And the Rest of the Week

My mother is driving me crazy. I haven't uttered those words in a while. She called me Wednesday, for her usual every-few-days check-in.

Then she called me Thursday. I ignored the call. I was drying my hair, after all. Then she called again, about 8:45. What if something was wrong? Well she would have called my cell, I reasoned with myself, but answered it anyway.

"I meant to ask you, what excuse did you give for not going to Erica's shower?"

"I didn't. I told Angie I wouldn't be there, but would send my gift with you."

"Oh....well, what should I tell them if they ask why you're not there?"

"Tell them the truth, tell them it's too hard for me."

"oh, okay...." and then because my voice was betraying my impatience with her. "Is everything okay? You sound stressed."

"It's been a really rough week at work, and I'm tired."

"Okay."

And then she called my sister-in-law in Virginia, who was smarter than me and didn't answer the phone. She called Debbie the next day at work. And again, Debbie, being smarter than me in these matters, let it go to voice mail. She left a message, almost in tears, that she was worried about me.

So Debbie -- again.....smart -- sent my mom an email:

I got your voice mail today. Unfortunately, I'm so slammed today at work. I'm not worried about Ellie. She has to have time and room to grieve over her loss and all the ups and downs she's been through this past year and a half. Some days are better then others for her. I believe she is actually doing very well. She is handling this the way she needs to. We email and talk all the time. She has some wonderful friends/coworkers that are a great support for her as well.

I know this shower thing with Erica has been weighing on her mind and she has handled it the best way she can. She doesn't owe anyone an explanation on her feelings. I know it's hard but we need to respect her feelings and accept how she handles it.

I think the best thing to do is to let her talk when she needs to and give her some breathing room when she needs that too. It can be tricky to determine when she needs what.

We have a pretty busy weekend ahead - I'll try to give you a call. Try not to worry to much about her.

I think that did the trick. I haven't heard from my mother in two days. And I know she's worried about me, but besides everything that is going on with me baby-related, I also work at a place where there will be lay-offs this spring, at a place where no matter how good I am at my job, the economy might prevent me from being as effective as I need to be. Got a few things on my mind, Fran. Relax, I'm not suicidal.

I had class #2 of foster care this morning. I still have the same feelings. I just don't know if this is for me. I need to talk to the social workers that run the class. I don't want to quit, I don't want to give up, but is it a waste of my time and theirs for me to be there?

I just don't know. I think I would feel better about it all if I were moving ahead with the doctor stuff. Only a few more weeks. Patience is a virtue, after all.

The Week That Was -- at the Halfway Point

I survived Monday.

Tuesday....I talked to Chris again. I know just a week ago I told Lucia that he was in a good place in my life, that he was firmly in the past, just friends, in a nice little contained area that was healthy. And I still believe that for the most part. She might not agree with me, but I do believe it. He's familiar. He's comfortable. And I know where things stand. And so if he makes me feel good, if he's a good distraction to keep my mind from J or E, well, then what's the harm?

E? Who's E, you're wondering? I haven't really mentioned him, because I wasn't sure where it was leading. E is brilliant and hot and way into sports. Friend of a friend, and we've been chatting for the past three weeks, mostly via text (what is it with guys and texting -- can't we please have a real conversation).

There were tentative plans to meet on Friday in Albany (the half-way point between here and Bristol, CT). And he was a nice distraction from the fertility shit and the waiting and the being in limbo and the boys who are bad for me. And then, that's really all it turned out to be. Bummed? A little, but probably for the best. Friend of a friend or not, still kind of a stranger.

Wednesday...it's spring break so my usual gym is closed, and the fitness center has stupid hours. But I trudged across campus today to be at the gym when it opened at 11am. I ran/walked two miles in under 26 minutes, improving my average time from last week (three miles in 39:09). It felt good, and it brought perspective and a clear head. This morning I had been contemplating texting E one more time, by the time I got out of the shower, I knew I wouldn't. What's the point?

This afternoon, I talked to Bubbles, who only reinforced that "just walk away" notion. From E and J. I agreed that I wouldn't reach out to either, but for whatever reason, I'm not done with J yet.

Ironically, J texted me this afternoon. "I know you hate me. The picture from Ryan was really cute. Thanks for sending it."

See, he's not a complete idiot. "I don't hate you, not completely so you don't have to be afraid to call me."

"What's going on with the doctor stuff?"

"Can't start another cycle until next month, so technically I guess your window is still open if I thought you would actually follow thru."

"Why not til next month?"

"Hormone levels, etc. probably won't be able to start until April 1-ish."

"Sorry. You coming down here anytime soon?"

"Nope, but the plan was to meet halfway."

"What's halfway?"

And so it went. Will it actually happen? Who knows? I'm not holding my breath. This actually reminds me of a few months in Baltimore when I actually juggled BB and Chris, one would piss me off and I'd go running to the other. Never wanting an actual relationship with either one, just having physical needs met. And so it goes....Chris and J. And actually both are familiar, but I can really only count on one of them for now.

The good thing that came out of the conversation with him, though. At one point he said he needed me to understand that it's not that easy for him to get away. My response? "I understand, I really do. And I'm not trying to be difficult. I told you a while ago that I have no expectations, but you make promises and never follow thru, that's what pisses me off, that's what leads to my expecting more of you."

"You're right and I'm sorry. I'll try to be better about that."

So I said what I need to. And I feel better. No matter what happens between us -- even if nothing happens between us -- he's still my friend. And while everyone in my life might think I'm an idiot for it, I don't want to lose that.

One Last Desperate Attempt

I mailed a thank you picture that my nephew drew for J, for getting Andrew a baseball for his collection. Bubbles said I should have just mailed it to the athlete, not J. I broke down and mailed it to J.

And in other news, I talked to Chris the other night for about an hour. I'll leave it at that.

And finally, the spotting I had over the weekend was just that. Who knows if it was my period or not, but the doctor's office said it needs to be the real deal. So, if it was, and they kind of think that's all I'm getting this month, I need to wait for my next one.

I hate Mondays.

Plan C

Plan A....get pregnant and have a baby

Plan B....international adoption and get a baby

Plan C...adoption through foster care and get a baby

So this morning, I started foster care class. It'll be three hours every Saturday morning, for 11 weeks. And when I left, I felt deflated. Most of the people there are there to be foster care parents, not "foster to adopt."

They talked about helping children transition back to their families, about helping families become whole again. They showed a video of interviews with kids who had been in foster care for various lengths of time, and of their parents.

And all I could think about was I don't want to do that. I don't want to want to do that. I don't want to help someone get theirs kids back.

Maybe because I've been struggling for so long to try to get pregnant, maybe because my emotions about it all are so raw. But I don't want to help someone get their kids back when they fucked up in the first place and had to have them taken away.

I know there are people out there who can do that, and thank god there are, but I can't be one of them. And I know that won't change, but I'm hoping that I will be able to get rid of some of the bitterness.

My Week Ended Better Than it Started

Despite the start of a cold (or allergies), I managed to work out every night this week, including kick ass workouts last night and tonight. I ran/walked three miles in 42 minutes last night, 39 tonight. The running, the sweating, the sucking oxygen were all exactly what I needed to get me out of this J funk.

And I saw Lucia on Wednesday night, for a little head shrinkage. She's great. She manages to make everything seem so simple and in a way that I should have realized it. When I gave her the fertility update (I hadn't seen her in about eight months), I told her basically when I was finally pregnant it made sense. This cruel joke that the universe has been playing on me, that I'm almost 40, single, childless, struggling to get pregnant -- it all suddenly didn't matter, it made sense, because I was pregnant. And then I wasn't. And now life and the universe don't make sense anymore. And her reply, "oh, okay, so you're going to take on the whole universe. I see."

Right, exactly. I need to be focused me and the things I can control. And then I need to focus on how to react to what I can't control.

And then I told her about J, the whole saga....ignoring his texts while I was pregnant, feeling strong keeping it platonic, and then weakness. Baltimore, the ultimatum, the photos from Taughannock Falls. And in her usual dry way, she reminded me what a master manipulator he is. And I was finally ready to close that chapter. I just hope I can stay strong months down the road when I forget how much this feeling sucks.

And so faithful readers, fear not....Ellie is on the mend. Physically...stronger than I've been in months. Emotionally...getting stronger every day.

I know what I need to focus on, I know what's important and what's not worth my effort, and I hope that by the time March rolls around next year, I'll be writing under my real name, posting pictures of my little bambino or bambina.

7 Apparently Means Negative

I had blood work today, for the 4th Monday in a row. My hCG levels were 7, and according to Becky, the nurse at the fertility guru's office, that means I'm back to negative levels. She told me to call when I get my period and we'll start the meds, the injections, schedule a baseline ultrasound, etc.

"And if you don't get it by the end of the month, call us." THE END OF THE MONTH?!! I thought I would be getting it this week. "You might. But because it took so long for your levels to come down, your body might take a little longer to regulate itself."

Great....just one more thing that my body can't do right. Needless to say, it was a frustrating afternoon. I just want to get this thing started, move away from the bad boys, focus on making babies. But who knows when that will start?

So....not only did I text J last night, to thank him for the baseball that arrived on Saturday and tell him he owed me a phone call this week (I know, I'm weak), but when I saw him online on FB today, I instant messaged him. I'm cringing, actually cringing while I type this, just so you know.

I also emailed Chris, but haven't heard back from him. Hmmmm...what other destructive behavior can I do? Call BB? I thought about it, long and hard, but he's in Baltimore. I'm going to go with the fact that he misses me and he thinks about me, and leave it at that.

I also found out this weekend that my niece's baby shower (the niece of the stupid wedding from last summer, the niece who announced she was pregnant by telling me she wasn't trying, it wasn't planned, but wasn't it crazy that she's pregnant) is Easter/my birthday weekend.

I'd love to plan a trip to Baltimore, but it's Easter, and everyone will be doing the holiday thing. Just because I don't care about spending the holiday with my family doesn't mean that others don't want to. So even though there is no way in hell I'm going to the shower, I need to figure out something to do because while I feel perfectly justified in skipping it and just sending a present with my mom, I don't feel like dealing with the rest of the family judging why I'm not going.

Can you tell it's been a really sucky Monday?

Taughannock Falls

I'm in high school and the boy I've been fooling around with walks by my home room class, even though his is on the other side of the school, with his arm around another girl. Just to show me how cool he is. Just to show me how things are. Just to show me my place.

Oh wait....that's not it. I'm not in high school. I'm an adult. I'm in my late 30s. Or so I thought.

This morning I logged into Facebook to see that J had updated pictures. Of him and his wife and dog. Perfectly acceptable, I've seen pictures of both of them before. And then I noticed the background. Of a waterfall. Of this waterfall.



My waterfall. Twenty minutes from my house. I sat and stared in disbelief. The pictures were from the summer, but he never mentioned that he was here. Even after the fact.

Why post them now? Perhaps a little tete-a-tete to my FB status the other day. "Ellie is reminded that if he wanted it to happen, he would make it happen."

This from the man, who five years ago, when he was telling me about his upcoming trip to Italy with his wife, said he didn't know if he could do the whole Bridge of Sighs at sunset thing because I had just told him that was my romantic dream ever since I saw the movie "A little Romance" when I was 9.

And I pressed him on that, why not. And he took my hand and said, because I'd be thinking about you.

I don't even know what to feel, what I'm feeling. Bubbles told me I have one week to delete all contact information from my phone. "Pretend he's dead, oh didn't you hear, there was a horrible accident on 695 today."

I know that's the right thing to do. But I'm not ready for that. For whatever reason, I'm not ready to let him go. I know I just need to move on.

Bubbles Puts it All in Perspective

"How in god's name can you feel like you are unwanted. You fucked a Yankee!!! He came to the bar....he showed up. He wanted to see you and he made it happen!
UM HELLO...What do you and and MA freakin DONNA have in common!! Fucking Yankees!!!"

And regarding J, she reminded me of yet another lesson we learned when we saw He's Just Not That Into You. "If he wanted to see you, he would make it happen. He would figure the work thing out. If he really wanted this to happen, he would. It's not going to happen."

So harsh, but so true.

Two Minutes Walking...

two minutes running. I did this for 45 minutes tonight. I was running off frustration, and sadness, and even a little confusion. So remember when I said I was healing? Yea, maybe not 100%. But I'll back up.

For months and months, it's been about nothing but trying to get pregnant. And then I was, and then I wasn't. And when I wasn't, it was about healing and waiting. But there wasn't much to focus on. And then there were some distractions of the male variety.

One who I said I would be kicking to the curb (or trying to, at least -- yea it didn't work) and one completely new one. How fun! And just as quickly as I got sucked in with both of them -- all long distance -- it ended. They got bored? They had other commitments? Who knows....all I know is I felt like I got punched in the stomach. Twice.

E (the new one) -- whatever. It was a fun distraction. No feelings, no expectations, though if it ever actually panned out, wow! But J. I know, I know. J.

J of Baltimore texted me last week and reeled me back in. And I felt like I was in the power position. I really did. How silly of me. I told him that I wanted one night, no drama, no distractions, no other commitments or client meetings. One night. Falling asleep and waking up. And he agreed, he would make it happen.

When we talked later that same night, I told him now was the perfect time. No injections, no pills, no hormones, no doctor appointments. My body, which has been betraying me for all these months and months, I just wanted to use it for something I knew it could do. I wanted to feel like a woman, I wanted to feel like a wanted woman.

I wasn't quite that dramatic with him, but he got it. I thought. I went in on Monday for my blood work. Last week it had dropped more than 300 points to 71, so logic and math would dictate that I should be back to 0 this week. Apparently my body can't even do logic and math. My hCG level was still up -- 19.

So another week of waiting. Another week of not knowing. Another week of limbo. But...I had a distraction. I had something to look forward to. I texted him the results and told him we had about a three-week window to try to get together.

And the text I got back was very formal (for us) and not very warm. "Sorry Linc (he calls me by my last name, sometimes), I'm slammed at work for the next couple of weeks. I'll mail the baseball to you." (He had gotten a baseball for my nephew.)

I ignored him. I had a friend over for dinner, we were finishing off a bottle of wine, my low tolerance had me completely buzzed. He texted again, and we went back and forth. I told him I wanted to talk to him. He said tomorrow.

I cried myself to sleep, mostly from the wine, I'm sure. But also because I got distracted. I lost focus. I shouldn't let boys get to me this way. Even boys who I have had an undeniable mutual physical attraction with for almost 10 years. Even those boys. And especially boys that I'm not supposed to have feelings for.

And unfortunately, J falls into both of those categories.

And so tonight at the gym. I started walking for four minutes, running for two. And I replayed the past week in my head, reread the texts and e-mail exchanges, recalled the phone conversations, and just wanted to run. Suddenly, four minutes was too long of a wait to run again. And after about 15 minutes of that four-two, I started running after two minutes of walking. And then I started running after one minute of walking.

Anything to tire me out. Anything to help me sleep tonight and not think about the boys in my life and why I let them get to me like this.

You Never Forget Your First

Ironically on the same day that I ate a piece of Dove chocolate with the wrapper message "remember all your firsts," I found one of my firsts on facebook. Jamie was my first older man, among other firsts.

I was working at a TV station is Rochester as the receptionist, he was a client. This was in a world where voice mail for everyone wasn't commonplace. They talked to me, if who they needed wasn't there, they talked to me some more and I took a message, wrote it on my pink pad, and schmoozed with them.

I was good at my job. I recognized all their voices, knew who their AE was, could make small talk. Jamie was flirtatious. And in his early 30s. To someone right out of college, he was more than exciting.

We had a three or four-month fling. And I can't even remember how or why it ended. Maybe he moved away? Maybe I met someone else? I don't remember.

I remember our first kiss....on the roof of the TV station.

I remember the first late night in his office...I'll leave it at that.

And I remember the smell of his cologne...Safari by Ralph Lauren (it was the early '90s after all).

And yesterday, there he was the friend of someone who had just friended me. I clicked "Add as Friend" and added the message "Hi, remember me?"

It was sweet that he responded, "how could I forget?"

We've played the catch-up game, back and forth with a few emails, and now that he's back in Rochester (he had moved to Florida, and that's why things ended?), he would take a ride to Ithaca sometime soon and buy me a drink.

It would be nice to see him. As an adult. Because I wasn't when we were together. Not really. I was 22 or 23, at best, playing an adult game of a relationship. I had so much ahead of me. So much living to do, so much exploring to do, so much to experience.

And looking back now, I'm so glad that I didn't take what we had seriously. That I just had fun with it. We were in such different places, that it would have been ridiculous to start anything more.

He had already been through his 20s -- and all that that brings -- it was still ahead of me like a long and mysterious path. My 20s, and hallelujah, my early 30s, when I really started to experience and explore and have fun.

And so now, here we are 15 years later, and it will be so nice to see where that long and mysterious path has brought each of us, and how it has brought us back into each other's lives.

I'm Back

and I'm healing. I had the best workout at the gym tonight. I started doing one-minute sprints after four minutes of walking -- I did that for 20 minutes and then just started running during the chorus of the song on my iPod.

Shorter running times, but more frequent. It was great. I told Adam to remind me of this night. The next time I'm not feeling it, I want to remember this runner's high. I feel great.

The Definition of Insanity

"Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result."

Yea...that's me. Leaving it at that for now.

He's Just Not That Into You

Last week, while I was in Baltimore, Bubbles and I went to see "He's Just Not That Into You." And it was as if someone followed us around and wrote down scenes from our life.

Seriously.

The scenes between Scarlett Johansson and Bradley Cooper (who is married to Jenifer Connelly) were especially weird for me to watch. From the first innocent meeting between the soon-to-be femme fatale and the married guy, it was me and J. The innocent flirting. She called him. He freaked out. And then he thought about, and he called her back a week later. Even the conversations, the escalation in flirtation were eerily familiar.

We laughed, we pointed, we editorialized. We covered our mouths in horror and fascination as it played out before us. And then I said, "oh my god, I'm Scarlett Johansson."

From the very first scene on the playground, when the mother tells her daughter that the little boy was mean to her because he liked her -- who hasn't heard that before? Even now, in our 30s, we hear it. We think it. We still figure they're playing that game, so we have to, too.

And we keep that message going. The little boy on the playground who pulled our pigtails because he liked us, is now all grown up, and he doesn't call because he likes us.

We analyze -- over-analyze -- every small touch, every text message, every word. We analyze what time of day he called, how many days between texts.

We think about every happily ever after story we've heard.

"When I met him, he was happily married, but now look. He left her. He's divorced and now we're together and it's great."

"She pushed back and told him that if he couldn't make a commitment, she would leave. And the next day, he proposed."

"He didn't call, but I thought, why does he have to call, so I called him after the day, that night. And we've been married five years."

When really, what we should be telling ourselves, is that these happily ever after stories are urban legends. Fairy tales to give us hope. To make us more neurotic. When really, what we should be doing...we should....what should we do? Someone tell me, because I sure as hell don't know.

I'm still clinging to the he left his wife because he decided he couldn't live without me legend. (Not entirely, but for the sake of this, we'll say that's the case.)

I've heard the urban legends. I've told a few, I'm sure. And if I stopped to think about it, I would actually believe that it was more than a friend of a friend's cousin, that I had direct knowledge of the happily ever after relationship.

The movie laid it all out there. "No matter what he says to make you feel bad about it, don't fall for it. You just got dumped." "You are the rule, not the exception." And of course, the title of the movie.

For the majority of this two hour and nine minute movie, it was the self-help book every single girl needs to read, the tough-love therapist every single girl needs to listen to, the older, wiser sister we need to go to for advice.

It was telling us to stop being foolish, to have some self-respect, to stop thinking about the white knight coming in on his horse. To date, to move on if he doesn't call, to date some more.

And then it came crashing down. As only Hollywood could do....in the last 10 minutes, they forgot their own core message, they forgot what they were peddling, and tied up every relationship with a neat little bow. Happily every after.

And so if you go see this movie, get up and leave after Jennifer Aniston tells Ben Affleck that it's okay if they don't get married, she just doesn't want to lose him. Right there. Leave. Out of the theater. Don't look back.

Because after telling us for two hours that we are the rule, not the exception, this movie shows us that Jennifer Anniston is the exception, not the rule. Giving us hope on that urban legend that you can give him an ultimatum, and even if the very core of his being is against marriage, he'll give in.

At least Scarlett Johansson doesn't end up with Bradley Cooper, or I might be packing up and moving to Baltimore.

I thought nothing could upset me more than the octuplet mom and her brazen disregard for her children and how she's going to support them.

And then I read this headline: "Baby-Faced Alfie Patten is Father at 13"

393

Wow....three nights in a row. I'm trying to make up for all my time away. This will just be a quick update to my doctor appointment the other day. I drove up to Syracuse on Monday morning for my follow-up to the D&C.

They took some blood and did an ultrasound. Still some fluid in my uterus, so maybe a little more spotting this week, but it all looked like it was healing the way it was supposed.

The tech told me that as long as my hCG levels were back to negative (showing that all the pregnancy hormones were out of my system), I could try again with my next cycle, if I was ready. Oh I'm ready.

My blood came back that afternoon, and my hCG levels were 393 (they had been over 31,500 on January 20). I will go back for more blood work on Monday (I can do it at the hospital lab here, I won't have to go to Syracuse) to see what my levels are. At that point, I'm not sure if they will put me on the pill for a month to regulate my cycle or just wait.

They also gave me more medicine (all injectables -- yeah!) to help support a pregnancy. So in addition to the baby aspirin I was taking to prevent miscarriage, I will also be injecting a blood thinner and the progesterone in oil (the big-ass needle). I dropped off six prescriptions yesterday -- four of them for syringes.

It felt good to be almost back on track, but I still have my moments. I went back to the gym last night. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill and felt great. Tonight, barely 30 minutes and then I cried on the way home. And I know that I'm using food as a comfort, and that it needs to stop, because it's not making me feel better. I'm going to give myself through the weekend, then hopefully try to get back to normal with that too.

Weekend Update: J

I knew that J wasn't going to be at the museum event, he had another event for one of his clients. But he started texting me once the Bash started, asking if we could meet for a drink after both events.

I told him to meet me at Pickles, that's where we were all going. "Can't do that place. Meet me now at the Marriott on Eutaw."

"I'm not walking four blocks alone. Come pick me up."

"Sorry can't do that place."

"Come get me at the museum."

"OK...leaving now."

And then he texted me almost immediately. "Gotta have a drink with the staff. give me 20?"

"Fine."

My event was over, my friends were all headed to Pickles, so that's where I went. A block from the ballpark and museum. I was drinking and talking, meeting Dwayne, flirting with Dwayne, and then another text.

"Where are you?"

"Pickles. The Bash is over."

"I'm not going in there." That should have been my first red flag. You're not coming in because you don't people to see us together?

"I can meet you out front."

"K....half hour."

And then I left with Dwayne. He texted me that he was out front and I left Dwayne's and walked the block back to Pickles. And then I realized I had no purse. I got to Pickles and called J, rather than text. "I have to run and check in with my friend. Be right there."

And so I went in, realized Tim didn't have my purse, checked the bathroom, asked the bartender, and then went back outside. No J. No J's car. I called him and it went right to voice mail.

I had bigger things to worry about and couldn't deal with his ego. But as I was sober the next day, I did start to worry. So when I got to Bubbles, I texted him: "sorry about last night. I thought my purse was stolen and totally freaked out. Sorry my crisis impacted us getting together."

Nothing. About 40 minutes later, I texted him again. "Wow you must be really pissed at me."

"Why didn't you just tell me that instead of jerking me around?"

So yea, I guess I bruised his ego. Time for damage control, although I question why I let him made me feel this way. "I'm sorry. I was panicking, I was drunk. And I think you know me better than that...I wouldn't jerk you around."

Bubbles and I left for dinner, and my mood was definitely effected by not hearing back from him, but I said what I could, and I had to let him cool off. After dinner, waiting for the movie to start, the familiar beep beep beep beep of my cell phone, signally a text from him.

"Hey, I can't meet you for drinks tonight, but what time are you leaving tomorrow? time for coffee in the morning?"

We went back and forth, decided on coffee at 10:30, he would text me in the morning with details, and then some teasing back and forth.

When I woke up Sunday, I just wanted to get on the road. Why didn't I think this through better. I had a five-hour drive ahead of me. But I waited it out. I watched TV with Bubbles, took a shower, and about 9:30 broke down and texted him "are we still on?"

And then....nothing. Son of a bitch. Just like the time I sat in a bar in Mt. Washington, when I still lived in Baltimore, for an hour waiting on him. I finally called him and he said he was sorry, he couldn't make it, he got rear-ended.

Just like the time I sat in my car, reading a book in front of a restaurant downtown, after I had moved back to NY, was on my way to Richmond and was supposed to have lunch with him. He didn't answer his cell and when I finally called the office and got his assistant, I was told he left for an appointment. So I figured it was me. I waited for another 45 minutes (yes, I'm stupid). And then I left. The next week, he told me some bullshit story about his dog getting sick.

Just like the time we were going to have breakfast, again after I was in NY and on my way to Richmond. He texted me 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet to tell me he had a client meeting.

There are at least three or four other incidents in the eight years we've known each other. And each time, I get a little pissed, but I tease him more than act angry. It's part of my "everyone has to like me, don't make waves" complex, I'm sure. Lucia would have a field day with this.

And so, Sunday it was 10:00, and then 10:05. And finally at 10:10, I looked at Bubbles and said, "give me a hug, I'm leaving."

I drove north, I could have been on the road two hours earlier, but I stupidly thought I owed him from my thoughtlessness of Friday night. I watched the clock as much as I watched my speed....10:30.....10:45....11:00....and then finally at 11:20, four beeps.

"I suck...too many martinis last night. I'm just starting to move. Next time we'll get it right and neither one of us will screw it up."

I was pissed, but laughed, because it is so typical J. I couldn't text, as I was driving about 80mph on 83 North, less than 10 minutes from Harrisburg. So I called. It rang twice and then he must have pushed me to voice mail. Yes, let's not answer my phone call in front of the wife.

"Hey, it's a good thing you're so predictable. I've been on the road for an hour. And yes, neither of us will screw it up next time, but you have a lot more screw-ups to make up for than I do. Talk to you later."

And that's my J story from the weekend. I'd like to say that I'm completely done. But there is part of me that wants to make sure we're okay, that he's not mad. And I want to explain to him about Friday night. I didn't get that drunk just for the hell of it, and yea, it might be a little cheap to use my miscarriage as a sympathy factor, but any other weekend, I would not have had that much to drink, I would not have been that drunk.

So go ahead...tell me I'm a door mat, tell me I'm stupid for letting this idiot get to me. I know it. I just don't know what to do about it.

Weekend Update: Friday

Disclaimer: There were a few things I did this weekend that I don't condone, and had I been more sober, wouldn't have. But it all worked out in the end. :)

I left on Friday morning about 8:30. The weather was beautiful, I had sunny skies by Scranton, and it really warmed the car. There were a few times in the car, when I had some weepy moments, I wondered if I could really go through with the evening, acting happy, etc. But I figured I could fake it if I had to.

Once I got to Tim and Sonja's house, I was better. I played Sorry, Candyland, Hi-Ho Cherry-O and memory with my god-daughter and then got ready to go out with Tim and his buddies. We got to the museum a little after 5:00, and as we pulled into the parking lot, I saw my former "friend" (BB) and almost jumped out of the car. Until I saw his wife.

When I walked into the museum, BB was standing with Johnny Z (my absolute favorite person in the world). Arms wide spread, I said there's my favorite man, and hugged John. He told me after that BB's face just about dropped. I hugged him pretty quickly too, but he wasn't getting my first hug.

I saw so many people -- and was actually surprised at how excited people were to see me, how good they thought I looked, and how many people remembered me. I saw media people, Orioles people, members, volunteers, board members, a few athletes.

The beer was tasting too good. I need to remember when I only drink once every six or seven months (I haven't had any alcohol since the end of July when I went out with my Yankee), I need to alternate water or soda. Didn't think about that until the next day.

At one point, I saw BB standing alone and went over to him. And then saw his wife sitting behind him. "Ellie.....how are you?" So I had to by-pass him and go do hug-hug kiss-kiss with her, and catch up on the past four years. By the time that conversation was over, he was talking with other people.

I walked around the museum, took lots of pictures with some of my favorites, and kept drinking the beer. And then I saw my chance. I walked by him and just tugged on his sleeve, and kept walking. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back, continuing to talk to the man he was standing with, and then turned his attention to me.

"Hi Princess....you look great. I think about you a lot."

I leaned in for a smooch and said he looked great too. The man has not aged. For someone who is going to be 59 in May -- holy shit. He's like fine wine. He looks exactly as he did the last time I saw him, four and a half years ago.

"We had good times together, didn't we?"

I smiled and said yes. "I miss you, sunshine."

"I miss you too. More than you know." And it's the truth. For the type of relationship we had, I never felt cheap, I never felt used. I always felt special and cherished.

And that was that. And it was perfect. It was exactly what I would have wanted for an encounter.

When the event was over, we headed over to Pickles Pub. I was drunk, and probably could have continued with my buzz drinking water the rest of the night, but it never occurred to me to stop. Something made me think I could still drink the way I used to.

When we got to Pickles, a beautiful black man came up to me and told me he saw me at the Bash and wanted to come up to me, but couldn't figure out which guy I was with was my husband, but he had to tell me how beautiful I was. Okay....I know now, it's a line. But having not dated in a long while, having focused almost exclusively on baby making....it felt good to hear.

We stood around and chatted. I convinced him I had no husband, I had no boyfriend. After about an hour or more, he asked if I would go back to his apartment with him, which was only two blocks away. Now we can all think about what the right response to this is. In fact, there are probably several correct responses. I didn't come up with any of them.

"Sure....okay."

We ended up walking to his apartment, doing some smooching, and then Tim called my cell to tell me my 10 minutes at the cute boy's apartment were up. So I headed back to the bar. Halfway back, I realized I didn't have my purse anymore. So I hit redial, thinking I was calling Dwayne. I called Tim. "Do you have my bag?"

"yea."

Oh....okay. So I didn't go back to Dwayne's. Tim had my purse. But when I got back to the bar, I said, "where is it?"

"Your bag? it's home."

Not my over-night bag, my purse! And then Dwayne wasn't answering his cell, so I couldn't be sure where it was. So I sat outside and called and canceled a couple credit cards until my phone beeped.

It was Dwayne. My purse was on his counter. Such drama that I really could have done without.

I'm of course leaving out the whole J of Baltimore story, which gets interweaved into this one, but that will be for another night, because the J storyline continues through the weekend, all the way to my drive home on Sunday.

So that's Friday. Had a blast at the Bash, loved -- absolutely loved -- seeing so many people that were such a huge part of my life in Baltimore and reconnecting with them. Could have done without the drama and the blurriness of after the Bash, but Dwayne and I did text a little yesterday, so who knows what that will lead to.

Next: the J story, Friday to Sunday; and a movie review of "He's Just Not that Into You"

Baltimore Bound

I'm going to Baltimore tomorrow for the weekend. I'll celebrate Babe Ruth's birthday tomorrow night (an event that I used to organize and run), spend Saturday with Wanda, and Saturday night with Bubbles.

Hopefully it will be a good excuse to relax, let loose, and otherwise forget the events of the past 10 days. I'll try not to think about that I was going to tell Z that I was pregnant. Next time.

Finally someone in my family gets it

My mom asked me if I was going to tell my brothers and sisters (those who didn't know I was pregnant) about the miscarriage. I told her if she wanted to, go ahead, but that I didn't really want to talk about it.

So little by little this week, she told my sister in Watertown, my sister in San Diego, my brother in Syracuse and my brother in Anchorage. And while I appreciate that they have honored my wishes and not called, seriously....they can't even send an email. No "thinking of you."

I shouldn't be surprised given how much support I've gotten from them through this whole infertility ordeal. But then, this morning, I got the following email from my oldest sister:

i just heard about your continued journey.....i know it will be
difficult to talk about ...so i will spare you having to....i just want you to
know...that you are in my thoughts....and if you need someone to yell
at...or laugh with or just say nothing....im here....i am hoping for
better days ahead for you ....hugs me

That's all I'm asking for. And I appreciate the thoughts.

Each Day Gets a Little Better

My friend Jill picked me up yesterday about 8:30 to head to Syracuse. I managed to make it through Thursday with very few tears. It helped that I was busy at work, even stayed a little later than usual.

My mom met us at the fertility guru's office, and as much as I hated saddling Jill with my mom alone, I really didn't want anyone to go back with me. I got undressed, and listened to how the procedure would go, my instructions for the weekend, and that I would need to come back in about 10 days for a follow-up appointment.

"At that point, if you're ready, we can talk about next steps. But you need to grieve, you need to mourn. This is a loss just like any other."

At that point I started to cry. Who was I kidding when I thought I was all cried out? The IV was in, I signed papers, I answered questions, and then FG came in with a hug. "I'm going to check...."

He pulled the screen around so I couldn't see, and put the ultrasound probe in. "Looks like it did the other day."

And that was that. My embryo was still dead. But soon, it would be out. And I could move on.

Even though I knew the embryo was no longer viable, since Tuesday, I still felt pregnant. All the symptoms, all the feelings. It was like a cruel joke. And amazingly, last night, just a suddenly, I didn't feel pregnant. No hunger around 8:30 while I was lying in bed, reading. No more sore breasts. Like a snap of the fingers, I wasn't pregnant.

I took it easy yesterday, napping, watching TV, pillow on my lap to try to alleviate the cramps. I think I was asleep before 9:00 last night. Today, I stayed busy. Bank, Wegmans, Salvation Army drop-off, post office -- all before 11:00.

I made soup today. And bread. I bought ingredients to make chicken wing dip tomorrow for the Super Bowl. I know I won't feel like going out to watch the game, so I'll stay in. My neighbors might drop in, but other than, it'll be a quiet game for me.

I talked to a couple friends today, and my niece and mom. All calling to check on me. I don't want to hear how strong I am. I don't think of myself as strong. What else am I going to do? I'm not going to quit, I'm not going to stay in bed all day. I'm getting up, I'm doing what I have to do, but I'm not strong.

A Change of Plans

I had such high hopes for this post and the subsequent ones to come. I was going to start back up after the retrieval, talk in detail about:
* the three embryos being transferred into me the day before Christmas Eve
* my drive on Christmas Eve (intended destination Richmond)
* the wintry mix all the way through Pennsylvania when I finally had enough and checked into a hotel about 30 miles north of Harrisburg
* how, about 3:30, I was sick on being in the hotel room and decided I had had enough, for the second time that day
* I drove as far as Baltimore and went to midnight mass at the Cathedral with Bubbles, lighting a novena, praying to Mary, St. Vincent de Paul and St. Thomas More for the three precious little lives inside of me
* how that night, that warm balmy night in Baltimore, I made a new-year's resolution to go back to church, and once and for all to be done with J of Baltimore in any way other than friendship
* it was 60 and sunny when I drove to Richmond the next day
* there was fun day after Christmas shopping, out the door at 5:30am
* and then, how on January 2, less than an hour after I mailed the first part of my adoption paperwork out, my hCG levels were 130.

I didn't tell anyone. I kept it to myself, having learned my lesson last time. But I was encouraged by the high number (last time my first test was 47). And then three days later, it was 460. No more blood tests....just wait for January 20 for my first pre-natal ultrasound.

I was terrified going for it. I imagined the worst. I imagined laying on the table, probe inside me, and seeing nothing. And then having to deal with the drive home, 60 miles from Syracuse to Ithaca, knowing that the excitement of the past two weeks was nothing.

And you know what happened? I saw my baby's heartbeat. I found out my due date. And exactly how far along I was. And all the burping, and the bloating, and the gas, and the sore breasts....all normal, all worth it.

I took a picture of the embryo with me, and thought about all the things I'd collected since the day before Christmas Eve that would go in the scrapbook. And I got back to Ithaca just in time to see Barack Obama take the oath of office. And how inspiring. This man is going to be my baby's first president. What a wonderful year to have a baby. So much for our country, for me, for my little family.

And even more hope, later that afternoon when the doctor's office called to tell me that my hCG levels were over 31,500. And so I started to feel safe. I was doing everything right. Prenatal vitamins, baby aspirin every morning, progesterone suppositories four times a day, estrogen pills twice a day...and really good blood levels. I needed to relax and just enjoy this now.

I felt none of the trepidation yesterday as I made my trek to Syracuse for my seven-week ultrasound. I had my list of questions -- which I refused to make last week because I was convinced something would be wrong and I wouldn't need the answers anyway.

And then, there I was laying on the table, probe inside me. And I saw the embryo, starting to look a little bit more human. And what I didn't see -- and what I knew before the tech's face gave it away -- there was no heart beat. She changed the size of my uterus on screen, she changed angles. She told me to breath and then she went to get the doctor.

But I knew. It was just as I had imagined it would be the week before. Fertility Guru came in, held my hands and started talking to me about being positive, how this was nature's way of fixing things, that I did nothing wrong, that I could have done nothing to prevent this. He did his own look, but it was just going through the motions. We all knew. The embryo -- not baby yet -- had stopped growing at six weeks four days. Technically, I was seven weeks three days.

Then there were decisions to be made. A D&C or wait for it to expel itself in about three or four weeks. In my mind, there was no choice. I want it out of me. And so Friday, I will go in for a D&C. After that, I'm not sure what happens with my body. How long I have to wait for my period, how long before we can start all over again.

I thought I was done with the shots. Done with the almost daily trips for follicle checks and lab work. Done waiting for my body to do its thing so we could schedule retrieval and transfer.

I went back to the office yesterday afternoon. I didn't know what else to do. And this morning when I woke up....what's the right thing to do? There's no manual for how to react. I went to work. I was useless. I cried a lot, and finally left at noon.

I don't know if I can cry anymore. I feel like I can't, but I'm sure there will be more tears to come over the weekend. I purposely didn't shop for maternity clothes, I purposely by-passed the children's department at Kohl's. Too early, I kept telling myself.

And even though those in the know in my family kept asking when I was going to tell the rest, I refused to budge. Too early. And now, it's too late.

Now, it's over. For now. I get a few more chances. I have about $9500 left on my fertility insurance coverage. I've spent just a little over half of my cap. So two, maybe three chances left. Not one. I'm not down to the end yet.

I'm going to take a shower and try to get a good night's sleep. I'll wake up and try going to work tomorrow. I'll be busy, I'll be preparing for missing Friday. And I won't think past tomorrow at this point. There will be plenty of time over the weekend to do that.

I'm Back

Sorry to worry some of my loyal readers. I've needed to do things differently this time. I'm superstitious -- I'm a baseball girl, what can I say. But I have been thinking about starting up again. Mostly when I'm listening to my relaxation and imagery CD's -- the exact time that my mind should be totally blank is usually when I have all sorts of thoughts of things I need to do and wish I had a pad and pen to write it all down.

Clownface sent me a very sweet note this morning, wondering if all was okay. It was the nudge I needed. Just as blogging two or three times a week had become a comfortable habit, so too did not blogging.

I will start where I left off -- anyone up for revisiting Christmas? -- and by the time I catch up, hopefully it will be time for an announcement.

I may not write too much about the visits to the Fertility Guru, but I do have lots to fill you all in, particularly a nice run-in with someone I went to school with, 4th through 12th grades, more on J of Baltimore (lots to update there), and the usual bitching about my family.

So happy Tuesday....we'll start with the week of Christmas tonight or tomorrow.

Until then....go Steelers!

Radio Silence

I'll be back soon. I promise.

Another Baker's Half Dozen

I went up to Syracuse yesterday for my retrieval -- and the fertility guru was able to get seven eggs! It was really exciting, though I knew some of then were probably not mature. But seven! Again!

I went to have my post-retrieval acupuncture treatment in Syracuse and it was so relaxing. Probably didn't hurt that I had been unconscious a mere 30 minutes earlier. I spent the day in Syracuse with my niece and then headed back home last night.

Started my next round of meds -- no shots for this cycle, thankfully. Three days of antibiotics, twice a day, estrodial twice a day until after my blood test, back on the baby aspirin in the morning, and 10 herbal pills.

The embryologist called me this morning. She said they injected five of the seven eggs and three took. So I have three embryos set for the transfer later this week. I was a little disappointed at first, that I won't have any in the freezer, but then I reminded myself that I won't need them. This is the month of positive thinking. I'll get pregnant this time around -- maybe even with twins, god help me.

Mr. Angelos' Night Before Christmas

For my regular readers, you know that I used to work in Baltimore. One of my former interns posted this on her Facebook page today, and I couldn't resist sharing, even though I know most of you aren't sports fan. And even though I'm a Yankees fan, because I worked so closely with the team and got to know so many of the players, I consider the Orioles my second-favorite team, and root for them every chance I get (as long as they're not playing the Yankees).

'Tis the season, anyway. Enjoy!

PS....Mr. Angelos is the much-maligned owner of the Orioles, who makes really poor decisions and has basically run the franchise into the ground.


Twas the week before Christmas and all through the state
Not an O’s fan was sleeping, they all stayed up late
Their houses had lights and a tree and a crèche
But all they kept doing was hitting “refresh”.

The Yanks got Sabathia, now what could be fairer
Than signing their own home town boy Mark Teixeira
And I, in the warehouse, in my O’s jacket and cap
Was looking for Severna Park on a map

When out in the Yard, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
But I couldn’t see well over the big piles of cash

The moon on the breast of the manicured grass
Gave off ghostly images of stars from the past
There’s Gus Triandos, and Brooksie, and Earl
Frank Robinson, Dempsey, Jim Palmer and Cal

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a stocky ballplayer in St.Michael’s Boy’s gear.
From his pigeon-toed walk, and his face full of youth
I knew in a moment that it was Babe Ruth!

His eyes how they twinkled, (though they were a bit bleary)
His belly was big and his outlook quite cheery.
He had dirt on his jersey, his face held a grin
He looked like he knew just how great he had been

He was looking right at me as he reached into his sack
And pulled out a signed and sealed baseball contract
His said nothing at all, but his eyes, they conveyed
It was time to unmake the mistakes I have made

To rebuild the proud franchise that had so blessed the town
To restore the fine legacy that he’d handed down
That had been such a joy on the shores of the Bay
That had lifted all hearts every opening day

I looked at the contract and saw Teixeira’s name
And others behind it, all signed just the same
Extensions for Roberts and also for Nick
All neatly completed, now that’s quite a trick!

Then, pointing towards center, the Babe started to rise
And flew over the scoreboard and up to the skies
But he turned ‘ere he vanished, and exclaimed as he rose:
Merry Christmas to all… And How Bout Dem O’s!

Decisions Made

I was bummed this morning. I went for my follicle check and they didn't seem to grow that much in the last two days. So I waited and waited for the doctor to call, all the while thinking all sorts of negative things and jumping to medical conclusions that I have no business making.

And then Linda (from the fertility guru's office) called to say that I was on track for retrieval on Saturday. I'll give myself injections of the Lupron and Gonal-F tonight, take my last baby aspirin (until after the transfer) tomorrow, do injections of Ovidril tomorrow at exactly 9:30pm, and then nothing to eat or drink after midnight on Friday. The retrieval will be Saturday at 9am, and unfortunately I don't have anyone to take me. But it'll work out. I'll do acupuncture at the FG's office and should be fully coherent by the time that is over.

My transfer will be on Christmas Eve. And I'll do acupuncture, again at the FG's office since my person will be away for the holiday, on Tuesday morning and then Wednesday after the transfer. And then on Christmas day, I'll drive to Richmond.

Not the best the way to spend Christmas, but certainly not the worst. I should be to my brother's house by 2 or 3pm. And I've told a few people in my family that I won't be spending Christmas with them, the ones who could react either very positively or negatively, and they reacted in the way I would want them to.

So no anxiety over Christmas anymore. Time to just be positive and think good thoughts and make this baby.

And as Bubbles said when she heard the transfer date, "a Christmas baby...how wonderfully cheesy!"

Growing, growing, growing

I went in for my follicle check this morning. There are five now, four clustered in the left ovary, one in the right. They are 17, 16.5, 11.5, and two under 8mm.

So while I was hopeful that they would tell me today when my retrieval is, they called to say that I need to go in one more time, on Wednesday, for a possible retrieval on Friday.

Tonight, I picked up the hormones that I will have to inject in myself pre-retrieval. So I'm ready. Whenever they tell me, I'm ready.

I'm feeling good. Clownface, whom I've known since the 4th grade, made a lot of sense in her comment to me about Christmas. And she's right, it's more about me right now, not my family. What is better for me in this period of time when I'm supposed to keep my stress level low? Christmas filled with anxiety? Or a little alone time in the car?

And so while I haven't made a final decision -- I will wait to know when my transfer day is -- I pretty much know which way I am leaning.

Follicle Update

I went for my third follicle check yesterday. One I got past the drama of the 10 inches of snow we got over night and into the morning, it was all good. I have three egg follicles, 9, 11 and 12mm. Ready for retrieval is 20mm. So I'm halfway there. They grow between 1 to 3mm per day. I go back on Monday, and I'm guessing that will be the last follicle check and then I'll begin preparing for the retrieval on maybe Friday or Saturday. There could be more than three follicles, some could be on top on another. Or there could be more than one egg per follicle. But three is good.

I'm feeling confident. I'm going into this one with a more positive attitude. From the moment he puts the embryos in (and I'm going to let him go as high as four, if there are that many), I'm going to be pregnant. I'm going to believe that I'm pregnant. No cautious optimism. I'll deal with the pain, if I have to, later.

To Christmas or Not to Christmas

Still don't know what I'm doing for Christmas. And my OCD is starting to kick in. I like plans. I know knowing what I'm doing. And not knowing what I'm doing, if I'm driving north or south, if I'm spending Christmas with high anxiety or in my pj's all day.

I'm not sure how to make the decision. If the embryo transfer is on the 23rd or earlier, then it's a no-brainer that I'll go to Richmond. But if the transfer is on Christmas Eve, how do I really explain to my family that I'd rather spend Christmas day in a car, alone, for eight hours, than spend the holiday with them?

It's perplexing, that's for sure. I'm trying not to stress over it. But it's hard.

Any suggestions?

Colts, Giants.....not what you think

At one point in my career, I could call every play in the final two minutes and 15 seconds of this game. I'm so excited to watch this on Saturday.

It Was Transparent, but I Was Thankful

I talked to one of my sisters on Tuesday night, and she said something that got me riled up. I don't remember, but suddenly I was venting about how no one in the family (save her, my mother, my sister-in-law in Virginia, and my niece) seemed to care about what I was going through. That no one ever called, no one emailed. And that our niece (the one who announced her pregnancy last week) was an insensitive bitch.

She was good. She let me rant, she tried to make some excuses for them but not too many, and then said she didn't know I felt that way. How could I not? You all know how I feel, I've spelled it out before how much they all hurt me by not inquiring.

And then she asked about why I thought Erica was insensitive. Really? Seriously? "I have the best fertility specialist in the region putting living, viable embryos into my uterus and I can't get pregnant. I don't want to hear that she got pregnant without even trying."

Oh, was the response. Yea, oh.

So yesterday my phone rang. A 315 area code but no name. Could have been someone's cell, I guess, so I answered. (315 is Syracuse, where most of my family lives.) It was my oldest sister. "Haven't talked to you in a while. Mom told me you were gearing up for your next procedure, so I thought I'd check in."

We talked for about 30 minutes. She gave me her updates. I told her what I was doing. I even congratulated her on being a grandma-to-be. I would have liked the conversation to end there, but she talked about how Erica was feeling, and the plans they were making for a bigger place, and that they would have such pretty babies because they were both so pretty. And of course, I started crying.

And she knew it. "Why are you crying?" And then she answered her own questions, excusing it on the hormones. And I let her think that was the case. I did ask for this, after all. I did want my siblings to be a little thoughtful with me, and reach out to me. So I guess this is what I get with it.

I know no one knows what the right thing to say is. I know it's a hard thing. And unless you've been living this with me for the past 18 months, you have no idea just exactly what I've been through.

To synopsize it into 6 failed IUI attempts and two failed IVF's, with one chemical pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage, does not give justice to what it has actually been. And so I'll give some slack to the ones who are just jumping on board now, and remember that this is what I wanted.

But there's something about the conversation that just didn't feel genuine. Like she was calling because she heard I was uattempted to comfort me when I was crying was a little too cavalier for my liking, she was over-looking anything that was just said that could have been the cause of the tears, over-looking that her daughter being pregnant could be very upsetting to me.

And maybe there is still awkwardness over the wedding this summer. Until amends are made, there will always be something that can't be said between us. (And at least in my end, something that will always be on the top of my tongue to say.) And maybe that was there. Maybe that was what I was sensing.

Or maybe it's time for me to go back to see my shrink. I've run into her at Wegmans and Kohl's recently. Maybe it's the universe's way of telling me that I've done the best job I can handling this complex roller coaster of emotions, but I need to call in the professional for a little advice. I'll see how this week goes.

I go in tomorrow for a follicle check and blood work. I've been giving myself 450 units of Gonal-F since Thursday night. I'll know tomorrow if it's been working the way we hoped.

What Can Brown Do For You?

I stopped taking the pill on Friday, started the Lupron shots (in my stomach) on Saturday, and actually started my period yesterday, a whole week early, which makes me feel less stressed about fitting in a retrieval and transfer this month.

I went in for a baseline ultrasound this morning -- they said everything looked like it's supposed to -- and so on Thursday I'll start the Gonal-F shots. That will basically turn my ovaries into Jiffy Pop -- making lots of egg follicles. Hopefully as many as last time (seven eggs, five embryos). And then next week I'll go in for ultrasounds on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Hopefully the following week will be the retrieval -- early enough that I can still make it to Richmond for Christmas, maybe even Christmas Eve, too.

My emotions are in better shape than they have been in the past few weeks, and my acupuncturist reminded me that I was on the pill for two weeks. Straight estrogen was bound to make my emotions a little crazy. Hopefully that's over and I can try to stay positive from here on out.

Last week when we were in Richmond, my father made a fairly bland, but definitely off-color remark. I have mentioned to my mom that it bothered me when remarks like that were made, because what if I can't get pregnant and I end up adopting. The baby will not be white. And I don't care.

The remark was made, and I got up in the middle of dinner and walked away. Went upstairs and took a bath. When I came out, my mom was upstairs and she was crying. This was not about her. This was not about me comforting her, which is what she wanted.

The momma bear came out in me, protecting my child that I don't even have yet. "This is 2009 almost, we have a black president for god's sake. Is a black baby somehow less desirable (insert air quotes) than an Asian baby or a Latin baby? I don't care where the baby comes from. If I've learned anything over the past two years, it's not where the baby comes from, it's that I get to be a mom. And if I hear remarks like the one I just did in front of my non-Caucasian that will be the last time he sees that child."

The point was made. No apologies were needed. I just didn't ever want to hear it again. When I talked to my friends the next day, I almost couldn't repeat the story. I was embarrassed that my father could actually still utter words like that.

I know he's of a different generation, but that excuse can really only go so far. And it was one thing to hear him say things like that and ignore him, but it's hitting a little too close to home. Or it could potentially be hitting close to home.

He was better the rest of the week. There were no off-color remarks. No offensive terms. At least not in front of me, which is all I can ask for.

And it made me feel very maternal. Sticking up for my future child to someone that I've never stood up to. I guess that's what parents do, even when they are still someone's child.

I'm Just Asking for a Little Compassion

But perhaps that's too much to ask for.

I spent the week in Richmond, with my parents, at my brother's house. Many stories including the phone call from J on Monday night and Tuesday night dinner with my niece's boyfriend, but more on all that later.

As we were driving home yesterday, my cell phone rang. It was my niece (the one who got married this past summer, the stupid family wedding fame). I was in the bathroom at McDonald's so just hit ignore.

As my parents were ordering something to eat, I went outside to listen to the voice mail.

"Yeah, hey Ellie, just wanted to see if you had a good Thanksgiving and to let you know I'm expecting. Yea totally crazy...wasn't planning on it, we weren't even trying, it just happened. So I'm due July 9th. Call me back if you want."

I turned my back to my parents inside the restaurant and started crying. But I had to pull myself together. I wasn't going to tell them for a number of reasons. Not my news, not my place to tell my parents. And I wasn't going to get into a car for four more hours and discuss this.

My eyes welled up several times on the drive home. I tried to push it out of my head. I tried not to think about it. I'm happy for her, of course.

But really....is that the way you tell someone who has been struggling with infertility for the past 18 months? Seriously.

My fucking family -- and that's the way I feel about most of them these days -- can't see past the nose of their faces. And sure, I'm probably being a little egocentric about this as well, but really...

I talked to my sister-in-law and Bubbles -- both reacted the same way. That is to say, that they don't think I'm over-reacting, being selfish or being egocentric. Both feel that a little bit of compassion and understanding could have been a part of the phone message.

Of course I would want to know, of course I'm glad she called me, and as I said, of course I'm happy for her. But at the same time, I'm sad for me. At the same time, I would have appreciated a little human decency on her part in telling me.

I haven't been able to call her back. And probably won't. At some point I will send her an email.

I've been having anxiety over Christmas. With my cycle and the retrieval and transfer dates up in the air at this point, I wasn't sure if I would be able to go to Richmond for Christmas. If I didn't do that, then I would go to my sister's in Syracuse.

I always have anxiety when the entire family (or damn close to it) gets together. I'm the odd man out, I feel self-conscious about everything. Virginia is easier, but questionable this year.

Well, the parents-to-be will be home for Christmas this year. More than I could really take. So even if I'm driving eight hours on December 25th, or I spend it alone in Ithaca, I'm not going to Syracuse. It would be too much.

And maybe that's me having a pity party for myself. Or maybe I'll change my mind in a few days or a few weeks. Or maybe I won't. I guess only time will tell.

And so for the "I-don't-know-how-many-times" time, I'll feel lousy for a few days and then try to snap out of it. I really thought when I woke up yesterday that it was the start of feeling good, of moving forward and being positive.

Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.

My Day Yesterday

I was over-tired from being up late on the phone with J.

Towards the end of the day, a friend at work confided in me and another friend that he and his wife are expecting. So there I sat, with my 33-weeks-pregnant friend and another one about to have another baby. When Heather asked if they had been trying long, we heard, "we thought it might, but it happened almost immediately."

I managed to hold it together until he left Heather's office. And then I broke down. I left work, skipped the gym, came home and got into bed pretty early.

I skipped through the TV channels. Law & Order -- pregnant woman. Next.

Discovery Health -- woman having quads. Next.

Food Network should be safe, right? A Challenge. Excellent. "Four bakers must make cake mystery client." Perfect.

Until the mystery client turned out to be a pregnant woman and the cake they had to make was for her baby shower.

I gave up at the point and just watched it. I even tortured myself and flipped over to the quads on commercials. I cried. Didn't wipe my tears, didn't blow my nose. Just laid on my bed, kitty on my lap, and cried.

I rolled over and fell asleep about 8pm. I managed to mostly sleep all night and woke up feeling a little better. At least not like I was going to break down at any given moment.

I'll be busy next week. I'm driving to Richmond on Sunday with my parents. We'll spend the week with my brother and his family, and then I'll be back on Friday. The next day, I'll begin giving myself the stomach shots. Moving forward. I just have to keep remembering that. I'm moving forward.

I'm an emotional wreck. It's the holidays. It's the no baby. It's the always being tired from the hormones and the waiting and the hoping.

I talked to J last night. He made me cry. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to give him updates and tell him about the second failed IVF attempt. I didn't want to tell him how I was feeling, but he pushed. And I cried.

I told him I didn't want him to hear my cry. He told me to go ahead and cry. And so I did. I filled him in on how I was feeling. And the emotional roller coaster I've been riding.

And he was great. He apologized for not keeping on top of it, for not checking in on me more often. I should have called him out on all of this, what's going on with him, what's going on with us. But I didn't. Because in the end, it just felt good to hear someone be that concerned about me. It felt right, even though it's not.

We talked for about an hour. He kept me up way too late, but it was worth it.

Fertility Gurus Deserve a Vacation, Too

I talked to the doctor's office today. It's day 3 of my cycle, and even though I'm officially taking November off, I actually get to do something now.

I'll start taking birth control pills tonight, for two weeks. And then the next day (the Saturday after Thanksgiving), I will start with one of the stomach shots. All of this will suppress ovulation this month and hopefully start my next cycle earlier. The last day the office is doing retrievals is December 20 before the FG is going on vacation for the holidays.

My nurse thinks we'll be able to get it all in, that we'll have time to do the retrieval before the 20th. And so I picked up my BCP at Wegmans after work and I feel like I'm actually doing something, I'm moving forward again, working towards the next time.

What he said...

Cranky Wednesday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone's Pregnant...

except me.

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

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

I'll be in a better mood next week.

I've not been a very good friend lately

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tricks of the Trade

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

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

Three-pound raw chicken, check.

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

Drink molasses, check.

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

Yogurt, check.

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

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

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

This and That....Frick and Frack

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

"But...."

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

"He wouldn't do that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy burrowing, Frick and Frack.

Big Shot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can do this.

I Can't Do It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shades of Red

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hump Day Blues

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shark Week

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

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

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

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

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

And this moment is now being absorbed and flushed away.

It's Officially Over for this Month

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not So Fast

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

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

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

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

Knock Yourself Up

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

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

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

"Yes." Lip quivering.

"How long have you been trying?"

"About a year and a half."

"I'll be praying for you."

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

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

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

"That's right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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