Cranky Wednesday

So on Friday, I got my test results. Negative. I stopped the shots, the pills and the suppositories -- all hormones cut off, and I expected that I would get my period on Sunday or Monday.

I cried a little over the weekend, had my usual mourning period, and then started to think about the next steps. It's a comfortable pattern I've established. And then Monday came and no period. By Tuesday morning, I started to have hopeful thoughts.

What if the test was wrong? What if it was a false negative? What if I'm really pregnant? I will wait to tell my parents at Thanksgiving. I can tell my brother, sister-in-law and niece in person. I can tell my close friends in Baltimore in person.

And so it went, the fantasy of being pregnant. The fantasy of being able to hug my friends and family who are far away, but who I will be seeing in just a little over a week, when I tell them that I'm having a baby.

Wednesday morning...this morning, my body decided it was time to bitch slap me back into reality. And so, even though I thought I had moved beyond the mourning, even though I had decided it was time to think about next steps and be positive for December, I've taken a step backward.

I got my period, and all of the feelings I had on Friday and Saturday, the sadness, the grief, the feeling like my body is failing me -- they all came back. Five days after getting my test result. I have to deal with these emotions all over again.

And I will. And the good part about having so many failed attempts, the good part about having so many disappointments, is that I know I can move on, I know that the sadness lessens, and that I won't always feel like this. I'll feel hopeful again, I'll feel like I can do this, that at some point it will work.

Someday I'll feel like that again. But not today.

Everyone's Pregnant...

except me.

I'll get out of my funk after a weekend of crying and feeling sorry for myself. We decided to take November off since I will be traveling for Thanksgiving, and do another egg retrieval in December.

I've got nothing else to say. I can only repeat myself so many times. For how I'm feeling, see a post from one of the previous negative tests.

I'll be in a better mood next week.

I've not been a very good friend lately

I've been pretty introspective the past week, not really sharing or opening up about what I'm feeling or keeping people in the loop about the process.

I got a phone call from my friend Jan in Baltimore last night. And when I saw her number come up on the caller ID, I instantly felt guilty. I haven't talked to her in several weeks, since my last IVF, and that was a call that she initiated too. And even when we were chatting and catching up, there was an elephant in the room. I avoided all talk of fertility and babies and trying to get pregnant.

Sometimes I just don't want to talk about it. It occupies my mind 95% of the day, that every once in a while, I just don't want to talk about it.

As we were hanging up, I apologized for being out of touch, that I was in my own world, trying to deal with all the emotions. She asked what was going on, and I told her I was in the middle of my second embryo transfer. And amazingly, as have all of my friends, she took it well when I told her I wasn't telling anyone when the blood test is.

"You tell me what you want to, when you want to."

I have wonderful friends...and someday soon, I'll be the friend I once was to them again.

Tricks of the Trade

My friend (who has three IVF babies) called me the other day to check on me, and then to tell quite strongly the things I need to do this week.

Make chicken soup. My way of making chicken soup is chicken stock (from a box from the store) with veggies in a crock pot. The chicken is an already cooked rotisserie also from the store. She told me how wrong I was. "No, Ellie....you need a raw chicken, you need to make your own broth. You need the bone marrow to seep into the broth."

Three-pound raw chicken, check.

Drink molasses with hot water. "And not just regular molasses, Ellie. You need to get blackstrap molasses." It's not as bad as it sounds. It actually tasted like what I think coffee tastes like (I'm not a coffee drinker.) I added milk and I got it down without gagging.

Drink molasses, check.

Full-fat yogurt. That one I knew. That one makes sense. But in this day of health-conscious, fat-free or low-fat this, sugar-free that, do you know how hard it is to find yogurt made with whole milk? I ended up buying YoBaby yogurt.

Yogurt, check.

The chicken is in the crock pot. I drank my molasses and had a yogurt for breakfast. I'm continuing all my meds this week, including the inter-muscular shot, which has gotten much easier, despite the bruises and tenderness all over my backside.

I've decided not to tell anyone when my blood test is. I feel like too many people knew. Too many people were anxious about the results, which in turn made me anxious. My friend Jill, who drove me to Syracuse last week, is the only one who knows the date because she was there when the nurse gave me the lab slip.

So I'll continue on this path -- chicken soup, molasses, yogurt, shots, pills, suppositories -- until my blood test.

This and That....Frick and Frack

Everyone I know who has gone to the fertility guru had an unsuccessful first attempt at IVF -- and a successful attempt on try #2. I'm hoping those odds work in my favor.

This morning, Jill picked me up and after a quick stop through the Dunkin Donuts drive-through for bagels, we headed to Syracuse. Dr. Richard Gere was as charming as usual -- of course, I took a valium when I got to the office so that could have something to do with it -- and we hugged and squeezed hands and he had encouraging, spiritual words to say over my belly.

And then the speculum was in, the internal ultrasound was in, the catheter was in...and then Frick and Frack went in. In to 9mm of uterine lining, into a belly that wants them to hang on tight, into their mommy who will do whatever it takes to encourage them to burrow in and thrive.



When I got home from acupuncture this afternoon, I talked to my mom, who proceeded to tell me that she spoke to Buffalo Dave this morning. (For those keeping track, Buffalo Dave is my friend, broke my heart, and is also my parents' stockbroker.) He asked how I was doing. And rather than the easy "she's great...you should give her a call" she said, "at this moment, she's being inseminated." (I've given up trying to explain the difference between all of the procedures that I'm going through.)

I took a deep breath. "Please don't tell people what I'm doing, specifically."

"He knows you're trying to have a baby."

"Yes, but I don't tell people, specifically what I'm doing each day throughout this process. If they are interested enough in my life, they will ask me, they will call me to give me support. Without that, they don't have a right to know."

"But...."

"Just please respect my wishes. I don't need him calling me in two weeks to find out if I'm pregnant."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Not the point. Even if you think people are on the approved list, please don't tell them anything. Tell them if they are that interested, they should call me."

I know she means well. I know she's excited. But she needs to respect my wishes, and she needs to respect my boundaries.

Another example, she told my sister-in-law last month, "well no baby this month."

As if my sister-in-law (not my sister-in-law in Virgina) has said boo to me about what I'm going through in the past 18 months. No one needs a scorecard of my pregnancy tests, unless they earned the right to know. And they earn it by showing me support. Frankly, as much as I love Buffalo Dave, he hasn't earned the right to know the details. And certainly most people in my own family haven't earned the right to know the details.

I know I set standards for other people too high sometimes, I expect of them what I expect of myself. And I'm usually disappointed. My friend in Rochester is in the process of adopting from Colombia. All the paperwork is in order, they are just waiting. And waiting.

Last week, I sent her an email: "I'm not going to ask if you've heard anything, or if you have any news or when you think you might hear something or even how you're doing...I just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you."

If more people -- who am I kidding, just one person -- could send me something like that....it would go a long way.

Enough negativity. I'm going to get into bed shortly, listen to my meditation CD, track 2 "post transfer," and try to get a good night's sleep.

Happy burrowing, Frick and Frack.

Big Shot

When Casey brought me a dead mouse, I would have loved for someone else to have dealt with the dead carcass.

When there is a bug or a spider in the house, I would rather someone else kill it.

And I'm sure, when I'm exhausted to the point of tears and there is a crying baby, there isn't going to be anyone else to get up to change the diaper or give the bottle.

And so it goes now. There is no one to give me the progesterone in oil shot. And so I have to do it myself.

I cringe and deal with the dead mouse. Psyche myself up to squish the spider. And drag myself out of bed to soothe the baby.

Tonight, I got home from the gym, pulled out an alcohol wipe, the medicine bottle, the syringe and two needles. I pulled my sweat pants down my hip a little, cleaned a spot, sucked up 1cc of oil (it's really thick and took forever), and then reached around, contorted my back, and stuck the needle in. I pushed the plunger slowly -- slow and steady -- as the oil went into my right buttock.

And then I massaged and kneaded it, so as not to get a clump of oil. And I was done.

So the crying the other night, the worrying about doing this on my own or not being able to do it on my own....I did it. I gave myself the shot -- what everyone called "the hard shot" -- and managed to do it with little fanfare and little pain.

I can do this.

I Can't Do It

I went this morning for my uterine lining check -- three layers, 9mm, nice and thick. So I will start doing the progesterone in oil shots on Friday. These shots are much different than the previous shots I had to give myself.

Whereas before I was using a half-inch needle that went just below my skin, in my stomach, where I could pinch the fat (one good reason to be happy about the faux baby bump), this one is inter-muscular with an inch-and-a-half needle. So basically, I have to give myself a shot in the ass, with thick oil that will come out slow.

I thought I should practice putting the needle in tonight, just in case I had trouble with it, I would still have two days to figure it out.

Well....I pulled out my box of meds tonight, an alcohol wipe and the needle. I tried grabbing as much skin as I could, I tried sitting on one hip, rolled to the side and sticking it in that way. I got it in a little and couldn't go any further. I have a couple of little spots of blood and will probably bruise.

And then I started crying. I have to be able to do this. This is like one of my tests. If I'm going to be a single parent, I'm going to have to do this that aren't fun, that don't feel great, that I would rather someone else do. But there isn't anyone else, I have to.

I wrote an email to one of the nurses on campus and basically asked her if she could jab me in the ass tomorrow, just so I can feel the level of pain. That's what I had to do with the previous shots, and look at how good I got to be at it. Right?

I don't feel quite so positive about this experience. The needle is huge!

Shades of Red

More about J of Baltimore. It has to be the baby, or impending baby, that is keeping his attention on me. As I've mentioned, he and I have been friends for seven years. In those seven years, we have, for the most part, ignored or at least have not acted on the undeniable attraction between us.

For the past few years, every six months or so, we would get into a raunchy text conversation, flirting heavily, but leave it at that. When I'm in Baltimore, we try to get together for a drink or breakfast, and it's business as usual, nothing improper.

But then, this past June, we chatted on the phone one Friday afternoon. He was in South Carolina golfing with his brother, I had just gotten home from happy hour with some friends. I can't remember exactly what he said, but whatever he said, led me to believe he knew I was trying to have a baby. (My former boss and several former co-workers know I'm trying, and since J is on the board, they could have mentioned it to him.)

Once we got past the misunderstanding -- he had no idea -- I ended up telling him what I've been going through the past year. And made a joke that if he hadn't canceled on me the last time I was in Baltimore, I would have told him, was planning on telling him in person. So I gave him the scoop, told him I was having surgery the following week, and he was curious about the whole process. How did it work at the doctor's office, how did I choose the sperm donor, how long does the process take. He was full of questions.

I had my surgery and two weeks later, he texted me to see how it went. We ended up texting back and forth, getting more than a little flirty, and then he ended it with "we would be so great together. gotta go, but this should happen."

About a week after that, the texting turned into a phone call, and since then, since the end of June, he doesn't go two or three weeks without a phone call or a text. Most of it ends up with nothing but sexual content, but almost always he asks about the baby process. What's the next step? Am I okay?

He was one of the first people I wanted to tell when I got my positive test result. I tried to call him, but got voice mail. I didn't leave a message, but a few hours later he saw the missed call and called me back. He was so excited that I was finally pregnant. It was genuine happiness for me, and for him since he's been so interested in this whole process.

And so the following week, it was so hard to call him and tell him I was no longer pregnant. And he said all the right things, including texting me later that day to make sure I really was okay.

I don't know what he's thinking, or feeling. I only know that I never make the first move. I always (well....almost always) wait for him to call me, because as Bubbles says "you're busy, you're making a baby, you don't have time to think about him." But he' reeling me in, whether he intends to or not. And at some point, I'm going to need to have the hard conversation. At some point, I'm going to have to ask the hard questions and find out what the hell is going on in his life.

Is this a game? Is he playing me? I truly believe he cares about me, but to what level, to what extent, I have no idea. I can't even venture a guess, because it will only set me up for something that probably isn't there.

And honestly, at this point, I don't want the answers to those questions. I'm enjoying the attention, I'm enjoying him wanting me. It's like I've replaced Chris with J. The same sort of relationship, the same sort of feelings.

I know I should think more of myself, that I should be asking him those hard questions and kicking him to the curb if he doesn't give me the answers I deserve, but I can't. It's just easier this way. And he may not be doing this baby thing with me the way a traditional partner would, but he does feel a part of it. And I can't let that go.

Hump Day Blues

Just when I think I am okay this month, just when I start to think positive thoughts for the next cycle, something hits me -- yet another person (in my life or someone in the news) is pregnant, or I saw the picture of the embryos on the fridge, or I get an e-mail chain forward thing and the person wished for me to have a baby.

And then I cry. Or I got to sleep early to try not to think about it anymore. Some days I'm just fine. Once I got over my period on Sunday, I felt good. I felt good about moving forward. I had my baseline ultrasound and blood work -- the first step for the next time. But the past few nights, I haven't felt hopeful, I haven't felt good.

I wonder how many more times I can take this. How many times can I be hopeful and then be crushed, and survive the disappointment?

I talked to a friend at work today who is also going through fertility treatment. Her issues are different from mine, but we both understand what we're going through. Sometimes we are the only ones who can understand what the other one is feeling, or thinking.

We've both had so many road blocks. Today, she found out she has Hep C. Not a death sentence, but the treatment of it will take time. Time that feels like she doesn't have if she wants to get pregnant. And her husband, sweet as he is, has children from a previous relationship -- so while he can sympathize with her, he doesn't understand completely.

And so April and I are trying to be supportive to each other, trying to be the shoulder to cry on, trying to be strong for each other.

I'm not sure what any of this means, and how any of this is interesting to you, my dear readers, but it shows the kind of mood I'm in, the kind of scrambled brain I've had the past few days. And how one moment I can feel so good, and for no reason at all, in the very next, I'm sitting at my computer crying.

Not only do I feel out of control with the baby thing, but also the weight thing. I've tried to let it go. I know that my body and my brain are in direct conflict with each other. My body is trying to prepare itself for pregnancy. For the past 18 months, it has been given all sorts of hormones to prepare for a baby. And yet, in my head, I still try to count calories in and count calories burned, try to weigh myself every day without wanting to throw the scale through the window.

And no matter what, I have no control. My body is hungry when I've just eaten. Tired when I'm at the gym and should be wanting to work out for 90 minutes. My belly is swollen with no baby in it. I need to try to get control of one thing, just one aspect of my life. And I don't know how that is possible at this point.

Shark Week

I stopped taking all of the hormones on Tuesday night, and last night before bed had the tell-tale signs that my period was coming. When I woke up this morning, I had it full force, along with a pain I've never felt before.

The pain is bearable. I'm not doubled over or anything, but it is beyond the usual cramps. And I don't know if that pain is real or because what it means. I thought I was okay and was able to move on this month. Apparently not.

It hit me hard this morning. I sat in my office and cried. I sat in Hope's office and cried. It's just not my period, but what is being washed out of my body with it. And even though I shouldn't think of this as a miscarriage because it was just a chemical pregnancy, how can I not.

There was never a heart beat, and even for the four days that I thought I was pregnant, I was extremely cautious. I never got truly excited about the pregnancy. Either way, this is different than getting a negative pregnancy test.

This was thinking that the last 18 months of ups and downs, of having hope and being crushed, was all finally worth it. This was the moment that I had been waiting for, the moment that everyone promised me through all the other negative tests was going to be worth it, the moment that would make me forget the pain and disappointment of the last year.

And this moment is now being absorbed and flushed away.

It's Officially Over for this Month

I went for more blood work this morning. My hCG level was 13. Was I really pregnant and now I'm not?

The nurse said that I could have been, and I miscarried. Or it could have been a chemical pregnancy. Either way, she told me to stop taking all my medications and call her when I get my period.

I skipped the gym for one more night. I'll go back tomorrow.

I wasn't hopeful last night, so unless someone else makes me cry, I've been okay today. I still have two frozen embryos in the freezer. As soon as I get my period, we'll start the frozen transfer protocol.

And lucky me, I get to start giving myself shots again!

And I know it's not the end of the world, no matter what it feels like right now. I still have choices, options. I'm going to an adoption seminar on November 1st, no matter what happens. And even if I was pregnant right now, I would have still gone. I have to continue to work on plan B.

Not So Fast

I got my blood work done again today, and my hCG level dropped. To 20. Not good. It was 47 and it should have doubled in 72 hours.

It's puzzling because my progesterone level is still going up. So it could have possibly, maybe been a lab error but it's not looking good.

I have to go back to the lab tomorrow and have the test repeated. Needless to say, I'm not in the mood to write much, to do much, to talk much. I already have my pj's on, I'm watching Days of Our Lives from today, and there's mac-and-cheese in the oven.

I'm staying somewhat hopeful, because really what else is there?

Knock Yourself Up

I wrote the post for today in my head so many times over the past few days, and now because of the results of my blood test this morning, I can't use any of it.

I went for blood work this morning at the hospital, and it took forever. There was only one person taking blood, and she was a talker. So after 25 minutes of waiting, with only three people ahead of me, it was finally my turn.

And then when she saw what the test was for, "are ya hoping for good news?"

"Yes." Lip quivering.

"How long have you been trying?"

"About a year and a half."

"I'll be praying for you."

I thought was I going to lose it right there in the middle of the outpatient lab at Cayuga Medical Center. But I held it together, made it to work and made an attempt to start working on a website.

My cell phone rang about 9:15. I saw the 315 area code and my heart starting pounding. I was practically crying when I said "hello."

"Ellie....it's Linda from the fertility guru's office. You haven't taken any hCG, right?"

"That's right."

"Well good then....your test is positive."

And then I lost it. The tears spilled down, my face scrunched up, and I grabbed a tissue and balled it up in my hand. "Really?"

"Really. Your hCG was 47. We like it to be around 40. You'll go again for the same test on Monday to make sure your numbers are moving up the way they are supposed to."

And just like that, my life changed. Every little sign that I had this week, that I chalked up to something else -- always hungry, the weather changing; twinges in my lower abdomen, I haven't had my period since August; and tender breasts, I am taking 300 mg of progesterone every day -- it all seemed to make sense. I wasn't reading too much into it all. I'm really pregnant.

I know it's early. Way early. And so I'm being cautiously optimistic about it all. Not looking at my Target registry that I made 15 months ago. Not buying anything. I haven't even told my mom yet!

But now...it feels like this will stick. And as my very wise friend said to me this morning, no matter what happens, you know your body can do what it's supposed to, you know you can get pregnant.

And she's right. And it is. And I can.

Patience

I'm playing it pretty close to the vest these days. I don't know if it's to manage my expectations and potential disappointment, or to ward off jinxing myself. Either way, I'm not talking too much about the embryo transfer, not sharing it with the usual suspects who were in on the other procedures. I think that is the way to go.

And so, I'm taking it easy this week, listening to my IVF meditation CD, doing nothing strenuous, eating comfort foods, keeping my stress level down, and taking all my pills twice a day.

And that's that. For now.

These three little buggers were transferred into me this morning. I'm resting and giving them encouraging words of implantation.

A Baker's Half Dozen

I had my retrieval yesterday and the fertility guru got seven eggs out! Whoo-hoo. But I'll start at the beginning.

I was starving. I couldn't eat or drink anything, and of course, on days like that you wake up wanting a feast. We got to Syracuse a little before 8:30 and they called me back. I got undressed and put on the oh-so-attractive hospital gown and sat in the little room, hooked up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure machine.

And I got to meet face-to-face the fertility guru, Dr. Richard Gere. He held both of my hands, brought his face about three inches from mine, asked if I had any questions, and then said, with a hand squeeze for good measure, "let's make a life today."

I was in and out of consciousness so quickly that it didn't even feel like it. When I woke up I asked the nurse if they found any eggs. She said yes but wasn't sure how many, but would find out before I left.

Another nurse came in and said, "did you hear? We got seven eggs! Isn't it great?"

I almost cried. Here I was thinking that there was the possibility there would be none. And he was able to pull out seven!

My friend drove me home, but not before stopping at the grocery store I worked at in high school, for the best donuts in the world. I got a yummy headlight and enjoyed every single calorie of it.

I napped on and off and then had acupuncture, and then started my rounds of medicine (all oral, thankfully). Five supplements from the acupuncturist, one antibiotic, one estrogen, and a baby aspirin. All of that twice a day, plus the oh-so-lovely vaginal suppository of progesterone, three times a day.

I knew that I would be hearing from the doctor's office today but wasn't sure when. I was thrilled when my cell phone rang a little after 9am to be told that of my seven eggs, I now had five viable embryos and they will be putting those suckers back in on Tuesday.

I will wait to meet with fertility guru and the embryologist on Tuesday, but I think that I will put two in this month. If it doesn't work, then I have three for next month.

And then we hope that at least one of those suckers can implant and stay viable and healthy.

It actually seems like it can happen. It actually feels real.

Tomorrow's the day

I have egg retrieval at 8:30am tomorrow morning. I just came home from acupuncture, listened to my IVF meditation CD, and am about to jump in the shower and get into bed.

Think good thoughts.

Eggs, Eggs, Eggs.....

Another ultrasound and more blood work this morning (again from the same vein, in the same spot that they've taken blood the last six times), but it's all worth it. The nurse called to say that we can move ahead with egg retrieval on Thursday.

Tonight I give myself shots of my two hormones, tomorrow morning another dose of one of them, and then at exactly 9pm tomorrow, two shots of hCG. Wednesday, no shots. Also no food or drinks after midnight, and then I have to be in Syracuse by 8:30am on Thursday.

The whole thing should take less two to three hours and then I can come home to rest. They'll call on Friday with an update on how many embryos they were able to make in the petri dish and then I go back (probably Saturday or Sunday) for the embryo transfer.

Think good thoughts....wish for eggs, nice big healthy eggs.

My Yankee

I got another call from my Yankee last night. He woke me up about 12:30am with a text.

"whats up"

Are you kidding me? "not much. how about you?"

"nada. just chilling"

It could have been a drunk dial but doubtful. They played a 7:05 game, I went to sleep about 9:15, and he was out of the game, but I don't think he would have left the Stadium. Unless he drank hard and fast after his most recent pitiful performance.

"me too. laying in bed, watching SNL."

"were you at the game today" He doesn't, at most people who have never lived in the upper part of New York state, understand the geography of the Empire State. NYC is a good six hours from where I live. I was closer to NYC when I lived in Baltimore. But now was not the time to get into it.

"no...probably won't make it to any more games this year"

"ok going to sleep"

But I didn't get that text until this morning. I think he sent it immediately after the one about being at the game, and I didn't notice that there was another in my in box.

I'm not sure what he wants. I'm happy to be an outlet for the drunk dial or even the phone booty call. But he needs to work with me a little more.

Maybe he's shy.

(Let's all laugh at that as we remember the very brief -- and very not shy -- conversation in the bar two months ago:
"Derek wanted to come but I told him I wanted you all to myself."
"Don't fuck with me."
"Oh I will fuck you later.")

OK, so he's not shy. Even so, as I did when I worked in Baltimore, when I had to deal with professional athletes on a regular basis, I made it easy for him.

"I missed your last text--must have fallen asleep. Next time tell you're in bed. I can talk you through some fun things."

Nancy thinks it's almost time to give him his own special ring, like J has. Soon, I think he needs to earn it still.

PS...on a somewhat related note, how fucking cool is that Derek Jeter needed nine hits going into this homestand to tie Lou Gehrig for most hits at Yankee Stadium -- AND he got all nine of them this weekend in three games!? Even Mr. Team Player was in awe of what that really means.

More, more, more

I went in for my 5th ultrasound in 10 days on Friday. I have one follicle on the right side (18mm) and four (not three) on the left. Two are overlapping so the tech read that at three the other day. These four are in the low teens.

I resigned myself that this might not be the month for things to happen. And really the worst thing that could happen is that we pull the plug this month, I get my period and we start over next month, with a much better idea of how my body reacts to the Gonal-F and they can start me at a higher dose.

I think this is what was getting me down earlier in the week, the up and down, the going and stopping, of this whole process. But once I moved past the point of my own impatience, I saw that that option really wouldn't be a horrible thing.

The weather was crappy yesterday. Cold and rainy. Thankfully it was a quiet day in the office, and Heather and I went to McDonald's for happy meals at lunch. As we were pulling out, my cell phone rang.

The nurse from the fertility guru's office was calling to tell me to keep up with the 450 units each day over the weekend and go in for another ultrasound on Monday. That we were still in good shape and we'll see what Monday brings.

And so just when I was okay with throwing in the towel for this month, there's still a glimmer of hope that we can do the IVF this month.

Forgive, but don't forget

I hadn't talked to my friend Tim in Baltimore since I was there before my NY trip. Things were definitely strained between us, but there was also a lot of hurt there, but I knew we would get past it. Time does heal all wounds.

I guess too much time had gone by for him to be comfortable, or maybe, he just finally got it. I got the following email earlier this week.

Regarding my words from earlier this summer....there is one more thing I would like to say.... I am very, very, very , VERY, VERY Sorry, Ellie. You have and had been going through a very tough emotional and physical time with things. And things haven't been as any of has hoped for yet. And instead of giving you an arm to support you with, and a shoulder for you to rest your head on, I used words to stir things up. Words that in the end were judgmental, no matter what my intention may have been.

Like most men, when silence was the best solution, I opened mouth and shut off brain. I am soooooo sorry for that. I can't go back in time and just turn off my phone before I ever sent that first message. But like with everything I do, with a little time I try and learn and change things so they are not repeated in the future.

Maybe in time I will start and get things right the first time. I wish I could do more for you, El. I always have. But being a friend is sometimes the best thing for someone to be and do. I hope you can forgive me and see that maybe I am getting it a little. No more words. Just support in whatever way you want and need it.

If you want to share whats going on, I will be receptive without any opinions. I will be supportive. That's what friends do. Anyway, hope you can forgive a broken down gimping cop who is TRYING to be less self centered.

I read it and closed it. A few days later, I took a deep breath and read it again. It's time to move on. I hit the reply button, and caught him up on work, the weather, yes the leaves are already starting to change, had a blast in NY, drank too much, etc. And then...

I appreciate the apology and the insight into how I reacted to what you said. And I have forgiven you. Give me time and I will share with you what's going on and give you updates....I'm just not there yet.

Say hi to the girls...talk to you soon. love, Red

I have forgiven him, but I haven't forgotten his hurtful words, and cannot open myself up to him yet. I can't add him to my emotional roller coaster yet. Someday. Not yet.

Chugging along

I am on day 12 of giving myself two shots a day. I have had five ultrasounds and given five blood samples in the past two weeks. As of this morning, I have four egg follicles -- one 15mm, the others 5 to 7 mm.

What does all of this mean? I have no idea, other than my patience is wearing thin. I'm an emotional wreck. I cry easily. I'm cranky. And after today's ultrasound, two days after the fertility guru estimated that he would do the egg retrieval, I still have to give myself two shots a day. Friday, I go in for yet another ultrasound and more blood work.

I'm trying not to complain. I'm trying not to feel down. And I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying.

Last night when I was falling asleep, I was pretty low. I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to try to explain what I was feeling. I listened to my IVF meditation CD and then tried to sleep. I was thinking about J, trying not to think about it, but thinking about him nonetheless.

And he came through for me. About 11:20, my phone beeped. Four quick beeps. I rolled over and looked at the phone. "One new text message from J."

We texted a few times and then when he said he wasn't at the bar anymore, I called him. And we chatted. He actually growled at the "conversation" finale. And then, because he's not just some guy looking for a good time, not just some guy looking to get laid, or in this case, getting a little phone sex, he asked how things were going.

I knew what he meant, but didn't want to think about it all again. I said things were fine, busy, etc. But he pressed me. "How's it going with the baby thing?"

I rolled over onto my stomach, leaned up on one elbow, and managed to tell him that I was frustrated, that I was scared. I told him about my local doctor's assessment of my egg reserve, and then the fertility guru saying it was worth a shot. He asked when I would know if this month worked and to please keep him informed about what's going on.

And then he said, if this doesn't work, what are your options. I told him my choices were using an egg donor -- for about $11,000 -- or going the adoption route -- for about $30-40,000.

He asked thoughtful questions, without being intrusive. I told him I had a good support system and that if I have to do one of the two expensive options, that my friends were ready to have a fund-raiser to help with it, and that I might need some autographed items.

"You just tell me when and how many, and I'll get you whatever you need."

How can I not be falling for this guy? I'm trying to keep my emotions at arm's length, all the while ignoring the 7th commandment. I'm curious to know what's going on in Ellicott City with him, but I've told him -- and they are rules that I've played by in the past -- no questions, no expectations.

It's been seven years since the night of the musem's holiday party, where we spent most of the time in my office or in an exhibit gallery corner. Since that same night when we did shots of tequila at the Phoenix and ended up back at my apartment. Since that night when I asked him, "what's the deal with the ring on and then the ring off?" And he bolted up and out, and I respected it, and I never crossed boundaries again.

Until he did. And now I don't know how far he is willing to go, or why he's suddenly willing to go this far.

Wake up call, caught you in the morning
with another one in my bed
Don't you care about me anymore?
Don't you care about me? I don't think so.

When it's 1am on the west coast...

Monday morning I was awakened at 4:07am with a cell phone beep, the tell-tale sign of a text message (and not from J, because he has his own alert sound).

I picked up the phone and looked, expecting to see a wrong number or Verizon telling me my bill is now available on-line. Instead, it was from my Yankee. "whats up"

My wheels turned quickly, thinking of a good response and also analyzing the situation. The Yankees lost in Seattle and then headed to Anaheim. It's 1am. Bars are still open. And he's thinking of me?!

How fucking cool is that!

I was still groggy and not exactly sure what he wanted. Was this a drunk dial? Or a phone sex booty call? I played it safe and threw it back at him.

"you pitched well the other day. how are you?

"thanks...i'm good. whats up"

Hmmmm....he didn't give me a lot. "work, gym, not enough sex"

"same here"

Not exactly the playful response I was hoping for. Maybe there's a language barrier on the texting. I tried one more time. "too bad we're on different coasts...we could help each other out with that last one"

And then no response. I figured he got a better, in-person offer. Or passed out. Knowing him, either is totally possible.

As for me, it was not 4:30am, and I was wide awake. I watched two episodes of Little House on the Prairie (thank you TV Land) and was out the door by 6:45am.

It was a long day.

And I love John Stewart too

This is why I love Bubbles

I had a dream last night that I married Derek Jeter. (I fell asleep to the game, which was late because they are on the west coast.)

Anyway, we were doing pictures after the wedding, and it was winter (we couldn't get married in summer!) and I was cold because my dress was strapless, and we were waiting for the photographer to set up.

He took his tux jacket off and put it over my shoulders, and I was leaning forward into his chest, with my arms scrunched up against his chest. He kissed my forehead and the photographer caught it.

And Bubbles said, "that's the photo we'll release to the media."

Ever the good bride's maid thinking like a media relations professional. :) (I did teach her everything she knows.)

Slow-growing

I went for my second ultrasound yesterday, and then blood work. The tech found one "tiny" follicle on the left, and two smallish ones on the right. I tried not to analyze it, tried not to read too much into it, forced myself not to do any research on the internet.

Even though I knew that it wasn't great news. That at this point in my cycle, the follicles should be bigger, maybe even more of them. But I waited for the nurse to call. She must know, that for any woman who gets to this point, they are informed enough to know what's going on.

"Your body is responding, so don't worry. It's just taking a little longer."

So I'm upping my hormones to 450 units (up from 300) for the weekend, and have another ultrasound and more blood work on Monday, and more scheduled for Wednesday and Friday, with the hopes that I won't need Friday.

I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying to do all the things that I can do -- back to acupuncture, trying to keep my stress levels down, relaxing, thinking positive thoughts.

And so it goes. Slowly, but it goes.

What to say....

If your sister, or aunt, or friend calls to tell you, you specifically, that she is trying to have a baby. That even though she's single, and she knows it will be hard, but it's something that she's always wanted, and she's hoping for your support.

And you say, "you have it. Good for you. I know it's what you've always wanted. I've been waiting for you to say you were doing this. I'm excited for you."

And after you've had this conversation, a year has gone by, more than a year, and you haven't heard any big announcement that she's having a baby, don't stay silent. You promised your support last year. It won't be prying, it won't be bringing up something that she doesn't want to be reminded of (trust me, it's never far from her mind).

If you don't want to be invasive, you don't have to call. You don't even have to get into particulars. An email. A card. "How are you? How are things going? We're thinking of you. Let me know if you want to talk."

That's all it takes. I have seven siblings. I had this conversation with six of them last August, and a few of my nieces. All six siblings are married, so even if my brothers don't want to think about it, my sisters-in-law can.

Of the six sets of siblings, only two show their support. Only two ask me regularly what's going on, how are you doing, how are you handling the disappointment.

And right now, as my body is pumped full of extra hormones, all I can think about is how little support I'm getting from my family. Why did I waste my time calling them? Why did I waste the effort and the excitement on them? I should have just waited until I was pregnant to tell them.

Yes, I'm down tonight. And I'm taking it out on my family.

So here' my advice for tonight....if you know someone who shared something with you, no matter what it is, follow-up with them. Ask how they're doing. You can do it without being obtrusive.

Trust me, they'll appreciate it.

I started the week by finally getting up to Syracuse to go to the fertility guru's office. I had a baseline ultrasound and blood work done. Every moment in their office felt like I was in the right place. Everyone was so kind and friendly. And they were extremely efficient.

The first woman who walked me back took my blood, then left the room. The ultrasound tech came in next and took care of that. She left and in came the nurse that I've been talking to on the phone, with my blood work results and a chart of how the next few weeks will go. Daily shots turn into two shots a day tonight, ultrasounds and blood work down here every three days, and then the target date for egg retrieval is September 9.

I'm moving again, and it feels good. And the gym reopened this week -- yeah! I had a great talk with my trainer tonight, we talked about goals and my workout schedule. I told him that I recently realized that I've been so focused on getting pregnant, that I let my focus on working out and being healthy slip away. That I need to take each month that I'm not pregnant as an opportunity to work out hard, and that even if I am pregnant, that's no excuse to ease up.

I will talk with fertility guru and get his okay on everything, so that I can continue with an hour of cardio and strength training five days a week. And Aaron is totally on board to support me, to keep me motivated, to help me stay healthy, pregnant or not. It felt good. It made things seem more balanced. Something I'm not very good at.

And so tonight, I did two shots. And I thought the second one won't be so bad, the needle is the same size. Hmmmm...not so much. It was not only a little longer, but much sharper. It took me a couple times to get the needle in my stomach, and then it was okay. It's always okay. It hurts at the very first poke, but then it's fine.

And as always, it's all going to be worth it.

Shooting Up

I started my injections on Tuesday, and by last night I feel like an old pro. The needle is not as awful as I thought, and I was far less squeemish, too. I will continue with these injections to suppress all of my hormone levels.

Then after I get my period, I'll go to Syracuse for a baseline ultrasound. (I could do that here, but I figured I should start to establish a relationship and feel comfortable with the new office.) After that, I start with a different shot (still in the stomach) that will turn my ovaries into Jiffy Pop, as my friend Nancy says, and hopefully produce lots of big, juicy, healthy eggs.

And then sometime around September 8 or 9, I will go up to have my eggs harvested. I'll need someone to take me, since they will have to give me a local and I'll be a little too loopy to drive back. I'll already have the baby batter at the doctor's office so they can inject each egg with sperm. And then if all goes well, I'll go back a few days later and be implanted with two embryos.

That's a lot of if's. I'm trying to be cautiously optimistic about this whole process.

You'd think by now that would be an emotion I was an expert at, but I'm not. Somehow I always get my hopes up too high, which leads to major disappointments. And for the past year, it has been nothing but a roller coaster of hopeful highs and crashing lows.

Just once, I would like something I hope for to come true. I felt that by securing a known egg donor, by finding someone I knew and trusted and loved to be my genetic "replacement," the disappointment of having the dwindling egg supply was so greatly minimized.

Truly, the minute she offered, my 10-day headache went away. It was so unnerving to have to think about finding a genetic replacement for me. Choosing the sperm was like buying a pair of shoes compared to looking at the egg donor profiles.

I should have known better than to feel so secure. (And while I'm glad if she had reservations, that she voiced them now, it is still disappointing, it is still so hurtful. And I wonder, if I had not written to her and told her I had my phone consultation and that I would call her after so I could let her know the next steps, if I had not done then, when would she have told me?)

And so that's all I have to say about that. It's done. It's over. I need to focus on trying to grow some eggs. To encourage my body to eek out just a few viable eggs, for just another cycle or so. And that Dr. Richard Gere can perform the miracles that he's been performing for over 10 years.

I know of nine babies, by three different women, that he is responsible for creating. Wouldn't 10 be a nice round number?

Dr. Richard Gere

I had my phone consultation this morning with the fertility guru who, if I have not mentioned, looks like Richard Gere.

His voice was very soothing and he made me feel like we're in this together. He looked at my file and isn't as concerned about my FSH number as my regular OB, so he wants to try to see if he can get some eggs out of me.

"You have insurance coverage, let's just try and see if we can harvest some eggs. I may go in and see that you don't have any, but then we'll know for sure and we still have options of using an egg donor." (I put the recent happenings of last night out of my head and focused on being positive with what he was saying.)

We talked for about 10 minutes and we decided that I didn't want to do IUI any more. "I'm 38 and a half....I'm not getting any younger, let's just get this done." And he agreed. IVF is the next best step for me.

His nurse was to call me today or tomorrow and set me up with the meds schedule, and I will start injectables in the next day or two. Yippee....I don't get out of giving myself a shot in the stomach every day. ;)

I felt really positive this morning after talking with him. Not only because there's still a possibility of getting pregnant with my own eggs, but also because we're moving again. I'm the type of person that will go 10 miles out of my way if I can keep my car moving, rather than sit in traffic. And that's what I've felt like, like I was sitting in traffic and couldn't keep moving.

As for my friend who rescinded her offer to be my egg donor....I'm not ready to fully talk about it yet. I'm feeling all the things that Bubbles said in her comment in the previous post, and more.

Disappointment because after serious discussions with her about her reservations, she still said that she and her husband had agreed that it was "a go." Resentment that she is allowing people who don't even know me to have such a profound effect on my life.

I'll get over it. I'm just not sure when.

My Infertility Headache is Back

I received the following email excerpt from my friend, who by all account I was thinking would be my egg donor. I can't comprehend it all yet. I'm numb. More tomorrow after I talk to the fertility guru.


I cannot tell you how sorry I am, but I don't think I can be a donor. At first I was just wondering logistically about where the nearest OBGYN office is, and the fact of dealing with Albany traffic and the hours' drive at a moment's notice, and that was just a concern. We know how my sister works, but when I talked to her about it and she just kept asking about how it should bother me having a biological child out there. In the circumstance of donating eggs to you, I really wouldn't think of it as my child at all. It would be yours. Coming out here, I can talk to my mom-in-law about anything, and she's a very liberal and modern thinker. So it exasperated me when, upon mentioning donating eggs, she instantly turns to Lily and says "You'll have half-siblings!!!" I didn't anticipate, as you have had to do, me having to deal with family member's opinions on it. I never thought of it as an issue, but now I know that I have at least 2 family members that would forever believe I had children out there, even that Lily would have half-siblings. That thinking really bothers me.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope you can feel that. I think that in the donor paperwork it should definitely mention talking to extended family members and their feelings; obviously it addresses the potential donor's thoughts so much, but I NEVER anticipated having family members who would stubbornly view the donation as giving children away or refusing to budge that if I don't think of the donation as giving away biological children or Lily's half-siblings, neither should they. It just gets me to the core. I know that you've encountered judgements in your pursuit; so I guess it just goes to show that everyone does along the way.

But please know that I am rooting for you all the way, I entirely regret upheld hopes and dropping them down. With all of my heart, I believe in the mother you have waiting to nurture your child, I believe that you have a child waiting to be in your arms, and I love you!

Golden Grammy

Mark Spitz won his 7th gold medal to-day. The country is split in half. The war, civil rights. This young man has brought the nation together as one.

My grandmother wrote that in her journal during the 1972 Olympics. I remember reading those words after she passed away in 1994. And I thought about them again last night as I heard Bob Costas, half asleep (me, not him) say that Michael Phelps had won his 6th gold medal of these Games, and would be going for seven tomorrow.

I might not use the same method -- or even a singular method -- as my grammy, but I follow in her footsteps when it comes to keeping track of the world.

On my calendar, I write who I talked to that day, and if I received any mail (real mail, not electronic). This is something I have done since middle school. Only then, I also kept track of who I walked home with; and then in high school, who I worked with at the grocery store.

In my journal, I keep track of deeply personal things....my "list," potential baby names and letters to my yet-conceived baby, and half-written, barely started letters to J (some dating back to 2001).

And here...well you read what goes on here. Sometimes it's deep, sometimes it's personal, and sometimes it's just boring. But it's my life. And I think in this arena, it's the closest to my real life that I can get.

Not only do I share my grandmother's name. She was Eleanor, I am Ellie (Eleanor was too old-fashioned for 1970, she told my parents). And because I am still single, we share the same last name, something I will be sad to give up if I ever do get married.

But I also share her passion for observing and reporting, for sharing profound thoughts without being pompous. She was never a simple woman, but she enjoyed the simple things. And noticed everything around her.

I hope that by observing the simple things as she did (saw the first robin of spring to-day), noticing the bigger things (our country is again divided over a war and politics), and making the most of the hand I was dealt, I am making her proud.

Michael Phelps goes for his 7th gold medal tonight, to tie Mark Spitz. Tomorrow he could break the record. And for the past week, the country has forgotten about the mud-slinging of the election and remembers what it's like to root for the same thing.

Things are moving forward :)

My file has finally arrived in Syracuse at the fertility guru's office, and I have a consultation phone call on Monday morning at 7am.

My patience has been wearing thin with the waiting and waiting. Now I finally feel like I'm back on the road. Of course it also means that next week I will have to make my final decision about the egg donor. And even though I'm leaning strongly in one direction, I know that making it final will be hard.

And while I've had hopeful thoughts that I might be pregnant this month from my moments of indiscretion, I know really that I'm not. That I couldn't be. And so having the appointment on Monday really keeps me on track with my thinking, and not setting myself up for a major disappointment.

More and more it seems like I was right...

I haven't heard from match-boy since the no phone call and then the creepy text on Sunday night, which leads me to believe that I was right all along. He was looking to get laid as soon as he possibly could.

If I'm wrong, if he was genuinely a nice guy, then he would have called me to see what's up. He would have texted me to apologize for stepping over the line. Or maybe he really is a nice guy, maybe he knows he stepped over the line and doesn't know how to handle it.

If that's the case then maybe I'm a bitch. Do I write off men too soon? Do I find faults and flaws that I can't forgive when really I should?

I'm going to second-guess myself briefly, because in the end, I have to trust my gut. I have to trust my intuition. And I do trust my friends' opinions, who all got the creepy vibe when I recounted the weekend's events.

Top that off with a conversation Bubbles had with her ex this weekend about this very dating website. "All my friends are on match. It's such an easy way for them to get laid. A phone call, a few emails, a few texts, a dinner out and they're fucking these girls."

And so while I do have a friend who found her husband on match (seven years ago), I'm done with it. It has become a virtual bar. A place to hook-up, and not in a very meaningful way.

A year ago, I was at peace being single. I was focused on trying to have a baby. The delay in getting pregnant and the road bumps along the way have made me lose focus, have diverted my attention.

This weekend with match-boy has refocused me. In a good way. For now, I'm okay being single. For now, I need to think about saving money, being healthy (down 13 pounds since I stopped taking the hormones), and getting pregnant. A healthy mind and a healthy body can only be good for helping to grow the baby once I get pregnant.

Someday, when I'm traveling in the single parent circle, I might meet someone. But for right now, I'll enjoy my friends, my family, working out, and trying to get knocked up.

Ice Cream, part 2

I'm a planner. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. But either way, I am a planner and not an overly spontaneous person. For the most part, I like to know what I'm doing on any given day.

Yesterday, after the gym, I did grocery shopping (and on a side note, have no idea how I spent $100) and then home. Match-boy called about 4:30 and asked what I was doing, if I had any plans for the night. When I replied no, he asked what I wanted to do.

"Why don't we meet somewhere for ice cream?"

"You still want ice cream?!"

"Sure...and really what else is there to do in this town?"

"I can think of some things."

I let that comment go by. I don't want to sound like a bitch. "Are you up for ice cream?"

He replied that he was, that he was out in some podunk town about 45 minutes from home, but that he wouldn't be much longer and would call me back. In my mind, "not much longer" and knowing where he was, I was thinking he would call me about 6 and we would meet about 7.

I watched the Olympics, the pitiful Yankees game, and the SVU marathon on USA...and waited. Do we notice a pattern here?

I talked to Bubbles about 7:15 and we decided that I would give him until 7:30, and then I was going to get ready for bed. Fool that I am, I had been sitting and waiting, so I didn't start any project because I wanted to be ready to go when he called. I won't make that mistake again.

And so 7:30 came and went. I locked up downstairs and went up to my room. Washed my face, figured out what to wear to work today, packed my gym bag, etc. I talked to my niece for a little while about 8, and then at 8:30, a text came through.

"So are you watching the cubs and cards game"

WTF! So I replied "no getting ready for work tomorrow and bed"

"Need any help"

That right there solidified his motives to me. We've met once. We've texted for a week, but have really had no meaningful phone conversations. I ignored the comment, and continued reading my book.

About 45 minutes later, he texted again. "just playing"

I wrote back "good night" but what I really meant was good-bye.

Ice cream, anyone?

I went to Syracuse for the day on Saturday. My niece was having a family reunion with her dad's side of the family, so I went up to spend the day with them.

As I was driving home, I texted match-boy. "How was your day? I'm about 15 minutes from home."

"Boring. How was yours"

"Fun but long."

"What are you dong tonight"

"Nothing planned. You?"

"nothing planned" (Ugh....how to respond to that. Is he hinting that he wants to do something or just being curious?)

"Any ideas?"

"We could sit around and eat ice cream"

At this point, I am driving through downtown, on my way home. I pull over. If we're going to meet for ice cream, it's silly for me to go all the way home. So I write back "i love that idea...want me to head out your way"

And then I waited. And waited. Finally after being on the side of the road by the inlet and hearing nothing for 10 minutes, I called him. The conversation was frustrating at best. But basically, he wasn't home or any where near home, and decided maybe we should do this another time. Fine whatever.

So I drove home and as I was unlocking my door, he called and asked if there were any ice cream places near my house. I don't know of anyone, just the one downtown. then he asked if I had any ice cream in my freezer.

I let it go by that he thought he was going to know where I live after one date. I told him all I had was sugar-free popsicles. Then he asked what I was going to do the rest of the night. I told him I had some stuff I could do around the house. Then, because I was starting to get annoyed with him, for the hot and cold, cat and mouse games he seemed to be playing, I told him that I was going to the gym at noon the next day, and would be around after that if he wanted to call.

I talked to Bubbles after that, and had to give her the run-down on my very full week. I, of course, started the story with "well.....two weeks ago I had sex with a New York Yankee...." (Just because if you can start a story that way, you should ;) ) and ended with the ice cream conversations with match-boy.

In short, her opinion is that he's being a little weird, but I should give him the benefit of the doubt. My opinion....it's so much easier to date married men. I say that half-seriously, but come on. No games, no tip-toeing, no "what will she think if I say this?"

Maybe I should just stick with the plan....and be content with the men in my life who are nothing but a physical distraction, and just worry about having a baby.

When it Rains....

Here is a recap of what's been happening in my life and the men who are making it interesting.

J of Baltimore...some of you may remember previous posts about him. Lives in Baltimore, truly believe he is my soul mate and we met too late. We've been friends since 2001...most of the time we behave ourselves and act appropriately. There have been moments of indiscretion, once in person, a long time ago, others via text, a couple times a year.

In the middle of June, we chatted while he was on a golf trip with his brother, and I gave him the low-down on the baby-making project. He was genuinely excited and full of questions. From that time, he has been more than attentive. We've dirty texted (and it has gone to a whole new level) and even had some intense conversations. A text in late June says it all, "this should happen."

I'm waiting for it to happen, even as our conversations grow more and more intense.

I emailed Chris last week to wish him a happy birthday and ask when he was coming for a visit. We scheduled it for Friday. I admit, I was the one pushing for the meeting, the one pushing the suggestiveness in our conversations, the one being aggressive. Even Thursday afternoon when he called, and started to say "will you kill me if...."

I cut him off. "If you cancel on me, you are never hitting this again."

"I'll see you at 11;30."

That's what I thought. It was great to see him, and even though it has been over a year, we fit. When he walked in, I pushed him against the door. It was amazing, and we even talked after more than we usually do. And then I found out way. He was reactived to active duty last year, and just found out that he has to go to Mississippi for two years. This could have been our last hurrah.

Mississippi is better than Iraq, but far enough away that it might as well be. I was happy I called, really happy that I pushed to see him. He did make me feel the way I wanted, the way I needed. And it didn't matter that he only serves one need, that I only serve one need for him. For whatever reason, this works for us.

And while I haven't been actively looking at anyone on match.com, I did get an email from someone last weekend. I signed up for the free three days to retrieve it and ended up emailing this guy a few times. We traded cell phone numbers and have texted each other all week. A few times, he's tried to push it to the naughty level (in a mostly uncreepy way) and I've put the brakes on. I hadn't even met him yet.

We met Friday night for drinks and dinner, and had a really good time. We talked, we laughed. I felt almost completely comfortable with him. He walked me to my car, and we stood there and talked for a little while longer. I was hoping that he would kiss me, but he didn't. He said he would call the next day.

When I was driving home, he texted me. "U R a little cutie." Hmmmm, sweet....flattering....not really sure how to respond. I waited until I got home before pulling the phone out again and was trying to figure out my response, when he called. I told him that I had a good time and would like to see him again. He said he did too, to have fun in Syracuse the next day, and he would talk to me soon.

I was over at my neighbor's giving her the full details of the date when he texted me again. "would u have slapped me if i tried to kiss you"

Interesting. It made me a little giddy. I wrote back that I was hoping he would.

"U don't think its too soon"

"Not really"

"how about it i kissed your pretty feet"

(This is where he wanders into the slightly creepy category. It is way too soon to be thinking about something like that -- or if he's going to think it, he shouldn't say it. And really, the whole foot fetish thing -- I don't get.)

"i think its too soon for that"

"r u frustrated"

(That comment confused me and frustrated me. I had sex today buddy, thanks....I'm not frustrated."

"not even a little bit"

It went on like this for a little while longer and then when he texted something that could have gone without a comment, I stopped.

Overall...I'm excited about the prospect of him. I'm trying not to find flaws where there might not be any, trying really hard not to compare him to Chris or especially J.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Random Weekend Thoughts

It's August 3rd and the high was in the mid-60s today. Gray and cloudy. Please don't tell me summer is over already.

I've decided that Facebook is about as good for my self-esteem as places like match and eharmony were. That is to say, not good at all.

I need to start going to the gym hardcore again. I just do. I've managed to lose about 10 of the clomid-related weight, but would like to lose at least another 10 to 15 before getting pregnant, not to mention firming up the mid-section just so it can be stretched out.

I emailed Chris the other day (in my defense, it was his birthday), even though I said I wouldn't. Even though I said he can't give me what I need.

Which leads me to the next thought -- do I even know what I need?

It wasn't a W

But I'm totally taking credit for 7 innings, 0 runs, 2 hits, 1 K,and 4 BB against the best team in baseball.

Big Apple, defined

Bubbles and I arrived in NYC about 10am and were able to check into the hotel. We did and immediately headed out to the Park. We had a walking tour map that I had printed off the internet and also got one from a cute little old man in a Central Park Conservatory booth. Neither were very helpful as they didn't seem to scale, no paths were marked, either on the map or in real life.



We wandered in what seemed like the right direction for our first stop -- Strawberry Fields. We walked up, over and around it, and finally found it. From there, we have a point of reference and the map reading was much, much easier. We saw the Alice in Wonderland statue, the Hans Christian Anderson statue, the Belvedere Fountain, and lots of amazing views of the city, including the rocks that Charlotte and harry sat on for their engagement pictures (Sex and the City reference).

It was hot and sunny, and even though I was sweating like a stuck pig, it was amazing. We headed back to the hotel for quick showers before headed to the Bronx.

Out trip to Yankee Stadium started out so cool, because we had to pick up our tickets from the will call window that was labeled "visiting team player tickets." We felt like rock stars! There was a bit of a delay and finally we got called to the end window. Apparently Bubbles' credit card number got written down wrong and it didn't go through so they had to release our original tickets. "But not to worry, we have tickets for you."

We made our way inside, were bummed that Monument Park was already closed, and then headed back to home plate to find our seats. I was a little nervous that the face value was $75 (I had seen the price of tickets for this season.) I worried over nothing. We were directly behind home plate. About 30 rows back....and directly behind home plate.



It was amazing. And with a view like that, I had no problem paying $9.50 per beer. I sent texts taunting my friends. "3rd inning, 3rd beer."

The game wasn't the greatest. But Bubbles was having so much fun singing "Orioles Magic," spelling O-R-I-O-L-E-S, and singing "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" during the 7th inning stretch that I didn't mind terribly that the Yankees got pounded.

After the game, we met out with one of the Yankees players who used to be with the Orioles. (Who knew that fan mail saying "hi remember me, we used to know each other when I worked at the Museum in Baltimore, want to meet out for drinks?" would work?!)

We met him after the game, and he looked so hot. So all previous convictions I had ("he's not hitting this") went right out the window when he walked into the bar and hugged me. Who was I kidding? None of my friends believed me, anyway -- they just humored me.

We did shots, we drank beer, we talked dirty. At one point Bubbles and I did a little smooching for him (why are guys so easy with that little trick?). And then poor Bubbles got sick. She was hugging the toilet and finally, we got into a cab, and my Yankee was about 20 minutes behind us.

At the hotel, she made herself a little bed of towels on the bathroom floor when my Yankee showed up. God bless her -- what a good friend. I'm not going into details, ya'll can draw your own pictures, but if he wins in his next start, I'm taking credit.

And the question everyone keeps asking -- "could you be pregnant?" With my little dried up eggs, I doubt it. But I'll keep you posted next month.

Back from the Big Apple

Things I learned:

1. I'm too old to drink like I used to, especially after not drinking more than one beer at any given time, and maybe that happened once or twice in the past baby-attempt year.

2. I'm too old to do shots, especially when tequila is involved.

3. Jagermeister after tequila is never a good idea.


And for the life list:

Professional baseball player, check!

More details after a nap.

Vacation

I'm headed to Baltimore on Saturday morning, spending the afternoon with my opinionated friend Tim, more to see his daughters than him. We'll see if he behaves with his comments or even innocent queries. Either way, the party line will be "nothing new to report."

Then I'm spending the night with my dear friend Wanda. I'm excited to see her kids, too. Danny turned one in January, so it will be fun to see him on the go. And Miranda, at four, is always entertaining to Auntie Ellie.

Sunday, my brother, sister-in-law and niece are coming up from Richmond for the day. This was too short of a trip for me to swing through VA, so they'll come to me. And we'll probably sit at Champps, grazing and watching baseball. Then I head over to Bubbles' place and we'll get ready for our big adventure.

The Big Apple! We're taking a train on Monday morning, spending the night in the theater district, right near Carnegie Hall and have a whole host of sights to see in our two days -- Central Park (our hotel is two blocks away), the New Public Library, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Mickey Mantle's, and of course, no trip to Manhattan would be complete without Tiffany's.

Monday night, we'll go to Yankee Stadium for the Oriole game, and after have drinks with Sidney Ponson, who I knew from his playing days in Baltimore. He was always my go-to guy when I needed an athlete at an event.

I'll be back in Ithaca on Wednesday, and then will jump back into the baby-making process, hopefully knowing when I can talk to the fertility guru.

Happy weekend. Go Yankees!

HIV, CBC, Hep B, et al

I went to the doctor yesterday (my doctor in Horseheads) and signed and signed and signed. Consent forms for the HIV test, release of my files to the Fertility Guru, forms that said I not only consented but was aware. And on and on.

We talked about next steps, and it was kind of sad. I started this journey with Jan and Jodi a little over a year ago. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't get pregnant with them. And now...

I won't be saying goodbye to them entirely. I can still use their office (slightly closer to home than Syracuse) for the ultrasounds and blood work. But they won't be running the show, merely following the orders of the guru.

I went for my blood work this morning -- it will complete my file and then it can be sent to Syracuse. All of these tests were done more than a year ago, so they have to be done again. Five vials of blood this morning! But it felt good to have what I need to do done.

I will still have a conversation with FG, but from the detailed explanation that Jodi gave me yesterday, even if he could harvest some of my eggs, their viability would be in question. And there would be a significant increase of chromosomal birth defects, even more than the chances of me just as a 38-year-old.

And so I will talk to him, but I'm at peace with my decision to use an egg donor. I've had two offers from people I know to be my donor. I asked the guru's office to send me information about what the donor goes through. I want both women to read this and have this information in mind before they give me a firm offer. I want them to know the inconveniences they (and their bodies) will go through during this two-month process.

I will never be able to thank these women enough, and not just for being the donor, but for offering. For understanding the ultimate goal, for seeing the bigger picture, and for being so unselfish and full of love and support for me. There will be lots of decisions in the coming weeks, and not just by me.

Blast from the Past

I received the following email via LinkedIn this morning when I got to work:

Hi hon....nice to your big beautiful smile. How are you? xoxo T

I have to admit, I giggled like a school girl when I read it. T was the most beautiful specimen of a man in college. He was from Antigua, so he had an accent to die for; the most beautiful milk chocolate skin, dimples and a soccer player's body.

I've never been a big fan of these social networking sites, mostly because I thought I was too old for them, or too something, I'm not sure what. But recently I've reconnected with a bunch of people from high school -- and once I get over the fact that I think I am the only one from Corcoran High, Class of '88 not married or in a committed relationship, it's been really fun to see how and where people ended up.

So back to T. I was young and naive, and had no clue about relationships. And the minute he paid attention to me, I was completely smitten, head over heels. I spent many a night crying over him mostly because I built up a relationship where it was nothing more than flirtation, had expected so much from him and had grandiose ideas of what it meant to go to college and have your first college boyfriend. And of course none of those ideas and dreams came to fruition quite the way I expected it to. Lesson learned the hard way.

If I knew then what I know now....T and I could have really had some fun.

Back to present day, I responded, asked him if he was married, kids, and gave him the 25-word version of my life since I graduated from Fisher in '93. And so, just like my high school friends on Facebook, I am having fun learning about the paths that people's lives have taken, people I once cared about, people who I didn't stop caring about because of something sinister or malicious, but just because people grow up and move on.

So where I once looked down upon the whole social networking thing, saw it as something I needed to know about for work, because that's where prospective students are, I've learned to not be so judgmental.

Maybe you can teach this old dog a new trick.

So apparently he has to have the last word...

I wasn't entirely surprised to get this email back from Tim this morning:

I don't care what the Catholic church says. I am glad that you are good with God, that is the only thing that counts. Its the relationship between you and Him and if you have this desire, then it is coming from Him. Go forward young woman. As far as the scripture- it just happened to be something that I read that day to give you hope and support for.

Cling to Him... not preaching about your situation. He'll give you comfort through the pain and the unknowing til things are what they will be. And I did voice concern a year ago- but I didn't beat it over your head. Nor will I. I always have concern that you are all right and doing ok. That's what close friends and people who care for one another do. And I support you and will help you if you need it. ANYTIME kiddo.

And there you have it. I won't be responding. They are going on vacation this weekend, and I will be in Baltimore the next weekend and will stop by the house to see the girls. It'll be water under the bridge at that point. Hopefully.

Perspective

I talked to my sister-in-law on Saturday. She had been on vacation for the past 10 days -- and while I could have called her cell, I didn't want to bother her -- so she knew nothing of what has been going on with me lately.

I brought her up to speed, crying along the way, and she told me that I'm driving myself crazy needlessly. "Wait until you see the guru, wait until he tells you he can't use your eggs. He's a specialist in this field for a reason -- what regular doctors think of as impossible, he sees as possible. Don't make any decision right now, because you don't need to."

And she's right. I've been so focused on what will I do, I wasn't even looking at all the options, because I don't know them. I'm going on what my blood work says to my OB/GYN, not what my blood work says to a fertility doctor.

And so, for the first time since July 3, my headache went away, though not without one last moment of drama.

I spoke with my friend Tim and his wife on Friday night. They live in Baltimore and I was really good friends with him first, before becoming part of their family (their daughter is my god daughter). I talked to both of them, told them where I was with everything, etc.

Three hours later, Tim starts sending me a string of text messages on my cell phone about how I shouldn't overlook adoption as an option, that if I'm open to a non-biological child why would I go through pregnancy when there are so many children in the world needing a good home, that God has a plan for me, and then quoted some scriptures at me. It made my head hurt worse, and since it was almost 11pm, I chose to ignore him best I could.

Saturday morning, I texted him back and said that all options are still on the table, but I'm not ready to give up on being pregnant yet. Which he took as some need I have to to fulfill my identity as a woman. This went on -- still via text -- for an hour. I finally wrote to: "You are really pissing me off. I need support not a fucking debate."

To which, he replied that he wasn't debating me, but did I think about.... I finally threw the phone down and went for a walk, which didn't really help. I could actually feel in my speed and the length of my strides that I was feeling utterly defeated. What right did he have to be spouting scripture at me and making moral judgements?

When I got back from my walk, I met a friend at Cornell's art museum, and then finally talked to my sister-in-law. So all things were making me feel better and I knew that I would just ignore any calls or texts from him for a while, and just not get into it.

I didn't think about e-mail. Sunday morning, I woke up to this in my in-box:

Hi Red, Cell phones and texting are great - has made the world a lot smaller. But it has also made the world a little more impersonal. Message can be easily delivered, but also misconstrued too.

Ellie, I am not one to give a lot of advice - not the way I have lived my life. And I am not here either. I am also not making any moral comments or judgements.
You got mad at me yesterday cause of some comments I made. I am sorry for that. Never my intention. I know you are going through a rough time. I know you have been through a lot and some things are happening that are out of your control. I also know you are planning the next steps. I know you probably have to, but I was only saying until you have to, let all options stay open.

You yourself told me there is still a chance cause you haven't even talked to the other doctor yet. God has a way of making things happen. That's all. I was not advocating adopting over fertilization or saying one was more moral than the other or anything like that. I know you will do what is best for you and your situation.

My only concern is for you. You are a strong, self reliant person- on the outside. On the inside you are a woman who wants to love and be loved. And for whatever reason, your path in life has led to this. When you first talked about this, I voiced some reservations cause how hard it was going to be a single parent. But you knew what you were getting into. The way you talked, I felt that this was a course to help fulfill your identity- not help to discover what your identity was. I was hoping for the best.

But if you are thinking this pregnancy and motherhood is a way to find your identity, be very careful. As someone who did not know who he was til the last 8-10 mos- makes interesting telling sometime if you want to hear- I know what it is like to not know who you are. Just be careful kiddo, cause if something happens again that is not pleasant or planned, where does that leave you?? And YOU are the person I care for and worry now. That's all. Just leave options open and see what presents itself. Be open to things.

Ellie, we haven't talked much about God. Maybe you have not so crazy thoughts on the subject. I hope that's not the case. I know He changed me. But if your heart and head agree on something that is not sin based, that is God talking ya. Just be open to it. You have a lot of friends and family who love ya and will support you on whatever course you take. Count me as one of those.

I did the same thing I did the day before. I went for a walk, I cleared my head, and I responded once I was calm.

I'm just going to chalk this conversation up to mis-communications due to technology. If you had reservations or concerns or questions, the time to ask them was when we were on the phone, not via text three hours later.

As for my relationship with God, I'm good. And I'm glad you're good. And it did sound like preaching in the texts, how could it not when you were quoting scripture at me. I know that the Catholic church is against what I'm doing, but I can live with that. I've accepted that. One thing has nothing to do with the other.

And I did get mad at you yesterday, though I understood that your comments were mostly coming from concern, but it felt like your agenda went back to our conversation a year ago when I told you I was finally going through with this.

I have thought this through for the past decade. I've put it off this long because I wanted to make sure I was financially secure -- and that decision may have cost me the chance at a having a baby the way I thought I would.

You can't understand. Grow a uterus, have your body betray you, and then we can talk.

I'm not mad any longer, but I also don't think we should talk about this any more. It's only going to lead to more hurt feelings and anger.

Have a good rest of the weekend, and I'll talk to you soon. love, Red

PS....all this talk about God from the man who texted me four days earlier, while he was in NYC with his buddies, out drinking undoubtedly, about a drunken night six years ago in Baltimore when we had a moment of indiscretion and did some smooching. "Thinking about a certain night in your apartment right now...smile on my face and a certain member is standing at attention :) :) :)"

Changed man my ass.

Pros and Cons

I learned a little more information today about the egg donor program at the fertility guru's office today, and I am now completely over-whelmed and confused. And to make sure I had the complete picture, I also talked to the insurance company.

The egg donor program will cost me about $12,000 out of pocket. Insurance will cover very little of it. For that $12K, the donor gets her compensation (about $4000), her doctor visits, and retrieval of her eggs. I get my doctor visits, transfer of embryos, freezing of embryos, first-year storage of embryos, and frozen embryo transfer for up to one year.

So basically, all the eggs we can gt out of her and fertilize and a year to get me pregnant. So now comes the dilemma. Do I pay this money, which is a lot but also an amount that I could cover almost all of, for a really good chance of getting pregnant and getting a baby, knowing that there is also a chance that none of it could work? Or do I take out a loan for three times that for the guarantee that I will get a baby through adoption?

I cried all afternoon, sobbed even. I'm all cried out now, but still confused. In one moment, one option seems so clear. A minute later, the other option begins to filter in and then becomes the obvious choice.

And without having a partner with equal say in the matter, this choice becomes all mine. I can certainly listen to different view points, I welcome other opinions...but when it comes down to it, I have to do this knowing that this is probably going to be the hardest and most important decision I've ever made, my first parental verdict.

Plan B

I talked to the doctor's office today. My FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) has almost doubled since last summer when I had my initial blood work done. And that's not a good thing. It definitely means that my ovarian reserve is dwindling and any eggs I have left are a crap-shoot as to whether they are viable.

Not unexpected news, but it still hurt to hear. I have to keep reminding myself that I still have options. I can still get pregnant.

The next step is for me to have some more blood work, including an HIV test, before all of my files and my case are transferred to the fertility guru in Syracuse. The ridiculous part of it is that I have to have "counseling" before they will test me for HIV, so I couldn't get an appointment for that until July 22.

I've contacted the donor coordinator at the guru's office for more information. I'm hoping to hear back from her in the next few days. I'm curious as to exactly how this will all work, the time line, and especially the costs. While my insurance has fertility coverage, and while my ovarian reserve issue is definitely medical, the insurance will not cover any part of egg donation. (But insurance covers viagra -- unbelievable!)

I've also been doing my own sort informal surveys with the people I know who have gone through IVF, how many procedures, how many embryos were implanted and how many babies came out. It's looking like most had a failed first implantation, and three out of the four that resulted in pregnancies resulted in multiples, including a set of triplets. That's scary.

But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. Which is what I do. I'm a planner and I'm impatient. So, I guess there's no helping getting ahead of myself.

I'm Not feeling Hope Today

As teenagers and young women, we’re taught all about the responsibility of not getting pregnant. Don’t have sex, you’ll pregnant. Make sure you use birth control, you don’t want to get pregnant. (For the sake of this conversation, we’re going to assume that all bases of STD’s are covered.)

I can remember two instances – both wedding hook-ups incidentally – when I was late. And I freaked. Did I want to be pregnant? Pretty much since I was 16, I knew I was meant to be a mom. But at that moment in time, after my college roommate’s wedding, in my little apartment above my landlord’s mother, making $23,000 a year, did I really want to be pregnant? No. I wished and prayed with all my might that I was just late.

And I was.

It happened again in 2002. I was living in Baltimore but was back in NY for a wedding. I made an instant connection with the guy and ended up having the most amazing non-sex of my life. However, parts touched and I’m sure things leaked – and the Dear Abby column that terrified me when I was about 14 about how you can get pregnant without actual intercourse (slight as the chance might be) came rushing back.

I remember vividly, being at an after-work function behind the museum. I opted out of the baseball game and slightly tipsy, drove to Target for a pregnancy test. The test was negative and stayed on my bathroom sink counter for three hours. I checked it every 10 or 15minutes to make sure it didn’t change.

But again, would it have been so awful if I got pregnant? Not really. It wouldn’t have been the way I would have planned it, the way I imagined it, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.

And so now, fast forward to 2008. Still not the way I imagined it, still not the way I would have planned it, but by far, not the end of the world. Except now, I can’t get pregnant. Even with medical intervention, with the most careful planning of my cycles, the most optimum conditions of my ovaries and uterus, and nothing.

I wonder why I bothered to be so responsible, why I bothered to be so careful. I could have not worried about birth control and just had fun and gotten the baby I wanted. The first night that Chris and I hooked up, I wouldn’t have sex with him. He didn’t have a condom and at that point, I wasn’t on the pill. He practically begged and I said no.

As drunk as I was, the message that was instilled into my head at such a young age, and repeated over and over again through media and pop culture and peers, was stronger than my urge to have sex, my wish to be a mom.

If I had said yes, would I have a beautiful four-year-old right now? Who knows for sure? All I know is that I wasted hundreds and hundreds of eggs because I’m the good girl, I’m the responsible one.

The Wedding

So it's been a week since the wedding, and I'm still trying to get my head around it all. I guess the easiest way to report is in bullet points:

* My parents were miserable, didn't really speak to anyone at the reception, left after dinner without telling anyone or saying good-bye, and got out without doing any grandparent pictures with the bride and groom.
* I left the controversy at the door and had fun with my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, and felt guilty the entire day for having fun when my brother and his family weren't invited.
* I talked to my sister-in-law that night and she said it bothered her more than she expected. She and my niece cried that day, and I found out the next day from my brother that she had cried herself to sleep.
* My brother is beyond hurt and has moved onto anger. He blames the bride but also her mother for not telling her to do the right thing, and that as far as he's concerned she is nothing more than a step-sister, a distant relative.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time crying since the wedding. And as much as I want to try to fix it, everyone tells me that it's not my problem to fix, that I can't take on that responsibility.

It's hard, because that's not my personality. My whole thing is to take care of other people, to fix things, to make sure that all is right in the world.

Unfortunately, I think this might beyond my talent for fixing. Maybe time will heal the wounds, but I doubt it. The wounds are running too deep.

PS....last call for entries in my pay-it-forward and send fabulous gifts. So if you want in, comment on a story and let me know. I'll pull a name at the end of the week and get fun Finger Lakes presents in the mail next weekend.

Dried-Up Eggs

I thought I would be able to post today about my first self-injection of hormones last night, but alas, once again my body is not cooperating in my fertility attempts. I had blood work yesterday morning and what needed to be under 100 was actually at 134. So the doctor had the lab run another test on that blood and she is anticipating that it will be an indication that my ovarian reserve is failing.

I took a deep breath when she told me that I couldn't do the hormone therapy this month and then cried. About an hour later I called her back and asked about donor eggs. She said that we should really wait to see what the FSH numbers come back as, but yes, that's probably a good idea to start thinking that way.

I told her I don't want to waste any more time or money -- I'm not getting any younger, especially if we have to keep putting months off and each sperm donation is almost $800. The goal was for me to have a baby, ideally through my own pregnancy. I could care less is the eggs aren't mine. I just want to be a mom, I want a baby. And if this is the way it has to go, then this is the way to do it.

I thought too late yesterday to call the insurance company to inquire about my infertility coverage and whether it actually covers the cost of donor eggs, since this in fact (unlike my need to purchase sperm) a medical shortfall within my body. And if it's not, then it's still considerably less expensive than adoption, though I know that at some point, I may need to resign myself to that.

But not today. Today there is still hope for maternity clothes and feeling the baby kick. Today there is still hope for a little redhead baby growing inside me. Today there's hope. I just have to remember that when I feel like giving up, when I feel like feeling sorry for myself, and when I feel like it will never happen.

Bird by Bird

After an emotionally draining weekend and tiring weekend -- the family wedding, complete with drama (will write more when I can tell all stories without tears) and my great-nephew's first birthday party -- I was greeted by a box from Oklahoma. My present from Woodrow -- a book about writing.

And as promised, I am now paying it forward. I know I get regular readers from my site meter, but not a lot of comments. Now it's time. Comment that you want in on this giveaway, I'll draw three names at random and send you a fabulous present from the Finger Lakes.