birth (my friend was her sister's coach and was with her throughout most of her 22 hour labour), I was choked up all over again. Last night Yolanda was home from the hospital, and I bit the bullet and went over to see her and the baby. I was so overwhelmed to see him. He was so beautiful, perfect and precious.
I amazed myself. I was so worried about having feelings of jealousy, bitterness and anger. Of felling petty, incompetent and broken. But seeing this baby... it was the most miraculous thing. I was happy. I couldn't stop looking at him. Peeking at him as he slep peacefully in his little vibrating seat. Engrossed as Yolanda was feeding him, as she herself was still figuring out how the whole breastfeeding thing worked. I held him and it was wonderful.
For the few hours that I spent with them IF seemed like a distant nightmare. For a short time I felt what I know my future will be.
Seven months ago my best friend told me that her sister was two months pregnant. It was unplanned and accidental, but I knew that having a baby was something that my friend's sister, let's call her Yolanda, had wanted for a long time, so I was thrilled for her. Our fertility problems were just coming into the light at the time, and though I wasn't pregnant yet, I naively thought that I very well may be soon. Yolanda came back to Montreal to be with her family so that they could help out when the baby came. At first I was so so excited to see her. I had just started my first round of clomid and was thinking "that could be me any time!" Of course we know how the this has panned out for me. And Yolanda's belly kept growing and looked more beautiful by the day, making it very difficult to be around her and hear of all the cute baby stuff she was experiencing. I was at once so torn with being happy for her, and wanting to obsessively know what was going on with her body because I wanted to learn all about pregnancy, and wanting nothing to do with her. At the time of my meltdown I decided taht I would try to steer clear of my friend's sister, but kindly ask my friend for updates and to pass along my good wishes. I felt bad doing this, but I was in self-preservation mode.
Yolanda's pregnancy announcement was the first that I had to deal with as the reality of IF was settling into my brain. I was really worried about how I would react to the news when my friend called to tell me about the birth of her nephew.
Well I wonder no more. Baby season has begun. Yolanda gave birth to her perfect son early Sunday morning. When my friend called to tell me she had gone into labour I nearly started crying from happiness. When she called the following day to recount the birth (my friend was her sister's coach and was with her throughout most of her 22 hour labour), I was choked up all over again. Last night Yolanda was home from the hospital, and I bit the bullet and went over to see her and the baby. I was so overwhelmed to see him. He was so beautiful, perfect and precious.
I amazed myself. I was so worried about having feelings of jealousy, bitterness and anger. Of felling petty, incompetent and broken. But seeing this baby... it was the most miraculous thing. I was happy. I couldn't stop looking at him. Peeking at him as he slep peacefully in his little vibrating seat. Engrossed as Yolanda was feeding him, as she herself was still figuring out how the whole breastfeeding thing worked. I held him and it was wonderful.
For the few hours that I spent with them IF seemed like a distant nightmare. For a short time I felt what I know my future will be.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
HAVE YOU MISSED ME?
Have you? I doubt it. My stats certainly suck the big one. But no wonder... the same post has been at the top of the page for, like, two and a half weeks. Hark, friends, I have returned. And I am here to post. (So come visit! Stay a while. Here, have some decaf.)
I've been home for four days, and am trying to get everything back to normal (ie: reading my 183 emails and linstening to my 572 voice mails.) I have gone through all your blogs, and have done my best to catch up on everything that has gone on while I was away. I haven't commented much, but people, I have been reading. I have missed you all, and will be back a-commenting pronto, I promise.
Do any of you want to hear about my trip? Probably not, so I will give you a short round up. The C and I cruised to Ireland, Scotland, Norway, Holland, Belgium and France. The ship was wonderful, and we were absolutely pampered. We ate too much, drank way too much, and most of all spent 14 uninterrupted days with each other. We managed to get some relaxation in, despite the heavy touring schedule. And even though we are so accutely aware that our chances of making a baby the old fashioned way are, like, nil, we had boat loads of amazing, romantic, passionate sex. We reconnected on every level, and I was reminded time and time again why we chose to spend our lives together, and that it were the two of us against the world, the is no doubt that we would prevail. Because together we are awesome. I don;t know if I've ever written this here, but I love my husband so, so much. There is nothing in this world great enough to even begin to help quantify the amount.
Right, right. I've gone all gooey in the brain. (I haven't even sworn yet in this post.)
After the cruise we spent three days in London. Though definately not the most beautiful city in the world, it is certainly one of my favorites to visit and just "be" in. I have travelled alot in my life, and there are few places that I have been able to see myself live in, but London is one of them. (I'm a big city person, no doubt about it.)
My motto in life is to live all you can so that you have no regrets. Believe me, I stick by this very closely. There are a handful of things that I have done in my life that others would cetainly consider regrettable, believe you me. (I will save that post for a time when I have nothing else to write about. That time will hopefully never come.) In all those times my motto has prevailed, and so to date (which is 31 years, 8 months and 12 days of my life,) I harbour no regrets. Except one: that I never lived in London in my 20s. Any of you Lononers out there? You are some fortunate folk. The ship has sailed on my living there, but I love to visit often and pretend that I fit in. (Hey, someone even stoped me on the street to ask me for directions! How's about that!) What does this have to do with anything? (Brain=goo, can't stay on topic...) Oh ya: London provided an excellent finish to our journey.
'Ms. C,' you all are thinking, 'this ain't no travel log! You are supposed to be talking about IF!'
Indeed, 'tis true. So enough about the trip and back to my ranting about my disfunctional ovaries, and The C's fucked up sperm. Below is a summary of the goings on in that area. (In list form of course! I love the list.)
1. Today is CD6. I got my period spontaneously for the first time since going off the pill 13 months ago. Full on, people. A real period. Red bloody stuff, not just some brown yucky spotting. Incredible, really. My previous cycle was only 38 days. I temped till CD 26, and then let it all go becasue I was away. And I have not temped so far this cycle (I just plain forgot). Nor am I running the clomid race (I didn't expect to get my period, so I didn't have a prescription). Please allow me to tell you that I feel good about this. I feel no pressure, I have no expectations. I am going to just ride this cycle out, even if it means ending it with provera in a month and 21 days time (the day of our RE appointment.) I am totally obsessive, so I will not be abandoning the blog, and IF will still rank at the top of my things that I think about when I should be working list.
2. A friend exclaimed how wonderful it is that I spontaneoulsy bled down below. Like that perhaps this was signaling that my body was getting back to "normal". Though I appreciate the support she thinks she is giving me in this instant, I can't help but think two things. One, that it is most unlikely that my body will every act normally when i comes to all things hormonal and reproductive. And second, that getting my period without popping pesky provera really only indicated to me that I have failed again. Menstruation=Not Pregnant. (A simple equation really.)
3. I called the clinic where I have my October 26 RE appointment (It's next month! Finally! I can say next month! Can we all believe it?) In my previous post I noted how my gyn thought I should call to confirm becasue she wasn't too certain about the RE still being around. THERE ARE NO PROBLEMS PEOPLE. We are still on. Thank he (or she) who is great up above. For two and a half weeks I tried not to think of the possibility of having to go to the bottom of another waiting list, and let me tell you it was very difficult to process. I am sighing in relief.
4. I am hoping The C will make another donation to the people who analyse sperm in the next week or so. Seeing as I am going to lay low for the meantime, it will give us some time to focus on him, and find an approprite specialist in that area. Hopefully this will help move things along more easily when we meet with the RE.
And so, ladies (and gent! I see a gentleman stopped in to say hi on my blog!) I will leave you for this evening. I hope some of you will return to me. (O stats, thou art pitiful.) And of course I am always here for you.
I've been home for four days, and am trying to get everything back to normal (ie: reading my 183 emails and linstening to my 572 voice mails.) I have gone through all your blogs, and have done my best to catch up on everything that has gone on while I was away. I haven't commented much, but people, I have been reading. I have missed you all, and will be back a-commenting pronto, I promise.
Do any of you want to hear about my trip? Probably not, so I will give you a short round up. The C and I cruised to Ireland, Scotland, Norway, Holland, Belgium and France. The ship was wonderful, and we were absolutely pampered. We ate too much, drank way too much, and most of all spent 14 uninterrupted days with each other. We managed to get some relaxation in, despite the heavy touring schedule. And even though we are so accutely aware that our chances of making a baby the old fashioned way are, like, nil, we had boat loads of amazing, romantic, passionate sex. We reconnected on every level, and I was reminded time and time again why we chose to spend our lives together, and that it were the two of us against the world, the is no doubt that we would prevail. Because together we are awesome. I don;t know if I've ever written this here, but I love my husband so, so much. There is nothing in this world great enough to even begin to help quantify the amount.
Right, right. I've gone all gooey in the brain. (I haven't even sworn yet in this post.)
After the cruise we spent three days in London. Though definately not the most beautiful city in the world, it is certainly one of my favorites to visit and just "be" in. I have travelled alot in my life, and there are few places that I have been able to see myself live in, but London is one of them. (I'm a big city person, no doubt about it.)
My motto in life is to live all you can so that you have no regrets. Believe me, I stick by this very closely. There are a handful of things that I have done in my life that others would cetainly consider regrettable, believe you me. (I will save that post for a time when I have nothing else to write about. That time will hopefully never come.) In all those times my motto has prevailed, and so to date (which is 31 years, 8 months and 12 days of my life,) I harbour no regrets. Except one: that I never lived in London in my 20s. Any of you Lononers out there? You are some fortunate folk. The ship has sailed on my living there, but I love to visit often and pretend that I fit in. (Hey, someone even stoped me on the street to ask me for directions! How's about that!) What does this have to do with anything? (Brain=goo, can't stay on topic...) Oh ya: London provided an excellent finish to our journey.
'Ms. C,' you all are thinking, 'this ain't no travel log! You are supposed to be talking about IF!'
Indeed, 'tis true. So enough about the trip and back to my ranting about my disfunctional ovaries, and The C's fucked up sperm. Below is a summary of the goings on in that area. (In list form of course! I love the list.)
1. Today is CD6. I got my period spontaneously for the first time since going off the pill 13 months ago. Full on, people. A real period. Red bloody stuff, not just some brown yucky spotting. Incredible, really. My previous cycle was only 38 days. I temped till CD 26, and then let it all go becasue I was away. And I have not temped so far this cycle (I just plain forgot). Nor am I running the clomid race (I didn't expect to get my period, so I didn't have a prescription). Please allow me to tell you that I feel good about this. I feel no pressure, I have no expectations. I am going to just ride this cycle out, even if it means ending it with provera in a month and 21 days time (the day of our RE appointment.) I am totally obsessive, so I will not be abandoning the blog, and IF will still rank at the top of my things that I think about when I should be working list.
2. A friend exclaimed how wonderful it is that I spontaneoulsy bled down below. Like that perhaps this was signaling that my body was getting back to "normal". Though I appreciate the support she thinks she is giving me in this instant, I can't help but think two things. One, that it is most unlikely that my body will every act normally when i comes to all things hormonal and reproductive. And second, that getting my period without popping pesky provera really only indicated to me that I have failed again. Menstruation=Not Pregnant. (A simple equation really.)
3. I called the clinic where I have my October 26 RE appointment (It's next month! Finally! I can say next month! Can we all believe it?) In my previous post I noted how my gyn thought I should call to confirm becasue she wasn't too certain about the RE still being around. THERE ARE NO PROBLEMS PEOPLE. We are still on. Thank he (or she) who is great up above. For two and a half weeks I tried not to think of the possibility of having to go to the bottom of another waiting list, and let me tell you it was very difficult to process. I am sighing in relief.
4. I am hoping The C will make another donation to the people who analyse sperm in the next week or so. Seeing as I am going to lay low for the meantime, it will give us some time to focus on him, and find an approprite specialist in that area. Hopefully this will help move things along more easily when we meet with the RE.
And so, ladies (and gent! I see a gentleman stopped in to say hi on my blog!) I will leave you for this evening. I hope some of you will return to me. (O stats, thou art pitiful.) And of course I am always here for you.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
BLOGGUS INTERRUPTUS
The time has finally arrived! I leave today!
Some of you (the ones paying attention, and the ones who don’t have a life,) may recall my mentioning that I was goin’ a cruisin’ with my mom. I discussed it way back here, when I was concerned with my 2ww falling during cruisetime. Well, that point is moot, as last week following the “terrorist plot” shit, my mom flat out refused to go and offered her prized spot on the ship to my very own husband! (The C is over at the other computer composing a thank you note to Osama.) My mom was nervous about flying in and out of Heathrow, and frankly so am I (a little bit…), but I am not letting any terrorist bastards control my life.
Wow, I just composed a “leaving on a jet plane” and “fuck the terrorists” post all in one. This is the end of my political message. Discussions of IF will resume now.
Right, so, cruise with The C! I was pleased as punch to be going with my mom (who doesn’t love a cruise in Europe?), but now-wowwee! We are going to have a blast, I’m certain. And I am not going to think about IF related stuff, I pledge this to myself and to my husband. Because I know this cycle is over and done with (otherwise known as a bust,) and I just want to have fun, and have sex without thinking about all the other stuff.
Today is CD26. I have taken my temp diligently all cycle. It is clear that I have not ovulated. I have also been playing close attention to my CM, and again, it is clear that I have not ovulated. I did purchase OPKs, but did not use them. I don’t know why, but now I am happy I didn’t “waste” them on another annovulatory cycle. When I return it will be CD40, and I will have to talk to my doctor to discuss the next step. I can’t wait for my next dose of Provera, and the chance to win 150mg of Clomid (which The C has nicknamed “the bitch drug”-nice.)
I think my doctor doesn’t know what to do with me (us). She is not an RE, and my appointment with the RE isn’t for another 2 months. At first we assumed our lack of conception was due to me not ovulating, but now we have possible MF thrown in. I spoke to her on Thursday (I had been trying to get in tough with her for the last week and a half), because when she gave us the semen analysis results of “20 million, that’s not so good”, I wanted to know more information. Now that she has finally gotten back to me, I have more bad news than I wanted (silly me, I was calling for reassurance!), because I now know that his motility and morphology suck too. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My doctor is on the prowl for the best IF urologist in the city. (You see, when I get to speak to her, I LOVE her.) I will receive his (or her) name on our return.
A little good news in all of this is that I pestered her for the result of my blood tests (she is prone to just saying “everything looks good”), and although they were done on CD 35, it’s true, they all seem good.
Another bit of shit that I had to deal with is my doctor’s telling me to call the clinic where we have the appointment in October. Apparently she had another patient who called the clinic and they told her that the RE isn’t seeing patients at that clinic anymore??!! She assured me that she’s not sure, but that I should call to confirm. OF COURSE I FORGOT, and now I am going away for two weeks! (My doctor also gave me the number of another clinic to call, and of course I also forgot to do that.) Again: fuck.
Breathe in breathe out, Ms. C. In, out. Ok… leaving all this behind for two weeks and going to have a good vacation. A normal vacation. (Pregnant women don’t go on cruises, do they?)
***
An aside: I ordered Taking Charge of Your Fertility and What to do When You Can’t Get Pregnant, and they arrived earlier in the week. Thank you to all who recommended the TCOYF purchase. I SEE WHAT YOU MEAN vis a vis the CM description! Complete with pictures! I am no longer confused about my CM! (In fact I am certain that I don’t have any. Thanks to my annovulation and to Clomid…) What is not so great about these books is that while my mom was over helping me pack yesterday she happened upon them (they were under a pile other books). “Do you have anything for me to read?” she inquired. “Oh, what’s this book?” she said as she got through the pile before I could stop the woman. NOT ANYTHING YOU WANT TO READ, MOTHER. I just kind of left it at that, and after about one second of uncomfortable silence we both moved on with our activities. She didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer (mostly because I am trying to stay calm these days and keep everything in perspective.) I guess the ice is broken, and when we come to having a bigger discussion. Which isn’t such a bad thing, is it?
***
Ok, really, I’m outta here. I will miss you all terribly, and look forward to coming back and catching up. For those of you in your 2ww, I am so hoping to find great news posted on my return!
Some of you (the ones paying attention, and the ones who don’t have a life,) may recall my mentioning that I was goin’ a cruisin’ with my mom. I discussed it way back here, when I was concerned with my 2ww falling during cruisetime. Well, that point is moot, as last week following the “terrorist plot” shit, my mom flat out refused to go and offered her prized spot on the ship to my very own husband! (The C is over at the other computer composing a thank you note to Osama.) My mom was nervous about flying in and out of Heathrow, and frankly so am I (a little bit…), but I am not letting any terrorist bastards control my life.
Wow, I just composed a “leaving on a jet plane” and “fuck the terrorists” post all in one. This is the end of my political message. Discussions of IF will resume now.
Right, so, cruise with The C! I was pleased as punch to be going with my mom (who doesn’t love a cruise in Europe?), but now-wowwee! We are going to have a blast, I’m certain. And I am not going to think about IF related stuff, I pledge this to myself and to my husband. Because I know this cycle is over and done with (otherwise known as a bust,) and I just want to have fun, and have sex without thinking about all the other stuff.
Today is CD26. I have taken my temp diligently all cycle. It is clear that I have not ovulated. I have also been playing close attention to my CM, and again, it is clear that I have not ovulated. I did purchase OPKs, but did not use them. I don’t know why, but now I am happy I didn’t “waste” them on another annovulatory cycle. When I return it will be CD40, and I will have to talk to my doctor to discuss the next step. I can’t wait for my next dose of Provera, and the chance to win 150mg of Clomid (which The C has nicknamed “the bitch drug”-nice.)
I think my doctor doesn’t know what to do with me (us). She is not an RE, and my appointment with the RE isn’t for another 2 months. At first we assumed our lack of conception was due to me not ovulating, but now we have possible MF thrown in. I spoke to her on Thursday (I had been trying to get in tough with her for the last week and a half), because when she gave us the semen analysis results of “20 million, that’s not so good”, I wanted to know more information. Now that she has finally gotten back to me, I have more bad news than I wanted (silly me, I was calling for reassurance!), because I now know that his motility and morphology suck too. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My doctor is on the prowl for the best IF urologist in the city. (You see, when I get to speak to her, I LOVE her.) I will receive his (or her) name on our return.
A little good news in all of this is that I pestered her for the result of my blood tests (she is prone to just saying “everything looks good”), and although they were done on CD 35, it’s true, they all seem good.
Another bit of shit that I had to deal with is my doctor’s telling me to call the clinic where we have the appointment in October. Apparently she had another patient who called the clinic and they told her that the RE isn’t seeing patients at that clinic anymore??!! She assured me that she’s not sure, but that I should call to confirm. OF COURSE I FORGOT, and now I am going away for two weeks! (My doctor also gave me the number of another clinic to call, and of course I also forgot to do that.) Again: fuck.
Breathe in breathe out, Ms. C. In, out. Ok… leaving all this behind for two weeks and going to have a good vacation. A normal vacation. (Pregnant women don’t go on cruises, do they?)
***
An aside: I ordered Taking Charge of Your Fertility and What to do When You Can’t Get Pregnant, and they arrived earlier in the week. Thank you to all who recommended the TCOYF purchase. I SEE WHAT YOU MEAN vis a vis the CM description! Complete with pictures! I am no longer confused about my CM! (In fact I am certain that I don’t have any. Thanks to my annovulation and to Clomid…) What is not so great about these books is that while my mom was over helping me pack yesterday she happened upon them (they were under a pile other books). “Do you have anything for me to read?” she inquired. “Oh, what’s this book?” she said as she got through the pile before I could stop the woman. NOT ANYTHING YOU WANT TO READ, MOTHER. I just kind of left it at that, and after about one second of uncomfortable silence we both moved on with our activities. She didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer (mostly because I am trying to stay calm these days and keep everything in perspective.) I guess the ice is broken, and when we come to having a bigger discussion. Which isn’t such a bad thing, is it?
***
Ok, really, I’m outta here. I will miss you all terribly, and look forward to coming back and catching up. For those of you in your 2ww, I am so hoping to find great news posted on my return!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
POMEGRANATES
I have so many things that I could write about today, but instead I think I will focus on this:
The Common Thread.
Please visit Melissa at Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. She is doing a wonderful job at discussing IF issues, and creating a meeting place for IF bloggers. Her posts are always so insightful, honest and full of personal experience. And encouraging. And supportive.
She broached the idea of creating a sign of infertility that could be recognized throughout our communities. Something simple that would draw us all togehter outside the blogworld. And not expensive. Just, you know, community. Melissa explains it so well, just run right on over there to read what she has to say.
I think I'm going to do it. Tie a pomegranate coloured string around my wrist. And order a little pomegranate charm from Resolve to spruce it up. I saw a mezuzah with a pomegranate on it. At first I thought how beautiful it would be on the doorpost of a baby's room. But I thought about purchasing it to celebrate today and hang it on the most welcoming doorpost in my home-the living room.
The Common Thread.
Please visit Melissa at Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. She is doing a wonderful job at discussing IF issues, and creating a meeting place for IF bloggers. Her posts are always so insightful, honest and full of personal experience. And encouraging. And supportive.
She broached the idea of creating a sign of infertility that could be recognized throughout our communities. Something simple that would draw us all togehter outside the blogworld. And not expensive. Just, you know, community. Melissa explains it so well, just run right on over there to read what she has to say.
I think I'm going to do it. Tie a pomegranate coloured string around my wrist. And order a little pomegranate charm from Resolve to spruce it up. I saw a mezuzah with a pomegranate on it. At first I thought how beautiful it would be on the doorpost of a baby's room. But I thought about purchasing it to celebrate today and hang it on the most welcoming doorpost in my home-the living room.
Friday, August 11, 2006
4 THINGS ABOUT ME
Heather over at Desperately Seeking Baby tagged me a while ago. (Don't you just love her little icon of herself?) So without firther ado...
Four jobs I've had in my life:
1. Camp arts and crafts instructor
2. Working with my parents
3. Salesperson at Gymboree (can you imagine??!!)
4. Graphic Designer (Currently)
Four movies I watch over and over:
1. Beaches
2. Dead Poets Society
3. Top Gun
4. Little Mermaid
Four places I have lived:
1. In my parents house in Montreal (til I was 19)
2. University residence and 2 appartments while in Univertsity in Toronto
3. Teeny tiny attic appartment with The C in Toronto for 5 years
4. Our current house in Montreal
(I get around alot. HA!)
Four TV shows I love:
1. Friends (I know, I'm a geek... I miss it so much!)
2. Anything CSI
3. 24 (currently watching season 1 on DVD, have 2 hours left!)
4. Trading Spaces and Debbie Travis Face Lift (Another embarassing revelation)
Four websites I visit daily:
1. Hotmail
2. My other blog that I share with 4 other ladies. (please visit at your own risk, and if you could not link any comments back to your IF blogs, that would be great...)
3. Your Blogs (see first half of list at right)
4. Your Blogs (see second half of list at right)
Four of my favorite foods:
1. Chocolate
2. Watermelon
3. A good hamburger
4. Veal Parmesana from the restaurant around the corner form my house.
Four places I would rather be right now:
1. On a beach pretty much anywhere
2. In bed alone, enjoying sleep
3. Somewhere cozy and romantic with The C
4. Giving birth
Four favorite bands/singers:
1. The Beatles
2. R.E.M.
3. Crosby Stills Nash and Young
4. Sarah McLaughlin
Four jobs I've had in my life:
1. Camp arts and crafts instructor
2. Working with my parents
3. Salesperson at Gymboree (can you imagine??!!)
4. Graphic Designer (Currently)
Four movies I watch over and over:
1. Beaches
2. Dead Poets Society
3. Top Gun
4. Little Mermaid
Four places I have lived:
1. In my parents house in Montreal (til I was 19)
2. University residence and 2 appartments while in Univertsity in Toronto
3. Teeny tiny attic appartment with The C in Toronto for 5 years
4. Our current house in Montreal
(I get around alot. HA!)
Four TV shows I love:
1. Friends (I know, I'm a geek... I miss it so much!)
2. Anything CSI
3. 24 (currently watching season 1 on DVD, have 2 hours left!)
4. Trading Spaces and Debbie Travis Face Lift (Another embarassing revelation)
Four websites I visit daily:
1. Hotmail
2. My other blog that I share with 4 other ladies. (please visit at your own risk, and if you could not link any comments back to your IF blogs, that would be great...)
3. Your Blogs (see first half of list at right)
4. Your Blogs (see second half of list at right)
Four of my favorite foods:
1. Chocolate
2. Watermelon
3. A good hamburger
4. Veal Parmesana from the restaurant around the corner form my house.
Four places I would rather be right now:
1. On a beach pretty much anywhere
2. In bed alone, enjoying sleep
3. Somewhere cozy and romantic with The C
4. Giving birth
Four favorite bands/singers:
1. The Beatles
2. R.E.M.
3. Crosby Stills Nash and Young
4. Sarah McLaughlin
Thursday, August 10, 2006
WHAT A WEEK!!!
Not since I have started lurking around blogville have i withnessed such a wonderful week full of positives. WOW, girls, just WOW. It really can happen. You are the living proof. You light the flame under the ass that belongs to hope...
If you haven't visited them already, run over to high five Flygirl, Jenny, Meg, and Merri-ann.
Yay! and Wow.
If you haven't visited them already, run over to high five Flygirl, Jenny, Meg, and Merri-ann.
Yay! and Wow.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
A TRIP TO THE HOMEOPATH, AND OTHER TIDBITS OF INFORMATION
Guess what? Today is NOT SO BAD. Yay for the NOT SO BAD day! In a large part due to you guys. What would I do without you? You are all such awesome, sensitive women who know just what to say when. This post will contain no anger. I know it's my bog and I can feel what I want on it. But still. Angry all the time? Not so cool for me. (You guys wanna be angry all the time, that I can support. Go right ahead. Me? I need a break from the anger.)
As the title says I had a trip to wonderful homeopath today. Have I told you about her? She is such a sweet woman. I see for for my overall heath, not exclusively for IF. I prefer to take the more natural route when it comes to health, and my hopeopath is helping me do that. I take a variety of remedies that have to do with accute things like nosebleeds, headaches, motion sickness. And some others that are more related to personality like being overwhelmed, being angry, a tendancey towards excess (this remedy is nicknames the "sex, drugs and rock and roll remedy, which I think is a hoot!). I have to say that since I have started seeing her, I have felt great. (Except for last week. Which made my reactions all the weirder, because really, I have been doing so well!) I have been calm, less stressed, not overwhelemed with my work (when I have been dealing with the most work since starting my own business.) It really has been an amazing experience for me to date. So amazing, that you can probably see why I was disappointed when the homeopathic provera didn't "work". Really not the end of the world.... just interesting.
Today she asked how I was feeling, like she always does, cause that's what it's all about. I told how good things had been until last week (you know the story!!), and that in general I'm finding all this not being able to get pregnant really weighing me down. To which she said that she could totally see how that could be. And she also proceeded to tell me that (how sahl I put this...) maybe my body isn't spiritually ready to carry a baby. (Ok, you can all close your gaping mouths and wipe the sprayed beverages off your monitors.) She also told me that I may not agree (umm, hell no!) and that's the way that she thinks about things. I'm not so sure here people, but is this on par with "just relax"? It's not exactly that, but kinda, no?
The problem with such a statement in twofold for me. The first part of the problem is a no-brainer: teenagers get pregnant. I can't believe that they are spiritually ready. Crackwhores also get pregnant. Umm, ditto.
Second of all: I think that I am ready. I fully admit and am aware that when I went off the pill over a year ago I was not ready. My husband's biological clock was ticking, and I knew that we would be in for a rough ride, so I was taking the bull by the horns, knowing that I wouldn't conceive right away anyways. But now? NOW I AM READY. Like I said in the previous paragraphs: I have been feeling good. Probably the best I can remember in my adult life. I have been eating well, taking care of myself, and all that other stuff. I have. I am not making this up. I am not saying all this in order to convince myself. It's the truth. I feel psychologically, emotionally and physically prepared to carry a baby and be a mother. Hello, spirit of baby! I am ready for you.
I do strongly believe that the healthier you are in all aspects of your life, the better environment you are giving the baby you conceive. I can intellectualize that. But the reason that I am not conceiving is due to the fact that I am not ovulating (and maybe, if by chance I am, that my husband's boys are not up to snuff, but I am not harping on that today.) And the reason that I am not ovulating does not have to do with the fact that I am not healthy (in an excercizing, eating well, not being stressed way). Becasue in all those ways, I am healthy. So I am kind of having a hard time dealing with the possibility that I am not pregnant becasue I am not spiritually ready.
I didn't really respond to my homeopath when she put that on the table. I wasn't sure what to say. I like her so much, and I truly believe that she meant no harm in what she was saying to me, because she truly believes it. I don't think that she has had any other patients battle with IF the way that I am facing it. And therefore she hasn't had to deal with things you should and shouldn't say, and how you should put things, when talking to an IF. So I can't be angry with her (and I'm not! This is not an angry post!). I'm just wondering what I should do. Should I email her info and links about what to say to an infertile friend? Should I just let it be knowing that I don't really understand why she told me that my body has to be spiritually ready, when in fact I feel that I have never been more ready for anything in my life?
She has at no point told me that I shouldn't take provera or clomid. She does not make me feel foolish for choosing a traditional route for dealing with my IF. She has really helped me acheive great balance and wellness in all other aspects of my life. But let's face it, she can't preform IUI or IVF! I have to see a medical doctor for this. Because it seems like it ain't gonna happen any other way....
So my question remains: what to speak up about in this instance? Please friends, lend me a bit of advice on this front. (But please don't let your opinions on homeopathy dictate your reply. This is not really about whether or not you think homeopathy "works" or not...)
Oh! just realized that the title of the post indicated that I would be sharing other tidbits of information. I think I've written enough, and will save them for another day!
As the title says I had a trip to wonderful homeopath today. Have I told you about her? She is such a sweet woman. I see for for my overall heath, not exclusively for IF. I prefer to take the more natural route when it comes to health, and my hopeopath is helping me do that. I take a variety of remedies that have to do with accute things like nosebleeds, headaches, motion sickness. And some others that are more related to personality like being overwhelmed, being angry, a tendancey towards excess (this remedy is nicknames the "sex, drugs and rock and roll remedy, which I think is a hoot!). I have to say that since I have started seeing her, I have felt great. (Except for last week. Which made my reactions all the weirder, because really, I have been doing so well!) I have been calm, less stressed, not overwhelemed with my work (when I have been dealing with the most work since starting my own business.) It really has been an amazing experience for me to date. So amazing, that you can probably see why I was disappointed when the homeopathic provera didn't "work". Really not the end of the world.... just interesting.
Today she asked how I was feeling, like she always does, cause that's what it's all about. I told how good things had been until last week (you know the story!!), and that in general I'm finding all this not being able to get pregnant really weighing me down. To which she said that she could totally see how that could be. And she also proceeded to tell me that (how sahl I put this...) maybe my body isn't spiritually ready to carry a baby. (Ok, you can all close your gaping mouths and wipe the sprayed beverages off your monitors.) She also told me that I may not agree (umm, hell no!) and that's the way that she thinks about things. I'm not so sure here people, but is this on par with "just relax"? It's not exactly that, but kinda, no?
The problem with such a statement in twofold for me. The first part of the problem is a no-brainer: teenagers get pregnant. I can't believe that they are spiritually ready. Crackwhores also get pregnant. Umm, ditto.
Second of all: I think that I am ready. I fully admit and am aware that when I went off the pill over a year ago I was not ready. My husband's biological clock was ticking, and I knew that we would be in for a rough ride, so I was taking the bull by the horns, knowing that I wouldn't conceive right away anyways. But now? NOW I AM READY. Like I said in the previous paragraphs: I have been feeling good. Probably the best I can remember in my adult life. I have been eating well, taking care of myself, and all that other stuff. I have. I am not making this up. I am not saying all this in order to convince myself. It's the truth. I feel psychologically, emotionally and physically prepared to carry a baby and be a mother. Hello, spirit of baby! I am ready for you.
I do strongly believe that the healthier you are in all aspects of your life, the better environment you are giving the baby you conceive. I can intellectualize that. But the reason that I am not conceiving is due to the fact that I am not ovulating (and maybe, if by chance I am, that my husband's boys are not up to snuff, but I am not harping on that today.) And the reason that I am not ovulating does not have to do with the fact that I am not healthy (in an excercizing, eating well, not being stressed way). Becasue in all those ways, I am healthy. So I am kind of having a hard time dealing with the possibility that I am not pregnant becasue I am not spiritually ready.
I didn't really respond to my homeopath when she put that on the table. I wasn't sure what to say. I like her so much, and I truly believe that she meant no harm in what she was saying to me, because she truly believes it. I don't think that she has had any other patients battle with IF the way that I am facing it. And therefore she hasn't had to deal with things you should and shouldn't say, and how you should put things, when talking to an IF. So I can't be angry with her (and I'm not! This is not an angry post!). I'm just wondering what I should do. Should I email her info and links about what to say to an infertile friend? Should I just let it be knowing that I don't really understand why she told me that my body has to be spiritually ready, when in fact I feel that I have never been more ready for anything in my life?
She has at no point told me that I shouldn't take provera or clomid. She does not make me feel foolish for choosing a traditional route for dealing with my IF. She has really helped me acheive great balance and wellness in all other aspects of my life. But let's face it, she can't preform IUI or IVF! I have to see a medical doctor for this. Because it seems like it ain't gonna happen any other way....
So my question remains: what to speak up about in this instance? Please friends, lend me a bit of advice on this front. (But please don't let your opinions on homeopathy dictate your reply. This is not really about whether or not you think homeopathy "works" or not...)
Oh! just realized that the title of the post indicated that I would be sharing other tidbits of information. I think I've written enough, and will save them for another day!
Monday, August 07, 2006
ANYTHING TO GET THAT DEPRESSING POST OFF THE TOP OF THE PAGE
I mean, really.
I want to crawl into bed all over again when I read it. YIKES.
Your comments have heped me more than I will ever be able to express. To know that I am not alone, and that my freakish behaviour was normal (hah!) is why I decided to blog. It is my hope that I provide the same support for you ladies when you need it.
The good news is this, people:
I DID NOT crawl into bed after that post. I DID get dressed (YAY!) and walk to the grocery store to get Kraft Dinner. (If I had some KD in the house I doubt I would've gotten some clothes on my ass, but that is nto the point here.) I DID watch Days of our Lives, but in the basement, on the SOFA, not curled up snugly in my bed. AND THEN my friend called and I proceed to bitch and hang up on her not once, but twice. Wherein I burst into hysterics. Luckily she's a good friend and called me back saying "what the fuck", (becasue, like, really, on a normal day, what the fuck??!!) and I told her that I have so much shit going on, and really, this has nothing to do with her. Which is true. OH MAN, is it true.
The bad news is this, people:
My docotor called at about 5:15 that afternoon to give me the results of the semen analysis. For those of you playing along at home, this dr. is my gyn, not an RE. I do not have an appointment with the RE until the end of OCtober (an appointment that I made in APRIL.) She got straight to the point: "Your husband's sperm count is 20 million. Normal range is 60-150 million. And it is very viscose, which means thick." Me: "oh."
She proceed to yak and say things like "there are other things that we look for in analysis bla bla bla", referring to motility and morphology, but not actually SAYING those words. She was more or less treating me as a layperson, someone who is NOT obsessed with her fertility, and someone who obviously does not have a posse of wonderful women to rely on for support and wealth of information. However, before I could jump in and say "Dr, I know all about these things called motility and morphology," my mother walked into the house. My mother who does not know about out IF, and who has no problem listening to my conversations while on the phone, walked into my very old and not-at-all soundproof house. So that was the end of that conversation. I don't expect too much from my gyn, as I am well aware that she is not and RE. I know she is doing what she can for me (and us as a couple) seeing as our appointment with the RE is still two and a half months away. Before hanging up she was insistent that The C go for another analysis, and if the results are consistent, then she will send him off to a urologist. AND she did also say: "Ms. C, it doesn't mean you should stop trying this month! You never know!" Ummm, lady, I am not all hyped up on clomid for nothing! You bet your ass I am going to "keep trying," whateverthatmeans, thankyouverymuch.
There are a few issues here. The first being that my dr. didn't read my file before calling me, so she was not au courant on her own prescription of clomid, and my nonovulatory self. The second is that she was very vague when discussing the motility and morphology factors, and so I am still left not knowing what those are for The C. (Factors that I WILL call to find out about today. I will not get off the phone until she tell me something concrete. I am not an imbecile.) The third being that she flipantly told me to "keep trying", whithout regard that trying is almost of no use seeing as I probably won't ovulate anyways (and that my husbabd's sperm? they are not going to do the trick). And fifth, high holy shit, I just can't believe that both of us have problems that are contributing to our inability to conceive. (And I am not using the words high holy shit lightly.)
So, yah, my mother was over at my house when I received this news. And I had to act completely normal, when a little bit of me had just died inside. I am totally freaked out about this. My own issues? I am learning to deal with. Now with added low sperm count fun? HOW ARE WE EVER GOING TO DO THIS? The hilarity never seems to end.
***
I was pretty down Thursday evening, but The C, he was marvelous. He was so good to me. He took the attitude of "well there are still 20 million," and didn't seem all that phased. It was somewhat odd to me how calm he was.
Friday, miraculously, was a good day. And so was pretty much the rest of the weekend. The C's parents, sister, brother in law and two neices (10 and 13, not babies, thank god,) came to stay. We had fun. I was relatively well behaved, and only lost my cool when I was sititng having brunch looking directly at a woman to whom the waitress remarked: "We all think you look like the perfect pregnant woman." Dammit, I WANT TO BE THE PERFECT PREGNANT WOMAN!
Today is a new day. I will work, and then I will go work out like a good and normal girl. I promise that my NEXT post will not be full of anger, as I didn't seem to do it this time!
I want to crawl into bed all over again when I read it. YIKES.
Your comments have heped me more than I will ever be able to express. To know that I am not alone, and that my freakish behaviour was normal (hah!) is why I decided to blog. It is my hope that I provide the same support for you ladies when you need it.
The good news is this, people:
I DID NOT crawl into bed after that post. I DID get dressed (YAY!) and walk to the grocery store to get Kraft Dinner. (If I had some KD in the house I doubt I would've gotten some clothes on my ass, but that is nto the point here.) I DID watch Days of our Lives, but in the basement, on the SOFA, not curled up snugly in my bed. AND THEN my friend called and I proceed to bitch and hang up on her not once, but twice. Wherein I burst into hysterics. Luckily she's a good friend and called me back saying "what the fuck", (becasue, like, really, on a normal day, what the fuck??!!) and I told her that I have so much shit going on, and really, this has nothing to do with her. Which is true. OH MAN, is it true.
The bad news is this, people:
My docotor called at about 5:15 that afternoon to give me the results of the semen analysis. For those of you playing along at home, this dr. is my gyn, not an RE. I do not have an appointment with the RE until the end of OCtober (an appointment that I made in APRIL.) She got straight to the point: "Your husband's sperm count is 20 million. Normal range is 60-150 million. And it is very viscose, which means thick." Me: "oh."
She proceed to yak and say things like "there are other things that we look for in analysis bla bla bla", referring to motility and morphology, but not actually SAYING those words. She was more or less treating me as a layperson, someone who is NOT obsessed with her fertility, and someone who obviously does not have a posse of wonderful women to rely on for support and wealth of information. However, before I could jump in and say "Dr, I know all about these things called motility and morphology," my mother walked into the house. My mother who does not know about out IF, and who has no problem listening to my conversations while on the phone, walked into my very old and not-at-all soundproof house. So that was the end of that conversation. I don't expect too much from my gyn, as I am well aware that she is not and RE. I know she is doing what she can for me (and us as a couple) seeing as our appointment with the RE is still two and a half months away. Before hanging up she was insistent that The C go for another analysis, and if the results are consistent, then she will send him off to a urologist. AND she did also say: "Ms. C, it doesn't mean you should stop trying this month! You never know!" Ummm, lady, I am not all hyped up on clomid for nothing! You bet your ass I am going to "keep trying," whateverthatmeans, thankyouverymuch.
There are a few issues here. The first being that my dr. didn't read my file before calling me, so she was not au courant on her own prescription of clomid, and my nonovulatory self. The second is that she was very vague when discussing the motility and morphology factors, and so I am still left not knowing what those are for The C. (Factors that I WILL call to find out about today. I will not get off the phone until she tell me something concrete. I am not an imbecile.) The third being that she flipantly told me to "keep trying", whithout regard that trying is almost of no use seeing as I probably won't ovulate anyways (and that my husbabd's sperm? they are not going to do the trick). And fifth, high holy shit, I just can't believe that both of us have problems that are contributing to our inability to conceive. (And I am not using the words high holy shit lightly.)
So, yah, my mother was over at my house when I received this news. And I had to act completely normal, when a little bit of me had just died inside. I am totally freaked out about this. My own issues? I am learning to deal with. Now with added low sperm count fun? HOW ARE WE EVER GOING TO DO THIS? The hilarity never seems to end.
***
I was pretty down Thursday evening, but The C, he was marvelous. He was so good to me. He took the attitude of "well there are still 20 million," and didn't seem all that phased. It was somewhat odd to me how calm he was.
Friday, miraculously, was a good day. And so was pretty much the rest of the weekend. The C's parents, sister, brother in law and two neices (10 and 13, not babies, thank god,) came to stay. We had fun. I was relatively well behaved, and only lost my cool when I was sititng having brunch looking directly at a woman to whom the waitress remarked: "We all think you look like the perfect pregnant woman." Dammit, I WANT TO BE THE PERFECT PREGNANT WOMAN!
Today is a new day. I will work, and then I will go work out like a good and normal girl. I promise that my NEXT post will not be full of anger, as I didn't seem to do it this time!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
LAST NIGHT=BAD
And today I don't feel much better.
I flew of the handle while we were cleaning up after a perfectly pleasant dinner. Just like anybody, I want to feel appreciated. And I know that The C appreciates me. I really, really do. (And for the record, I appreciate him so much, and more so each time I spend time with some of my friends' partners.)
Last night I was harping on a comment that The C made in jest to me last week. Something to the tune of how he wished I did a bit more around the house seeing as I am home all day. (Yes, I am home all day: working.) And he's right, I can do like 5% more, I know that. I wanted to tell him that his "criticism" was hear, but the way in which he said it to me was very hurtful, and that if he had used other words, I would have gotten the point, but would not have been left feeling bad about myself. For some reason he was not able to get this point until about an hour and a half later.
In that time I was reduced to a wailing, blubbering, sniffling, chocking, sorry state in the dark in our bedroom. I went from trying to let my husband know that something he said annoyed me (and that if he just appologized and rephrased his words all would be better, becasue after all, he does have a point,) to feeling like the most imperfect, inadequate, stupid, unlovable person becasue it seems like I can't get pregnant. I was wailing. My pillow was soaked through. The C didn't know what to do but hold me and rock me. I felt like such a hopeless baby.
Today my eyes are puffy and I have a hangover type headache. I'm still in my bathrobe. I want Kraft Dinner for lunch, and want to climb into bed at 1:00 to watch Days of our Lives (but turn it off if there is any indication that the IVF storyline will be shown.)
I feel pretty low, and I never realized that this journey would make me feel like this.
I flew of the handle while we were cleaning up after a perfectly pleasant dinner. Just like anybody, I want to feel appreciated. And I know that The C appreciates me. I really, really do. (And for the record, I appreciate him so much, and more so each time I spend time with some of my friends' partners.)
Last night I was harping on a comment that The C made in jest to me last week. Something to the tune of how he wished I did a bit more around the house seeing as I am home all day. (Yes, I am home all day: working.) And he's right, I can do like 5% more, I know that. I wanted to tell him that his "criticism" was hear, but the way in which he said it to me was very hurtful, and that if he had used other words, I would have gotten the point, but would not have been left feeling bad about myself. For some reason he was not able to get this point until about an hour and a half later.
In that time I was reduced to a wailing, blubbering, sniffling, chocking, sorry state in the dark in our bedroom. I went from trying to let my husband know that something he said annoyed me (and that if he just appologized and rephrased his words all would be better, becasue after all, he does have a point,) to feeling like the most imperfect, inadequate, stupid, unlovable person becasue it seems like I can't get pregnant. I was wailing. My pillow was soaked through. The C didn't know what to do but hold me and rock me. I felt like such a hopeless baby.
Today my eyes are puffy and I have a hangover type headache. I'm still in my bathrobe. I want Kraft Dinner for lunch, and want to climb into bed at 1:00 to watch Days of our Lives (but turn it off if there is any indication that the IVF storyline will be shown.)
I feel pretty low, and I never realized that this journey would make me feel like this.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
TODAY IS CD 8
I've been taking my temperature and checking my CM like a good girl. I'm oscillating between finding all this paying attention to what's going on in my body being an obsessive-compulsive thing and it being a pain in the ass.
My temp had been pretty steady (around 36.4) until today. Last night we slept with the AC off, and the windows open, and the morning was sticky and muggy. Well, up shot my temp to 36.61! What do I do with a temp like that? Ignore it and just keep going? Help, please!
And while we're on the subject of helping me out (for which I am forever grateful for you guys' existence, really I am, as you have always come in with honest answers when I have asked): How do I describe my CM?? Ok, let me elaborate... HWat is the difference between "sticky" and "creamy" and "watery"? Egg white I think I can figure out, I know what eggwhites look like! Oh and fertility friend, there is also "dry". What does this mean, dry??? Please, come to the aid of a girl in need!
Today is CD 8, and day 4 of 100 mg clomid. I am asking all these questions not because I am a moron when it comes to my own body, but becasue the truth is that I have not ovulated many times in my life, and am therefore not all that familliar with the signs that accompany it. I am hoping (eeks, hoping! who am I to hope?) that this round will show some ovulatary activity. To date the annovulation seems to be my only issue. so if we can get me to ovulate...
In other news, my parents were away for a week with a couple that is the same age as The C and I are. (Actually, if you want to get technical, they are younger, and have been married for a year less, but who's gonna get petty about that?) (I bet you can see where this is going.) (Should I write one more sentence in brackets? I think so!) (I digress.) So my mom calss me up, and we are having a lovely chat. Weather's been great, they are sitting by the pool, nice breeze, having a ball, and Cindy (not her real name) is pregnant. In a split second my mood changed. Of course I immediately said: "Wow, wonderful, with her a mazel tov for me," but deep inside my heart was getting heavy and it felt like it was going to sink down to my toes. "When is she due," I inquired. "In January." "Great," replied I (starting to feel ill), "She will be have her baby the same time as Renee."
There are som many thoughts that went through my head, none of which I am particularly proud of, but in reading other peoples' stories I know are not uncommon. Something to the tune of: Why them and not me? When she got pregnany I had already been trying for nine months! It's just not FAIR. I better be motherfucking pregnant by the time they give birth or my life will be a living hell. And worst of all: My mother seems happier and more excited about this than anything I have told her in a long time.
Needless to say, the rest of my day was shit. The C came home from work soon after the phone call, and though he did his best to console me, but kept on harping on the fact that I was being somewhat pessimistic, and that I should just be happy for them. Really, he wanted to know WHY I JUST COULDN'T PUT ASIDE THE FACT THAT THEY HAVE WHAT I WANT, BUT I SHOULD JUST FEEL HAPPY FOR THEM. Really. He told me that my attitude was so pessimistic, and that really hurt me. I don't feel like I'm being pessimistic, I'm being realistic. The reality is that we are not able to get pregnant. That reality bites the big one.
After going around in circles for a bit, explaining that what I need most from him is empathy and understanding I think he realized what I was feeling. I pointed out that maybe HE didn't have a problem with feeling happy for our friends, but it would be kind if he recognized that this was very difficult for me. He softened considerably. (And then took me out for dinner and got me drunk! What a guy!)
Of course the story doesn't really end there. My parents came home last night, and we went out for a bite to eat. They were oohing and ahhing over Cindy. "She's so cute!" "She's so sweet!" "It's so exciting!" And my dad: "Man, are they going to spoil that baby rotten!" It hurt SO FREAKING MUCH. They should be thinking those things about me! Wanting to spoil our baby! Ach, I just couldn't take it! We got home, and I was a weepy needy mess. I was so unhappy. It really doesn't become me to be this way, but, fuck.
Also, it's not really fair for me to be angry with my parents about going on and on about someone else's pregnancy. They don't have a clue what we are going through. They can't possibly know that when they are excited about someone else, it kills me that it's not me. I'm really at a loss for what to do. The C and I discussed telling them about our IF only if we needed financial help form them (ie: further down the road, if it comes to IVF.) Now I am thinking that we should sit down and let them know, because all theses pregnancy announcements are killing me. They can't be sensitive if they don't know that there is something to be sensitive about, right? I love my parents, but my whole life they have pushed me very very hard. They have always had enormously high expectations of me (which I seem to miraculously achieve.) I feel like with IF not matter how hard I work I am jsut not overcoming the obstacles. My father's favorite saying is: "There's no such thing as luck. It's called hard work." I AM working hard. But it's just not happening. Another hesitation is that I know if we spill the beans they will be on our back about treatments, and all that stuff. Did you try this, did you try that, have you called here, etc... They mean well, but often it's a bit too much pressure (especially for The C who didn't grow up in a family like this.) My parents have a family-run business, where my husband works. He spends like 12 hours a day with my parents. I have my own business, and I work from home, and often my mother comes to help me out. We are very embroiled in each other's lives. I don't know if I can take them knowing "everything." Worst of all: What if they just don't get it? What if they say some stupid shit?
Alright, it's time to wind this down. I have a headache and need to grab some tylenol. I don't know if I feel better for writing this all down, but I do feel that I have gotten my thoughts in "order" about all the issues that have been floating around my head for the past couple of days. Thanks for listening.
(And, is there any chance my foul mood can be due to the clomid? Just putting it out there...)
My temp had been pretty steady (around 36.4) until today. Last night we slept with the AC off, and the windows open, and the morning was sticky and muggy. Well, up shot my temp to 36.61! What do I do with a temp like that? Ignore it and just keep going? Help, please!
And while we're on the subject of helping me out (for which I am forever grateful for you guys' existence, really I am, as you have always come in with honest answers when I have asked): How do I describe my CM?? Ok, let me elaborate... HWat is the difference between "sticky" and "creamy" and "watery"? Egg white I think I can figure out, I know what eggwhites look like! Oh and fertility friend, there is also "dry". What does this mean, dry??? Please, come to the aid of a girl in need!
Today is CD 8, and day 4 of 100 mg clomid. I am asking all these questions not because I am a moron when it comes to my own body, but becasue the truth is that I have not ovulated many times in my life, and am therefore not all that familliar with the signs that accompany it. I am hoping (eeks, hoping! who am I to hope?) that this round will show some ovulatary activity. To date the annovulation seems to be my only issue. so if we can get me to ovulate...
In other news, my parents were away for a week with a couple that is the same age as The C and I are. (Actually, if you want to get technical, they are younger, and have been married for a year less, but who's gonna get petty about that?) (I bet you can see where this is going.) (Should I write one more sentence in brackets? I think so!) (I digress.) So my mom calss me up, and we are having a lovely chat. Weather's been great, they are sitting by the pool, nice breeze, having a ball, and Cindy (not her real name) is pregnant. In a split second my mood changed. Of course I immediately said: "Wow, wonderful, with her a mazel tov for me," but deep inside my heart was getting heavy and it felt like it was going to sink down to my toes. "When is she due," I inquired. "In January." "Great," replied I (starting to feel ill), "She will be have her baby the same time as Renee."
There are som many thoughts that went through my head, none of which I am particularly proud of, but in reading other peoples' stories I know are not uncommon. Something to the tune of: Why them and not me? When she got pregnany I had already been trying for nine months! It's just not FAIR. I better be motherfucking pregnant by the time they give birth or my life will be a living hell. And worst of all: My mother seems happier and more excited about this than anything I have told her in a long time.
Needless to say, the rest of my day was shit. The C came home from work soon after the phone call, and though he did his best to console me, but kept on harping on the fact that I was being somewhat pessimistic, and that I should just be happy for them. Really, he wanted to know WHY I JUST COULDN'T PUT ASIDE THE FACT THAT THEY HAVE WHAT I WANT, BUT I SHOULD JUST FEEL HAPPY FOR THEM. Really. He told me that my attitude was so pessimistic, and that really hurt me. I don't feel like I'm being pessimistic, I'm being realistic. The reality is that we are not able to get pregnant. That reality bites the big one.
After going around in circles for a bit, explaining that what I need most from him is empathy and understanding I think he realized what I was feeling. I pointed out that maybe HE didn't have a problem with feeling happy for our friends, but it would be kind if he recognized that this was very difficult for me. He softened considerably. (And then took me out for dinner and got me drunk! What a guy!)
Of course the story doesn't really end there. My parents came home last night, and we went out for a bite to eat. They were oohing and ahhing over Cindy. "She's so cute!" "She's so sweet!" "It's so exciting!" And my dad: "Man, are they going to spoil that baby rotten!" It hurt SO FREAKING MUCH. They should be thinking those things about me! Wanting to spoil our baby! Ach, I just couldn't take it! We got home, and I was a weepy needy mess. I was so unhappy. It really doesn't become me to be this way, but, fuck.
Also, it's not really fair for me to be angry with my parents about going on and on about someone else's pregnancy. They don't have a clue what we are going through. They can't possibly know that when they are excited about someone else, it kills me that it's not me. I'm really at a loss for what to do. The C and I discussed telling them about our IF only if we needed financial help form them (ie: further down the road, if it comes to IVF.) Now I am thinking that we should sit down and let them know, because all theses pregnancy announcements are killing me. They can't be sensitive if they don't know that there is something to be sensitive about, right? I love my parents, but my whole life they have pushed me very very hard. They have always had enormously high expectations of me (which I seem to miraculously achieve.) I feel like with IF not matter how hard I work I am jsut not overcoming the obstacles. My father's favorite saying is: "There's no such thing as luck. It's called hard work." I AM working hard. But it's just not happening. Another hesitation is that I know if we spill the beans they will be on our back about treatments, and all that stuff. Did you try this, did you try that, have you called here, etc... They mean well, but often it's a bit too much pressure (especially for The C who didn't grow up in a family like this.) My parents have a family-run business, where my husband works. He spends like 12 hours a day with my parents. I have my own business, and I work from home, and often my mother comes to help me out. We are very embroiled in each other's lives. I don't know if I can take them knowing "everything." Worst of all: What if they just don't get it? What if they say some stupid shit?
Alright, it's time to wind this down. I have a headache and need to grab some tylenol. I don't know if I feel better for writing this all down, but I do feel that I have gotten my thoughts in "order" about all the issues that have been floating around my head for the past couple of days. Thanks for listening.
(And, is there any chance my foul mood can be due to the clomid? Just putting it out there...)
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