Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Slower than molasses in January

Remember way back in this post almost a month ago when I was talking about doing that shared cycle application? Yeah, I still haven't sent that in. I finally finished it (and managed to both work in my SAT scores and the fact that I thought the philosophy on life section was bullshit!) except for the picture part.
I'm supposed to send in a recent picture of myself. Which means I need to *take* a picture of myself.
Hmmm....


Surely I can take a picture where I look normal and am not making a stupid face? Right?


Right?


Uh oh.
Do you think this picture would work?
(Edit: Note I will not *actually* be using any of these pictures - I don't want somebody to see it and think I am a 16 year old holding the camera at arms length in the bathroom. I am a 26 year old holding the camera at arms length in the bathroom thank.you.very.much!)

Pushy

My internet bff Kate (I am so obnoxious. Poor Kate.) cracked me up in her comment on my last post. I probably *will* turn into my own mother and make my children painfully embarrassed of me. I will probably also enjoy it immensely when they cringe and try to shut my insane mom ramblings out. Bwahaha exactly.

I was reading Mel's last blog over at Stirrup-Queens (how amazing is she? I mean, really.) and she talked about how infertility shapes how she views the world. (She spoke about lenses actually, which totally transported me back to K*nneth Burke and freshman year Comm. studies)

I wonder specifically if infertility will have an affect on me as a mother (I'm so optimistic today: I keep referring to my future children as though they are a done deal. I'm apparently also very hyped on parenthetical side notes...)
What if I have only one kid? Will I become one of those nervous mothers you sometimes see who has one child and so they won't let the child do anything even slightly dangerous like play football or eat dirt or have friends? Even if I have more than one, will *infertility* make me treat them like fine china? Will I suddenly become my mother and be painfully embarrassing and tell them detailed stories about how they were conceived????
GAHHHH!


Warning:
Baby picture below





Maybe I will be a pushy mother instead and force them to achieve achieve achieve. Like my dear friend R, who is making poor baby S study for law school even though he is only five months old:


It *did* take her a long time to conceive him...

Monday, January 28, 2008

Nahnahnah...I can't hear you!!!

What's worse than having your mother say things that are hurtful about you doing IVF?
Having a mother who decides to try to be helpful.
I love my mom, I do. But I do not want to discuss things like sex or babies or marriage with her. I just don't.
I went over to her house on Saturday to paint her hallway and she has decided she is going to try and help me with ttc. So she keeps inserting random things into the conversation as we paint:

"Mom, pass me that roller, please."
"Here you go. You know, I went on Snork."
"Snork?"
"Yes, Snork" Mom is obviously pleased with herself. "Its a website where they debunk myths and things you get in the email."
"Um, Snopes?"
"Snopes! Yes. Well, it said that it might be true that laptops lower sperm count, so A_ shouldn't put his laptop over his-"
"Ok, thanks Mom!"

Then as I am washing my hands she starts rustling through papers and unfolds a piece of paper and starts talking.
"You know, I was getting ready to see a fertility specialist when I got pregnant with you. I was charting my basal body temperature with this. See, here's my temperature rise...Oh! Here, I think this was you!"
And then she just... kept... talking... about things I don't want to hear.
Unfortunately, I am too old to put my hands over my ears and repeatedly yell "I can't hear you!"

Remind me, if ever I should pee on a stick, should that stick tell me I am pregnant, and should I decide to keep that pee stick as a reminder of the joyous occasion...REMIND ME never to show my children. Because that is weird.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Firefighters and teenagers

Oh, so happy it is Friday.
One of my friends asked me if I got a picture of the firefighters popping open my car door this morning - unfortunately, my camera was in my (locked) house and I did not. (Edit: I just realized that I clearly stated this in my last post. Duh.) These were not, by the way, the firefighters in my "Firefighters of H*milton County" calendar. (Sorry Ariana!) These were older guys who are closer to retirement who were wearing funny hats and heavy coats as opposed to young men wearing six packs and only suspenders on top. They are my heroes anyway. As embarrassing as it was to have a freakin ladder truck pull up in front of my house because I can't figure out how to not lock myself out in the cold, after 35 minutes of standing in the cold I was really happy to see them.
I brought over an apple pie and peanut butter cookies this evening. I kept a few cookies for us, but A_ looked very disappointed that the whole apple pie was leaving our kitchen, never to return. The guys were out on a run, but there was one guy there who looked pretty happy to accept the treats.
----------------------------------
Caution: Fucked up abortion and baby shit ment.

Last night I had my writing group (aka drinking and eating and gabbing group). My dear friend M_ (the one who offered up her maternity clothes) told me she had student who is pregnant. (She teaches at the high school where I used to work.) Apparently the student told a friend of ours, Reb, who is also a teacher there. The student knows that Reb and her husband are trying to adopt.
That REALLY sucks for Reb. On so many levels. Because apparently the student's mother has scheduled her for an abortion. And despite the fact that the student doesn't think she *wants* to get an abortion (she think wants to give the child up for *adoption* - oh god my heart is breaking for how strong this little girl must be) in my fucked up State, the girls parents can FORCE her to get an abortion.
I am pro-choice. But that means the person carrying the baby gets the choice.
(Edit: So several of you questioned whether this was possible. I was shocked when M- told me, but I didn't question it because she had been told this by the principal, who she had asked about this. However, after googling I can't find anything, so perhaps it is indeed not law. But then I wonder why the principal would say that. Maybe b/c he didn't want the teachers to get involved in what is obviously a tricky situation? Maybe b/c he thinks the girl will be better off with an abortion and wanted my nosy friedns to butt out? I do not know. But I am going to call M_ and talk to her about it... Of course, even if it's not a law, I doubt the girl would go against her mothers wishes if the mother is adamant. Apparently she is a single mother and doesn't want history to repeat itself.)

So the girl told Reb, possibly because she thought Reb could stop her mother and possibly because she hoped Reb would want to adopt her baby. And Reb does, god she does want this baby, but she can't stop this girls mother and even if she could it wouldn't be appropriate for her to adopt the baby.

How. Fucked. Up.

And of course M_ told me this and then was like - if she can talk her mother out of making her abort, maybe you could adopt it! And I am so *hungry* for a baby that as I left I casually (of course it was so obvious that it was not casual) mentioned that if something should change, if there is a baby, we'd be interested in adopting. Just in case.
Sigh.

My husband is not an asshole

So my dh did read my blog - he claims it was up on my computer and he was using my laptop and naturally thought "hmm, what is this?"
I would probably have snooped in his place as well, so while I am a little annoyed that he invaded my privacy, I forgive him. Plus, he was all like "Oh, it's cute! And you have nice friends online and how great is that!" And he is worried that my new nice friends will think he is an ass. So I just wanted to let you know that my husband is not an asshole.
I don't think I am an asshole either, but I most definitely am an idiot. I went outside to go to work this morning and started my car to let it warm up, then scrapped the ice off my windows. I go to get back IN my nice warmed-up car and the door wouldn't open. Keep in mind it's 6 degrees out today and I am wearing a dress with leggings.
Luckily, I had my phone in my pocket. A_ was in class and didn't have his phone on and he's the only one who has a key to my car. So I called my boss. Who brought along L*dder 20 to break into my car.
It's embarrassing enough to lock yourself out of your car and call a locksmith - it's worse lock yourself out of your car and have a freaking ladder truck show up with four firefighters to get you out. I only wish I'd had a camera so I could show you these brave men who were kind enough to not laugh at me.
So now I am sitting at work with my tea, nice and cozy. I need to make cookies or pie or something for the firefighters. What should I make to say thanks? Any great recipes?

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Hi honey

I came home and my blog was up on my laptop. According to the history, somebody was looking at my blog today. Multiple entries. On my laptop at home. It wasn't me and I'm betting it wasn't the cats.

So did you mean to leave it up so I'd see that you had looked at it? Or was I supposed to not know?

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Quirks



I have been tagged by Tray over at One Hardy Swimmer and by Pepper over at On to Plan B!
I feel special and stuff.
The Rules:
1) Link to the person that tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog.
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6) Let the fun begin!

So...
1. I ate a truffle three truffles last night. (Er, that's not on the diet...) I must nibble the outside away before I sloooowly eat the inside. A_ eats his in two quick bites, which drives me NUTS. I can make one last for 30 minutes.
2. I often sleep on my back with my hands on my chest which creeps A_ out because I look like I have been placed in a coffin.
3. When I get into my office every morning I start my computer and while it is booting up walk into the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea. (My office is in what used to be a house, so we have this fantastic huge kitchen.) Then I have tea with my boss, who often brings two clementines for us to eat.
4. I often chew on my lip to the point where it bleeds. I just can't leave it alone. Poor lip.
5. I can raise each eyebrow individually or both at once to look like a Vulcan. (Keeping the part nearest my nose down.) I could always do my left eyebrow, but as a kid I spent many hours sitting in the bathroom looking into the mirror and working on it. I built up my eyebrow muscle over a couple of months until I could raise just the right eyebrow.
6. I also spent a lot of time looking into the mirror practicing crying. (I was going to be *dramatic pause* an Actor and needed to be able to cry on command. Swish swish.) I *can* cry on command, but I also have trouble because sometimes I look in the mirror and my eyes well up with tears even though I am not sad. It's kind of pathetic.

Um, I think that a gazillion people have done this meme, so who else wants to do it? Ally at Life in the Cat pad? Tracy at A few Pricks along the way? (If you want something to keep you occupied during your tww, Tracy!)
Anyone else that hasn't been tagged and wants to do it?
EDIT: Kate my new internet bff at Bee in the Bonnet is tagged too.

Love you babe

My best friend David is awesome.
No need to comment, just wanted to let everyone know that should you ever be in his presence, you will be in the presence of awesomeness.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Owww. Oooooooowwwwww.

Dear Bitch,
I understand that you have to come once a month. In fact, after hearing horror stories from people who you don't visit regularly, I should be glad that you like me enough to stop by.
However, I do not appreciate the baggage you bring with you. In the future if you could be so kind as to leave the cramps at home, I would appreciate it.
Thanks,
Io

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Under the surface

Kate over at Bee in the Bonnet had a really good post recently. (Actually, all of her posts are good. For the record, this chick is way cool and I want her to be my best friend even though I don't really know her. Sorry if that's creepy Kate.)
Anyways, at the end of the post she wrote:
"So. That's a lot of crap for one post. But I think it all needed to be said. I challenge you all to make a post for yourselves saying what needs to be said. There's always something under the surface waiting to come out. What is it for you?"

So (in my usual roundabout way I will talk about something else before I get to the point, if indeed I have a point at all) I told my mother about our infertility tonight. We went to L*wes to wander the clearance and to pretend like we were remodeling her kitchen. I also walked over and looked at f!replaces, because they are 50% off right now. We have a gas line into our living room and have talked about getting a fireplace since we moved in. But we don't *need* one and even at 50% off, $350 is a lot to spend when we are trying to save up. My mother suggested I use some of the money that she had given us for Christmas and I laughed and said we had already spent it. Whoops.
Of course, she wanted to know how I had already spent $2000. So I told her A_ was having surgery. On his balls.
I made her wait until we were in the car (and no longer being eavesdropped upon by the clerk) to explain why.
I said "A_ has no vas deferens so he's having surgery." Then I briefly explained that we'd have to do ivf w/ icsi.
She said "Oh, so you knew this before you got married."
Um, no.
Gasp! "He knew and didn't tell you!?"
Um, no, queen mama drama . That would be grounds for me *killing* him, not trying to have a *baby* with him.
Then she told me about how my cousin (whose husband had a vasectomy) had tried ivf and failed. And did I know, it was really expensive? And heartbreaking?

Luckily, we were already in my car driving back to her house when this conversation happened. So I managed to drop her off before this conversation went any further. Because I could feel where it was going and I didn't like it. It was going to the conversation my mother had with me when I told her I was marrying A_. It was going back to her warnings that A_ and I were not the same age (he's nine years older - mind you, my father has six years on my mom) that he was Muslim, that his "culture" was different from mine (read: he's black). And now, on top of all this, he has the audacity to have CBAVD.

I managed to (pretend to) be nonchalant, dropped her off, and limited myself to a couple of whimpers through my teeth on the drive home.

And here's where we get to what Kate said. What's under the surface.

My mother was just about to express what, in some ways, I feel.

I feel so incredibly guilty, but I resent having to do this. Having to be depressed, having to spend money I don't have, having to wait for a child, having to inject myself with drugs for a 35 or 40% chance this will work.
I walk around and see men and think of them as potential sperm donors.

______________________________________________________________

I am, of course, being totally arrogant in my belief that there is nothing wrong with *me*. I know all the reasons why what is above is selfish and unreasonable and I *do* love my husband and want to have his child. And I don't want anyone to read this and think that their husband resents *them* for female factor IF. And I don't want anyone to read the last sentence and think "Hey, I didn't even think that until you just said it, you bitchwhore."
This is just my own terrible thing that needed to be said. But I can't tell my dh that I would be happy if we went right to a sperm donor. Because it would crush him.





Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Snark

My mother is, as most mothers are, very proud of her children. She keeps several pictures of us on her desk, even though my brother stopped being cute once he hit first grade.
(Momoodee, as we call her, is also very happy that most of her fellow teachers don't realize she's in her 60s. She had once flippantly said she was 40-something: Months later a few of them were discussing retirement and one of them said something about her being only in her mid-forties. Apparently they had believed her. Instead of being embarrassed, my mother decided it was their fault, since they should have known how old she was, what with her having a 30-year old daughter. Of course she was also proud that she apparently looked so young. We're religious about sunscreen in our family.)

One of the pictures she delights in displaying is one of me in high school, though I'm not sure why she likes it so much. I have a buzzed head, dark red lipstick, and a huge sneer on my face. Serious Elvisness going on. I can't wait to have kids so I can raise them up to be snarly, emotional teenagers.

Lately I seem to have reverted back to age 15 because I have been way snarly and immature. But as a teenager I was outwardly snarly. Now all the snarl is stuck inside, because what my inner voice is saying is usually not appropriate to say out loud. And because I can't express the snarl, I get embarrassingly teary on the outside or just act like the worlds most boring person while I try to suppress the tears.

I stopped over at my friend M_'s house last night to pick up some tickets she was giving me. She had gotten free theater tickets but decided she wanted to stay home with the kids because the baby had a cold.

On the inside: Gee, that's too bad how wistful you sound about not being able to go to the free show (which, by the way, ended up sucking hardcore). I wish *I* had a baby so I would have to stay home and cuddle with it. Oh, she's learning to roll over! How fucking adorable! And making little high pitched noises to amuse herself? Once again, how fucking adorable! Gee, remember how we were going to get pregnant at the same time and then you got pregnant the first month while all I got were cramps, PMS and the next ten months to figure out that my husband has no vas deferens? Remember how disappointed *you* were because *you* really wanted another person in our friend group to have a baby so *you* didn't feel left out.
What's that? You have a bunch of maternity clothes for me? Even though you know it might be a little while before I need them? How incredibly sweet of you, since I really need more baby shit laying around my house reminding me how I am NOT PREGNANT.
Oh, yes, A_ finally scheduled his surgery. He's all cranky because they already cashed the deposit check for $2100, *as most people do when you send them a check.*
Yeah, $2100 is a lot of money. I wasn't just pulling numbers out of my ass when we discussed this before, it really does cost that much and $12,000 more. But I *really* appreciate how you're trying to save me money by giving me your old maternity clothes even though just thinking about them right now makes me want to claw my eyes out.

On the outside: Gosh, that's really sweet of you to save your maternity clothes for me. Thanks again for the tickets. I better run so I'm not late. (Kissed kid and baby goodbye and ran out to car before I could start blubbering, clawing my eyes out, or both.)

And M_ is an awesome friend. In the past I have said all sorts of inappropriate and highly bizarre things to her and she has taken them in stride. She would NEVER want me to feel hurt or upset by something she has said. And it is sweet of her to give me theater tickets and maternity clothes. She wouldn't deserve any of the crazy and mean things I wanted to say. I am just irrational these days. And I don't want anyone to know. I don't want to be that crazy infertile friend who cries a little too easily. I don't want that to be my label.

Um, not really sure where this post is wandering off to. But you guys are awesome. I'm glad I have you so I can at least spew some of the snark.

Oh! And if you don't know Tracy, over at A few pricks along the way, send good embryo vibes in her direction. Divide and conquer, embryos, divide and conquer!

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Back to real life

Well, the political campaigning is over. My guy lost, it sucked, I got really bitchy, and we all started drinking at 12:30pm.

That's about it. I'm going to catch up on sleep tonight, go into work tomorrow to catch up on stuff, and then work on my shared cycle application some more. I have to go back to real life.
Sigh.
I really hate losing. And having to be gracious and not call people out on their BS.

I guess it is nice to know something other that IF can make me wallow in self pity...there are still other things in life. Shitty things, but things.

I promise to stop being morose and all that jazz on Monday.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Politics gives me ulcers

I'm pretty sure that the past few days have given me some serious ulcers. I've been concentrating this week on a political campaign pretty hardcore and was once again reminded of all the reasons that I will never be running for office. I have such a low capacity for bullshit and would just call people out on it, even if it wasn't politically expedient. Grrrr. I love the D*mocratic Party, I do, but there are some people that PISS ME OFF.
EDIT: This is not one of the presidential candidates. If it were, I would be hitting you all up for donations and making sure you were registered to vote.

I didn't think I'd be thinking about IF much this week. I've been scanning blogs whenever I take a break, but in terms of minute-to-minute I am not seeing kids or pregnant women and IF is not on my mind. However, tonight I was reminded why the person whose campaign I am working on is totally awesome. We were at a meeting of local d*mocratic club and all the candidates were there and answering questions. One woman asked a question about protecting women's rights. My candidate said he was pro-ch*ice and then went on to talk about insurance and how it was ridiculous that infertility treatment wasn't covered in our state. How it was a right that we should all have access to.
Oh.
My.
God.
Seriously. I was sitting in the audience and my heart stopped. It wasn't a great answer in terms of the campaign, but it hit me head on. If I had any doubts before this about my candidate, they are gone. I so picked the right guy.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Ha.

Did I say home at 10:30? It is currently 1:49 am and I'm thinking 3:30 am might be optimistic. I think the 5:30 am workout might be toast.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Crazy busy

One sentence updates:
1. A_ finally made his appointment for the MESA.
2. As of yesterday, I am working on a political campaign and am CRAZY BUSY.
3. My new schedule involves leaving the house at 5:30 am to work out and getting home at 10:30 pm to go to bed.
4.My office dog is as cute as my house cats.


Betty is a good girl.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Ooo. I have *video* (children ment)

I actually looked at my camera and realized it can do video! Thomas finally looks vaguely impressed. I will now force cuteness upon you. (Edit: Um, you might turn the volume down so you don't have to hear my husband reading the description of a briefcase he thought about buying. And me talking baby talk.)

video


In other incredibly exciting news, I worked out yesterday and was really good about eating until the evening, when we went to a dinner party and I ate two desserts. Oops.
It was a little rough. The friends who were hosting have children that I love. They're like family and they know about our infertility. One of the other couples had brought their children though. While I used to be friends with the husband (we were on speech team together in college), the wife is...well, I guess she's nice enough. Something just rubs me wrong and it did long before they had their children.
They have three children: a two and a half year old and 6 month old twins. They got pregnant with their first right after they got married. Dinner conversation mostly rotated around their kids.
Boy, nothing I like more than visiting my friends and getting to hear a grating voice rattling on about how sleepless those first months were and how much they love nursing. Absofreakinlutly nothing.
I cried a little in the shower before we went because I knew how hard it was going to be, but I do think that the hostess warned the other beforehand about our infertility since not a word was said about us having kids. Which was almost too bad - after I cried in the shower I had come up with bitchy cool responses. At least being mean to the woman I don't like may have let me indulge in more self pity and work off some aggression.
Instead I cooed over her babies. Damn but they were cute.

Friday, January 4, 2008

I don't know me

I was in a play during college where my character was supposed to say " You don't know me!" Instead, during the dress rehearsal, I said "I don't know me!" It's not a particularly funny gaffe, but we were all so exhausted from rehearsals and last minute costume issues and bright lights that it struck all of us on stage as being hi-freakin-larious. We repeated it to each other for days and that Christmas I got a card from the assistant director (who was a friend of mine) in which she had written 'I don't know me!"
(Of course, now that I am typing the words, they seem incredibly unfunny. Trust me though, this was so funny we were all sure I was going to be part of the S.N.L cast in no time.)

Anyway, the point is, I don't know me. I'm working on filling out this application for a shared IVF cycle at C**per. I figure that I'd love to be able to afford IVF and I'd also like to know that somewhere some other woman might be able to have what we all want.
But geeze! As I am filling this out my head feels like it might explode. I don't know so much! My maternal grandmother's weight? My blood type? (Ok, I should know that one) My Ob/GYN? I have a general practitioner! Does that count? Wait, I don't even have that because our insurance just changed and I haven't picked a new doctor yet.
I don't even know how old my grandparents were when they died. I could make some pretty close guesses, but I don't want to be wrong! What if I say 81 and it was actually 79? 90 and it was actually 92? What if it turns out I am actually a changeling and my REAL parents are fairy folk? (That would be awesome actually. I bet they could fix this whole CBAVD thing.)

So yeah. My family history is going to take a while. I don't want to tell my parents about all this, but I don't want to guess on the application. I'm only on the third page. I still have to answer all the family health questions and my family's health history might count me out anyways. Then it asks about *me*
What message would I like passed to the recipients and their offspring? What's my philosophy of life? (Ok, REALLY? I hate answering questions like this for the same reason I hate doing job interviews. 99% of the time, they are bullshit. I don't have a philosophy on life or, if I do have to come up with one, it's not warm and fuzzy. It's bitter and wicked.)
On a purely self-interested snotty note, I'm also disappointed that they don't have a place for your SAT scores. If there's one thing I can do, it's take standardized tests. Mine were damn near perfect, but I don't want to try to work them into some other section like "Achievements" because then I'm that bitch who is obviously too proud of her scores. I was counting on my SATs to make up for things like my fat ass and inane answers about my philosophy of life.
Oh well, I suppose it's possible that somebody out there will really want my blue eyes and...my...um...bad vision...and my crazy good looks of course.

Like I said, this is just a Hail Mary throw in the dark. We're still saving money.

Edit: I was thinking about how weird it is that if I am giving away my eggs, I have to be chosen. And if we end up adopting, I have to be chosen. I want to get to choose people!

Speaking of the camera that I spent my bonus money on...
It takes like 5 pictures at a time before the memory is full. So I need to buy a memory card since all that I can fit on there right now is

Katie resting her eyes,

Yummy alcoholic chocolates,



and of course, Thomas still looking unimpressed.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

I just can't take good advice...

So after all that wonderful feedback about the cons of sharing your blog with real-life friends, my best friend D_ was over for the New Year and I totally directed him to my posting about not wanting to share with friends. So I now have one friend IRL who knows about my blog, though I don't know if he'll actually read it. Seeing as how we haven't gone to the same school since 8th grade, most of our interaction is on the phone or online. So...he's not all that IRL anyway. But he's the best support a girl could have. And adorable! And he's a straight male! (Who is no longer single! Yay! Love you D_!)

---------------------------
Since I got a surprise holiday bonus at work today, I went wild and spent it. I got my first digital camera. (I am so terribly behind the times.) I also bought A_ a new ipod nano. I had gotten him an ipod radio and then realized it wouldn't work with his old ipod. C*mpU$a is going out of business and everything is on sale. Not huge but decent enough. So goodbye holiday bonus, goodbye.
I am excited about my camera. My cat Thomas, not so much.
His sister Katie was so unimpressed that I couldn't even get her picture. I will post more of my furry children after I figure out how to not take completely crappy pictures.