Cleaning House

I know that many people wouldn't have done this so quickly, but I like things in order. I like things I can control (probably why the past three years have been so fucking hard). And so Friday afternoon, after I got plowed out from the 18 inches of snow that fell the previous evening and that morning, I went to Wal-Mart and bought a shredder.

I stood at my kitchen counter and threw away all open medicine, packing up whatever was unopened to be donated. And then I pulled out my binder and shredded every piece of paperwork from the doctor and related to prescriptions. I did save my ultrasound pictures and every picture of my embryos.

I pulled the two bins of maternity clothes out of the extra bedroom and put them in garbage bags, ready to bring back to my niece the next day. And the books I pulled from the shelf on Thursday got put into a bag and dropped off at the library book sale. Jill's fertility statue that has sat on my bedroom television since the summer of 2007 is wrapped in paper, in a bag, and ready to go back to her house. And this morning, I handed Heather a $50 gift card for Motherhood Maternity.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not getting pregnant. I don't need it."

"Are you sure?" she repeated.

I'm sure. It's all gone. Any reminder of trying to get pregnant. Any planning that I did -- premature or otherwise -- is undone. My kitchen counter is void of needles, syringes, bottles of pills, and vials of progesterone in oil. My bathroom sink no longer holds my daily allotment of progesterone suppositories and the applicators.

I pulled my adoption paperwork out and immediately was over whelmed. Jill promised to come over early next week and help me sort through it.

And last night as I was laying in bed, trying to fall back asleep, I finally figured out what has perhaps been bugging me about international adoption. And "bugging" might be the wrong word. But I have been hesitant. And I've wondered if it's because of the race thing, but that's not it.

If someone handed me an African-American baby tomorrow, I would be thrilled. So why am I hesitant about adopting from Ethiopia? I think it's because if I'm going to spend all this money, if I'm going to take out a loan and drain my savings to the grand total of more than $25,000, I want a choice. I don't want to be told where I have to adopt from.

Just because I'm single, does that make me any less of a person? Will that make me any less of a parent? Apparently, in the eyes of almost every country in the world, it does.

And so just as I couldn't control what my body would and wouldn't do over the past few years, I can't control this. And the sooner I accept that part of it, and worry about what I can control -- saving money, raising money, getting all my paperwork in, continuing to work on me, getting back to the gym and wanting to do good things for my body -- the better off I will be, both physically and mentally.

Toxic

My uterus is the place where healthy, viable embryos go to die. There's no other explanation. It really is the only explanation, and honestly, it's what I have to believe or I will think that there's something more I can do, something else I can try, when really I have to believe that I've done all I can and it's time to move on.

The finality of that is frightening, because it makes me wonder if it will ever really happen.

I have to move on to plan B. And I will have to get my head wrapped around the fact that I won't ever be pregnant. I won't ever feel a life move inside of me. I won't ever experience the look that other people give a pregnant woman. I won't hear that there's a glow about me. Or that I'm carrying low (or high). Or that I'm breaking out because I'm having a girl and she's stealing my beauty.

I won't experience labor or delivery. And almost certainly, I will not hear the first sounds my baby ever makes.

I pulled pregnancy books off my shelf last night and piled them at the top of the stairs, not sure what to actually do with them. I have bins of maternity clothes to return to my niece, including some that have been bought specifically for me, just in case. And I have a $50 Motherhood Maternity gift card to do something with.

When I started this process with the egg donor, I went in thinking I would have at least three chances. Given the number of embryos they had previously extracted from Ginger, I thought the odds were in my favor. Even when I heard that there were (only) six embryos, I thought that I would have two chances.

Over the past nine days, I tried not to think about what FG had said about the remaining embryos when I asked if we were freezing those. I tried not to think about "if they're viable."

And so after 13 tries, it really is over. And it's time to move onto Plan B. Whatever that is. However that looks.

It was Negative

I can't say much beyond that right now.

The Waiting Game

I feel at peace tonight. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that I am at peace. Either way, it's going to be a long night.

Seems Fishy

My sister-in-law told me this morning that when you dream of fish, you're pregnant. It happened to her before she knew she was pregnant with Tiff, and it happened to a friend of hers.

I did a quick google search. And while there were many who wrote this off as an old wives' tale, completely false, there were others who were convinced:


The "fish dream" happens to me when i concieve... u?
im convinced that dreaming of fish is in fact a way to know if someone is pregnant...

everytime ive been preggers i always got the fish dream right around the time i concieved (only been preggers 2 times) but each time i had a weird dream about fish.... and its the only time i dream of fish

yes every time Ive conceived ive had dreams of fish or relatives would have those same dreams. I had a dream about fish and found out my cousin was pregnant, then my sister had a similar dream and found out that i was so that's weird but SO true. works every time.

So either, I am, as my "dream" told me the other night, or it's merely that I know someone who is pregnant. And if you're someone who is trying to get pregnant, it's not hard to know someone who is pregnant. The world seems full of pregnant women.

And now the terror sets in

Okay, maybe terror is a little strong.

But with still some waiting time before my blood test, I'm starting to get scared. What will I do if it's negative? I don't know if they were able to freeze the other three embryos. And I kind of don't want to know until after the test. No need to add one more thing to my list of bad thoughts if they weren't.

Luckily I have an afternoon full of meetings today and through to blood test day. Hopefully that will keep my mind from wandering too far down a dark road.

I'm Pregnant, So Says the Sign

I am. It's five days until my blood test, but I am. I know it.

I had a hard time sleeping Friday night, was flipping through the channels, watching things I wouldn't normally watch. And then finally fell back asleep two hours later, about 5:30am (Saturday morning).

And then I felt what I can only describe as the sensation of someone running their finger down my back. Slowly, but from inside of me. It happened four or five times. And in my mind, I could see a fish.

A little background. Two weeks ago, my sister-in-law's sister passed away from brain cancer. She loved to fish. Debbie has seen "signs" from her sister in random things -- a rainbow and the shape of a fish from the sun hitting my niece's cell phone in the car.

I had this in my mind Friday night. I was thinking about the upcoming Relay for Life, and how I would draw a fish with a rainbow on it for the little bag for the candles they line the race track with that I would buy in honor of Denise.

Back to the wee hours of Saturday morning. I knew it was Denise. I don't know why she would come to me, but she did. And I asked her if I was pregnant. And suddenly, my entire body was awash with warmth.

(This happened to me once before. In 1994, after my grandmother died. I missed her so much. And one night, she came to me. And I felt that warmth over my entire body.)

And so for whatever reason -- because Debbie needs something good to happen, and she's been wishing, and hoping and praying right along with me these past three years for a pregnancy to take or because maybe the most recent person you know who has died suddenly becomes your guardian angel when needed. For whatever reason, Denise came to me that night. And I felt her warmth when I asked her if I was pregnant.

And so now, after having a few days to think about it, and talking to one of my other Catholic friends, I only describe what I'm feeling not as a crisis of faith, more like a crisis of faith in myself. Do I believe in myself enough to trust what I experienced? To believe what I believe it meant?

They're In....

and the wait begins.

I had my transfer yesterday. There are three beautiful embryos in there, all in the blastula stage (the next stage of embryo development). I'll take that as a good sign.

I'm trying to stay positive, to have good thoughts about what could be happening in my body. But I've never been on the other side of this, so I can only recall the bad stuff.

I try to block those memories out with images of me holding a swaddled baby in the crook of my arm from a hospital bed. Or running like an airplane, with my arms spread straight out, chasing a toddler with red curls. Or me in my 7th or 8th month of pregnancy, fat and happy.

I went to see my friend April, to meet her two-week-old baby today. I was hoping for some good baby mojo from Elliott. I held him the whole two hours I was there. Changed his diaper and his onesie. Fed him. Watched him sleep. And looked his 10 perfect, tony fingers.

Even though April and I talked about yesterday, it was nice to think about yesterday. To think about the blood test. To think about what happens after the blood test.

And I have a J update. He texted me Friday night. About 11pm. I ignored it. Over the weekend, I wrote on his Facebook wall. "Sorry I missed your text the other night. Hope you're surviving all the snow."

He deleted it the next day.

I hope that was a test. And I hope it means I passed.

Hail Mary

This is probably the most famous Hail Mary -- Doug Flutie's touch down pass for Boston College in 1984 with :06 left on the game clock.



I'm not looking for anything quite so dramatic, but I feel like this is my Hail Mary. My last chance (or second to last, given that I'll have some embryos in the freezer) to get pregnant.

And so on Tuesday, I'll head up to Syracuse and the FG will transfer some of Ginger's embryos (made with healthy, young 28-year-old eggs) into me. And in two weeks, I'll know if it worked.

She had her retrieval on Thursday. Of the 18 eggs they retrieved, they were able to inject 11, and as of Friday, there were six embryos. Any of the other five could develop into embryos as well.

Six is good. Six is two tries, if FG thinks that three is the way to go. (I'm leaning towards three.)

And so just like Doug Flutie 26 years ago, I'm throwing my Hail Mary. And saying one or two along the way.

Feeling the Drought

What do you get when you cross a girl who is no fewer than three different hormones, who's body is on the cusp of trying to get pregnant with a girl who hasn't had sex in four months?

Yeah, welcome to my world. Oh my god...I sat at my desk today trying to figure out if there was anyone I could call for the weekend. I've sworn off of Chris, J wouldn't put out even if he weren't on my "I promise never to..." list, I haven't heard from E in a few weeks and weekends don't ever work for him because of his kids. BB would also be added to the "I'm not doing that anymore" category.

Sadly, most of previous service providers fall into that last category, and all of them are out of state. And even if I was willing to forget about the deal I made with myself, most of them are snowbound in either Maryland or Connecticut.

Which brings me to the big dilemma -- I need a local service provider. Ever since Chris shipped out, my stable has been empty.

Of course, I will just need to get through this weekend, because once I have my transfer, I will be on the DL anyway.

Just a few more days. I can do this, right?

The gifts of fertility

With Ginger going under tomorrow for her retrieval, I started to mentally prepare for my procedure next week and what I will be bringing with me. And that got me thinking about the gifts and encouragement that my friends have given me over the past three years.

My friend Jill, who has been my rock, my chauffeur, my shoulder to cry on, and my hand to squeeze, bought me a beautiful set of rosary beads in Jerusalem. I use the beads every week before mass. And at the start of this journey, she loaned me a fertility statue she got in Africa. It has sat on top of the television in my room.

After my miscarriage last year, I packed it up and had it in a small shopping bag, on my counter ready to go back to her. But something stopped me. I was in it for the long haul, the statue would be too. It is back on top of the television, and perhaps, in thinking about it, I will move it closer to the bed tonight.

My friend Jennifer, who has three children via IVF, told me about praying to St. Gerard. I immediately went out and bought myself a medal, which I've worn on my chain with my diamond pendant. And I have a prayer card that I keep in my wallet.

St. Gerard, the patron saint of fertility and motherhood, was with my friend April when she underwent her IVF procedure. She gave birth to a beautiful little boy a week ago.

Heather gave me a a heart-shaped pin with the word "faith" on it in several languages. She said her baby pulled at it at the check-out counter while they were shopping, and she took that as a sign. I have it pinned to the size 12-month Derek Jeter t-shirt that I bought myself almost 15 years ago. And usually both of those go with me to the doctor's office.

Bubbles has gotten me countless gifts, not only for the impending pregnancy that she has total faith will happen, but the eventual birth. A maternity dress, a gift card for Motherhood Maternity -- both of which I considered and contemplated giving away to various friends when I heard of their pregnancies. But something always stopped me.

And for the baby -- a picture frame for the baby's hand prints, tiny little sneakers, books. All of which are in my baby box waiting for the tiny little body to use them.

And Hope and Claudia, who have wiped away tears and said nothing when I just needed someone to be in the room. Who have been just as excited as I am about each little step of the process, who always remember to ask after a doctor's appointment.

My mom, who doesn't always quite understand the process or the terms, who sometimes is a little over-anxious about results, from day one, has never wavered in her support or excitement over the prospect that her daughter is intentionally going to be a single mother.

Two of my nieces and my sister-in-law, who have given me maternity clothes or picked up a little book here or clipped a magazine article there.

So many friend have been so supportive, and while I have complained in the past about the lack of support from most of my siblings, the ones who have been are unbelievably a part of the process.

I guess my point of today's post is not only for me to recognize and be thankful for the little gifts and the people in my life, but to remind you that no matter how much they drive you crazy, you're lucky for the people in your life.

Fertile Mertyl

Or, in this case, fertile Ginger. I got the update today that there are 12 to 15 good follicles and she is ready. The retrieval is scheduled for Thursday, and I will most likely have my transfer on Tuesday (though it could be Monday).

Wednesday I stop some of my meds and start up a whole bunch of new ones, including the blood thinner shot in my stomach and the two-inch needle of progesterone in my ass, and I get to add a vaginal suppository to my twice daily ritual. Good times.

I have a ton of meetings this week -- no less than four a day. But next week? Nothing on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. So whichever day it is, I'm good to take off that day and the next if I want.

Everything seems to be falling into place. I'm excited and scared, as always. But I think this time, more excited than scared. The odds are with me, right?

Can we have a single guy, my age, be this interested in me?

Please.

The phone rang today and I looked up to see it was from an orthopedics office. I picked up the phone and then paused. Could it? I did a quick internet search while the phone was stilling ringing and confirmed that it was Dr. Pervert's office. I put the phone back down.

Why the hell was he calling me?

Thirty seconds after the phone stopped ringing, my cell phone started. I picked it up -- 315 area code. Same number. I ignored that as well.

I went along with my day. Fabrics store, church, dinner. And then this evening, a phone call from a "private" number. I mistakenly answered it.

"Ellie, hello, it's Dr. R."

Ugh. WTF. Why are you calling me? What do you want? Aside from the fact that you operated on my knees in the '80s and then put your tongue in my mouth in the '90s, we're not that close.

But did I say any of that. No. In the same vein that I needed to call the FG's office to apologize to the receptionist the other day, I can't be rude to him. I was monotone, non-committal in the conversation, uninterested even, but not rude.

He told me that he saw my mother this week and she "read me the riot act for not staying in touch with her and you. So she gave me your numbers."

Oh Frances, what am I going to do with you? How many times do I need to tell you to not give him my numbers. Do I really need to tell you that this man you've known for 40 years, this man that you trust and respect hit on your daughter when she was in her mid-20s and he was easily on the other side of 50? Are you going to make me tell you this?

After nearly 15 years of sparing her feelings, I know that I will continue to not tell her any of this. It really wasn't that big a deal. It made me feel icky, I dealt with it. He kissed me, I briefly kissed him back, he ran his hand up my sweater, pushed me down and would have fucked me if I said okay. I said no, he respected that. I'll give him that at least.

But all in all, it wasn't a big deal then. Not a big deal now. But this man needs to stop calling me. And my mother needs to stop encouraging him to call me. I'm not sure what she's trying to prove, what she's trying to do.

A Little Bit of This, A little Bit of That

I got a comment from a new reader the other day, wondering if I wrote this for myself or my friends, noticing that I don't get a lot of comments. The answer....some of my friends read this, but I don't expose myself with this blog to too many people I know. I feel like I can be more honest that way. I mistakenly shared my blog a few years ago with some family members and then found that I was self-censoring.

And so I went over and then started over. It's a combination of closest friends and those I trust to never judge who read this and know me in real life. My other readers are just people who have stumbled across me. I would love comments, just to know if anyone agrees with me or to offer support, but I mostly write this for me. As a way to document the things going on in my life and to express myself.

I've said it in previous posts when I first started. I imagine myself a little like Carrie Bradshaw, trying to make my way through life, one column at a time.

~~~

I was up way too early this morning, leaving the house before 6:30 and headed to Syracuse. It was snowing, not hard enough to be bad, just enough to be an annoyance. Not big flakes, but gritty, greasy snow. And it was dark, so it was hard to see the lines in the road.

I got to the doctor's office a little before 8, and then waited. At 8:30 I went up to the receptionist and reminded her that I had an 8:00 appointment. And then again at 8:45. I lost my patience (for me) and told her I was frustrated, that I still needed to drive back to Ithaca, that I had gotten up early to be here on time. And that immediately set me off into a bad mood.

I paid little attention in my appointment, did not engage with either nurse I saw. My lining looked good -- it's at 9mm. Much better than the 5.8 it was one week into my mock cycle. Ginger goes back on Friday and that's when I'll get an updated time line of what's happening with me in the next week or two.

I finally got to work about 10:15. And with a full afternoon of meetings, I knew that I was going to get little done today. Keeping me in my foul mood.

A co-worker asked me for advice, so I went up to her office and helped with her problem employees. We strategized a way for her to handle them, and by helping her, I actually felt better. Not 100%, but my mood had improved.

I had my first meeting at 1:00, and in there, realized that I would feel better if I called the doctor's office receptionist and apologized for being impatient with her. Between the end of my 1-2:30 and my 2:45-3, I called and talked to her. She was very sweet and told me I never needed to call and apologize, she felt bad knowing that it was snowing and that I had driven an hour to get there for my appointment.

I immediately felt back to myself. And while looking from the outside, I did nothing obnoxious or even bitchy, but for me, it was. I don't complain, and when I do, I certainly never take it out of a person just before she is in front of me. Not the waitress for bad food, not the cashier for not having something in stock.

Baby Steps

Bob Wiley: I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful... I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful... I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful... baby steps get on the bus, baby steps down the aisle, baby steps...
--From "What About Bob?"

Sometimes I go through moments where I feel like I'm being punished for past sins. And so I try to do things that I know are more worthy of the person I should be, the person I want to be.

Yesterday, I had one of those moments. I had been talking with my friend April -- who will be going in for her c-section tomorrow -- and something came over me. I looked at the bulletin board above my desk and saw Chris's naval business card. I pulled it down, ripped it in half and threw it in the recycling basket. Going a step further, I pulled out my phone and deleted his cell phone number. And then went into my email and erased him from my address book.

I know there is another contact that needs to be erased, but I'm not there yet. One step at a time. Baby steps.

Gracias, Merci, Danke....

Dear Ginger,

I have been through what you are now going through -- the bloating, the daily shots in the stomach, the doctor appointments and blood work every other day. And I went through it because I knew it would ultimately be worth it, it was what I needed to do to fulfill my dream.

But for you to go through it for a stranger...

Words cannot express how grateful I am for what you're doing.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

--Ellie

Rocket Man

I LOVE Family Guy. And I think Seth McFarlane has been added to my top 5 list, for his humor more than his looks (and he's not bad looking).



This makes me chuckle every time it's on.

Randomness in the Pew

I really should bring my computer to church -- setting aside the inappropriateness -- I do a lot of thinking that I want to write here, and then always forget half of it by the time I get home.

I've been trying not to say "please" so much when I pray, and more thank you. So instead of "please let me be the person I was always meant to be...a mom," it's more about "thank you for Ginger and the strength I've gained over the past three years." I still do my share of "asking for" but I've also learned to be grateful.

I thought about Chris and J, too. Thankful that I've managed to stay away from both of them. And I wish them both the best....Chris, safety wherever he is and hopefully that he won't have to go back to the desert....and J, the ability, for lack of a better word, to be a better husband and hopefully I'm as far as he's strayed.

A friend from work -- the man who runs the gym I go to on campus -- has been attending the same mass I have for the past month or so. He sits closer to the front, so I don't know if he's seen me or not. I know he's going through some trouble in his marriage -- his wife left him and is now living with another man.

I haven't noticed it when I see him at the gym, but I can see a certain sadness in him at church. Like something is missing. And then I wondered tonight if I have that sadness about me. Or only those who have had something and lost it, rather than those who never have.

Getting Better, But Still Fragile

I was getting ready for bed last night and realized that I was getting my period. Again. I just had it two weeks ago. Ginger would be going for her U/S and cyst drainage today. WTF?! I ran down the stairs and sent an email to Pati, told her to call if I needed to come in this morning.

I never heard from her, but of course it was after 9:00, and she does get to the office at 6:00. I didn't cry. I tried to stay rational. Worse case scenario, this cycle is scrapped. Sometime about 3:30am, after sleeping on and off, I realized that a period isn't a horrible thing. It's cleaning out the old, my lining is thinning again, it's all okay. I think. It was enough to let me sleep the rest of the night until my alarm went off.

And my thoughts were confirmed when Pati emailed me about 8:00 to tell me that getting a period was fine. Ginger had her cyst drained and her blood work later in the afternoon confirmed that we are all good to go.

I will continue with my Lupron shots, and add five estrace pills (three orally, two vaginally), baby aspirin and fertile garden pills (herbal pills) starting tonight. Ginger begins her shots on Saturday. Wednesday, I'll go in for my ultrasound. And if all goes well, the plan is for her to have the retrieval on February 10. Three to five days later, transfer!

And so on the anniversary of the day I saw my angel baby with no heartbeat, I got good news.

My Body Needed That

Students were back today, which meant my gym reopened tonight. I gave up several weeks ago on my resolution of working out at home for 20 minutes a day. I realized that there is a reason I go directly from my office to the gym every night. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Office to gym. Because there is nothing that can distract me. Like my pajamas, and the computer, and a book. And eventually my bed.

And so after I stopped beating myself up a few weeks ago and just accepted that it wasn't going to happen, I started to look forward to tonight. New music on the iPod and ready for the treadmill. My knee aches, my shoulders hurt, and it felt great.

I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up. At minimum, I'm guessing two or three weeks, depending on how things go with Ginger and the next IVF round. But I'll keep it up until then.

Which brings me to Ginger and my next round of IVF. I'm starting to get nervous. And scared. And still excited. I'm supposed to go to Montana in April for work, but I don't want to if I'm pregnant. I don't want to fly and I don't want to have to work a trade show on my feet for three full days.

One of the coordinators emailed all of us today asking for full name, DOB, etc so she can start to book the tickets. I don't want to tell her I'm not going because of medical reasons, because maybe I don't be pregnant by then. But I also don't want to waste the College money and have her book a ticket for me.

It's that fine line of trying not to not plan for the future because who knows what the future holds while also trying to be positive and think about what I want to the future to be. Wow....that was a run-on. But I think you get the drift.

I guess I need to not worry about anything for a few days. Ginger goes in on Wednesday. I shouldn't look beyond that.

Ginger Update

Ginger had her appointment yesterday and the cyst was still present. We will continue to stay on Lupron (and I will continue to have stomach discomfort), and she goes back on Wednesday. If the cyst is still there, they'll drain it.

They don't seem to be concerned with it, so I shouldn't be either.

Vegas or Here....I'll take these odds

From the Winter issue of Conceive...

"A couple in their 20s has approximately a 25% chance of conceiving each month, and after four or five months of trying, most women in their early 20s become pregnant. By the late 20s, it takes an average of six to seven months to conceive. For women in their 30s, there's a 10 to 15% chance of getting pregnant each month, and it will take an average of seven to 12 months to conceive. By age 40, there's just a 5% chance of conceiving each month, and the rate drops precipitously as women age."

"....Often women who choose to use donor eggs are older than 35, but the maternal age of egg donors is generally under 35, making the chance of successfully conceiving and carrying the pregnancy to term higher. The chance of success is 50.5% per cycle, and women who commit to two donor cycles have a 75.5% chance of having a baby; with three cycles the success rate rises to 87.9%."



....and I've made a conscious choice to change my tag for these types of posts to fertility not INfertility.

Earning Every Cent

This being the boss is tough work. I had such a long day. Today I learned the meaning of the word "alarmist." I had several people (who are now reporting to me) freaking out and demanding an emergency meeting to talk about things that may or may not be mentioned at the all-staff meeting on Thursday, stuff that has previously been announced in various mediums, but they didn't remember hearing about.

Several times, I actually had to utter the words, "I think what I'm hearing you say is...." I sounded like a manager. But after two meetings where there was panic and anxiety -- unnecessary both times -- I was ready for a beer. I opted for a hot shower when I got home and it will be an early night.

~~~~~~

I had my baseline U/S yesterday. Everything looked good. My lining is thinning and ready to be pumped up whenever Ginger is ready to be super ovulator. I will stay on the Lurpon shots every night this week, and wait hear how her appointment goes on Friday.

One year ago tomorrow, I saw my baby's heartbeat. I'm trying not to think sad thoughts, and I think I'm succeeding. I'm remembering my angel baby, and I'm hoping that he (just a feeling that it was a he) is going to do his part to help this next pregnancy attempt.

I'm Fragile

I thought I was doing so well. Being positive. Not obsessing, but thinking positive pregnancy and baby thoughts every day.

This morning, I got a phone call from the doctor's office. Ginger has a cyst. She will continue on Lupron and it should dissolve on its own. She goes back next Friday for another U/S. I will still go in on Monday for my baseline and continue on the Lupron until Ginger can start her next round of meds.

I was a little disappointed but Pati assured me that it wasn't a big deal, is a common occurrence, and if it doesn't dissolve on its own after a week or two on Lurpin, they will go in and drain it.

I took a deep breath and realized that this is only a short delay. I'm still moving forward.

Yesterday, I was feeling some pangs. Like I was getting my period. I ignored them. Then today, when I went to the bathroom, the tell-tale sign of my period starting. I ignored it again. There wasn't much. Could just be spotting.

And then tonight, I couldn't ignore it. I started to freak out. What was this going to do to the schedule? I emailed Pati (who is amazing and always gets right back to me) and basically told her I was freaking.

She wrote back within five minutes. "Don't worry, you're supposed to get your period!! We want your lining thinned out before we start you on Estrace to build it up."

And at that point, I started to cry. I went from thinking that, once again, my body was failing me again, to having hope. Deep breath.

Dream a little Dream -- Over and Over Again

Over the course of the past two weeks, I've had four different dreams where I had a baby. There were no labor or pregnancy scenes. The baby was of varying age in each dream. Three of the four -- one little girl. Sweet and precious.

It felt right. And natural to hold a baby and know she was mine.

Last night, I had twins. They had just been born. A boy and a girl. Weirdly, the nurses "named them until I could Benjamin and Rahjima. No idea where that came from. I was struggling to remember the names I like right now.

I could remember Harper for the girl, but could only come up with Mason for the boy (which, I think, I've moved away from). And then I could actually go through the thought process in my dream. "They're both named after authors." And finally I came up with Cooper.

And then the nurse held hands in a circle (perhaps from my watching the season premiere of Big Love before bed) and told me my baby boy had leukemia. I was scared at first, and then, still in my dream, I thought, "they couldn't diagnose leukemia on a two-day-old. He doesn't have that." And that was that.

Obviously baby thoughts have invaded my subconscious. More than I thought.

I started my shots tonight -- 10cc of Lupron to suppress my hormones. Ginger has her baseline U/S on Friday, I go in on Monday.

I know I'll probably never meet her, but I think what's she is doing is amazing.

Two More Days on BCP

I have through Tuesday on the pill, and I'm actually impressed with myself that I've been able to keep my emotions in check. My previous times (though it was for the entire three weeks, not two), I turned into a sobbing puddle of out-of-control tears, coming on for no conceivable reason. Hopefully, the next two days go the way the last 12 have.

I finally connected with Bubbles last night -- we hadn't talked since before Christmas -- and while it was good to catch up, it was hard to rehash all the hurt feelings from the Christmas drama. It also reminded me how glad I am that it's over and that I survived.

Yesterday was the first birthday party of my friend Heather's daughter. It was a fun day -- one that I didn't dread. I was home in time for football, and then spent the rest of the weekend watching football and doing some work. Yes, I've gotten into the habit of bringing work home on the weekend, but it's only because of the second job. It will not become a long-time habit.

And finally, I looked through the donor catalog and made a final decision on the sperm donor. I've decided to go with one different from the one I've been using, but I think he's one I've previously used.

Jalapeno-Flavored Cheese is not a Vegetable

But I have managed to get at least one real veggie in a day. Sometimes, it's just hummus, but it counts. The working out.....not so much. This week back to work after two weeks off, has kicked my ass. I'm barely making it home at the end of the day. It's not fair that we have to go back for five full days. Maybe over the weekend, I will get my ass back on the treadmill.

Work has been getting a little busier, and with my new title (interim director) there are lots of time sucks in my day that I can't explain or remember. Suddenly it's 11:30 and I've managed to do nothing I wanted to in the morning.

I've got one more week of BCP before I start shooting up. And I need to call in and order the sperm. My dilemma is which donor to go with. The one I'd been using was a red-head, but now that Ginger is a red-head, do I go with another guy? I'm not sure. I'm going to look over my top two or three choices and then do what I did last time I choice -- go with my gut.

I got a text from J last night. I ignored it for about an hour (mostly because I was on the phone). He had written, "what's going on?" It was still pretty early in the evening, so I thought it was harmless enough. So I responded. "Not much. how are you?"

Never heard back from him. I did my part as a friend, but didn't have to be faced with temptation. An excellent evening.

Happy new year!

It's started. I got my period earlier in the week and started taking birth control pills on Tuesday. Counter-intuitive, I know, but I don't need to ovulate this month; Ginger is doing that for me.

And so the next steps in this process look like this:

Ginger starts on Lupron...1/9
I start on Lupron and stop BCP....1/12
Ginger has a baseline U/S...1/15
I have my baseline U/S....1/18

And it goes from there. And so for the next three weeks, I can take care of me and await for the transfer. I can stop looking at the negative, stop looking ahead, and try to live a week at a time.

My new year's resolutions:

* work out at least 20 minutes a day, five days a week. It's not much, but it's something very doable. And after the way I've been feeling about my body and its inadequacies, I need something that I can do without just giving up. This morning, I walked on the treadmill at home for 30 minutes.
* eat at least one vegetable a day. I know that sounds so funny, but I'm not a huge veggie eater. Don't like a lot of them. But I'll need to when I'm pregnant. Dinner tonight....baby spinach salad with carrots, celery, walnuts and feta cheese.
* and continue to be strong with the bad boys in my life. I can miss them, but I don't need them. J and Chris are not what I need in my life.

My resolution from last year -- to go to church at least twice a month -- became a habit pretty easily. And I'm hoping that these for this year will happen the same way.

Christmas '09 In Review

The good...

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

The bad....

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

The weird...

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

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

Merry Christmas to me

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

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

"But what if she says no?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Mayer is deep

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

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

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

Nightmare Before Christmas

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strength and Peace

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

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

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

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

Attitude Adjustment

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

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

Terrific. So looking forward to it.

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

I'll have a blue Christmas....

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

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

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

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

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

So now we're going to try to be friends

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

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

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

We can do this.

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

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

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

"Ouch...you dick."

"But so true."

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

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

It's Winter

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

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

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

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

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

Tiger

It's time to comment on Tiger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holding the Ship Steady

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Needed This Today

The Muppets: Bohemian Rhapsody @ Yahoo! Video

Triple Layer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you have to be woken up at all.

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

"Text from E"

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

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

If only he lived closer...

A shitty afternoon

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

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

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

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

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

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

but here we are back on the infertility bandwagon.

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

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

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

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

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

I'll leave it at that for now.

boys boys boys

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

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

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

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

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

Recycling

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

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

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

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

This Made My Night

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

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

Mock Cyle

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Got Lured

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

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

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

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

"Hey"

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

"Ha! Just wanted to say hi."

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

"A little :) Is that ok?"

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

"Thanks baby. You doin ok?"

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

"that a girl, in nj with friends"

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

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

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

"Where is it? We need to talk"

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

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

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

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

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

World Series Hangover

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vegas Recap, part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vegas Recap, part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why's that?"

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

"Yea." He knew what was coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happens in Vegas....

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

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

The Week in Review and the Week Ahead

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vegas, baby!

Painful Memories

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

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

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

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

The Bambino vs. the bambino

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Decisions, decisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then I was pissed.

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

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

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

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

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

Any thoughts?

The Rule of 24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

And then there's today

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

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

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

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

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

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

So in other words, be patient lady.

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

Dual Track

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Return of Chris

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

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

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

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

Dream a Little Dream

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

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

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

"Too bad. They're here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

40 Weeks Ago Today...

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

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

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

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