- I’ll just say it. I’m sad that Reese & Ryan are splitting up, but not surprised. I saw those photos from Ryan’s movie premiere last week, and they Did. Not. Look. Happy. Not at all. Which also makes me wonder if it is a case of the hub not being able to stand a more successful wife. Or maybe not-what do I know?
- I’d also like to thank Jason Bateman for stealing one of the girl’s names I’ve always loved. It’s not like an infertile doesn’t have all their names poached already! Sigh. At least little Francesca will prove that you can have a fab Italian first name with a totally WASPish last name.
- Dear Birthmother letters suck ass. They seem so stilted and unreal, and well just a bit creepy. I so wish that writing one wasn’t necessary to domestic adoption. I wish there was a more authentic way for potential birthparents and hopeful adoptive parents to get together and find out about each other.
- Writing DBM letters reallyreallyfast sucks as well. Especially when your husband is rolling his eyes at you saying that you must pick some pictures out even though you would prefer to include pictures of Heidi K!um because you look like Bimba, Whale of the Nile in all your photos.
- Gluten-free biscotti=yay! Gluten-free bread=boo! We’re taking the gradual taper down method of Gluten-free living here. There was a Wheat farewell tour last week, but much like the Stones, the wheat refuses to completely go away from my diet. Why exactly I’ve been put on a restrictive diet for the rest of my life when I’ve never been able to handle a restrictive diet with cheating ever is beyond me.
- Only a couple more days until we take a little getaway to Millie’s neck of the woods. huzzah!
So many things, so little time. . . October 30, 2006
Holy Guacamole October 28, 2006
Ok, seriously, I’ve been saying a whole lot more than that for the past forty eight hours or so.
I don’t want to say much, as I am scared to death of something happening to jinx this. But let’s just say that the hub and I were asked a question. A question we were not expecting for a long time. We don’t know the final answer yet, but oh my god it feels good to even be on a trip like this (even if it is going about 350 miles per hour)
So hold thumbs, cross your fingers and hold on tight. This might not be the real thing, but then again it might. . .
Head Above Water (barely) October 25, 2006
May I just state for the record that getting diagnosed with Celiac and receiving homestudy paperwork within 48 hours of each other sucks ass? Because really I can only freak out about one Big Thing in my life at a time. Two Big Things and I’m over the edge. Which should I obsess about? Do I google about gluten-free hamburger buns orhomestudy forms that include no spanking contracts? Do I read the Gluten-free Bible or the Idiot’s Guide to Adoption? Should I order rice flour cake mix or Domperidone for the adoptive breastfeeding protocols?
I am so overwhelmed and sad and angry and just plain old freaked out. I wonder what would have happened if the Celiac had been discovered earlier–would IVF have worked out then? Would I have even needed IVF? And jeez, do I really need to spill the beans about past relationships to a social worker? Because I spent a lot of money on good tequila therapy to get past some of those.
I know that the homestudy is important, because dude it is a kid we would be getting! And I know eating gluten-free is going to make me feel so much better. Intellectually I know all this, but oh man is it taking a long time for my emotions to catch up.
Can’t Help Loving That Man of Mine October 21, 2006
I seriously do have the most amazing husband. He really is so perfect for me and balances me out so well. Lately, he has been the bright yang to my darker yin mood. I am so grateful for that.
He is so excited about adoption. His brain can wrap around that in a way it never could with infertility treatments. He talks about our future children now, he hopes about them in a way he never did when it was shots and p0rn rooms and petri dishes. He voluntarily picks up random adoption books I have laying around the house–something he only did under great duress when it was IVF info needing to be read.
I think though the best part of all this was a conversation we had this past week driving home from a friend’s house. He talked about how a part of him hoped for a biracial baby, because it would be a wonderful way to open ourselves up to a new culture, bring diversity into our lives, and fight racism and prejudice. He talked about how he really, really hoped to have an open adoption with lots of contact from the potential birthparents, because really how cool would it be to have more people loving our kid. He was so full of honest enthusiasm-I haven’t seen him like that in so long.
We’ve scheduled our first homestudy visit, with my husband, the already proud adoptive parent, leading the way.
Killin’ me with cookies October 19, 2006
Life as a barren chick who can’t even get the donor eggs to stick is not an easy ride. One must find lots of ways to cope, and homicidal rage is so socially unaccetable these days. In my case, I happened to consume more than my fair share of baked goods and yummy starchy comfort foods. A few adult beverages were definitely involved.
I mention this bit of foreshadowing because when I saw my endocrinologist to try yet again to tame the wild beast that is my thyroid, I mentioned a few not so great symptoms I was having, plus a recent diagnosis my dad had gotten. The good doctor ordered up several vials of blood and sent me on my way.
Today we met up again and I got the news I sort of expected, but wasn’t happy to get. Not only do I get to live without pregnancy, I get to live without wheat and gluten too! Infertile and Hypothyroid and Celiac to boot. And people wonder why it was so easy to dump my genetics and go to donor egg. . .
So this weekend, I will be *sob* saying goodbye to my good friends wheat and barley and beer. I am really going to miss those yummy sugar cookies and my favorite pizza, and even oatmeal. I am so going to miss that oatmeal.
All I need to know about infertility, I learned on Law and Order October 17, 2006
So it seems that the eejits in pop culture have gotten it wrong again.
The hub and I were settled in for a nice episode of Law & Order, v 14.3. we are kind of L&O junkies. Or at least it seems like that is all TiVo seems to find for us these days. Obviously, someone on the writing staff has been TTC just long enough to be dangerous.
To set the scene, there’s this rapist dude who takes urine samples from his victims, then comes back and rapes them again 10-13 days later. Guess what the cops found when they searched some creepy dude’s home? About a hundred OPK kits! And creepy dude’s job? An office manager! Like an office manager, creepy or no could afford bulk orders of OPK’s! And um, what guy knows about OPK’s anyways??
So anyways, creepy dude with a copy of TCOYF is apparently trying to procreate some master race kind of thing. Apparently those super sensitive OPK’s predict when his victim will be ovulating 10-13 days later! Now me, I always got a period 10-13 days after my peak OPK, but then I’m adopting so obviously I was doing something wrong there.
The good looking cop dude and the angry eurocopwhoiscoveringMariskaHargitray’smaternityleave go chat with a victim, who shockingly is pregnant! I know! Get out! And the poor lady and her husband tried to conceive for a whole year! And it was very hard! They even used drugs! So you know she must have been, well you know, desperate for that baby. Apparently, creepy rapist dude knew exactly when preggo lady was ovulating, but umm she and her husband had no clue. Let alone the “doctor” who had prescribed the “drugs”. Again, I must have been doing this whole thing wrong, because I knew exactly when any sperm had a remote chance of hitting my eggs for oh about three years. Umm yeah.
But worse than sketchy OPK’s, or unsure fertility testing, was the whole last half hour where preggo woman was referred to as desperate to do anything to have a child. Like not tell her hubby she was raped again and letting him think the child was him desperate. Like refusing to get an amnio to confirm DNA desperate. THEN at the end, the good looking cop berates the hubby and says they should keep creepy rapist dudes baby. And when hubby asks the cop if he could keep a rapist’s child, cop is all “errr that isn’t the point”.
Luckily, I’m a cranky bitter infertile veteran. I worry about the newbie infertile who watches this and thinks “Goodness, I can’t afford IVF, perhaps I should just find a creepy rapist to impregnate me.”
Yeah, we’re infertile not stupid.
Cheaper than therapy? October 13, 2006
OK maybe not.
But people, I highly highly recommend (did I spell that right? That word and inconvienence always throw me) a little shopping on the big O to numb the grieving infertile’s heart. Dude did you know they sell furniture there? And cheap yet stylish furniture to boot? Furniture that just happens to be perfect for one’s new living room look and complements the new floors? Embies may not live here, but new chairs sure as hell do.
I also happen to have a new boyfriend in da house. He is a little short, and very exotic. His name is Mr. Bento and as soon as I learn kanji, we are going to be very, very happy together.
Now I’m off to see what other things I can do to stimulate the economy.
And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before October 10, 2006
No wonder the past few days have been so miserable.
Today is the due date from IVF #1 aka trying with my own eggs. Aka the cycle that one of my RE’s was going to write a paper on about how FSH was a quantity concern, not a quality concern because I responded so well to injecting myself with menopausal nun urine or whatever it is that makes up Gonal-F these days.
Today we should be celebrating birth of the child or children that were so hard fought for. And yet I didn’t even remember until I wrote the date numerically this afternoon on a report. 10-10. Wouldn’t that have been a cool birthday? And today would have been a beautiful fall day to be born.
Nine months ago we were handed a picture of three embryos. We didn’t know if they would be boys or girls. We saw them wiggling and moving on the projected TV in the transfer room, but we didn’t know if they were programmed for my green eyes, or the blue eyes that my husband, his mother and sister all share. If you ask him, my husband would tell you it was one of the most amazing things he has ever seen, those three little embryos grooving around. If you ask me, I’ll tell you that it was cool to see them, but really I was much more aware of my painfully full bladder and the fact the relaxing drugs hadn’t kicked in yet.
I wish I had paid more attention. I wish I knew that would be the only glimpse of my biological offspring in any way shape or form. And I wish that I had them with me today.
Adoption Ambivalence October 9, 2006
We’ve had the contract for over a week. We have the money available for the deposit. We like our agency. The hub has been reading all he can about adoption, our family is so supportive, my friends are thrilled.
And yet. . . .
I can’t quite bring myself to sign my name on the line. To say yes I am going to be an adoptive parent. To say I am willing to grieve my loss of the dream of pregnancy. I keep thinking that if we put it off just a bit, I’ll get there. But now I have visions of three little embryos south of the equator. I know they are crap quality, but they are our embies.
And yet. . .
The only reason I am remotely sane is because we have decided to adopt. I can look at babies now. I can browse online looking for strollers or bedding. I feel a joy and anticipation that I haven’t felt in ages. I know I wouldn’t have the peace of mind if we were cycling.
I wish this didn’t feel so fraught, like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
Can I have an Amen? October 7, 2006
Sometimes you meet the best people through infertility. Like people who not only can give good tips on making a PIO shot hurt less, but who also know how to lay a floor. Thank goodness for Doc and her hub. They came over today and dude-our floor is done! It is so stinking gorgeous I can’t stand it. Bye gross carpet, hellllllooooo beautiful fake wood.
The most fabulous Lut C. has tagged me (Whee! My first tagging!) Which I suppose means I must actually figure out some words, eh? Feel free to psychoanalyze my randomness.
loops-Froot of course. Yummy yummy Froot Loops. I also could go with yarn loops, of the knitting variety. But since it is near dinner time, I’ll go with Toucan Sam.
identity-Umm, crisis? As in who the hell has infertility turned me into and why am I doing this stuff I swore I’d never do?
downstairs- Upstairs, Downstairs. Never watched it, but I am very anxious to see that latest of British dramas, The Queen
litter- Am I crazy for thinking part of our infertility problem is that the kitty litter box is in the same room that will eventually be our nursery? Talk about some bad feng shui. . .
Tag you’re it to fellow bloggers Summer, Heather, Millie, and Becky (who I don’t really know yet, but seems like a kickass kind of girl!) Your words are: blues, echo, elegance, punch. Start your word association engines ladies!
