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.