Sometimes Family Really Sucks

My niece is getting married in June, and I just found out that my brother and sister-in-law from Virginia will not be invited. It's upsetting, because no matter the hurt feelings over the situation that occurred in 2005, and no matter how justified my niece feels in not inviting them, it's the wrong thing to do. And for my sister to not step in and tell Erica that they should be invited is even more disturbing.

I don't think Erica realizes the consequences, realizes how petty or small she looks. This is family. At the end of the day, that's who you have. And to hear the hurt in my sister-in-law's voice all over again, three years after that awful situation, just tears me up, because more than anyone in my pretty big family, they are the ones who would -- and have -- go out of their way to help someone.

It's just really shitty. And while we'll all smile and play nice in June, the fact that there are three someones missing will put a damper, and a little bit of ugliness, on the day.

Happy Opening Night (and day, tomorrow)

Finally -- baseball. It'll be nice to lay in bed tonight and fall asleep to the sounds of a cracking bat, cheering fans, and Jon Miller and Joe Morgan's voices.

I feel like my weekend is just starting and it's already over. I had to work until about 8 on Friday night, and I was back on campus at 8:30 yesterday morning. I think I got home about 11 last night. We had an academic conference on the works of Rod Serling (he used to teach at the college).

It was very fun, but a lot of work, and a lot of standing on my feet all day, something I'm not used to doing for 10 and 11 hours at a time. I taught some of the professors my term for over-zealous fans -- foamers. We used that word a lot when I worked in Baltimore. Foamers, as in those who foam at the mouth for athletes, or as was the case this weekend, Rod Serling. More specifically, the Twilight Zone and to a lesser degree, Planet of the Apes.

They were interesting folks for sure, and then I wondered, oh my god, is that what I sound like when I talk about Babe Ruth. Maybe, but I hope not.

Uncle Henry

My dear sweet great-uncle, 93 years young, passed away on Easter Sunday. He held on a lot longer than any one of us thought he would. We got the first phone three weeks ago, that "it was time."

At the service yesterday, the deacon said that obviously he was waiting for something, holding on for some reason, known only to him. He was waiting for Easter, the deacon said, waiting for Jesus. It was a nice, comforting thought.

We didn't have him for very long (read My Mother's Family for the back story), but we loved and adored him as if he had been in our lives from the moment we were born.

I can still hear him call me "dear." And one of my friends from work gave me some scratch-off tickets in honor of Uncle Henry -- I also slipped a couple in the weekly cards I sent him.

I miss you already, Uncle Henry.

Strive for Five

I went in for my procedure on Friday. And while I hate seeing signs, because it automatically gets my hopes up, there were some signs and some differences than the previous times.

I shopped at Kohl's in the morning and saw a very pregnant woman. She was really the only person in the store that I paid attention to; I couldn't have told you about any other person in the store with me.

When I got to the doctor's office, it was a different nurse practitioner. For the previous four times, Jodi did the procedure; this time, it was Jan. And she had me lay on right side, to help the sperm go to the big eggs. I also didn't bring anything with me -- no Derek Jeter onesie, no good luck charm. I did stop at McDonald's and get a milk shake. Full fat dairy has a positive effect on conception, so I treated myself in the name of medicine!

And then on the drive home, while I was contemplating my chances of multiples (I had six total eggs!), I saw not one, but two sets of identical construction trucks on the highway. Had I not been thinking about twins, I wouldn't have thought anything of it. It was a little freaky.

My blood test would be on a Sunday (the same day that I will be in Syracuse for my great-nephew's birthday party) so I'll go on Monday. That will be the first time the blood test will be on a day I'll be at work. I've already started to feel like this is the one.

I hope I'm not disappointed again.

On a different note, as my Okie friend reminded me the other day as I was lamenting about snow on the first day of Spring, baseball is right around the corner. Eight days and counting until Opening Night.

I got so excited when I thought about it, I hung up my front door decoration -- a piece of slate, hand-painted, "Tis the Season" with a baseball, that I got in Cooperstown last summer.

So I'll watch basketball all day today and tomorrow between errands and preparing for Easter dinner, but know that next Sunday, I get to watch baseball.

Easter Eggs

Not the kind you color, but the kind you hope are over 20 cm. I went in for my ultrasound/follicle check this afternoon, and before she could even tell me, I knew they were big enough. Not only from the pain and pressure I've been feeling on my lower abdomen for the past few days, but from seeing (and knowing from my previous ultrasounds) what was on the screen.

I had three over 24 cm, and a couple on the left side, just under 20. So I got my shot of hCG, which will not only induce ovulation, but also bloat me up to the size of a roughly five-months pregnant woman in two days. Fortunately, that side effect goes away after a day.

I go in tomorrow at 12:30, so I opted for the whole day off. Wish me luck. Lucky number 5? I hope so.

What did I do before I learned how to text message?

Bubbles is convinced that, if not interested in something, men don't have a great attention span. So by that logic, J of Baltimore is still hot for me.

Saturday night I went to a gala for a local non-profit. There was a cut-out of Cal Ripken, so I got my picture with it and sent it to J on my cell phone. Nothing. So about an hour and two beers later, I sent him the following text:

"wow no comment?"

J: "On what Irish girl? You know I would always comment! I can't get photos on this thing! Hope you're drinking Jameson!"

Ellie: "Drinking beer, looking fab at a gala, there is a life-size Cal which is what I sent a pic of -- me and #8"

J: "wasn't what I was hoping for but ok"

Ellie: "I'd send u what u want if u could see it"

J: "good point. I am low tech I guess. My loss for sure!"

Ellie: "Your loss for now -- not forever. I can make it up to you at some point :)"

J: "I am counting on that. I will make it worth it."

And so it goes...as it has for the past four years. He confuses me. He knows the effect he has on me. The flirting, the innuendo, and sometimes, an outright proposition. And yet, when I get to Baltimore, and we meet up for a drink, it's as if it never happened.

Should I be more bold in person? Should I tell him to "shit or get off the pot" so to speak? Even in the midst of a great time with Chris, and even when I was totally loving life with BB, J was always on my mind, never far from my thoughts or my fantasies.

Almost four years after leaving Baltimore, he's still in my head.

And he knows it.

And there's not a god damn thing I can do about it.

Current Mood: Melancholy

So even though I said I was "over" the latest attempt, and even though I didn't have any cysts so, again, I get to try again immediately (already day 3 of Clomid), I'm still feeling a little sad. So much so that I'm not sure how to describe it.

So I'm going to check a couple of my favorite blogs, crack open a book, and hope for a good night's sleep.

Weekend Update

It's been a whirlwind -- I'll do my best to update since my last post.

Thursday, I stayed at work late to make and print signs for the benefit. I was there until 7. As I was carrying two boxes of stuff up the stairs, I needed to go to the bathroom, but I decided to wait until I got home so I didn't have to rebalance the boxes. When I got home, I was welcomed with the tell-tale signs that I was not pregnant. No need to go for the blood test tomorrow.

I walked around my house, not knowing what to do, now knowing if I wanted to talk to anyone or not. I cried a little, then laughed at myself for being a baby, and then cried again. I finally decided to call Wanda -- because no matter the situation, no matter the circumstance, she always knows what to say. And she made me feel a little better.

Friday morning, I hit the ground running. But first I had to deal with the doctor's office. I called, told them I got my period, and made an appointment for an ultrasound for Monday. Since my clomid was doubled last month, I fully expect there to be residual cysts, which will mean taking this month off from fertility treatments.

I went to the bank, the grocery store, the gas station, the dollar store and Wal-mart -- and home before noon. I finished making baskets, made last-minute changes to my spreadsheet, made signs, packed my car and picked up a sheet cake from the college, and then was on my way to Syracuse to spend the night at my niece's.

Saturday morning, I was at the legion by 9:30 -- and I needed all that time before the event started to get my raffle items (all 22 on the high-end table, and all 107 for the low-end!) labled and tagged, sorted by time slot (we turned the low-end table over every 45 minutes) and stored under the tables. I had color-coded tables, signs and raffle tickets. call me anal -- but it was a well-oiled machine.

the day went by so fast. I got to see people I hadn't seen in 20 years, people I used to work at Green Hills with. It was fun and constant and amazing. Every 20 minutes, i was skimming the cash box where my parents were selling raffle tickets, and taking wads of 20s, 50s and 100s to the cash room.

I had no idea how much we raised, but I don't know how we could have raised more. Everyone gave it their all, and the fact that we organized this in six weeks is all the more amazing.

And so, the take-away, is that the benefit couldn't have happened at a better time for me. Being so busy -- and being so busy at something that I love to do -- was the prefect medicine. I didn't think about the fact that I had another failed attempt, I didn't feel overly sad about it - and seeing the family we were helping, really put everything into perspective. so I'm not pregnant yet. Here's a 36-year-old man fighting for his life.

And so, I'll go to the doctor tomorrow. And I will probably pull that adoption paperwork out a little more. I don't know if I'll do anything with it yet, but that option is becoming stronger and stronger. And one that I'm becoming more comfortable with. And the comfort -- or lack of -- isn't about the adoption, it's about giving up the pregnancy dream

Negative

I'll write more after the weekend. The benefit is tomorrow -- something to keep me busy and my mind off of things here.

I'm Scared

It's nice and all to be hopeful for the 16 days between the insemination and the blood test, but the day before the blood test is terrifying. Everything little thing means something. This morning, my temperature dropped to 98.1.

Before the test, you can be hopeful, you can imagine, you can even rub your belly and pretend that there's really a baby in there. After the test, if it comes back negative, that's it. It's definitive. It's over. It's back to the drawing board.

I don't know if I can go back to the drawing board. And that scares me more than anything else.

Two Days to Go

It's hard to not think I'm pregnant, and hard to not be sensitive to every little thing that feels different. I've been really tired (but I had a busy weekend last week -- in Syracuse for two benefit meetings, my mom's uncle was not doing well, and I spent the night at my niece's with very active little boys).

I went to bed at 8:15 on Sunday and 8:30 on Monday. And both mornings, woke up feeling like I barely got enough sleep. My stomach has been, on and off, queasy after I eat. And this morning I woke up with a back-ache. And I still have it -- it's more than sleeping on it wrong.

My temps have been really good -- 98.2-98.4 consistently over the past week. And Dr. Wong felt my pulse and looked at my tongue (who knows?) yesterday at acupuncture, and said it looked very good. She thinks I am, fingers crossed.

I'm taking the day off on Friday, mostly because I have a lot to do for the benefit. I'm meeting the Herr Food rep tomorrow at Wegmans to pick up 800 individual bags of chips and pretzels. I've got signs to make, items still coming in for the raffle baskets, laundry to do. And, oh yea, I have to run up to the hospital to get my blood work done.

Saturday is the benefit. I'm excited about it -- I love events. And I'm sure there will be a ton of people there I know, but haven't seen in years and years. So I guess, the good thing is, if I'm not pregnant, I get to drink beer at the benefit, and I get to keep busy and not lay on my couch and feel sorry for myself. I can do that on Sunday, I guess.