Biracial children

I grew up in what is probably one of the most racially segregated cities in the US.  It wasn't something born out of bigotry, it just was the way people lived.  It was cultural... at least that's what I tell myself.  Italians, Jews, Germans, Irish, African American, Vietnamese... pretty much every culture you can think of had an area of the city that they tended to live in and share their culture and values.

I'm pretty sure I was almost double digits before I met a person with a different skin color.  As an Italian, I was the darkest person in my class growing up.  So when an African American family moved in next door, I was completely fascinated with the little girl who became my new friend.  I loved the rich tone of her skin, the texture of her hair, and I thought she smelled really good.  Thankfully, her mother was not at all put off by my naivete, and I remember her laughing at all of my questions.

That being said, interracial couples were not something you saw around those parts in the 80s.  I distinctly remember being in Dairy Queen with my mom when a family came in.  The mom was white, the dad was black, and their two daughters were gorgeous.  I had to remind myself that it was rude to stare.  I wasn't staring because of the fact that they were a mixed race family per se.  I was staring because they looked so beautiful to me.  I told my mom, "I think God makes biracial children so pretty as a message to the world."

I dated a bunch of disappointing white guys until I finally opened up my eyes and heart to an Asian man.  We lived happily ever after - except that we really really want one of those messages to the world.  Not for the cute factor, but for a little piece of him and a little piece of me all mixed up in one person.

Music Monday

I heard this on the way to church yesterday and it made me break down in tears and miss my exit.  Way to be late to church on an IUI week!  Anywho, whatever your religious leanings, I think this speaks to anyone who has struggled with faith... and I think that's most of us. 

Holy Crap on a Stick

Had my monitoring appointment today.  He started on the right and he said "Woah. Big response here.  Is this your first time adding injectables?"  Um, no.

He started counting... 14.5,  16, another 14.5, 18

I looked at the nurse (my favorite nurse) and said "He's still on the right?"  She just mumbled, "Mmmhmmm"

24 (!), 10

When the doc has to ask the nurse, "You've got 5 written down, right?  Aside from the 10?"  You know that isn't good.

He finished with the right and favorite nurse said "Please, tell me the left isn't doing anything."  He got to the left and just said "Thank God."

Enter small sigh of relief.

So we had to actually have a conversation about multiples.  I had to say I was comfortable talking about reducing to twins if we were to end up with triplets.  I'm only 4'11" so triplets are out of the question.  J wasn't there, and since we'd need to trigger tonight (hello, 24) I had to make a decision.  I decided to go for it.

He said had this cycle been purely injectables, we'd cancel it, but since I did a combo, chances of multiples are smaller.  He actually said "At your young age and with as healthy as your ovaries look, twins are a very real possibility."  It was really hard for me not to laugh.  Really dude?  If things are looking that rosy, why am I sitting here half naked right now at all.  I called J from the parking lot and we both agreed, the chances of me getting pregnant at all are still so slim that we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.  I had 4 follicles last month and that didn't work - so what's one more?  The 14.5s probably won't go anyway, right?  Favorite nurse didn't seem to think so.

Obviously, ovulation is not the problem here.

So I trigger tonight (brought the shot with me so I can do it during rehearsal - weird) and we IUI it on Wednesday.

Why is this never friggin' straight forward AT ALL?

Dear Fertiles

Dear Fertiles,

Why do you insist on bringing your whole brood grocery shopping?  Wouldn't it be easier if one of you stayed home with the children while the other one shopped?  It's not like one of you is keeping an eye on the children while you are both in the store.  While your rugrats are running down the aisle, pulling things off shelves, and tripping little old ladies, you two are too busy arguing over which brand of pasta to get.  One of you needs to stay home next time or else I'm taking out a kid with my cart.

Sometimes my husband and I like to go to a nice restaurant in hopes of avoiding babies on our date nights.  These are the kind of restaurants that don't even have high chairs and booster seats.  If you are going to fork out the cash to go to one of these establishments, you should probably fork out a few for a sitter too.  If you can't afford a sitter, there's a great pizza place down the road that is happy to cater to fertiles.  It really is a waste of your date night to have one person walk around the restaurant with your 10 month old while the other one eats, and then switch off every 5 minutes.  Wouldn't you like to actually sit at the same table together?  The rest of us don't enjoy watching your constant pacing and I'm sure the chef did not intend for his fabulous meal to share a table with a jar of "Mixed Vegetables and Beef."  If he did, he would probably make high chairs available for you.

Finally, when I am at church, please don't insinuate that your child pulling my hair is a great form of birth control.  I have birth control down pat.  No one thinks that your three year old's diatribe on Fr. Bill's chasuble color is cute except for you.  I'd rather listen to Fr. Bill and so would all the other people glaring at you.  Take hint. And by the way, it's your job to tell her why it's green.

I'm a but crabby today, can you tell?

The Child I Do Have

Yes friends, I have kept a secret from you.  I do have a child.  She is furry and four legged.

Pathetic and irresistible

Since I can't get myself in a halfway decent mood, I figured I'd blog about my awesome doggie.  Her name is Scout. She's named after the character in "To Kill A Mockingbird" so if you thought I had a Demi Moore thing, I say to you "read a book."  I named her Scout because I was hoping she would embrace some of the trusting characteristics of our beloved Jean Louise, but alas, she's a freak show.  A freak show that I love very much.

When I was feeling that I would be single forever, I figured I should hurry up and get myself a dog before I found myself turning into the crazy single cat lady on the corner.  I really wanted a Corgi and I searched Petfinder.com for weeks to find one.  I finally saw my Scoutie at a shelter in SC.  So I drove down one Valentine's Day to get her.  I saw her in that cage and I could not wait to take her home.  She would run up to me and let me pet her for a nano second and then she would run and hide.  She'd work up the courage to come near me again and then she'd go hide again.  My heartstrings done been pulled.  I brought her home.  The only thing I knew about her was that she was in a hoarding situation.  I also knew that when they went to spay her, they found puppies.  My poor little girl had an abortion against her will.


Super Scout!

She was so fearful.  She used to hide in the corner and shake whenever anyone would come over for at least 6 months.  When we went on walks, she would literally stop in her tracks and refuse to move if someone was walking on the other side of the street.  I took her to training and she was a rock star.  She earned her Canine Good Citizen Award and stopped with the shaking.  Then the freak show came out.

She is so super protective of me it isn't even funny.  When anyone comes relatively close to the house, she barks her fool head off.  God forbid someone actually comes in the house!  That causes a complete freak out.  Barking her fool head off, blocking the guest's way in.  No one likes my poor puppy except for us.  When J and I started dating, it took a lot of work to get them to be friends.  They are inseparable now, but it took a lot of table scraps to get there (J giving them to Scout, not the other way around). 

One of these things just doesn't belong!
Scout at the Corgi picnic.

When I first got her, I was told she was a Corgi.  Then I took her to a Corgi picnic.  She stood out like a sore paw!  My mom got her one of those DNA tests so we could see what she was mixed with.  It came back Chow and Lab... no Corgi at all!  The vet thinks she's probably Chow and Australian Shepard and she's just short.  Shortness fits in well in this family!

For as big a freak show as she is, she's the light of our lives.  Every night she runs around the house and plays with her blue racket ball.  Her short little legs bat at that thing like it's a pinata full of the best goodies you've ever seen.  It's so dang cute.  When one of us is upset, she is not having it.  She isn't the kind of dog who sits in your lap with the sad doggie face and warms your heart.  My dog jumps allover you and licks off your tears.  She's more of a "cut that crap out!" kind of dog than an enabler. 

I have to admit, infertility is easier to face when you have a dog to throw all of your maternal energy at.  I highly recommend it.

An Love/Hate Ode to Facebook

Can you have a love/hate ode?  I'm not even sure.  I was too busy passing notes in English class to notice.

I know a lot of women in our illustrious club really get angry about Facebook.  I'm not really one of those people.  To me, it hasn't been that big of a deal.  If someone is super verbose about their pregnancy or their kid, I hide their feeds.  No biggie.  They're sharing their joy and have every right to do so.  They aren't on some sort of personal vendetta against infertile women. They aren't trying to rub things in our faces even if it feels like it sometimes.  They are sharing - that's what Facebook is all about.  Ever since this whole timeline thing, though, things have gotten out of whack and there is a crimp in my plan.  Now, I have friends comment on a sonogram of someone who is a total stranger to me and that total stranger's sonogram is suddenly all up in my feed.  Ummm, not a fan of that.

A friend of mine had a baby a couple of months ago.  I hadn't been a very good friend and kept up with her during her pregnancy, but I emailed her about it and was totally honest.  I told her I was flat out jealous and I knew it was completely unfounded, but it was really hard for me.  She was totally understanding and great.  I hid her feed on Facebook because as adorable as her little man is, I couldn't handle being bombarded by his photo every 7 minutes.  I toughed out the registry (which wasn't as painful as I thought) and sent him a gift.  Today she posted a photo of him with one of the gifts and tagged J and I in it.  It was sweet and I was happy to see that he liked it.  Didn't mind it at all.  I posted that I was glad he liked it.  What I DID mind were minute by minute comments I then received notifications about.  Some were just "He's so cute," which is fine.  Others were more along the lines of "Isn't motherhood wonderful?"  Those were not so great. But it get's better...

So I was tagged in this photo and then commented that I was glad he liked it.  You got that, right?  Obviously, this was a gift from a person with my name.  Some smug pregnant woman (noted by the ultrasound profile photo) posted AFTER my post that my friend needs to be really careful about it because it should have been recalled.  She said he could choke himself or damage the back of his throat.  Now, I know I'm really hypersensitive, so it was probably good that I didn't give in to my urge to type, "Sorry!  I didn't mean to try to kill your kid.  Maybe it's a good thing that God won't give me one."  But even if I weren't infertile, is this not just rude? She could have sent her a damned email if she was really concerned. right?  Or was this more of a "I'm the bestest woman in the world!  Look at me procreating!  Look at me saving small infants from lethal teething toys!  I am so the bestest!" kind of thing?

Now I know my friend, and she probably rolled her eyes while typing her a "thanks for the info" reply.  Farrah chimed in and said that her kid loved hers so that softened things.  I know I'm probably totally over-reacting, but it bugged the SHIT out of me.  I don't want to take my profile down because I really do like keeping up with people through Facebook.  I live 1000 miles away from my family and my friends are all over the place.  I love how it keeps me in touch with all of them, but I HATE how I let it torture me!!!

I love you I hate you I love you I hate you

A Little Poetry for Music Monday

One of the pieces we sang this weekend made me think of y'all and I wanted to share it.  There were readings during a percussion section and this was the reading...

Excerpt from "After the Invasion" by Gail Tremblay

"On dark nights, the women whisper how they love,
whisper how they gave and give until they have no more-
the guilt of being empty breaks their hearts.
They weep for sisters who have learned to hate,
who have gone crazy and have learned to hurt
the fragile web that makes the people whole.
Together, women struggle to remember how to live,
nurture one another, and pray that life will fill
their wombs, that men and women
will come to earth who know that breath is a sacred gift
before the rising sun and love can change
the world as well as the magic in any steady song."

Ya Just Never Know, Do Ya?

Last night's performance was awesome.  I was standing on the stage and I spotted the reviewer in the second row.  He was chewing gum and that pissed me off for some reason.  Those familiar butterfly feelings crept in and my knees went weak.  Butterflies are especially sucky when you are trying to sing and need to be abolished quickly.  All the sudden, something really empowering smacked me in the gut.  I may not be able to make a baby, but damnit, I can sing like nobody's business.  I took that feeling and friends, I rocked it.  My solo was as good as I've ever performed it.  I enjoyed myself immensely the entire concert.  I was flying high.  J and I came home and had a really nice evening together.  It was one of those nights I just wouldn't let infertility be a part of.

Today's performance was a different story.  I don't know what set me off.  Probably a combination of things.  After warm up, we were all sitting around and it suddenly hit me why I feel like such a fish out of water recently.  It's a women's chorus and everyone sits around and talks about their kids.  That's all I hear swirling around me.  Breastfeeding tales, potty training woes, grandbabies on the way, little Johnny's teacher is so so mean... I have nothing to add to any of these conversations.  I used to attempt to, but now I just feel like a total poser.  In a big group of women, where you would think one would feel the most supported, I feel like a complete pariah.

While we were standing in line to walk to the stage for the performance, I was reading the community builiten board for a local "Women's Group."  Every freaking post was about being a mom.  There was nothing that was not related to parenthood on that board.  I felt like such a... I don't even know.  A woman who doesn't count?  I don't know how else to explain it.

When I stood up on that stage today, all I could think of were the times I sang with my mom and my grandfather.  I thought about my mom teaching me how to harmonize and my Papa teaching me how to love music and be a performer.  I had this sudden fear that I wouldn't pass that gene on.  That I wouldn't have those moments with my child and my mother wouldn't sing with my children like my Papa did with me and my cousins.  I checked my phone at intermission and there was a text from BFF, checking in on me since I hadn't talked to her since I told her our IUI cycle didn't work out.  I lost it.  I was sitting there trying to hide my eyes and keep my mascara from running.  I think our director saw me, and although he's a friend he's also a guy so I just kept praying that he didn't ask me what was wrong.   Thankfully, no one else spotted me, or if they did they either didn't care to ask or sensed that I have infertility and were afraid that if they got too close they might catch it.

It was hard to get through the rest of the performance.  We sang some beautiful arrangements of "My Shepherd Will Supply My Need" and "Deep River" that just stab me in the heart.  I got choked up a couple of times, but managed not to make a complete fool of myself.  Anyway, the point of this rant was that we can't always be prepared for what is going to set us off and bring on a sudden bout of sadness.  But what can we do to choose not to be sad in that moment?

Nothing Important, Really

I've been sitting here staring at the screen, not knowing what to write.  This week has just seemed so hard.  I guess I had gotten my hopes up too much on the IUI.  The BFN was much harder than I had anticipated.  Having the period from hell hasn't helped my mood.

I've spent the tail end of this week dealing with my effing insurance company.  In the words of Nurse J "I hate insurance.  Just my personal opinion.  I know, it's a blessing when you have some coverage, but they are messing with your life!  How can they do that?"  My thoughts exactly Nurse J.  Anyway, my drugs have not been approved or denied... the approval is just sitting there in the hands of some random insurance company nurse.  Here's what's going down.  My RE's office calls insurance company to get approval for this cycle.  Nurse orders drugs through insurance company (yeah - not allowed to order from where I would like to order anymore).  Insurance company specialty pharmacy sends request to pre-cert department, pre-cert department notes that I already have approval and sends request to the infertility nurses who have final approval.  So even though I already have approval, a nurse employed by the insurance company gets to decide if what my PHYSICIAN has prescribed is really medically necessary.  But we don't need insurance reform in this country.

We pay so much for this insurance that at this point, it's the principle of the thing.  Between the out of pocket costs on the meds and the premium we pay we aren't coming out ahead, so it's not like I'm whining when I should just suck it up and be glad we have coverage.  I just want them to do what's right!  They keep telling me "It takes 24-48 hours to process an order."  WHY!?!?!?  This is a specialty pharmacy.  People need these meds NOW!  And, I start meds on CD3.  I don't know that I need them until CD1.  So how on God's earth am I supposed to be able to get meds in 48 hours if it takes that long to process the damned order?!?  No one seems to be able to answer that question.  The good news is that my RE's office had enough samples on hand to lend me enough to get me through the weekend.  If my order is approved, I'll reimburse them through that.  If it isn't, I'll pay out of pocket.  This is just so FRUSTRATING!!!!!

I have two concerts to sing this weekend and they involve a solo.  Here's to hoping I don't muck it all up since my head is in la la land right now.

Crap We Have To Deal With Just In Case IF Isn't Hard Enough

It's been a long Fing day.  Here's why.  My period started the second I didn't take my Prometrium, so today is CD1.  If I want to be "in the game" for the next cycle, I had to get my drugs ordered.  Now, I've dropped my primary insurance since I last got drugs so I needed to get prior approval for this round for what was my secondary insurance and is now my new primary.  Yesterday, the nurse told me I could just call the pharmacy and get refills (we don't have a local pharmacy for this crap).  She also told me about how my insurance wants 3 day blood work every month.  No biggie, right?  They told me that last month and the doctor drew my labs so I wouldn't have a hassle this month.  I gave my doc's office a heads up on the insurance and meds issue yesterday, so the nice insurance lady (NIL) was already on it.  I called there first this morning and she already had an auth number for me.  She told me she verified with them that I won't have any hang-ups when I order my meds.  Cool.  I called the pharmacy.  She took my info, found out what refills I needed, and told me she'd call me back.  I asked if she needed the auth number and she told me no.  I figured she would know what she was doing, right?  WRONG!  Pharmacy tech (PT) calls me back.

PT: Hey, Ummm, I like, talked to Aetna, and like, nothing is going through because they said you don't have any coverage.
Me:  Excuse me?  I know I have coverage.  They just covered a procedure two weeks ago and they covered some of my last prescription.
PT: Well, this is a new plan year, and like, they said you have, like, a different pharmacy plan and you probably just don't know about it.
Me: (After a period of stunned silence).  Look, there's an Rx Bin number on my card and my RE's office already got an auth number, so I'm sure I have coverage.
PT: Well, does your card say, like, Caremark or something on it?
Me: No, just Aetna... and an Rx Bin number.
PT: Well, give me that. (Takes number) Okay, I'll call them again and call you back.
Me: Do you need the auth number?
PT: No

In the meantime, I called Aetna again.  The woman was completely incredulous and said "Of course you have coverage.  There's even a prior auth number here.  That girl is doing it wrong."

I call her back.

PT: Oh, hey, I was just going to call you back.  They say you have coverage, but it's still not going through.
Me: I just talked to Aetna.  She even saw the auth number in her system.
PT: Oh.  What is it?
(I give it to her and try not to reach through the phone and choke her.  She types some things on a computer).
PT: That auth number was for procedures but you should have a different one for meds.
Me: No, that's not how the fertility program works.  They give you one auth number in the beginning of your cycle to cover medications and procedures so you don't have to keep track of 85 auth numbers.  My RE's office verified that that would cover meds.
PT: Well, it's not going through.  I'll call your RE's office and call you back in 30 minutes.

I'm not sure what "it" is or what "going through" means, but this chick is not helping me.

She calls back.

PT: So, the Letrozole and Prometrium went through, but like, you have to order the injectables through Aetna's Specialty Pharmacy.
Me: (silently relieved that I don't have to deal with this moron anymore, but also panicing because I'm afraid I won't get my meds on time now that I have to start all over again... and pissed that I didn't know this).  Okay, fine.  Just send me the Letrozole and Prometrium so I can at least have that to get started on Friday and I'll figure the rest out.

I called the NIL at the RE's office.

Me: Hi, this is Lisa, the most annoying woman you've had to deal with all day.
NIL: (Laughs - I'm sure she wants to choke me)
Me:  So the pharmacy says the injectables have to be ordered through Aetna's Specialty Pharmacy.
NIL:  Absolutely.  That's how it works.
Me:  Okay, I didn't know that since they didn't pay for them last time and nurse told me I could just get a refill.
NIL: The girl from the pharmacy just called me not 10 minutes ago and asked if I'd ordered them.  I had to remind her I wasn't a nurse and I sent her over to the nurses line.  Let me send you over there and you can get them to place the order.

So I leave a message letting them know that I just need Menopur and Ovidrel ordered through the Aetna Specialty Pharmacy and that I'm nervous about it since I don't think they do Saturday shipping and I'll have to start the Menopur on Sunday.  I get a call back right after I get in the car to go home, but my phone had fallen out of my pocket and dropped under the seat and I couldn't find it.  When I get to it and listen to the message it says:

"Hi, this is nurse J.  I got your message, but I don't think Aetna is going to pay for it since they want day 3 blood work and we won't be able to do that until tomorrow or Friday.  So call back tomorrow and talk to nurse M about that."

I yell, "WHAT THE F^@*!!!!"  Since hubby and I carpool and I work a block from my RE's office, he pretty much just pulled into the parking lot right there.  I got all stalker and just went into my doc's office and asked to talk to nurse J.  I felt like such a bitch.

Nurse J: Yeah, there's a note in your chart that says that Aetna needs day 3 blood work every month before they can pay for anything, so since the lab is closed and we can't get that until tomorrow, I don't think we can get your meds in time.

Now, it is just me, or is this woman a COMPLETE moron?  HOW ON EARTH are you supposed to be able to get medications THAT ARE SENT IN THE MAIL approved, ordered, and sent to me to take on day 3 if you are drawing blood for approval on the same day I am supposed to be TAKING THE DAMNED MEDS!  They want the numbers from the month before!  That's why my doc drew them and said "We'll just get them today so you won't have any hassle next month in case you don't get pregnant."  Instead of pointing this out and being a complete bitch, I just said, "NIL already got an auth number."  She said, "Really?  How'd she do that?"

AHHHHH!!!!!!!

I hope she never touches any living tissue related to my cause.

So she's putting in the order, but I'm still not sure the Menopur will be here in time.  I'm almost hoping I have a cyst so I don't have to worry about it and I'll just have the drugs for next month.  Of course then my E2 will be super high tomorrow and I'll run into issues because of that.

STUPID Fing RED TAPE and STUPIDITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know I should be happy I'm not paying 100% out of pocket, but it would be really swell if I could just order what I needed from wherever and get reimbursed.  This is just one more layer of stress that I DO NOT need.

Thanks for reading all of that slop.  I still feel like I was a complete bitch to people all day. I felt like I was doing something wrong and all these people were exasperated with me, but I was just doing the best I could to get my damned meds on time!

Shit My Husband Says

Talked to the nurses.  It's fine that I tested on day 15 rather than 18 - she doesn't think I jumped the gun.  We're trying to get my meds ordered to go again, but Aetna is being a butt head and I'm pretty sure I have a cyst anyway so I'm not feeling overly anxious.  I think what sucks about a BFN is that you're faced with the whole cycle of grief all over again.  For me, it's a matter of facing denial again.  I have to admit, there was this little voice in the back of my head that said "There's nothing REALLY wrong with you.  You had four follies and there's nothing wrong with you, so now you're going to end up with quadruplets."  So when there's a great response to stims, your hubby gives you 20 mill post wash, a really nice doctor places those babies right up in there (supposedly next to at least one egg - if not 4), and you STILL get a BFN it's time to face the music.  There is in fact something really wrong with you.

But I'm feeling better, and I'm about to tell you why.  My husband (whom I will now call J because Mr. Right is a lame name) wrote a journal for himself today and emailed it to me.  He agreed to let me post it as a "guest blogger."  I think it's healthy to see a man perspective now and again.  Now, J actually writes as a hobby and had a screen play get awards and stuff, so don't get too attached to him... you're still stuck with me.  I'm feeling better because I'm married to him.  Yes, I waited a little longer than your average gal to find the right guy, but I'd rather be childless and married to him that have a bevy of munchkins and some d-bag to come home to every night.  At the end of the day, no matter what happens, I'm married to someone who loves me and gets it.  Eat your heart out ladies, I'm married to this:

Everything happens for a reason. Really?

I've heard this statement countless times and I'm sure that I've said it in passing on more than one occasion.

As of today, I'm never going to use this statement ever again.  It is my promise.  My word.  My bond.  Never again.

I understand the sentiment and I understand the reasoning behind it.  It's an attempt to explain a situation for which there is no sound reasoning or justification.

My wife, Lisa, is the most amazing person in the world.  I knew this fact  when I started dating her and this fact was affirmed the day I married her.  Ever since, we have embarked on a journey together to start a family and have our very own hapa (aka Swirlie).  Neither one of us really comprehended how difficult this journey was going to be.  Let me re-phrase.  Maybe she did.  She is, after all, smarter and more intuitive than I can ever hope to be.  I, on the other hand, just figured it would eventually work out for us.  I mean why wouldn't it.  We're both educated, responsible, and socially conscious people.  I recycle most of the time.  I've thought about slapping the stupid out of people, but I have yet to act on this impulse.  This is not to say that we are perfect...far from it.  But let's be honest, we're good people.  We do not deserve this and damn it, we deserve better.  She deserves better.

I understand this argument is completely irrational and not grounded on a single iota of factual data.  But I'm hurting and I'm allowed.  

By all accounts, the IUI cycle didn't take.  We knew the chances were small.  Something like 10% or less.  It was a shot in the dark, but it was a shot.  And as long as there is a shot, there is hope.  Therein lies the rub.  Hope cannot exist in a vacuum.  Where there is hope, there is also pain and disappointment.

This is the running dialogue I have in my head.

Me:  Yeah, the IUI cycle didn't take this time.  The test came back negative.

Random Person:  That's tough.  I'm sorry to hear that.

Me:  Thanks.  We're hopeful.  We're not giving up.

Random Person:  Everything happens for a reason.

Me:  Really?  Any clues -- jackass!

Everything does not happen for a reason.  Things happen.  It's life.  I can't explain it any better than that.  I wish I could.  I really do.

The one thing I can take from this is how unbelievably strong and gracious my wife has been throughout this entire process.  She rocks.  One day, I hope to be able to repay her in some way.  Until that day, I'm going to keep loving her the best I can.

BFN

And that's all I have to say about that.

Your Person

Today, I was thinking about my person.  You know who your person is right?  You all watch Gray's Anatomy I'm sure, at least you did before it got weird.  Your person is your go to person.  When things are shitty, it's the person you call to vent to and cry to.  He/she is your emotional stronghold.  Your person gets you.

I'm sure we all have infertility versions of our persons.  While my husband is an amazing support, he's going through all of this too and sometimes I just need a chick.  In the ALI community, your person is the person you actually talk to about your cervical mucous... and she really gives a flying fart.

I have the best person a girl could hope for.  Let's call her Farrah.  We've always been good friends, but we live very far apart which always makes it harder.  When we started going to the RE, she was the first person I thought to call.  I knew that she would listen, I knew should would not judge, I knew she would be compassionate, I knew she would not dole out advice, I knew she give a flying fart.  Farrah has been all that and more.   She listens, she checks up on me, she learns things about treatment just because she cares.  I can call her with any whine or moan and she will set aside her own worries and concerns just to listen to me.  She still finds time for me even though she's working full time traveling all around her state, and raising three gorgeous, smart, witty munchkins.  I am so lucky to have Farrah in my life.

So I want to hear about your person.  Who is the girl (or guy) you go to when things just aren't working.  Who is the first person (besides your hubby) you will call when you get that BPF?  Who is your person?

Holy Guacamole

The BFF sent me a text yesterday.  If you remember from here and here, she hasn't been so... supportive.  The text said "How did the turkey basting go?  I've been thinking about you, but I didn't know if I should call or not."  I just wrote back, "Everything went fine.  Call anytime.  I'd love to talk to you about all this."

Well all be damned... SHE DID!  And she had a cold and no voice.  I gave her the low down on everything we've been through.  I told her about how this has been the hardest year of my life.  I attempted to describe what a BFN feels like month after month after month.  She totally said the right stuff. Stuff like, "I can't imagine what that feels like.  You know I'm nowhere near patient."  Not once did she say, "It will happen" or give me advice.  She just listened.

The weird thing was that it didn't feel cathartic for me.  I have a few close IRL friends I talk to about it more than they probably want to hear.  I have my husband and I have my blog friends.  I feel like our relationship has been irreparably damaged by all this.  I'm really glad that she's had a change of heart, but I feel kind of "too little too late," ya know?  Is that weird or wrong?

Blah, blah, blah

TWWs suck. Living life two weeks at a time blows.

9dpiui and I've got nuttin.  My boobs aren't even sore and I've poked at 'em plenty.  I know, I know - that doesn't mean anything, but I figured I could at least hang my hat on some painful girls.

Sigh.

Music Mondays

Been awhile since I did a Music Monday! 

As a singer, one of the things I like to daydream about is singing a lullaby to my baby.  Just typing about it makes me get a little stuck-in-the-throat feeling.  This is one of the pieces that will most certainly be at the top of the list.  My choir sang it a few years ago and it's stuck with me.  This isn't my choir, but they're about as good as we are ;)

Enjoy!

I'm Just Gunna Go Ahead and Do It...

I'm gunna brag.  That's all this post will be about.  You've been forewarned.

I WROTE A RESEARCH PAPER AND IT'S BEING PUBLISHED!!!

Not just in any journal either.  A top tier journal that our director told me to submit it to even though I was being a giant chicken and wanted to submit it to a lamer journal since this was my first paper.

I've always wanted to do a little research.  I figure that it's one thing to help some deaf kids, but it's another thing to help kids in other clinics by doing an actual research study and publishing it.  So three years ago, I started collecting data.  Two years ago I started writing it up.  One year ago I submitted it for peer review, and the other day I learned that it's going to be published.  I am so freakin' proud of myself I'm farting rainbows. 

I'm nothing if not classy.

The husband and I celebrated with Ben and Jerry and a good time was had by all.  I've already started collecting data for the next one.  Hopefully it won't take three years this time!

Thanks for indulging me!

Pasta Patheticness

The other day, Mel The Goddess (yes, I believe that is her full name) posted about Befana Day.  After checking out the recipe for Caramelle Pasta and getting a "yes, please make that" from Mr. Right, we dove in.  As an Italian Catholic, I figured I needed to be doing this.  Plus, it was an excuse to use my pasta machine again.  Who am I kidding, I really just wanted to use the pasta machine.

Can we just say... Epic Domestic Fail

Husband and I teamed up for the challenge.  I put the dough through the pasta machine (I was using the lasagna setting so I could have squares straight off) and and the noodle off at an appropriate length.  Then Husband put the filling in the middle and rolled it up.  He read Mel's post, so I didn't think I really had to explain what they were supposed to look like.  Apparently I did.

Me (Above the din of the pasta maker): Honey what are you doing?
Him:  I don't know.  Rolling them up?  What am I supposed to be doing?
Me: Oh crap (catching pasta that's creeping out of the machine and onto the floor).  You're supposed to roll them up so it looks like candy.
Him: What?  How do I do that?  What does that look like?
Me: Well not that.  That looks like a vagina.

First of all, the lasagna setting was not a smart choice.  The squares were too thick and narrow.  We had to stick two together to get them wide enough, and since it was so thick the smooshed up ends were all dense and chewy.  We were not very good at getting the right shape as evidenced below.  Most look like slugs.

Now, those of you who make fresh pasta are probably looking at this and saying, "What the hell, Lisa!  You can't pile them up like that!"  Yeah... totally forgot that part and totally know better.  We were just so caught up in our assembly line that I didn't even think about the growing pile of pasta mush.  Good thing is that we were laughing and having a great time making our slug/vagina pastas and then peeling them apart to drop them in the water.  Thankfully, they tasted good (with the exception of the chewy ends that were totally my fault).  We put them in a red sauce because that's how we roll.

This is not my final foray into filled pasta.  I WILL succeed!  My maiden name is so dago pasta should just shoot out of my fingers like a paisan superhero.

PS You can only use "the D word" if you are one, just so we're clear.

Booted From the "Mommy Group"

I'm a planner.  This seems to be a theme among infertile women which is a shame because it often comes back to bite us in the ass.  When we decided to start "trying," I of course needed to make a mock baby budget.  To do that, I had to find out what day care runs in my area.  I googled and googled and couldn't find anything solid to go on.  So, I joined the area online "mommy group."  It was an online forum and I figured I could ask there.  I had to be approved for this elitist shit. I thought it was odd, but I didn't really care.  I'd be one of them soon enough.  When I got into the group, I found out it was mostly SAHMs.  There was an elitist jerk-face "working moms" group inside the elitist jerk-face "mommy group" that you had to join separately.  There were rules and crap about how much posting you had to have done, etc before they would let you in.  I figured that was a little more than I cared, so I stopped trying to figure it out and just did the normal thing and asked friends (duh).

Today I got an email from the group that I'm being booted due to inactivity.  Since I'm super crabby from the Prometrium, I was thinking of writing the following:

Dear Elitist Jerk-Face Mommy Group Administrator,

Really?  You have to kick me off because I haven't been on your "Oh-so important" forum enough?  I've been too busy trying to actually become a "mommy" to give a flying f&#* about what you pampered SAHMs are up to.  That means I have to work really hard so I can pay for fertility treatment.  Do you know what that's like? Not actually knowing if you will ever be a "mommy?"  It blows.  It's heart wrenching.  When you get a notice from an elitist jerk-face "mommy" group telling you that you aren't cool enough to be in their club because you've spent too much time trying to become a "mommy" and not enough time actually being one, it hurts more.  So you can take your membership and your condescending emails and shove them where the sun don't shine.

Sincerely,

An Angry Infertile Woman

PS "Mommy" is a dumb word.  You're grown women for crap's sake.

Maybe I should just delete the email instead.

Basted

The deed has been done!

Our clinic was good enough to open today for us and two other couples who were ready for an IUI.  Dr. Texas from my HSG was the one performing the procedure today which was nice.  I like him.

We were really anxious and I was feeling crampy, which I guess is a good thing.  I wore my good socks.  I always wear good socks for anything involving stirrups.  God forbid I hike my dogs up there and one half painted "it's winter and she's given up" toenail pops out in protest.

We were the first to go (which makes us the first procedure of the new year, which is kind of awesome).  Husband went back to the "room of no happiness or joy."  He would like to make his own room for such procedures.  It will feature a mirror ball, stripper pole, and couch that is not glued to the wall.  Anywho, he did an excellent job.  84% motility and a post wash count of 61 million.  Yeah, not his issue apparently.

When we went back to do the deed, he matched my bracelet to the sticker on the sample and all that.  It was one of those moments I was thankful that I changed my name.  Names match, this vial goes with this vagina.  No offense to the two dudes in the waiting room, but I did not want to have a baby with them.  Ours will be the half Asian one, thank you very much.

It went off without a hitch.  I was nervous after reading over at The Cornfed Feminist.  It was quick and easy, he held my hand the whole time, and then we hung out for 15 minutes and tried to make small talk. Then we went to Moe's for some Close Talkers.  Yum.  I wish I had some romantic story to give, but there really isn't one to be had.  The whole thing is odd.  It just is what it is.

I'm glad it fell on a holiday.  We have the whole day to hang out together, which is really nice.  I feel like we did everything we could and I responded well... it's out of our hands now.  I have 18 days (!) on the prometrium suppositories (which I am so not excited about) before we are supposed to test.  Husband put a countdown on his phone and said I'm not allowed to test before then.

The instruction sheet informs us that "many of the symptoms of PMS mimic pregnancy, so please be cautious about any symptoms you may experience."  I'm wondering if they've ever actually known woman with infertility.  Hmmmm.