Christmas '09 In Review

The good...

* Christmas Eve was great. I drove up in the afternoon and met my Virginia family at my sister-in-law's parent's house and went to mass with them. After that, we went to my niece's house for the evening. My niece and her family, my sister and brother-in-law, and my brother, sister-in-law and niece sat around and munched and drank and laughed. The boys opened presents and got sufficiently wound up from wrestling with my brother.
* I spent all of Christmas weekend in Syracuse -- did day after Christmas shopping with the family and played with lots of Moon Sand with the boys. Sunday, most of the family came back out to my niece's for brunch before everyone scattered again to their own lives, including the Virginians who would be heading south the next morning.
* As much as I enjoy being in Syracuse and hanging out with my niece and the boys, and there is nothing like an uninitiated hug from a two-year-old (you know you're loved when you get a hug for no reason, without asking for it), it was good to be back home, to sleep in my own bed, to turn my heat on as high as I wanted it.
* And about 11:30 on Christmas morning, my phone beeped. A text from E: "Merry Christmas gorgeous. hope you have a great day."

The bad....

* a rare snow storm in the mid-Atlantic region halted my holiday plans for Baltimore the weekend before Christmas. I was going to see Bubbles, Wanda and her family, Tim and the girls, Jan, and visit the Museum. I was also looking forward to testing myself by being in the city and NOT reaching out to J in any way.
* I handled Christmas day the best I could. And by that, I didn't really acknowledge my new niece, born over the summer. There were 14 other people to dote on her (and they all converged on her two feet behind me as I was doing dished when she first arrived). If she were older and would have noticed the slight, I wouldn't have done it. But she's six months old. There was a little tension with her mother, another one of my niece's (we all the know the story) -- or maybe I imagined it. Maybe the hurt feelings over her wedding, over the way she told me she was pregnant, made me think there was tension. In any event, I didn't really talk to her (thankfully with such a large family, it wasn't possible to have a lengthy conversation with everyone).
* At one point, I felt the tears coming on. I was grating cheese and fought the tears back. I wanted to let loose, I wanted to start bawling, but was surrounded by my family. A family who doesn't really understand the pain I sometimes feel around a baby. I tried to explain it to one of my sisters and she said, "but you're around babies all the time." Not really, and not really the point, but my response was "yes, but those are babies whose mother's are nice and supportive of what I'm going through and understand that their happiness might cause me pain." I was met with a blank stare, so I changed the subject.
* The family pictures! Ugh....almost as much as seeing my niece's baby, I was dreading this moment when my sisters would make a production of doing "family unit" pictures. Not just a picture of everyone who was there, or even random photos throughout the day, but posed pictures of each little family unit. Brother, sister-in-law, two kids. Niece, her husband, two kids. Sister, brother-in-law, niece, her husband, two kids. Etc. Ever since it was suggested that we frame these sorts of pictures for my parents' 50th anniversary a few years back, and I contribute a picture of me with my cat (seriously!), I've avoided these little set-ups. I stayed in the kitchen, and thankfully no one called me into the living room to pose in front of the tree, either alone or with my parents.

The weird...

* Thankfully there wasn't really any ugly. My sister got me a strange present, and while she thought it was funny, it's not exactly the way I would have handled it. As she explained it, she ordered two day planners from the Smithsonian gift shop and was able to get one monogrammed for free, so she got hers done with her initials. When they arrived, she started filling hers out, and only then realized that she had started writing in the non-monogrammed one. Rather than give me the one she had started to write in, or get me something else and write this one off as a loss, she gave me the one with her initials. So instead of having LAW (my true initials) on a day planner, I have for the next year (should I decide to use it) KLY. I know, it's the thought that counts. But I find it weird. And again, given lingering tensions over her daughter's wedding and the way that was handled, I think I'm finding more wrong with it than if it had come from my oldest niece or even my sister-in-law in Virginia. Because I'm closer with them, because I would have found it funny, and because I know that that's not how they would have handled it.

And so all in all, the Christmas I was dreading, the Christmas I wasn't really looking forward to....I survived. It's over. The family drama, the tension, the feelings of inadequacy (because of singledom and childlessness)....it's all over. And so if I'm still childless next year, here's hoping Richmond is an option. Otherwise, I think Bubbles and I should be finding ourselves on a beach somewhere, drinking margaritas and ignoring both of our families.

Merry Christmas to me

I went up to Syracuse yesterday for my belly massage and a facial. First, I stopped next door to the FG's office to drop off all of the meds that I won't ever need again. All in all about $20,000 worth.

I asked Pati if she'd heard from the other recipient, and she said she was going to call her that afternoon and tell her that she needed an answer before Christmas.

"But what if she says no?"

Pati gave me a hug and said, "we're still moving forward. We'll figure it out. Go enjoy your afternoon."

And so I went and got my internal organs massaged (no, really, that's what happens). And when I was waiting for the facial, one of the girls who works there came in and said Pati was on her way over to talk to me.

She came with a packet of paperwork for me to fill out. The other recipient is not ready to move forward, so Ginger is all mine. For the price of doing a split cycle. I hugged her again. "Merry Christmas, you've been through enough. And think about how many embryos you're going to have!"

Holy shit, that's right. Ginger's previous donation cycles have produced 9 and 14 embryos.

I tried my best to just enjoy and relax during my facial, and I pretty much did. I called Hope when I left and talked to gave her the update. Then I called Jill, who kept saying she was so happy she couldn't stop smiling. This is the way it's supposed to be. Everything that has happened to this point was supposed to.

I pulled out a Christmas CD that I had made last year, but haven't listened to yet this year. I knew that it started with lots of instrumental church music (a good 2 minutes worth) before my favorite Christmas hymn would begin. And as soon as Amy Grant started singing "Angels We Have Heard on High," I started to cry.

It's really going to happen. A year ago today, I got pregnant. And I was so full of hope last year for Christmas. This year? So hopeful that this is going to work. I ran over to church between errands this morning to say thank you.

John Mayer is deep

Another post I'm borrowing from Advice from a Single Gal. I'm sitting in front of the computer, pretty Christmas tree lights on in the background, reading this quote over and over again.

John Mayer has a twitter account that I check in with every once in a while. Last week, he made a comment that's stuck with me ever since. I have it up on a sticky note and I keep looking at it. It's stuck itself in my psyche. It's a truth I'm going to keep on reminding myself:

For all the times we punish ourselves, very few times have we actually done something wrong.

Nightmare Before Christmas

I need to stop eating Christmas cookies before bed. The other night, I partook in a few yummy bits of sugar and frosting and had thee weirdest dream. Ever.

I was at my friend Jill's house. Her home office was suddenly much larger and it had a futon. I was smooching with her hot brother, but rather than being the sweet single 34-year-old that he really is, I made him married (go figure). And not only married, but married to Chris's wife's sister. So suddenly my worlds were colliding.

And because Chris's life was suddenly so much closer to mine, I knew when something tragic happened to him. And Jill went to the funeral to support her brother's family, and I went along too.

The weird thing is, I wasn't sad about Chris. In fact, it was more abstract. We didn't actually go anywhere in the dream, it was more that we just talked about it, in the very way that I just described it.

I woke up very disturbed. And I wondered what it all meant. Does it mean that Chris is now "dead" to me? Could be. I've accepted that I'm done with him, that I'm finally ready to move on from him.

More disturbing, and perhaps more telling? That I "made" David be married in the dream. I'm not going anywhere near that. I'll save that for the next time I get my head shrunk, I guess.

Strength and Peace

Please give my "sister recipient" the strength to make a decision she will be at peace with and my the strength to accept her decision, no matter what.

That was what I prayed for tonight at church, one day after hearing the FG's office that the other woman I will be splitting the donor eggs with is on the fence, and not sure she's ready to move forward.

I was pissed when I heard it yesterday. I didn't, and still don't, understand after all we've been through, not taking that next step, not wanting to move forward. I know I should, I know that it could be me, but I don't and it's not.

And so, again, I just have to be patient.

Attitude Adjustment

My mother told me last week that my niece (and her new baby) would not be with us at Christmas. She would be spending the day with her in-laws. It made me not dread the day quite so much.

And then tonight, "Erica will be coming to Christmas."

Terrific. So looking forward to it.

I've got a week to figure out how to make the best of it.

I'll have a blue Christmas....

I thought about writing yesterday, but was in such a fowl mood I thought I would spare you all. It was raining. And cold. And dreary. I sat in the dark with nothing but the Christmas tree lights. And thought about how much I've really come to hate the holidays.

The preparing for them? Love! Shopping, buying presents for other people, wrapping them, decorating the tree, the Christmas specials on TV, baking cookies. Love all of that. And then when I do it, I start to think about who I'm not doing it for. Not doing it for my family. My own family. Not my husband or kids.

And then I start to feel sorry for myself. And I wonder when this joke that the universe is playing on me will end. I talked to Bubbles, who is in a similar boat, although at nine years younger, not quite as desperate as I am.

Somehow I'll make it through. I'll survive Christmas, this year with most of my family rather than the lovely say in pajamas I usually spend in Richmond. I'll survive New Year's Eve, mostly because it will just be nothing more than a Thursday to me. And six weeks later, I'll survive Valentine's Day.

But I shouldn't have to want to "just get through" the holidays. Should I? Am I missing something bigger? Something greater?

So now we're going to try to be friends

Real friends. Professional. Platonic. We'll see how long that lasts.

I thought about texting J over the weekend to tell him about my promotion. Actually the evil Ellie thought about texting him that I had news and to call when he could. And then good won out over evil. "I got the interim director position!"

He texted back with congratulations and then asked if we had gotten any snow, that they gt a few inches (which in Baltimore is like a few feet), etc. Back and forth. Snow and work. That's it.

We can do this.

And then the next night, he texted again. Something about the Giants game. Okay, we can still do this. He started to veer off course when he asked what I was doing and told me he had been drinking martinis all afternoon.

I kept it on the up and up. And honestly was thinking about texting "where's the Mrs.?" But I stopped myself. I'm not sure why.

He asked me if I would be in Baltimore near the holidays. My response? "Yea, for a few days, but I'm not going to bother to tell you when, you'd just blow me off anyway."

"Ouch...you dick."

"But so true."

He must not have liked that, or the Mrs. showed up, because that was the last I heard from him that night.

I need to be the good one, and we can have this friendship.

It's Winter

Maybe not officially, but I guess this is what I get for living where I do. I woke up yesterday to four inches of wet, heavy snow. And while it was pretty, it was a pain to deal with. I went out in my pajamas to shovel and brush off the car, and then waited for the plow to go down my hill before I headed out to work. By this point it was raining and the roads weren't that bad. But it's only a matter of time before it's much worse.

But even with the snow on the ground (or what's left of it), it doesn't feel like Christmas is two weeks away. I've got most of my shopping and wrapping done, most of my baking completed, but I'm just not in the same Christmas spirit.

I won't be going to Virginia for Christmas this year, as I normally do. My brother and his family will be coming back up. I'll head down to Baltimore for a long weekend before Christmas and then head back north for Christmas with the majority of my family. Is it awful of me to say that I'm really not looking forward to it?

Yea, it probably is. Oh well.....

In work news, it is official. I'm the interim director of my department. Everyone, or mostly everyone was really excited. And those who probably weren't at least put on a good show. The next few months will be interesting, for sure.

Tiger

It's time to comment on Tiger.

No, he shouldn't have cheated, but anyone who thinks that professional athletes don't cheat as a rule are naive. The athletes who don't cheat are the exception for sure.

Here's the scenario. For most of his life, he was told that he was the greatest. That he had an ability few had. That God actually touched his arm and gave him an ability to hit a golf ball better than anyone one else. He was idolized and people wanted to be around him. Men wanted to be his friend, would do anything for him. Run when he wanted, fetch when he wanted. Women wanted to fuck him. Always. This was a way of life. The only way of life he knew.

Maybe he fell in love, maybe he thought he fell in love. Either way, he got married. But men still wanted to be his friend, would run and fetch when he wanted. And women still wanted to fuck him. And the men who hung around him wanted to help him get away with fucking as many women as he wanted.

This became his new way of life. It worked for him. And maybe it worked for his wife. "Do what you want, but don't bring any diseases home, be a good father and provider, and don't make me look like a fool." I've heard of several wives -- of professional athletes and powerful men -- who had those rules or something similar.

Whatever the agreement between Tiger and his wife is between them. Whatever his wife knew or didn't know, or pretended not to know, is a moot point.

Cheat, don't cheat, but be smart. Tiger's arrogance got the best of him. Where is closest circle of friends (not the hangers-on) were people he vetted, people he trusted, his circle of mistresses should have been the same. And that was his fatal mistake.

He protected his private life, his inner circle, but he was willing to risk it all for sex.

And don't even get me started on these whores who are willing to sacrifice whatever self-respect they had left for 15 minutes of fame on the cover of the National Enquirer.

I'm not a perfect person, I've made my mistakes and committed my sins, but never would I air my dirty laundry, never would I sell conversations, never would I purposely hurt someone I once supposedly cared about (even if I hated him).

Holding the Ship Steady

That's the way it felt this week. After a good ultrasound the previous week, I'm just holding steady waiting for Ginger Spice (what we have decided to call my egg donor, so much better than referring to her as "the donor") to get her period this month for her mock cycle. Once that happens, I should have a better idea of the timing for January.

So until then, I hold steady, take my prenatal vitamins, do my abdominal self-massage, go for the abdominal massage every other week, and wait until it's my turn.

I truly believe in "everything happens for a reason." And finally things are maybe starting to make sense. I lost my pregnancy last year. If I had had the baby, I wouldn't have applied for the development position. I didn't get the development position, but interviewing gave me a confidence in my job I haven't had since I left Baltimore.

And that confidence helped me land the interim director my department, following my boss's recent departure. And so for the next six months, give or take, I will be the head of my department, with a chance to shine and a nice pay bump.

And so, even though it's temporary, it's going to give me the opportunity the build up the nest egg that has slowly dwindled over the past two years. It will give me the opportunity to enhance my career.

Best case scenario.....I am the interim director until June, a new executive director is hired and I help with his/her transition, and then a few months later, go out on maternity leave.

Everything happens for a reason....and maybe, just maybe, it's starting to make sense.

Last night, while I slept restless most of the night, thinking about how some people in my office will react to me getting the appointment of interim director and them not, I also had a dream about a baby. A little girl, with red hair and blue eyes. And she was mine. And I felt a peace I've never felt. And I believed it. It was real...or it will be.

I Needed This Today

The Muppets: Bohemian Rhapsody @ Yahoo! Video

Triple Layer

I had a great Thanksgiving in Syracuse, complete with my family from Richmond. We did dinner on Wednesday, so that everyone could dinner with their in-laws on Thursday. I headed back to Ithaca for dinner at a friend's house.

As much as I was looking forward to seeing her, I would have been content in my pj's for the rest of the day. I really hate going places solo. I'm not a good single person. But as expected, once I got there, it was a great day with her brothers, father, step-mother, boyfriend and another single friend. I even went out to a bar after dinner with them for the first half of the Giants game.

I got up early on Friday to drive BACK to Syracuse for a doctor's appointment. The vaginal estrace is apparently a miracle worker. My lining was 12mm (the most it can be) and I had triple layers. Exactly what they want to see.

I may or may not get a period this month. My donor will start hers around December 10, and I'll go back in then for an ultrasound, and at that point, they will put me on more medicine to sync me up with her. She begins shooting up for a mock cycle and we are still on track for a January retrieval and transfer.

I'm excited, and at the same time, so reserved. It's so hard to gear myself up for all this again. So hard to not relive every little moment of disappointment when I had a negative blood test and then when there was no heart beat on my ultrasound. I wish I could just forget all of that, and go back to that place I was in in August 2007, when I thought that there was absolutely no way that I wouldn't get pregnant.

I know my chances of getting pregnant via the egg donor are miles better than any of my previous attempts, but still, I'm still hesitant to give myself over again, still gun shy of going through the pain again.

I hope that will change as I continue toward retrieval and transfer. I went to church tonight (for the first time in at least two months) and prayed for guidance. I may not ever know why I'm on this path, but life has to be more than this. I just hope that it is.

The best way to get woken up at 6:52am on Thanksgiving....

If you have to be woken up at all.

I heard the phone beep. Who the hell could be texting me before 7am on Thanksgiving? Everyone should be sleeping. I rolled over and picked up the phone, squinting at the brightness.

"Text from E"

I smiled a sleepy smile and flipped open the phone. "Happy Thanksgiving gorgeous."

I turned ESPN on, commercial. And then a few minutes later, I heard his voice. He texted during a SportsCenter break.

If only he lived closer...

A shitty afternoon

Not because I heard from one of my closest friends that she's pregnant, but because I am feeling sorry for myself over it. It was an unplanned pregnancy -- she has an 11-month-old -- and she said all the right things when she told me.

And I'm happy for her. I really am. And I know I shouldn't compare myself to other people, but really, am I that horrible of a person that I can't have this. And I'm not saying that she shouldn't have this, doesn't deserve this. Good for her. She has a beautiful little girl, and another baby on the way.

But really? She gets to be married and have two kids, and I've got nothing. That's the way I feel. And again I say, I'm really really happy for her. But I don't know how many more of these I can go through graciously. I really don't.

There doesn't seem to be any break between people having babies or being pregnant. Everyone else except me.

I'll feel sorry for myself tonight. Maybe tomorrow. And then I'll suck it up and smile and be happy and say all the right things and shop for baby presents for other people and want to hear about the pregnancy and the doctor's appointments and the baby name options. Again and again and again.

I know my sex life is way more interesting....

but here we are back on the infertility bandwagon.

I had a lining check this morning. They like it to be about 7mm; mine was 5.8. So they've upped my estrace from three orally to three orally and two vaginally. I go back next week for another check.

I saw my favorite nurse today, who has twins with an egg donor. I told her if this works, then she'll have to help me figure out how to tell my kid. Her response? "I don't know what I'm going to tell my own kids yet."

I guess, I can figure it out when the time comes. No need to put the cart before the horse, or the where you came from talk before I'm actually knocked up.

I'm trying to figure out how to fit E into my life in December. I texted him a few days yesterday, but never heard back from him. Tonight, no mention of the text from yesterday. I got a "hi baby" (the usual) and then "tell me something so nasty...."

So we've texted back and forth for a little while, and the best I got (while still keeping the power and not seeming needy) was "perfect baby, you can have anything you want" and "soon."

I'll leave it at that for now.

boys boys boys

I'm a pretty independent woman, not because I really want to be, but because I have to. I've bought two new cars by myself, negotiating the best deal I could. I change the propane tank on my grill and grill steaks and burgers. I kill spiders and discard of dead mice when Casey proudly delivers them to me. I investigate strange noises in the middle of the night and take out the trash. Hell, I'm even trying to have a baby without a boy.

But every so often, something presents itself, something happens, something comes up, when I just want a boy in my life to take care of it for me. I want a boy for:

* the obvious
* kissing and cuddling after the obvious
* knowing where to take my car so I don't have to pay outrageous prices at the dealership
* helping me make a decision about what to do with the aging cat with irritable bowel syndrome who sleeps at the end of my bed (and sometimes poos on the floor)
* going out in the snow to cut down a real Christmas tree

I'm positive there are more things I want a boy in my life for, but right now, those are the ones that come to mind.

boys boys boys
we like boys in cars
boys boys boys
buy us drinks in bars
boys boys boys
with hairspray and denim
boys boys boys
we love them
--boys boys boy by Lady Gaga

Recycling

I found a new blog by accident tonight. I checked on my site meter -- I'm always curious to see where ya'll are from. I know my usuals -- Mountainview, CA; Baltimore; Mechanicsville, VA. Tonight I had Ireland and New Delhi. And the referring URL to my blog was this other single gal.

And so in honor of the other single girl on blogger, I'm borrowing her post and making it my own.

Feel free to join in in comments or on your own blog!

Yourself: Amazingly content, considering
Your partner: Still waiting, but hopeful
Your hair: Long, red, gorgeous
Your mother: Drives me crazy and I can't imagine life without her
Your father: I'm more like him than I ever realized
Your favorite item: not sure, but off the top of my head, my brown Mary Jane's
Your dream last night: that I went to see E and didn't have time for a pedicure
Your favorite drink: drink drink? vodka and 7 or beer, depending on the location and company
Your dream car: black, sleek, convertible
Your dream home: huge front porch, fireplace in the kitchen, lots of character
The room you are in: my bedroom
Your ex: hmmmm.....they're all married
Your fear: of being alone
Where you want to be in ten years: to be a mom - being a wife as well would be a bonus
Who you hung out with last night: the Time Warner guy fixing my wireless connection
What you're not: cold-hearted
Muffins: only eat the tops
One of your wish list items: my own house
Time: sometimes feels like it's slipping away with nothing to show for it
The last thing you did: took a shower after the gym
What you are wearing: pajama bottoms, t-shirt
Your favorite weather: hot, hot, hot
Your favorite book: how to choose?!
Last thing you ate: cheerios for dinner
Your life: has its ups and downs
Your mood: not sure
Your best friends: couldn't live without them
What are you thinking about right now: how much I love my friends
Your car: rocks! how did I live without four-wheel drive in upstate New York before now
What are you doing at the moment: sitting in bed, watching Two and a Half Men
Your summer: not here soon enough
Relationship status: hopelessly single
What is on your tv: the aforementioned Two and a Half Men
What is the weather like: cold, clear skies, lots of starts
When is the last time you laughed: tonight at the gym

This Made My Night

I got the following email from Clownface, someone I've known my whole life, someone who was my school friend since the 4th grade.

Holidays are coming up, ripe with family ambivalence. I'm thinking of you and hoping you are ok. Love, -cf-

Mock Cyle

And so it begins. Right after I got back from Vegas, I got a phone call from the FG's office. They found someone to share my egg donor with me. And here we go.

It's hard to get back into the mindset that this could really be happening again, hard to think about the hope and the possible disappointment. But, I have a few months before there there is that actual possibility.

November -- my mock cycle. I got my period last week and have been taking estrace three times a day to build up my lining. I'll go on Friday for an ultrasound (I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to leaving my house at o-dark-hundred and driving to Syracuse) and to see how things look. This will be my exam, to confirm that the environment (my uterus) is favorable.

December -- the donor's mock cycle. She'll begin shooting up, as I used to, to make her ovaries jiffy pop. They will monitor how long it takes for her follicles to reach maturity. And at the same time, me and the other barren woman will be on various meds so that our cycles are in sync -- with each other and the donor.

January -- show time! The donor will shoot up, and we'll be preparing our uteruses (uteri??) for the embryos. And so sometime after the first of the year, they'll do the egg retrieval with the donor, and a few days later, transfer embryos into us.

I love the idea of my baby having a potential half sibling out there. And I'm starting to get excited again, excited about the possibilities, excited about being pregnant. Just excited that I still have options.

I Got Lured

I was weak. Weak from my cold and the lack of sleep.

I've missed him, I admitted as much last week. And Bubbles corrected me and said, you don't miss J, you miss the idea of J. Even so it was nice to hear those beeps at 1:45am.

And I was feeling neglected. Sure, I heard from E over the past few days, but we've yet to set a date. And regardless of how things were left in Vegas, it is totally out of character that I didn't hear from Chris, that he didn't call or email to make sure I got home safely.

And so, when I leaned over my night stand to put another cough drop in my mouth and heard the beeps, I was lured.

"Hey"

I thought about it. Actually put the phone down, and then picked it back up. "Hey what?"

"Ha! Just wanted to say hi."

Okay, that seems innocent enough. "Hi. Are u drunk?"

"A little :) Is that ok?"

This can stay on the straight and narrow. I can do that. "Of course. Have one for me"

"Thanks baby. You doin ok?"

This one caused me to seriously pause. He doesn't call me baby, never has. I might get babe from him, but E calls me baby. "yea, just about to start the egg donor process. hoping to be preggo by feb?"

"that a girl, in nj with friends"

"have fun." And then this is where I should have ended up it, where I should have said good night. "Did you see my new tat. I posted a pic of it on FB"

"No! Tell, I'm turned on."

"Behave. I'll send a pic" And so I sent the same picture posted on FB, the same picture I've posted here.

"Where is it? We need to talk"

"Its on shoulder blade. Isn't it awesome"

"yes, very sexy...well done. we talking?"

"I got it in Vegas, and unless you're calling in the next 5 minutes, i need to go back to sleep"

The phone rang. An hour later, I hung up.

Annie: You didn't get "lured". Women never get lured. They're too strong and powerful for that. Now say it -- "I didn't get lured and I will take responsibility for my actions".
Millie: I didn't get lured and I will take responsibility for my actions.
Annie: That's better.
--Bull Durham

World Series Hangover

I stayed up for practically every inning of every Yankees play-off game. I was expecting to feel tired, I wasn't expecting to instantly get sick from the lack of sleep. But there is was the day after the win, a little tickle in my throat. Hurt when I swallowed, that tell-tale sign of post-nasal drip.

The day after it was worse. And for the past three days, my throat has been a combination of pins and needles and fire. I can't do enough to keep it wet and lubricated. I can't even sleep to get away from the pain. It's impossible to keep your throat wet while lying down, eyes closed and searching for REM.

Last night was a five freezey pop night -- as in five times between 11pm and 5am, I got out of bed, walked down the stairs, pulled a freezey pop out of the freezer and climbed the stairs back into bed. I have perfected sleeping for five minutes before needing to bite off another frozen chunk from the plastic tube, without spilling it in my bed.

I went to the doctor this morning. It is not the flu (swine or otherwise), it is not strep (which is where I would have laid good money). It is a sore throat. I managed to convince the doctor that I need to sleep, that is really the best thing for me. And so in her kindness, she wrote out a prescription for cough medicine with codeine. I'm hoping it will a) number my throat and 2) knock me out. Maybe not in that order.

I'm getting the sexy voice, unfortunately it hurts too much to talk to be able to share it with anyone. I carry a water bottle with me at all times. At work today (I actually felt human getting up and showering and going into the office for a few hours), I made the mistake of walking to my in box without my water. Dragon fire in my throat until I could get a drink. It's not pretty.

I'm hoping the good drugs -- and the stopping at McDonald's for a milk shake -- will do the trick. I don't know if I can handle any more days like the past three or four have been.

Vegas Recap, part 2

Once Chris left, I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. Friday night I didn't sleep well -- I think my mind was over-stimulated from everything that is Las Vegas. And Saturday, I was worried about him.

I called Bubbles, a bit teary, and she talked me out of my funk. "You are a fucking rock star. You only get to be in Vegas for a few more hours, make the most of it. Don't let him being a jerk get you down. Don't make his issues yours.

"You are not going to sit in your room for the rest of the day. Go get a fabulous dinner tonight, go to a bar and watch the game, walk around the strip, go gamble some more. Do not call me until you are back in your room, and it better not be until midnight."

She was right. And so while I was waiting for closer to my 40th birthday, I figured it would make a great story to get my new tattoo in Vegas. At Vince Neil's tattoo parlor, no less. I had brought a print out of the picture of my avatar with me, just in case. I guess, this was the just in case moment.

I washed my face, forgot about Chris being a jerk, and headed out into the sunshine. I went into the parlor and like a strong, confident woman, handed over my picture and asked if I could see what the tattoo artist could draw up for me. The girl behind the counter took the picture back to him and said he would have something for me in about 30 minutes.

I said I'd be back, and walked further down the strip. I got a bottle of water and window shopped. Thirty minutes later, I was standing with a John Popper look-alike as he showed me his rendering of my baseball heart. It looked awesome. We talked about where I wanted it, and before I knew it, my shirt was off and I was laying on the table. My 40th birthday tattoo was going on.

No turning back now. Would it have been fun if Chris had been there with me while I got it? Of course, but this could be a defining moment for me. I would make it be.

Tattoo was finished, and after a quick look in the mirror, it was bandaged and I was on my way for next adventure. I walked down to the Bellagio, and watched two fountain shows. I teared up a little – they were more beautiful than I ever imagined.

And the inside of the hotel is just as amazing. Blown glass ceiling, atrium, fancy shops, marble columns. I want a boy to take me there, and even if we can’t afford to stay there, he can simply feel me up behind a pillar. It has become the American version of my Bridge of Sighs romantic fantasy.

It was getting close to game time, so I headed back towards my hotel. I saw Elvis along the way and got my picture taken with him. How could I be in Las Vegas and not get my picture taken with Elvis? I found a micro-brewery bar inside the hotel and sat down before the end of the first inning.

Beer in hand, baseball in front of me, and Chris being a jerk was long forgotten. By the middle of the fourth, I was getting hungry and headed over to the Burger Joint for another beer and a burger. I thought about going back into the casino after dinner, but all of the smoking (thank you smoke-free NY) was getting to me and my head was congested.

I figured I had turned things around enough that six or seven hours of fabulous single girl time in Vegas was good enough. I filled the bathroom with steam to clear my head, washed up as best I could without getting the bandage on my back wet and hunkered down for the rest of the game.

Vegas was fun and I can’t wait to go back, but I think next time I really will go with Bubbles.

Vegas Recap, part 1

I had my interview last Thursday. It was exhausting -- a full day of interviews from 10:30 to 4 plus a presentation. And at the end of the day, I'm still not even sure I even want it. I guess if I'm offered the job, I can ask for 24 hours to make a decision and worry about then.

I was getting ready to leave the office when my sister called my cell phone to say that my mom was in the hospital with chest pains. There was lots of worrying, and lots of reassurance that I should still go to Las Vegas.

I drove up to Syracuse early on Friday to see her before going to the airport, and felt better that it was more along the lines of an anxiety attack than anything to do with her heart. Once at the airport, I got my boarding pass and headed toward security only to not be able to find my license.

I went back to the ticket desk and they calmed me down and found it in my wallet, under a credit card, not where it belonged. Suddenly, I started wondering if these were signs I shouldn't be getting on a plane and heading west to see Chris.

I called Bubbles who said I was excited, it was a coincidence, relax, enjoy the anticipation of going, etc. All the right things.

A quick flight to JFK and then four hours on the plane to Las Vegas. I got in about an hour before Chris and took that time to brush my teeth and hair, freshen up and play some slots in the airport, and talk to my mother (who had since been released from the hospital and was home). I sat across from his gate and got really excited when his plane finally landed.

We took a shuttle to the airport and spent the next four or five hours walking around the casino, gambling, getting dinner, drinking. It was so much fun. Saturday was much the same way. We were up early, walked up and down most of the strip, got something to eat, and then sat at the same black jack table for eight hours.

It was so much fun to talk to different people, find out where they were from, talk to the dealers. And it was fascinating to watch how the casino was run, the pit bosses, all the cameras, security, etc. Like a movie.

Saturday night , after we were back in the room for a while, he decided to go back down to gamble. I fell asleep, but fitfully with him not next to me. Finally at 6:30, I threw jeans on and went down looking for him. He came back to the room about 7am, and when I said I was worried, he said he didn't need drama. That started a chain reaction of a bit of a fight, which was temporarily interrupted by a text from E.

For a split second, I thought about throwing it in his face. It would have felt good and given me satisfaction for exactly 30 seconds, and then it would have sucked forever. I'm not that girl. So I said nothing, other than I needed to text in a question for my friend who was hosting a show on ESPN.

He asked who it was, and I said E's name non-chalant and then went to take a shower. As soon as I was out, Chris asked how I knew him. "I thought I told you, I'm the coolest chick you know. People want to know me."

He followed me into the bedroom while I put lotion on my legs. "Seriously, how do you know him?"

I took a deep breath. I can't. "I did use to work in professional sports."

"Oh right." And that was that. "So, we're good."

"We are but...." Did I want to get into this? I had to. "You were a jerk last night."

"Why's that?"

"Remember when you came back from Iraq and the first time we were together, I told you how distant you were and how it made me feel?"

"Yea." He knew what was coming.

"You were like that last night. You were distant. You fucked me and then you left for seven hours to go gamble. And I was worried. If something happened, I wouldn't know."

"No, you wouldn't. And that's just the way it is."

"And I accept that. I have never had any expectations from you, you know that. But you will not treat me like a whore." I've never wanted anything more from him. We're friends with benefits, we see each other a few times a year (more when he's in Syracuse), but I've never pushed him to make a commitment to me, never wanted him to.

I was proud of myself, not only for standing up for myself but also for not crying, no matter how tired I was. "You're right. I'm sorry."

We were both exhausted on Sunday, but managed to have fun. We walked outside for a little while, gambled and then had lunch. He had to head to the airport by 2:30 to catch his flight (he was due back at the base that evening, or he was AWOL).

Part 2....the single girl's day in Vegas, flying solo

What happens in Vegas....

probably should stay in Vegas. But I will update this and the other blog in the next few days.

One of the highlights of the trip...my new tat (look it's my avatar from this blog!)

The Week in Review and the Week Ahead

It seemed like a really long week and that the weekend would never get here. I was almost glad that I didn't have to fit in an E trip. I don't know if I updated that he had called me the previous week to tell me he had something come up at the Worldwide Leader and had to work on Monday.

As disappointed as I was that I wouldn't get to see him, I was actually relieved. It would have been doable, but it probably would have been one thing too much. And so that night we chatted, me in my bed, him in his, instead of us together. One of these days, we'll make it work.

Once I made my phone call to Baltimore, I was able to think about (and worry about) my upcoming interview. I have the schedule and now know that I have to give a 10-15 minutes presentation, to which the entire division has been invited.

Earlier this week, it was keeping me awake. I just didn't know how to start it. And I kept saying, I need to have it done before the weekend. As I wrote down random thoughts and talked to my friends at work, I started to feel more comfortable about it. It's not done before the weekend, but it's pretty close.

And so then I can start to plan for the other big thing this week. Vegas! I have what I'm wearing pretty set in my head. I bought all airline-approved sized bottles for my carry-on. And Chris and I are both getting really excited.

So for the rest of the weekend.....finishing my presentation, packing, manicure/pedicure, clean the house.

And the week.....three days of work, three days of gym (maybe four), interview from 10:30 to 4:00 on Thursday, and then Vegas on Friday.

Vegas, baby!

Painful Memories

I woke up in the middle of the night the other night, and like a movie, replayed my two pre-natal ultrasounds. I was laying there in the dark, eyes open. And I saw the heart beat, my baby's heart beat. And then the second one, when there was none.

I remembered going into work after that, in a trance, because I didn't know what else to do. And then the D&C a few days later, and the physical pain and bleeding for the next two weeks. And the emptiness.

I laid in bed, 2:30am, tears rolling down to the corner of my eye, over the bridge of my nose and across the other eye, where it met another tear.

I can go weeks without thinking about the fact that I was once pregnant, with nothing to show for it. And then suddenly, I remember, and it hits me so hard. I don't even think about how unfair it all is, just that it hurt.

The Bambino vs. the bambino

That's really what it came down to. My decision about Baltimore and moving back there. I thought long and hard. I woke up early thinking about. I stayed awake late thinking about it.

I didn't talk to a lot of people about it. Mostly because I knew they wouldn't make the decision for me. Or maybe because in my hear I knew what my decision was and I didn't want to be talked out of it.

Either way, this morning I called Mike and told him that it killed me to say it, but I couldn't accept the job. And then I started to cry. I told him that I needed to be where I had a strong support system, that I couldn't have gone through what I have over the past two and a half years without the support I have up here, and I'm still going through it.

And even if that all worked itself out, if suddenly I a baby was dropped into my lap, I knew what commitment the Museum needed from me five years ago, and I can only imagine the kind of commitment it would need now. And so it came down to the fact that I can't live, breath and eat the Babe Ruth Museum and be a mom. I can't work every Saturday, can't work six days a week in the office and seven days a week out of the office and be a mom, not a good mom.

He understood. He told me he loved me, that I always had a family down there, but he knows that it's not the kind of family I need right now.

I called Johnny Z after that and told him before Mike could. He took it well, and told me it was the right decision. That I needed to take care of myself first, and at this point in my life, with what I'm trying to accomplish, I can't give up the stability of working at a college vs. the instability of a museum that is always worried about cash flow.

I could have done great things there, but I know that now is not the time to go back and put my stamp back on that place. And once the decision was made, I don't feel bad about it, I'm not second-guessing it. And that, as sad as I am for some reasons, feels good.

Decisions, decisions

I talked to my former boss (my boss from Baltimore) this morning. He offered me a job.

It's tempting -- I could be working in sports again, I'd be making more money, I'd have better weather, I'd be closer to my family in Virginia. It'd be challenging -- a job different than what I was doing when I was there five years ago. And if I was successful, it could be very rewarding.

And then it's not tempting -- I'd have to pick up and move, almost immediately, I'd be further away from most of my family, I'd be giving up a job that is fun and sometimes challenging, but a job that mostly ends at 4:30. There are no nights and weekends.

The pick up and move thing goes beyond the logistical nightmare of it happening. I could do it. I've done it before. But I also need to think about the baby thing. Do I want to derail where I am with that? Do I want to raise a baby in Baltimore? And can i raise a baby, by myself, in Baltimore?

I called Bubbles when I got off the phone with Mike, and after saying all of these things to her, she was blunt. She told me that I'm putting too much weight into my decision about a baby that may or may not happen. I didn't respond.

And after I got off the phone with her, I was hurt. When I was relaying the conversation to another friend at work, I started to tear up.

And then I was pissed.

And then I realized that it was just her opinion, I called her after all. I need to hear the other side, right?

And after thinking about it all day, I'm going to respectfully disagree with her. I have to consider the baby thing -- and I can't think about it as if it might not happen. I think I've proven over the past two and a half years that I'm not giving up.

And yes, I know there are fertility doctors in Maryland, and maybe even better resources for adoption -- so the fact that I can do it down there isn't what I'm weighing in my mind. It's whether I want to or not.

Mike ended the conversation by saying, "I want you. You need to decide if you want us."

I just don't know what the answer is. Fortunately, he is giving me until the end of the month. And if I feel like I'm leaning towards no, I will try to let him know before the end of the month. Just to be fair.

Any thoughts?

The Rule of 24

Normally I'm doing weekend update, but it's been a while, mostly because I've been super busy at work, so here goes the last 10 days, in no particular order.

The Good
* I love, love, love October baseball, and am so glad there is a play-in game today.
* I've been hitting the gym pretty hard, seeing results on the scale, but not so much in my clothes. I'll keep at it and hope that one morning, everything will be big on me.

The Bad (as in I'm a bad girl)
* Chris and I have been chatting and he convinced me that I should meet him in Las Vegas for a long weekend. When I told him that I really couldn't justify spending that kind of money on plane fare, he told me he would pay. So, I'm going to Las Vegas on October 23. I've never been and I'm so excited.

Of course, I told my mother I was going with Bubbles. Her response, "maybe you'll meet the man of your dreams while you're there." Yea, good call not telling her I was meeting a boy there.

* E texted me the other night while I was winding down my conference at work. He wanted to see me on Monday (as in yesterday). I told him no, but possibly next Monday. He said okay. I immediately texted Bubbles. "If I see E on the 12th and Chris on the 23rd, does that make me some kind of whore."

Her quick response. "Hell no. I believe in the rule of 24, as long as there are 24 hours between each one, you're okay. If you were seeing E at 1pm and Chris at 3, we'd have to talk..."

I don't know why it bothered. It's not like I wasn't juggling BB and Chris at the same time when I lived in Baltimore. I'm surprised she didn't remind me of that.

The Ugly
* The conference that I've been planning for the past 18 months happened this weekend -- huge success, but exhausting. I worked 30 hours in two days. i don't think I'll be caught up on my sleep until this weekend.
* Living in Ithaca, with all these hills, is tough on cars. Case in point, new rotors and brake pads, front and back. Ugh! Good thing Chris is paying for Vegas!


I will be better with my posts, I promise. The conference is over, and I'm back on a more routine schedule.

Next up: I have my home study for international adoption on Thursday. Stay tuned.

And then there's today

I don't know why I thought that I could just go along with my decisions and have faith in them. I spoke with a women from the international agency that I will work with, and as always, nothing is ever settled.

Ethiopia, which would be my first choice and is the longest-running program, is a little unstable right now. They prefer single women, and last year, there was "talk" that they would close to single women. They didn't, but there is talk again this year. And some agencies have been asked by the Ethiopian government to close all applications from single women, although Wide Horizons (who I would use) hasn't.

WH is about to start pilot programs in Rwanda and Burundi, which means they've never gotten any children from these countries, so they have no idea what it's like to work with the governments, how long the wait is, how long the in-country stay would be. And it's an Africa thing, not just an Ethiopia thing, that they prefer married couples to single women -- though that is not to say that single women cannot adopt from there.

Is an orphanage really preferable to a single-parent home? Really? There are less than 10 countries in the world -- IN THE WORLD -- that allow single women to adopt. It shouldn't be this hard. It shouldn't be this hard for someone who loves children, who will give one or two a good home, raise them to be good people....it shouldn't be this hard to get one. And on the flip side it shouldn't be so easy for some people to have them. It will be my first question when I get to heaven.

And so I was feeling a little defeated today. Just when I thought I was moving in some sort of direction. I emailed the FG's office and asked where we were with finding me a partner for the egg donor.

She wrote back almost immediately: we have lots of recipients looking at donor's. I will let you now as soon as I have another recipient for your donor. I hope it won't be long!

So in other words, be patient lady.

I'm trying. Not only am I trying to be patient, but I'm trying to be hopeful.

Dual Track

So I thought I had made a decision. I would move forward with the egg donor, and pick up where I left off with the adoption. The next step -- the home study -- is $1600. I figured if I get pregnant, hooray and who cares if I'm out that money. But if I don't, then if I hadn't been doing anything, I would be that many more months behind. It felt like a good decision.

And then it didn't. And then it did. Round and round, I kept doubting myself and then thinking that it was the right decision. Why am I so insistent to be pregnant? Is it that important? Am I being selfish? Should I just move forward? The goal is to be a mother right? Not pregnant.

And so I called in the expert, and on Saturday I went to see Lucia. She helped me look at things clearly. First question from her -- where is this selfish talk coming from? And I realized it goes back to my fight with Tim last year, and the fact that I'm still shaken from seeing him and having him start in on me again last month.

She made me see that being pregnant is an important part of the process, and one that I will have to grieve if I don't get pregnant. It's what a woman's body was meant to do, and wanting to carry a baby -- biologically mine or not -- is not something that is a selfish want. It's natural.

It all seemed clear. And so with no guarantees of how I'm going to get a baby, but still hope that I may be able to carry a baby, I continue to wait for the doctor's office to find another woman to share the egg donor with and I called my adoption contact and started the process. I sent her a check for $1600 yesterday and she'll be doing my home study in October.

I've been working out harder and harder at the gym, building up my stamina. I'm exhausted, and it's okay. Because when I'm at the gym -- and even lately when I'm sleeping -- I'm not thinking. I;m not thinking about the extra weight, I'm not thinking about the heart ache, not thinking about babies -- mine or anyone else, and I'm not thinking about making plans. Just sweating. And working. And making myself tired.

Everything else is out of my hands right now. There is nothing more I can do. I've got everything moving forward. And so I'll just keep sweating and exhausting myself. It makes life easier.

The Return of Chris

I know, I know.I break up with J and now Chris is back in my life. I've become that girl I hated in high school -- the one who always had to have a boyfriend, the girl who couldn't stand to be without date on a Friday night, that girl who would break up with someone on a Tuesday and have a new one by Thursday.

That's me. I broke up with J on Wednesday and by Friday was having a two-hour conversation with Chris. He's still stationed in California.

He's comfortable. I've known him for so long, he knows so much about me, I know so much about him. It just works. Neither one of us wants to spend the rest of our lives with each other, even if it were possible.

One of these days, I'll meet a man who can commit. And whether I want him to or not, that will be my decision. But the ability to commit will be there. Until then, I'm enjoying what I've got, even if both of them -- my Navy man and my ESPN man -- are long-distance and nothing but a good fuck.

Dream a Little Dream

I've been having bizarre dreams over the past few weeks, and it doesn't take a psychology major to figure them out.

In one, I was in Richmond, and my sister-in-law said to me, "you're not going to like this, but it's for your own good. Erica is bringing the baby over so you can see her."

"But I'm not ready yet. I don't want to."

"Too bad. They're here."

And when they got there, there was this beautiful little baby -- my great-niece -- and my niece gloating (it was like out of a bad sitcom) about how easy it was to get pregnant, how she didn't understand why I was so bad at it, what was I doing wrong, was my doctor competent. Awful.

The next one I had was about my sister and brother-in-law in San Diego. I was there, visiting them, and suddenly they had a baby. A four- or five-month old that was in foster care but was being given up for adoption. From Onondaga County (that's Syracuse). I kept saying, "why wouldn't anyone let me have him? I'm so close to Onondaga County, I can take that baby."

And then my sister, who is 50 and has never wanted to have her own children, says to me, "We're going to keep this baby. He's ours now. You get to be the aunt."

"But I'm always the aunt." And then everyone ignored me.

To make matters worse, the baby's name is Lincoln. Lincoln, regardless of what I go with for a first name, will be my son's middle name, as it was my grandmother's maiden name (the grandmother I was named after).

No one could understand why I was upset, why it seemed so unfair.

40 Weeks Ago Today...

...it was the day before Christmas Eve, and it was the day I got pregnant. I had a facial and a massage this morning, to treat myself, knowing I would be cranky, sad, and feeling a little bit sorry for myself today.

A friend from work sent me a message saying that she was thinking of me today and if I needed to talk, she was around. It meant a lot.

And then, nothing else. I hate being the considerate friend. The one who thinks of other people, who takes care of other people, who thinks to say "I'm thinking of you." Because every once in a blue moon, I need that from other people, and I don't get it, which has only made me feel worse today.

I know I'm feeling sorry for myself. I think I get to today.

Current Mood: Melancholy

I'm trying not to think. There's nothing really to think about it. It's out of my hands right now.

I have chosen an egg donor. The coordinator is looking for another woman for me to share her embryos with. When that call comes, I will make the final decision of whether I am doing that or not.

My mother's parish priest thinks he can get me a baby from Nigeria (where he's from). I have asked a friend's sister (who works in the adoption field) is this sounds on the up and up. I don't want to get arrested for baby smuggling. I'm waiting to hear from her, and the priest won't be able to give me an update until he travels back to Nigeria in January.

I've applied for a job at the College. I was strongly encouraged by my boss and my former VP. It's a good step up, would be a significant raise and would expand my skills and experience beyond marketing. I submitted my resume and cover letter today.

I've passed on the job opportunity in Mississippi, and although I am going to entertain my former boss and the job at the Museum where I used to work, I don't think Baltimore is the right place for me right now.

I've been to the gym every night this week, and have been eating well. Eating well = counting points. Ugh! I'm impatient to see some sort of results. Anything. On the scale, in my waistband. I'll step on the scale tomorrow. Hopefully it will keep me motivated.

Saturday would have been my due date. It's getting harder and harder to ignore as the week winds down. I've scheduled a massage and a facial for the mid-morning, and am hoping a spa day will keep me from spending the day in tears.

And of course, everywhere I look or listen...babies. A friend at work is beginning is 38th week tomorrow. Another friend just found out she's having a boy. Did you hear Nicole Richie had her baby today? Even on ESPN, there's talk of Mrs. Tom Brady and her impending bundle of joy.

And another thing! Really, do I really need to hear all these mothers lament that their babies are starting [insert grade here], oh where does the time go, I can't believe my baby is that big, only yesterday, blah blah blah. Fuck you. That's what I wanted to say after the umpteenth post on Facebook in the last two days.

I know it's probably always been like this, and I'm just more sensitive to it. It just sucks. It really does.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Wednesday night, my first night at home. I was laying in bed watching the Yankees game and the phone beeped. J's text ring. I thought about not responding. But I did.

It was innocent enough at first, what are you doing, how was Philly. He was in St. Louis, on business with one of his clients, and I said, "so that's why I didn't get invited because he's with you."

"Yea, clearly I didn't think that through. Up for a chat later?"

"Sure, call me when you're back to your hotel room."

He continued to text silly things from the bar, and then finally called about midnight or 12:30. We talked about his trip to Philly and then he asked what I'd be doing if I was in St. Louis.

"Well...I would have been banished to the room, so I'd be doing pretty much what I'm doing now. Laying on the bed in a Yankees t-shirt and nothing else, waiting for you."

And then it started. I'll spare you the details. When it was over, he asked how my trip to Baltimore was. I told him about the development position, and he played devil's advocate and actually gave me really good advice on how to think it all through. He asked what was next with the baby stuff, and I got a little teary. I explained where things were.

Just as we were about to hang up, I stopped him. "I need to say something, and I'm not sure how to say it. I've been looking for a good segue the whole conversation, and it never happened."

"Go on."

"This is never going to happen, is it?"

"Sure it will."

"No it won't. I'm not trying to lead you down some path of sin, just following your cues and leads, but you're never going to follow through are you."

He took a deep breath. "No. I'm sorry. It's a line I can't cross."

"I knew that, but I needed to hear you say it."

"I hope you're not insulted."

"Insulted? No. Feel a little foolish? Yea."

"I'm sorry. I love my family...and I don't want to risk..."

"I know. And I respect that. And I'm glad you feel that way. But if that's crossing a line, then what we just did does too. I'm sure your wife wouldn't understand that."

"I know, I know. I don't know how I've rationalized it my head that this is okay and that's not."

"Well, if you're not willing to cross that line, we can't ever cross this one again. I want you in my life, in my corner. I always want you as my friend, but...."

"Ellie, you know how much you mean to me. I wouldn't ever not want you in my life, but I can't....and you're right, we shouldn't...."

And so just like that, I broke up with J. It felt sad and empowering all at the same time. It was 1:30am and I was exhausted. Thought about calling Bubbles, but figured that no one else needed to be up thinking about this right now.

Between the negative test two weeks earlier, and driving to Richmond, Baltimore and home, Tim's holy spirit talk, and now this with J...I just wanted sleep. I hoped for a peaceful sleep, and actually got it. I woke up at 9:30, when my cell phone rang. A friend from college, who is a corporate recruiter, calling about a job possibility in Tupilo, Mississippi. Oh lord.

Back from Vacation

I've been on vacation, and technically still am until the day after Labor Day. I left last Thursday for Richmond and arrived in time to spend the afternoon laying by the pool in 95-degree weather. It was heavenly.

And I did what I wanted. I didn't have to think. Didn't have to explain anything. There was no baby talk, no decision making. It was just vacation. Pool, shopping, dinner with a friend from college, the beach, shopping, pool. It couldn't have gotten better.

I headed up to Baltimore on Sunday and spent two days with my friend Tim and Sonya. You may remember that Tim and I had some issues last summer. We have since moved past it. Sunday night he worked, so I spent the evening with his wife and kids. Monday, his wife and I went shopping and then we all went out to lunch.

And then Monday night, I got to see my Yankees. I visited friends in the press box and was in my seat in time for the first pitch. Lots of beers and an almost perfect game later (a real perfect game, not just that it was a lovely evening), Mariano came in in the bottom of the 9th and the game was over. Yankees win.

I had my cell phone in my pocket and was updating my FB with pictures and texts from the game. In the middle of the 4th, as I was checking a text from J, I got one from E. When it rains, it pours.

J wanted to know if we could change breakfast the next day from 9 to 9:30. No problem. And E wanted to know how my day was. I told him, better now. And asked if he liked the picture I had sent him the other night (from my soak in the tub). He loved it.

At one point during the game, Tim put his arm around me and thanked him for being such a good "aunt lulu" to his girls. I told him I loved, and Sonya (his wife), that they were all like family. And then he brought up the night of out minor indiscretion, many years ago. "We're not talking about that. I still feel guilty that I let it go as far as it did. I'm just glad, we stopped."

"You know, Lulu, that night wasn't an accident." WTF? I couldn't comprehend that. I looked at the field and made a comment about Derek Jeter's ass or something.

After the game, Tim and I went to bar near the museum for another round, and I desperately needed food. E texted again to see if I enjoyed the game (he had seen that it was a near-perfect game) and J texted to tell me that he needed to cancel, had to go to Philly for the day. Was I surprised? Of course not. Disappointed? Unfortunately a little. Especially after he had texted earlier to confirm (without any prompting from me)and change times. Tim saw that I was annoyed, but didn't say anything.

It was all of midnight when we headed out. And then it started. Although, at first, I didn't realize where the conversation was headed. He started off by telling me that he's in a men's prayer group and that he has me on his list of people they pray for. I told him I appreciated that. And I told him my story about how I was in church one day, thinking about J and E texted.

We were sharing, it felt appropriate. In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut. Because then he started talking about how he prays for me to find my way, that I need to open my heart up to Jesus, that all the pain and loss I've experienced over the past two years are because I don't have a relationship with God.

Let me remind you of my mindset -- I'm over-tired, I'm drunk, I haven't really let loose with crying over the last negative test. Until right now. I sat in his car, tears rolling down my face, trying to catch my breath.

At this point, we were home, in the driveway. I wasn't responding to anything he was saying. Something about feeling the holy spirit in him and praying for me to find my way, to find someone to share my life and my faith with, that if he wasn't married that he would like to get to know me on a more spiritual level, that he's upset that I have such feelings for J, that I would be upset over a canceled breakfast, that he didn't realize I had feelings for him still. On and on about my life, and what I'm doing and how he feels about it.

I was done. "I need to go to bed." I got out of the car, waited for him to unlock the door and walked past him to the girls' room where I was sleeping. I went into the bathroom, blowing my nose and trying to stop crying. I heard him walk down the hall in my direction. And he walked right into the bathroom.

He hugged me and I pulled away. "You have no fucking clue what I've been through for the past two years. Acupuncture, fertility massages, yoga, driving to Syracuse every two days, giving myself shots until I'm black and blue all over my stomach, church every week, prayer, meditation, visualization, not eating ice cream so that god forbid my uterus isn't warm enough, drinking black-fucking-strap molasses every morning...and for you to tell me that I didn't do enough, that I needed to open myself up to God. Is that why you think I didn't get pregnant? Fuck you."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Well, that's how I took it. I need to go to bed."

He hugged me again, and I let him. It was just easier. I needed to go to bed. And this seemed like the only way to get rid of him. He finally left and I fell into a fitful sleep. At least I was leaving their house in the morning and I could get some space from him.

I acted as if nothing happened in the morning. And once the girls left for school, I finished packing my bag and did my hair. With breakfast canceled, I had some time to kill before heading downtown, but I figured I would kill it somewhere else.

As I was straightening my hair, I heard my phone beep. It was a text from Tim in the other room. Some more mumbo jumbo about opening my heart, etc. I closed the phone. And then another about how I'm better than J, and I need to move one from him. I closed the phone again, packed up and left.

I haven't heard from him since then, but I'm guessing that in the next week or two, he will dig it all up. I hope I'm wrong about that.

I visited my old work, caught up with everyone there, even got recruited to apply for Bitch-stine's old job at the museum. It's an interesting prospect, and I'm going to humor them by asking some questions, but I don't think that's the right place for me right now.

I had lunch with Bubbles and filled her in on the last four days. I miss seeing her like this. To be closer to friends like her, moving back to Baltimore would be great.

After leaving downtown, I went to my friend Wanda's house. We've been friends since the mid-90s and it would be nice to be able to talk about the baby stuff with her, to get her perspective on what I should do, as well as the job stuff.

It didn't happen, and that along with the way things ended with Tim, really put a damper on the Baltimore part of my trip. When I got there, we had a snack with her five-year-old, and then took both kids to the playground, meeting one of her neighbors there. There was never a time for the two of us to talk. By the time we got home, her husband was home, it was dinner, getting the kids ready for bed and then the three of us watched TV and went to bed.

I was bummed. And it made me put into perspective the way life is for my friends who have families -- that sometimes, there is no time for my needs. Even a half hour or so of one-on-one time.

Vacation, Finally.

I leave for Richmond tomorrow, and I'll be in Baltimore on Sunday. I'll have family, friends and baseball over the course of the next week. Hopefully I'll reach some sort of decision and peace.

I went to the gym tonight. It opened today, and it was hard. My skin itched from being that sweaty for the first time in months. But it felt good. Three miles down. A good start for getting the baby weight off.

A Lot to Think About

I went up to Syracuse on Wednesday to meet with FG. He told me that, given my age, the number of cycles I've done, and the dosage I've been on, I have less than a 5% chance of getting pregnant with my own eggs. I can't even comprehend or articulate the level of disappointment I felt when I heard that.

So what, if any, are my options?

If I go with an egg donor, I have a 65% chance of getting pregnant and a 50% chance of staying pregnant (about the same as a person with no medical issues getting pregnant the traditional way) and a 95% of becoming a mom through adoption.

I cried, and he hugged, and he said all the things he says. "You couldn't have done anything more than you did. This isn't about what you did or didn't do. It's your eggs. And they may have been like this for years. You didn't wait too long. Everything is going to work out the way that it's supposed to."

I told him I was open to an egg donor, but that the $11,000 was out of my price range. And that's when he said, I have options and he had the egg donor coordinator come in and talk to me.

They have a program where two women share the same donor. The cost is $6200, and they would bill my insurance for the transfer. I have $1154 left of fertility coverage. So basically, an option, without my own eggs, very close to the $5000 number I through out at lunch the other day. So close in fact that is $5000.

I told her I was going on vacation and would give her a call when I get back. I think I know what I'm doing, but I have doubts every once in a while. And so I'm taking time to think, to figure it out. To come up with questions and wait for answers.

The Word of the Day is Negative

So apparently driving up to Syracuse, to mix things up, for my blood test did not offer any different result. They called me about 9:45 and said the test was negative. I immediately made an appointment with the Fertility Guru for a consult. It's tomorrow at 2:30.

I'm not sure what I'm hoping to hear, but I'm still hopeful he'll have something to tell me. Twelve times, with medical and medicinal intervention, I tried to get pregnant. Once it worked for a few days. Once it worked for less than two months. And 10 times, it just didn't work. Clearly, there is something wrong with my body. My eggs.

I know that sometimes people donate their embryos, or even their eggs (beyond the egg donor for money program). One of his nurses told me that she got pregnant using donated sperm that a couple had purchased and then realized they couldn't go through with it. Where's that kind of intervention for me? It can't hurt to ask.

The egg donor program (from which my favorite nurse has 21-month-old twins) is $11,000. I can't shell out that kind of money for not a 100% guarantee that I will get and stay pregnant. It's $6,000 if I use an egg donor that's a friend or family member. I went down that path last year. Other than my friend that offered and then backed out and my niece (who has her own medical issues and probably wouldn't be able to do it), I can't think of anyone I would ask. It's a huge decision. Both of these people offered.

The ironic thing is, as we were talking about it at lunch today, if FG could make something work somehow, I would be willing to spend $5,000 out of pocket (for anything not using my own egg). So close to the $6,000 if I had my own egg donor.

And so I'm back to not knowing what to do next. I'm hoping that, if nothing else, the consult tomorrow will give me some closure so that I'll be able to move on to the next plan and have peace with whatever that decision is.

My friend April, who went through her own fertility treatment and is currently pregnant, is going with me tomorrow. I'll need support, and I'll need someone who can help me ask the tough questions.

I guess if I get nothing but closure tomorrow, I will make an appointment with my adoption social worker (who has all of the first part of the process completed) and really look at the costs. I'll follow up on the two possibly not wanted pregnancies that I know of (friend of a friend of a friend sort of thing). And I'll follow up with my mother's priest who is looking into a private adoption from Nigeria (his home country).

Weirdness

I've been having some weird sensations, and I'm trying not to read into them. I had some twinges the other day (less than any other month) and then on Saturday, twice, a weird, intense, stabbing pain -- that went just as quickly as it came. Tonight, a different ache (?) that went from my uterus down into my cervix. Again, it was quick. And then it was gone.

Sometimes they take my breath away, sometimes I'm doubled over. Not in agony, more in surprise by the feeling. I'm taking this all as a good thing.

I talked to Bubbles today, who had some words of wisdom for my about my experience with the pregnant woman yesterday. "She's the one who was meant for that baby. Your baby will come on a different day."

It made me feel better. A little.

Still

Not sure what I'm feeling, trying not to think too much. For the first time in a few days, or the first time I really payed attention, I felt some twinges yesterday. And twice, I felt a sharp, quick pain in my uterus. No idea what it was, what it means.

Just a couple more days of waiting, and I go back to work tomorrow, so hopefully that will keep my mind off of things.

I went to my friend's baby's baptism this morning. I detest going to things like this as a single person. I would be so much more interesting if I had a pregnancy to talk about. Oh but, I did. Just not mine. There were lots of babies there. And a pregnant woman. Who's due date was my old due date.

I was fine through church and almost all of brunch, and then I just needed to leave. I teared up a little as I was leaving. Heather's mother gave me a hug and wished me luck on Tuesday. That was the tipping point. I just needed to come home and relax and not be with people.

I know I owe my friend Jan in Baltimore a phone call. But I can't do it. I don't want to talk about it. Last I talked to her, I was getting ready for retrieval. I can't go into the last two weeks, and my emotions, and what happens if... I just can't do it.

So the agenda for tonight -- a cold shower (summer has FINALLY arrived in Ithaca), my meditation CD, and bed. And hopefully, I can sleep.

Limbo

I'm in that limbo spot -- well past the transfer and the need to treat my body so delicately, but still six days from the blood test. I'm almost indifferent but I know that as each day ticks away, my mood will change. Fear will creep in.

I'm trying not to over-analyze if it goes the wrong way. What's meant to be will be, right? So if I' not, what does that mean?

I'm also trying not to look into too many signs. But lately, they've been hard to ignore.

Friday....it was the Family Guy episode where Peter goes to the sperm bank
Saturday....Law & Order with murder at a cryogenic lab and a court fight over frozen embryos
Monday....the Golden Girls and Blanche's daughter getting artificially inseminated
Tuesday...a ladybug (for good luck) in my bedroom

Who knows what tonight will bring?

Yes, I really eat m&m's like this

A Whirlwind Week in Review

Monday...awake for about three hours in the middle of the night, at work by 6:30am, head to Syracuse at 7:45 for a 9am fertility massage.

Tuesday...awake on and off, thinking about this being the last attempt, finally up at 5am. Jill picked me up at 6am and we headed to Syracuse for the retrieval. This was her first time doing this procedure with me. It was interesting to hear her describe it to me -- how FG pushed down on my stomach, how I was wincing in pain even as I was totally unaware of it, and how he used 10 to 15 giant Q-tips to stop the bleeding.

They were able to get five eggs. Respectable, I guess, at this stage in the game. I did acupuncture after the retrieval and rested at home the remainder of the day. I had things piled up on the DVR specifically for this.

Wednesday...awake since 2am. The day was going to be interesting, for sure. I got a call from the FG's office about 8:30. They injected three of the five eggs, and two became embryos. I was a little disappointed in the number, but tried to be positive that I only really needed one.

And then the kicker, "transfer is tomorrow." What? I was thinking Friday. Three to five days from retrieval would be Friday or Saturday. Bubbles was driving up from Baltimore on Thursday. I called her immediately and sounded the alarm. "I'll be there tonight."

I'm a planner. I had two full days worth of meetings on Wednesday and Thursday. I canceled my Wednesday morning meeting, pushing it off until next week. And did what I could for the rest of the day. Heather bought me a regular Pepsi (at this point, I'm off the artificial sweeteners, so no diet) at lunch, which helped me get through the afternoon.

I did a Wegmans run and $100 later (food to lay around and percolate to in the next two days) came home to clean the house. I managed to sit about 9pm, running on fumes at this point. Bubbles arrived about 9:45. And at that point, I was able to relax.

Thursday...I slept better last night, and was up at 6:15am to shower and be ready to leave by 7am. At Bubbles' suggestion, I made myself a mimosa. Her theory? Drunk girls always get pregnant. So one mimosa down and another in the travel mug, we headed to Syracuse.

FG came in with a picture of "two awesome, amazing and beautiful embryos" and as he inserted them into my uterus, Bubbles talked to them. Telling them to hang on, that we loved them, that we've been waiting for them for so long, that she's going to spoil them, and all sorts of amazing things. I was laying there, watching on the ultrasound screen through my tears and hoping with everything I have that they were paying attention and would listen to their Aunt Bubbles.

After acupuncture, we were back home. I napped on and off all afternoon, while Bubbles watched the entire third season of The Tudors on OnDemand. And by the time I was ready to head up to bed, Jane Seymour and Thomas Cromwell were dead, Anne of Cleves was now Henry's "sister," and the king was seducing his soon-to-be fifth wife.

Friday....another relaxing day, though we did venture outside. We met Jill for brunch and then wandered to Target and Kohl's. The rest of the day was spent much like the day before. I rested and allowed the embryos lots of quiet time to do their thing.

And so the week in review, not a lot of sleeping at the beginning, and then not a lot of much else at the end. And two awesome, amazing and beautiful embryos hunkering down into a lining almost 12mm thick.

Pheromones

Pheromones are released when a woman is close to ovulation to attract the man. Women are also hornier at this time of the month. Apparently my pheromones are strong enough to cross state lines.

I have heard from E four times in less than a week. This morning, he texted just as I was pulling up for my massage. I told him I was going into a meeting. He texted again tonight, curious and asking lots of questions about me. All dirty, of course.

And then Chris called again. He wants me to fly out to California and visit him next month. Better yet, he says, let's meet in Vegas for a long weekend.

I emailed Bubbles about it. Her response. "Wooo...what the hell do you have down there?" And of course, they are all coming out of the wood work just as I'm about to go on the DL.

Where was even one of them two weeks ago when I we could plan something? But I can't think about any of them right now.

I have my retrieval tomorrow, and that is what I need to focus on. Wish me luck.

Worlds Colliding

I had a good doctor's appointment yesterday, with several follicles on the low 20s. Tonight is my last night of "jiffy pop" medicine, tomorrow I do the trigger shots at exactly 8pm, Monday morning I have a final fertility massage scheduled, and then Tuesday, Jill is taking me up to Syracuse for retrieval. The final retrieval.

Bubbles will be heading up from Baltimore on Thursday to take me to the transfer, which should be Friday (could be Saturday). She has been saying for two years that I need to go to the doctor drunk on procedure day. "Cuz drunk girls always get pregnant."

I'm giving in. She's bringing a split of champagne, and I will be drinking mimosas in my travel coffee mug. I figure one will get me buzzed, considering I haven't had a drink in several months and haven't gotten properly drunk since Babe's birthday in February.

Even though I heard everything I wanted to do at my appointment, I couldn't shake an image out of me head. Of me pulling up to my brother's house in Richmond, and collapsing in tears in my sister-in-law's arms. I'll be headed there at the end of the month, and I pray that that image doesn't come true.

My eyes kept tearing up, I turned the radio up louder, turned music on, trying to sing along. Nothing could get that image out of my head. Finally, I turned my yoga CD on and listened to the chanting and prayer in that music. It helped a little.

~~~

E was on the air yesterday, and just as I pulled up the webcam, Chris called. It was very strange hearing both of their voices at the same time, hearing Chris talk to me while I watched E. I had to minimize the screen and turn down the volume. It really freaked me out, more than any other time any of my boys have overlapped.

I've stuck to my promise and haven't talked to J. Well, his dog has bone cancer, so I wrote something on his facebook wall about the dog, and the dog only.

I tweeted last night, something to the effect of "yea, the weekend is here" and he responded to that "don't get in trouble, ellie."

I'm happy to say, I totally ignored it. Thought once about responding and closed my computer. He might almost be dead to me.

Of course that's easy to say now, when I've got Chris and E calling, and I'm full of optimism and doing the right thing (for Karma purposes) so that I can get knocked up. But more than ever before, I feel like this time, it's going to stick with J. It will only be professional and platonic.

Chris? Let me work on one at a time.

It's Hump Day....

to quote a morning radio DJ from my Rochester days, "and later we will."

It's been such a busy week already, I'm looking forward to the weekend. I had my follicle check this morning and things are looking really good. It's hard to see how many follicles are growing, they are all stacking on top of each other at this point, but the lead follicle is 18mm and my lining is great (almost 12mm, which is really the max that it gets). The nurse is guessing Monday for retrieval, but we'll know on Friday when I go back.

Bubbles is hopefully coming up from Baltimore for the transfer. I saw her the day after the transfer the time I got pregnant and she talked to my belly. Maybe if she talks to the embryos pre-utero, they'll stick around a little more.

Triple Play

I've resigned myself, I'm about 98.9% sure that I'm done with J. And I feel good about that. I'm waiting, though not the losing sleep kind of waiting, for him to be in touch. So I can say "oh, are you calling with a day and place for us to meet. Because if you're not, we've got nothing to talk about."

And I've realized that I'm not mad at him. I'm mad at myself. Mad for allowing him to make me feel so foolish over him. Mad for allowing me to not see what he was trying to tell me with his lack of action. But I get it now. If he wanted it to happen, if he really wanted to see me, I've made it more than easy for him to make it happen.

I texted with E yesterday and felt happy to have heard from him. Before yesterday, our last exchange was about two weeks ago. He had been talking on air about the advice he gave one of his producers about what to expect from marriage. He likened it to eating healthy for the rest of his life -- he'd feel better, he'd look better, he'd sleep better, but he could never have another cupcake again.

I texted him and asked if I was supposed to be the cupcake. He answered back, almost immediately, that yes I was and to get my ass to Connecticut so he could lick every inch of me. I giggled but didn't respond back. I left it at that. Bubbles has taught me well about how to keep the power in the texting and calling relationship. I kept the power, and there he was four beeping me yesterday morning.

And then all of that power, all of that "I am in control of my life and my feelings" went out the window this morning. One little phone call. A 315 (Syracuse) area code on my phone. "This is Ellie."

"Hey now." Chris. And I melted. I'd been thinking about him lately. (His birthday is at the end of the week.) But I didn't realize the effect he still has on me. He makes me happy. He's familiar. And safe. And yes, unavailable. But he cares about me. And he knows me. I don't have to be on my "best" behavior around him.

Amazing, how after all this time, that guy in the Irish bar from January 2003....it still comes back to him.

Weekend Update

It was a fun weekend, and I wish I didn't have such a busy, Syracuse-filled week ahead, but alas I do. Doctor appointments Monday and Wednesday morning, yoga Tuesday night, and thankfully not a lot of meetings.

My follicle check went well on Friday -- there are anywhere between 5 and 8 follicles, with the lead one at 13mm. Slow and steady wins the race. My best guess is that retrieval will be next Monday or Tuesday, with transfer on Friday the 7th. Which also means that I will be getting my test results very close to the exact date of my first IUI two years ago (August 23). Win or lose, it will all come full circle. And win or lose, I'll be heading south at the end of August.

I had another fertility massage yesterday, this time with yet another person. She wasn't trained in the Mayan abdominal techniques that I had been getting, but she did some work on my stomach and pressure points. It was more relaxing than the other two, so even if it wasn't entirely focused on my reproductive organs, it was a stress-reliever. I think I'll be able to fit one more in before retrieval.

I stayed in Syracuse last night and went to the Chiefs (triple-A affiliate of the Nationals) game with my niece, her husband and their two boys. And then this morning, as I was driving home, I heard the familiar four beeps of my cell phone. E. :)

Some dirty texting back and forth as I was driving (oops) and he wants to pick a date soon for us. I'm guessing I won't be able to fit him in before the retrieval, so once again he will be my consolation prize to look forward to.

It's Almost Friday

The week got better, although there was another incident with Casey on Tuesday night, but she was good last night.

I had a follicle check yesterday and I had six follicles, possibly a seventh. The lead follicle is 12mm. I ordered the baby batter yesterday (it will arrive Monday) and I go back for another ultrasound tomorrow.

I'm guessing retrieval next Friday at the earliest. Stay tuned.

Monday Sucked

The day started out fine, if not a little early. I was up at 5:15am, jumped in the shower and got dressed, fed my neighbors cats (a more-complex-then-usual task since her cats eat different things and I have to lock one in the bathroom to eat and then wait), and was on the road by 6:15 for Syracuse.

My follicle check went well. I had my favorite NP and I have at least three follicles on the left, and five on the right. Whoo-hoo. Keep growing, little follicles. I went to Skaneateles, a beautiful little resort village on one of the Finger Lakes to spend the day at my friend Jenn's house, since I would be going back to the FG's office later in the day.

We played with the kids in the backyard, fed them lunch, and then left them with her husband while we walked around the village and got lunch. Then back to her house to sit by the pool.

About 5pm, I headed back to Syracuse for my first support group meeting. I wasn't sure what to expect, and there were lots of people there that it was their first time, too. Overall, there were about 25 people there (including three husbands). Everyone went around the room and told their story.

I would have expected that to be cathartic. And I'm not sure why the meeting, overall, wasn't. All the sad stories, all the failures should have made me feel like I'm not in it alone, but I think they gave me a hopeless feeling.

trying for three years....trying for five years...miscarriage with twins at 10 weeks...premenopausal at 35...miscarriage at 7 weeks....ready to give up...

Maybe I'm just tired. Like two years worth of tired. I'm tired of talking and rehashing what more we can all do.

Acupuncture. Yoga. Massage. Stress relievers. Meditation. Support groups. Support forums. Therapy. I'm doing all of that. And then we hear -- in the support group and in yoga -- Don't watch TV or read the news -- nothing but negative energy. Read positive books.

And then there's the information that contradicts each other. Don't eat ice cream -- you need to keep your uterus warm. Eat full fat dairy -- it's good for conception.

I've said it before, but I feel like I want to scream it from a mountain top -- it shouldn't be this hard. If it's this hard to reproduce, how did man get this far?

FG said something at the meeting that I took to heart, and I'm sure he meant it in a positive way, because he is nothing if not positive, but he said "none of us is promised anything in life."

And he's right. But is it too much to expect that if I don't get the husband, I can have the baby?

I drove home with a pounding headache, knowing I had to stop at Kohl's to buy a new hair straightener (I noticed in the morning that mine was most likely a fire hazard with frayed cord showing), still feed the neighbor's cats and do my shots and medicine.

If Casey pooped on the floor, I think I might lose it. (My 13-year-old cat has irritable bowel syndrome and sometimes doesn't make it to the litter box or starts there, it hurts and she jumps out. Fortunately, her messes are contained to one room 99% of the time, and she's only ruined the rug in her room.)

I went to Kohl's, the headache is now an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10. Go home, take my shot out of the fridge to warm up, go over to Lynne's to feed the cats. Get the mail while the one cat is eating locked up, go back in and let her out. Go home, do my shot, take my meds. Grab something little to eat, check my email and calendar for today. At this point, it's 9pm and my headache is closing in on a 9. Someone is pressing their thumbs into both of my eyes and has a vice around my head.

I go upstairs and see a pile of poo on the floor, a smaller dropping about three feet away, and a little in my room. I start sobbing, not doing any wonders for my headache. Bending over to clean up the floor makes my head explode. I cry harder. I look at the rug shampooer that I leave in Casey's room for nights like this, and lose it. I sit on a stool and sob into my knees.

I clean up the best I can, pour Nature's Miracle on all the spots and cover them with hand towels so I know where they are. Contacts out, Yankees t-shirt on, 800 mg of Ibuprofin, and the lights off. I hold my head, trying to relieve the pressure and fall asleep.

I want a boy to make the decision of what to do with Casey. I want a boy to rub my head and tell me it's okay. To tell me that we're in this together and one way or another, there will be a crib in that other room (once we tear up the poopy carpet). That's all I want as I try not to cry, lest my head actually explode.

It's what I want. And then I remember the FG's words....none of us is promised anything.