Exhausted

Last night, I feel asleep before 9pm. Woke up to go the bathroom at 1:30 and then right back to sleep until my alarm went off at 6am. Is it a sign? Who knows?

And my temperature was 98.4 this morning, which for me is like a raging fever.

I've still got a week before my blood test. And I can't even cheat and take an at-home test because of the hCG shot and progesterone I'm taking now. So I'll wait until next Friday.

It's going to be a long week. And I can't even sleep in on Saturday, because I have to be in Syracuse at 9am to put raffle items together for the benefit I'm working on. Aaah, but Sunday....Sunday, I get to sleep in.

The Rise and Fall

So it's been almost a week since the insemination. I started the progesterone suppositories on Saturday. That will help with implantation -- the vital step my acupuncturist is convinced I am failing. And so is all of this extra information from her a good thing or a bad thing?

Yesterday I was thinking bad. I woke up, feeling really warm. But when I took my temperature, it was 97.8 -- down from 98.3 the day before. Now mind you, for me, 97.8 is still pretty high. But Dr. Wong has impressed upon me how important it is that my temperature stay high, that I stay as warm as possible. All day yesterday, I was bummed -- even though rationally I knew that it was too early in my cycle for the plummet to mean that I was about to get my period. I was thinking of it as my cold, little womb was not a good environment for my fertilized egg.

I had an acupuncture appointment yesterday afternoon, and she was still optimistic about my temperature, but pointed out, as if this is something I can truly control, that it needs to go back up the next day and stay up. OK, I'll do my best.

I've been trying not to look at signs. I haven't figured out what my due date would be, other than I know it would be sometime in November. I'm so concerned about the negative test, and then immediately try to put it out of my head so that I can stay positive. I'm trying not to talk about it too much with my friends who know.

But...the signs are there. At least things feel different from the previous three attempts. All weekend, whenever I ate, no matter how much or how little, I felt nauseated. Sunday, I drank a Sprite and that was the first time that any sort of caloric intake settled in my stomach. And I feel something inside, something I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's an inner peace since I've been praying to St. Gerard every night, or maybe it's my intuition telling me that this time it worked.

And then there's my temperature. 98.3 this morning. So there's still hope. And as my friend Hope says, "you gotta have hope." And so I'll stay hopeful, a little more optimistic than cautious this time around, and think the best.

It's Absolutely Ridiculous...

but it makes me laugh (and groove a little) every time I hear it. And it makes me smile and think of the good times in Baltimore.

Baby Jesus Trumps St. Gerard

The frustration of all of this finally got to me this week.

Monday, I had an ultrasound and found out that my egg follicles weren't quite mature. I was to go back on Wednesday. And that was fine -- I didn't really expect it, but the follicles were close in size, so I knew that come Wednesday, as long as I didn't ovulate prematurely, I would be okay and we would be able to do the procedure.

Wednesday, I went back to the doctor, hCG in tow so I could get my shot. I had three mature follicles on the right side, a few immature ones on the left. I was expecting to be able to have them give me my shot, but first I had to get blood work done. I hadn't had to have that done in a few months, but because my Clomid dosage was increased, they needed new estrodial levels.

And that's when I almost lost it. It was one more thing, one more thing that I wasn't expecting to have to do. But I got over it pretty quickly and drove north to Ithaca, and up the west side of the lake to the hospital, instead of up to south hill to go to work. In the lab, I think I got a newbie. After two sticks, and two blown out veins with no blood to show for it, she called in for help from another technician. One stick later, in the other arm and with a very large needles, there was blood. I couldn't wait to see what kind of bruises I would get from this trip to the lab.

I waited for the blood work results to come in, and for the doctor's office to call. At this point, I couldn't even get excited that I would have the IUI the next day. I just couldn't be sure until I heard from Jan or Jodi. Finally Jodi called, and was excited about my levels. Over 1,000! So I just needed to get my shot and be at the doctor's office the next afternoon.

I called the health center to see if they could give me my shot. They had in the past, but the person I talked to was giving me the run around about needing permission from the director and finding my chart. I told her I just needed to know, because if she couldn't do it, then I would need to drive back to Elmira to have it done. It had to be done that day. Even though she was very frustrating and couldn't give me an answer, she did call me back rather quickly and said I could come over any time and she would do it. *sigh*

And so, after a hectic day or running around and getting poked and prodded, I could take a deep breath and try to get rid of the stress. I was going to try again the next day. For the fourth time, but the first time in consecutive months, I was about to try again to get pregnant.

Jill couldn't go with me, so I went alone. I headed down to Horseheads early and went to Panera for lunch. I had some yummy soup and relaxed. I was trying not to read into anything, but everything was different about this time.

At the office, on the table and in the stirrups, Jodi had a hard time finding the end of my cervix. My uterus was tipped more than usual, and I knew exactly when she found it. She hit it with the catheter that she uses to put the sperm in with. I took a deep breath, she apologized profusely, and then the cramping started. Once she had the baby batter in, she left me to lay flat for 20 minutes.

I called Bubbles for a little support. And we prayed together. I said a prayer to St. Gerard -- my new best friend, as I just found out he is the patron saint of fertility and motherhood. And then Bubbles, in her heavier-than-usual West Virginia drawl, "Dear baby Jesus, please let Ellie get knocked up. Amen."

Nothing like going right to the source. I hope she has an open line to Him.

Current Mood: Wistful

I've been thinking about BB (my 20-years-older lover from Baltimore) a lot lately. I miss him, I even had a dream about him the other night. When we were together, he made me feel special and like I was the only one who mattered. What I knew -- and accepted -- was that when we weren't together, he was making someone else feel like that. He was just that type of person, would never be monogamous, could never be monogamous. And that didn't make him a bad person. He needed to feel special and wanted -- and women made him feel that way.

And like I said, I accepted it. I never wanted more from him. I knew that a real relationship -- for reasons beyond his commitment issues -- would never work. And when I left Baltimore, I kissed him good-bye, said thanks for the good times, and moved to Ithaca. With 350 miles between us, we were of no use to the other one. And so the relationship -- on every level -- was over.

And for the past three and a half years, I've thought about him occasionally. Brought stories about him out during a girls' night when liquor was plentiful. But beyond that, not so much.

Until lately. I'm not sure if I'm thinking of him because I'm restless, or horny. Or if I'm really missing him or the idea of him. As much as I want a relationship...if I can't, it would be nice to just have that kind of friend. The kind you can call for a quickie or an all-nighter. A nooner or a weekend away.

And because I've been thinking about BB, it has also made me want to call Chris. Not because I miss him, but because I miss what he can give me. I've even had "dates" set up with Chris in the past few months, but always cancel with some lame excuse. In the end, I know that he will disappoint, that he will not make me feel special, he will not make me feel like I'm the only who matters.

And so whenever I think about making that phone call, or actually following through with the Chris hook-up, I think about what my friend Jill said to me, "I don't care if you have sex with him. I just hate that he gets to have sex with you."

I may think I'm the type of girl who can have meaningless sex -- and I have, successfully, in the past -- but when it comes down to it, to have a booty call friend, I need there to be some level of caring, some level of mutual respect. And that's what I had with BB, and as much as I tried to fool myself, I never had that with Chris.

Baseball

I don't work in baseball anymore, haven't for almost four year, but I'm a fan. I love the game. And so, probably for both reasons, I've been asked by more than a few people my opinion on this whole congressional hearing mess that took place yesterday.

Plain and simple, I think both Clemens and McNamee were lying, one more than the other. And unfortunately, I think the one with the most to lose, was the one lying the most. I think that, like OJ, Clemens believes his own lies so emphatically that he doesn't know what it is real and what isn't.

I think Elijah Cummings said it best, when he addressed Clemens: "It's hard to believe you, sir. I hate to say that. You're one of my heroes, but it's hard to believe you."

Happy Valentine's Day

or Black Thursday, as I like to call it.

I went in for my ultrasound last week, and surprise, I only had one cyst and it was less than 17cm so it's okay to move forward. I started on 100mg of Clomid (double what I've previously taken, but no where near the maximum) on Saturday and took my last dose last night. This is the first time I've been able to try two consecutive months. I'm hoping my body will say, "oh yeah, sperm....that's what I'm supposed to do with it." I go in Monday morning for a follicle check and if all looks good, I'll try to get knocked up on Tuesday.

It was a nostalgic weekend for me last week. Saturday, I went to a baby shower (someone I used to work at Bath & Body with) in Syracuse. It was in the valley, right near where I spent many days and nights in high school. My friend Amy drove up with me, and I dragged her into Green Hills , the locally owned grocery store I worked at in high school. It really was a trip down memory lane, even though is much fancier than it used to be. I showed her the register that I used to always ring on, and the back room where DD and I used to hide when we were supposed to be taking down the salad bar. And the back room where he propositioned me (which resulted in my first BJ in the parking lot after work one night).

And then after Green Hills, I took Amy to the duck pond where I used to go when I was little (and still love!). Let me remind you that it's February. And Syracuse. Needless to say, the corn got dumped in the water pretty quickly. It was really cold. Driving up to Audrey's new house was even fun, because she lived behind my childhood church, and I had to drive on street's where high school friends used to live.

So I was already in that high school wistfulness when I drove back to Syracuse on Sunday. A friend of my parents' has been diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer. He's 36, has two small kids and a third on the way. It sucks more and more every time I think about it. His wife is someone I went to high school with, though we didn't hang out. She was two years ahead of me. But I went to a relatively small high school, so I remember her. My parents became friends with her and husband within the past eight or nine years.

Anyway, Sunday. Family and friends are organizing a benefit. And I've never been one to let an event where I can remotely be in charge of organizing something get by me. So now I'm involved -- I'm actually in charge of the raffle and silent auction. And there was a committee meeting. So I drove up to Syracuse (for the second time in two days) in gusting winds and blowing and drifting snow because more than being at the meeting and talking special event, I knew that there were going to be three guys there that I had gone to high school with (had actually known since the 4th grade!).

When I first saw Matt (the cutest boy in the 4th grade), it was like everyone stopped talking and time stood still. OK, maybe that's a little dramatic. But still -- oh my god, Matt T., all grown up, balding, gray, but still that baby face. And so tall. We went to a school where for some reason, teachers did things by alphabetical order (seating, lining up for lunch, lockers next to each other), so Matt with his T and me with my W, we ended up next to each other a lot. And it was good to see Dave and Mike, too -- but I was closer to Matt than the other two.

Matt told me that I looked "great" and wondered how I haven't aged. That made me feel good, because at the moment, the wedding bands on all three of their hands was blinding, and I was just waiting for one of them to ask if I was married, had kids. And a little part of me felt inadequate. What do I have to show for my life?

I got over the pity party pretty quickly (no complaining, right?) and was just really glad to reconnect with these guys. We didn't get to talk much, but I'll be seeing them for the next few weeks for meetings and then the event on March 8.

And all of this is just leading up to, I'm sure, me planning our 20th high school reunion. We'll see.

Feeling Better

After a few weepy days, I'm feeling better. I got my period -- which while it took away the glimmer of a false negative, it also made me move on. That cycle is over and done with, and a new cycle means a new opportunity.

And so I'm going in tomorrow for an ultrasound to see if there are any residual cysts left over from last month's dose of clomid. I'm fully expecting there to be, given the trends of the last few months. But I'm okay with that, because I can take this month to get back into the swing of things at the gym.

I have my first really good work out in months last night. I have an adorable new trainer who dotes on me. It's a shame he's only 22. He even sent me an email tonight telling me he missed me and was bored without me there tonight (I had acupuncture). We did upper body and abs, and tomorrow he's going to work me hard with lower body.

I really haven't felt that good after a workout since I've started this whole fertility thing. I think between the hormones and my mind being focused on the baby thing, that I couldn't really focus on working out like I used to.

But if there is anything good that has come from my failed attempts, it has given me a sense of balance. Or at least reminded me that I need to have a better sense of balance -- and not focus (obsess, really) on just one thing. My life needs to be about more than just one thing.

My resolution for Lent -- to not complain, or should I say complain for the sake of complaining. For every complaint, I need to find a way to resolve it.

It will help me stay positive.

A happy mind means a happy body.

(PS....thanks Nina for your kind words).

Things Not to Say to Me

Some people have been incredibly supportive, and while they feel that they don't know what to say to me, they are not saying insensitive things to me. However....

"Look at so-and-so, it took her six months to get pregnant, and there's nothing wrong with her."
As if there is something wrong with me.

"I heard from so-and-so that you got your test results back, how come you didn't tell me?"
Why does it matter who you heard it from -- how about just telling me you know I'm disappointed and you're sorry.

I know I'm still cranky from the disappointment, and on top of that, I am now pre-menstrual. I just need one more day to feel sorry for myself.

The third time is not the charm

I got up yesterday and went to the hospital lab to get my blood work done. And as I waiting for the tech to draw blood, my heart was pounding. This was it -- this is as close as I've gotten since I started this last August to actually being pregnant. Once the blood was drawn and I had a Scooby-Doo band-aid on my arm, there was nothing more to do. But wait.

I spent the morning at Jill's house, helping her unpack books for her new book shelf. And she got in the mood for the Super Bowl, by watching the history of the Giants on DVD. She was a good sport and we watched the '58 championship game against the Colts (even though the Giants lost that game) and she had me tell her stories about all the Colts as they showed them on screen. It was fun -- it was a quick visit into my old life.

And then as it got past noon, I started to get anxious. "I need to go home." I didn't want to miss the phone call from Jodi. I didn't miss it -- she called about 1:30. "I'm afraid I don't have very good news for you." And so it began again.

I didn't know what to feel, I didn't know what to do. Do I call everyone in my phone book who knew today was the day? Or do I just wait for them to ask? I called the two people I specifically told I would call, and let anyone else who was interested call me. Other than my mom and my neighbor, there were no other calls.

By 6:30, I was feeling sorry for myself, and alone -- no one cares about me. Yes, it was a big of thinking only about myself, but I felt like everyone else was so wrapped up in their lives that they weren't even thinking about me today.

There's so much to think about now. Do I want to go through this again? I'll have to have a stronger dose of the Clomid next month, which will mean more weight gain and more emotions. I don't think this weekend is the time to make this decision. Should I just say fuck it? Should I seriously look into adoption? Do I really want to start someone's new life with their mommy $20,000 in debt with adoption costs?

I had a dream last night. I was holding a baby, my baby. He or she was about 9 months old, I think it was a boy. He said "momma" when I picked him up. I'm still too numb to read anything into the dream, but you know, and I know, that I'm not going to say fuck it. I'm too invested to give up.

Wanda said I just need to keep with my plan, and have the back-up plan if this plan doesn't work. And I told her last night, it never occurred to me that this wouldn't work. Never. Even with the ovarian failure diagnosis, there was always hope. My people have babies, my mom was pregnant 14 times for God's sake -- how could my body not be able to do this?

It just seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on me.