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.