It's Hump Day....

to quote a morning radio DJ from my Rochester days, "and later we will."

It's been such a busy week already, I'm looking forward to the weekend. I had my follicle check this morning and things are looking really good. It's hard to see how many follicles are growing, they are all stacking on top of each other at this point, but the lead follicle is 18mm and my lining is great (almost 12mm, which is really the max that it gets). The nurse is guessing Monday for retrieval, but we'll know on Friday when I go back.

Bubbles is hopefully coming up from Baltimore for the transfer. I saw her the day after the transfer the time I got pregnant and she talked to my belly. Maybe if she talks to the embryos pre-utero, they'll stick around a little more.

Triple Play

I've resigned myself, I'm about 98.9% sure that I'm done with J. And I feel good about that. I'm waiting, though not the losing sleep kind of waiting, for him to be in touch. So I can say "oh, are you calling with a day and place for us to meet. Because if you're not, we've got nothing to talk about."

And I've realized that I'm not mad at him. I'm mad at myself. Mad for allowing him to make me feel so foolish over him. Mad for allowing me to not see what he was trying to tell me with his lack of action. But I get it now. If he wanted it to happen, if he really wanted to see me, I've made it more than easy for him to make it happen.

I texted with E yesterday and felt happy to have heard from him. Before yesterday, our last exchange was about two weeks ago. He had been talking on air about the advice he gave one of his producers about what to expect from marriage. He likened it to eating healthy for the rest of his life -- he'd feel better, he'd look better, he'd sleep better, but he could never have another cupcake again.

I texted him and asked if I was supposed to be the cupcake. He answered back, almost immediately, that yes I was and to get my ass to Connecticut so he could lick every inch of me. I giggled but didn't respond back. I left it at that. Bubbles has taught me well about how to keep the power in the texting and calling relationship. I kept the power, and there he was four beeping me yesterday morning.

And then all of that power, all of that "I am in control of my life and my feelings" went out the window this morning. One little phone call. A 315 (Syracuse) area code on my phone. "This is Ellie."

"Hey now." Chris. And I melted. I'd been thinking about him lately. (His birthday is at the end of the week.) But I didn't realize the effect he still has on me. He makes me happy. He's familiar. And safe. And yes, unavailable. But he cares about me. And he knows me. I don't have to be on my "best" behavior around him.

Amazing, how after all this time, that guy in the Irish bar from January 2003....it still comes back to him.

Weekend Update

It was a fun weekend, and I wish I didn't have such a busy, Syracuse-filled week ahead, but alas I do. Doctor appointments Monday and Wednesday morning, yoga Tuesday night, and thankfully not a lot of meetings.

My follicle check went well on Friday -- there are anywhere between 5 and 8 follicles, with the lead one at 13mm. Slow and steady wins the race. My best guess is that retrieval will be next Monday or Tuesday, with transfer on Friday the 7th. Which also means that I will be getting my test results very close to the exact date of my first IUI two years ago (August 23). Win or lose, it will all come full circle. And win or lose, I'll be heading south at the end of August.

I had another fertility massage yesterday, this time with yet another person. She wasn't trained in the Mayan abdominal techniques that I had been getting, but she did some work on my stomach and pressure points. It was more relaxing than the other two, so even if it wasn't entirely focused on my reproductive organs, it was a stress-reliever. I think I'll be able to fit one more in before retrieval.

I stayed in Syracuse last night and went to the Chiefs (triple-A affiliate of the Nationals) game with my niece, her husband and their two boys. And then this morning, as I was driving home, I heard the familiar four beeps of my cell phone. E. :)

Some dirty texting back and forth as I was driving (oops) and he wants to pick a date soon for us. I'm guessing I won't be able to fit him in before the retrieval, so once again he will be my consolation prize to look forward to.

It's Almost Friday

The week got better, although there was another incident with Casey on Tuesday night, but she was good last night.

I had a follicle check yesterday and I had six follicles, possibly a seventh. The lead follicle is 12mm. I ordered the baby batter yesterday (it will arrive Monday) and I go back for another ultrasound tomorrow.

I'm guessing retrieval next Friday at the earliest. Stay tuned.

Monday Sucked

The day started out fine, if not a little early. I was up at 5:15am, jumped in the shower and got dressed, fed my neighbors cats (a more-complex-then-usual task since her cats eat different things and I have to lock one in the bathroom to eat and then wait), and was on the road by 6:15 for Syracuse.

My follicle check went well. I had my favorite NP and I have at least three follicles on the left, and five on the right. Whoo-hoo. Keep growing, little follicles. I went to Skaneateles, a beautiful little resort village on one of the Finger Lakes to spend the day at my friend Jenn's house, since I would be going back to the FG's office later in the day.

We played with the kids in the backyard, fed them lunch, and then left them with her husband while we walked around the village and got lunch. Then back to her house to sit by the pool.

About 5pm, I headed back to Syracuse for my first support group meeting. I wasn't sure what to expect, and there were lots of people there that it was their first time, too. Overall, there were about 25 people there (including three husbands). Everyone went around the room and told their story.

I would have expected that to be cathartic. And I'm not sure why the meeting, overall, wasn't. All the sad stories, all the failures should have made me feel like I'm not in it alone, but I think they gave me a hopeless feeling.

trying for three years....trying for five years...miscarriage with twins at 10 weeks...premenopausal at 35...miscarriage at 7 weeks....ready to give up...

Maybe I'm just tired. Like two years worth of tired. I'm tired of talking and rehashing what more we can all do.

Acupuncture. Yoga. Massage. Stress relievers. Meditation. Support groups. Support forums. Therapy. I'm doing all of that. And then we hear -- in the support group and in yoga -- Don't watch TV or read the news -- nothing but negative energy. Read positive books.

And then there's the information that contradicts each other. Don't eat ice cream -- you need to keep your uterus warm. Eat full fat dairy -- it's good for conception.

I've said it before, but I feel like I want to scream it from a mountain top -- it shouldn't be this hard. If it's this hard to reproduce, how did man get this far?

FG said something at the meeting that I took to heart, and I'm sure he meant it in a positive way, because he is nothing if not positive, but he said "none of us is promised anything in life."

And he's right. But is it too much to expect that if I don't get the husband, I can have the baby?

I drove home with a pounding headache, knowing I had to stop at Kohl's to buy a new hair straightener (I noticed in the morning that mine was most likely a fire hazard with frayed cord showing), still feed the neighbor's cats and do my shots and medicine.

If Casey pooped on the floor, I think I might lose it. (My 13-year-old cat has irritable bowel syndrome and sometimes doesn't make it to the litter box or starts there, it hurts and she jumps out. Fortunately, her messes are contained to one room 99% of the time, and she's only ruined the rug in her room.)

I went to Kohl's, the headache is now an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10. Go home, take my shot out of the fridge to warm up, go over to Lynne's to feed the cats. Get the mail while the one cat is eating locked up, go back in and let her out. Go home, do my shot, take my meds. Grab something little to eat, check my email and calendar for today. At this point, it's 9pm and my headache is closing in on a 9. Someone is pressing their thumbs into both of my eyes and has a vice around my head.

I go upstairs and see a pile of poo on the floor, a smaller dropping about three feet away, and a little in my room. I start sobbing, not doing any wonders for my headache. Bending over to clean up the floor makes my head explode. I cry harder. I look at the rug shampooer that I leave in Casey's room for nights like this, and lose it. I sit on a stool and sob into my knees.

I clean up the best I can, pour Nature's Miracle on all the spots and cover them with hand towels so I know where they are. Contacts out, Yankees t-shirt on, 800 mg of Ibuprofin, and the lights off. I hold my head, trying to relieve the pressure and fall asleep.

I want a boy to make the decision of what to do with Casey. I want a boy to rub my head and tell me it's okay. To tell me that we're in this together and one way or another, there will be a crib in that other room (once we tear up the poopy carpet). That's all I want as I try not to cry, lest my head actually explode.

It's what I want. And then I remember the FG's words....none of us is promised anything.

It's Time

I went to the doctor this morning and I'm ready. I start shooting up tonight -- 450 units of Gonal-F and go back on Monday. No Lupron this time, I will start on the Ganirelix towards the middle of next week.

I have follicle checks on Monday, Wednesday and Friday next week. So the continuous driving to Syracuse and back starts up again. I'm feeling positive and hopeful.

College Revisited

During my senior year of college, I had two best girl friends, but mostly aligned myself with my guy friends. I learned early on that three girls are trouble. There is always drama, there is always a power struggle, and there is never equal love between the three. Somehow, someway, some variation of two are closer than any other. It's just the way it works.

When I graduated from college and one of these girls got married, I let the inevitable happen and drifted apart from the friendship. It was easier. I never missed the drama, never regretted not keeping in touch with them.

Fifteen years later, Facebook has brought them back into my life, for better or worse. I've kept them at arm's length, exchanging pleasantries, catching up on the last 15 years, and then really not much beyond that. We have our own lives, own priorities, and have, I'm assuming, replaced each other with new friends.

One of the ways I use Facebook with my immediate circle of friends is to keep them updated on doctor appointments and there I am in my current schedule. I keep my status updates pretty vague -- those in the know get it, those who don't know, have no clue.

Recently one of these girls from college sent me an email asking if everything was okay (she'd probably noticed some posts on my FB page that said "sending good thoughts" or something like that), that she was concerned, etc. The email sounded sincere. And if....no, when I get pregnant next month, it will only be a matter of time before I announce it. So I thought about it for a day about how I should answer her.

And finally I just decided to tell her. I told her I'd been trying to get pregnant for the past two-plus years, that all the trips to Syracuse were doctor appointments, this was my last attempt, etc. Not overly dramatic, not a lot of emotional sharing, but still clear that these two years have not been the easiest. And I thanked her for her concern.

And then? Nothing from her. Not a single word. I've seen that she's been on Facebook. Clearly she's read it. And while I had hoped that we've all matured in the past 15 years, the insecure part of me wonders if she is now taking this information and talking it over with the other friend from college.

I told Hope about it today. She told me I have too much faith in people, think too highly their motives and their sincerity, that I should have gone with my gut and my last opinion of her. Should have told her thanks for your concern, everything's okay -- and left it at that.

I should have.

The First of the Last

After three weeks on the pill, I was finally able to go back to the doctor this morning. My first appointment of the last round of IVF.

My left uterus -- usually hiding behind my colon and bladder -- was actually behind my uterus. So maybe these massage techniques have been doing something positive. My lining was about 7 or 8 mm thick -- too thick to start the meds tonight. If I started tonight, they're concerned that I won't shed it all when I get my period. So I will call in the next day or two and should be shooting up by the end of the week.

The good news -- Ally found 10 or 11 resting follicles. I have no idea how many I've had in the past, no one has ever told me. But she seemed genuinely excited about it. "We've got to make this month work." And it was nice to hear from her that she's in it with me. Even when she walked in the room, she said she had been thinking of me that morning, knowing that my three weeks were up and I would be in.

After my appointment, I went next door and had my second fertility massage, this time from someone I went to high school with. At first that was a little strange, but she was ultra-professional and was even better than the man I had last week. I liked her technique much better, even though there was some pain involved.

Pain is strong. Discomfort is more like it. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. As I was laying there, I just kept thinking, "suck it up. child birth is going to hurt more."

I hope so.

Fertility Massage

One of the best parts of a massage is that you're laying on your stomach, hiding the less-than-perfect parts of yourself, exposing your back and getting it rubbed. Fertility massage? Not so much.

I started on my back and he rubbed my stomach. Nothing relaxing about it. He was really digging in, increasing blood flow and circulation to my uterus, and all I could think about was what my stomach looked like after two years of my body getting ready to be pregnant.

And then I realized I was being stupid. At this point, modesty needs to go out the window. And I just need to suck it up and do whatever it takes. He pulled down from my belly button to just above my pubic bone and then over to each pelvic bone. And then pushed up from the belly button in three directions. He rubbed my stomach in a circle, really pushing into it and moving things around. He covered it with a heating pad and then used pressure points (probably the same places I have needles when I get acupuncture) on my neck, shoulders and head.

He did deep pressure circulation stuff on my back too. Really deep. Almost to the point where it hurt. And then I think as just a way to throw me a bone, he rubbed the calves and feet for a few minutes.

Not the usual massage, but very interesting. I have to do the same type of massage on my stomach every night and use a heating pad. And I go back on Monday for another massage after my doctor's appointment. He suggested I continue to be treated with a massage each week up until transfer.

I Applaud Red Sox Nation

Yea, even me.

My Mood is Better

I'm still on the pill for one more week, but I'm feeling less weepy than even two days ago. I made it through the weekend with little drama.

My niece had her baby yesterday -- a little girl. I'm not sure exactly how to feel about this. I know how I'm supposed to feel, I know how I expected to feel. Mostly I'm indifferent and feel nothing.

I got an email from my sister (her mother) first and then from my niece herself with pictures. In neither email was my brother copied (remember the family drama from last summer). So much for my sister saying that it was all done, move on, no hard feelings, etc.

I think that pissed me off more than feeling sorry for myself that she had a baby. Thanksgiving should be interesting when the Virginia relatives (those who were not invited to the wedding) come home.

And so even with the family drama, and the baby being born, I'm feeling okay. I've got a fertility massage scheduled before yoga on Tuesday. What's a fertility massage? My cynical side says one more way for the FG to make money.

Officially, the website says: A rejuvenating and nurturing treatment utilizing a variety of techniques including Swedish, deep tissue, trigger point therapy, myofascial release, reflexology and cranial sacral. Stimulate your circulation, decrease muscle tension, and renew your well-being. This massage is designed for pre fertility treatment.

I have one scheduled for the following week, as well. No one can tell me that I'm not doing all I can to try to get pregnant.

A "When Harry Met Sally" Lesson

Marie: I don't think he's every going to leave her.
Sally: I know he's never going to leave her.
Marie: You're right, you're right. I know you're right.

The Pill is the Culprit

I'm so glad that I'm neurotic (or anal?) to write everything down. I looked back at my posts the last time I was on the pill. Of course, when I first reread them, it was a good thing because I got pregnant on the cycle following being on the pill.

What I didn't notice was my mood while I was on the pill. I was miserable. And not sad for a little while, but several days on end, miserable. About a week into being on the pill, I was an emotional wreck. Every little thing bothered me.

Fast forward to this month. About a week into being on the pill, the same thing. Last time I was only on for two weeks, this time for three. Should make for fun times.

On a Silver Fucking Platter

I'm an idiot. Go ahead. I know I am.

Last week, after I got back from the doctor, after knowing I had a three-week break from shots and ultrasounds and appointments and blood work, I said I was hoping to see E or J, or both.

And what did I do? I emailed J and said, "If I were to drive to York, or somewhere in that vicinity for an afternoon, would you make it worth my while? I've got three weeks before I start the next cycle."

York is four hours from me, 45 minutes from him. Could I be making it any easier for him?

He emailed me back, almost immediately. "Very interesting. Let me check my schedule."

I resisted the urge to respond to him. And I've resisted the urge to write back to him this week.

This is it. I promise. If I hear nothing back from him, even to say, tempting as it sounds, I'm too busy....he's cut off. Done. No more stroking his ego. No more texts. No more dirty pictures. No more naughty phone calls.

And you can hold me to it.

Cranky Monday

And I'm not sure why. I feel like crying. Or going back to sleep. When really what I want is to feel like working out.

I had a good weekend. I went to Syracuse and spent the night at my niece's. Yesterday was Andrew's 2nd birthday party.

I had been anxious about it earlier in the week, that my oldest sister would be there and I would have to hear about her daughter, who is due to give birth in the next two weeks. I think I've forgiven her insensitivity in how she told me she was pregnant, but I can't forget. And to hear people go on and on about it -- I wasn't in the mood. I found out Saturday night that she wouldn't be coming. She had to work all day on Saturday.

Maybe it was, not just being around little kids, but actually celebrating the anniversary of his birth. It could be that or it could be something totally unrelated. Like I'm just tired. Or my hormones are out of whack -- though I have been living with that for the past two years.

I feel like I did last summer when I thought an egg donor was my only option. My mind is swimming with all sorts of things and what if's. What if there is a better chance to get pregnant with an egg donor than with my own egg. Should I have just gone with an egg donor last summer, instead of wasting the time and money on trying to get pregnant on my own? Or should I have just given up and saved since last year and gone ahead with adoption? Should I try with an egg donor after my final IVF?

I don't know how productive of a day it will be at work today. I should have called in sick.

"Donna Does Wonders with the Probe"

I managed to get a doctor's appointment this morning, and so at 8:45, Hope, Heather and I took a "staff field trip" to the doctor's office. (The only thing missing was Nancy.)

We came up with a list of questions in the car, and I told them that what I'm not good at, what I really needed them from them, was the follow-up. Once I ask the question and get an answer, I'm not good at saying, "but what else?" or "but what about...?" They were both up to the task.

The FG's office was hopping when we got there. I leaned over to Hope and said, so which one of you is my lesbian lover and which is the egg donor. (Because really, what else would three women be doing at the fertility doctor?) She sized up me and Heather with our matching Vera Bradley purses and said, "ummm....she's more like you, she's your egg donor." To which Heather replied, "she wants to be your lover."

When I was finally called back for my baseline U/S, the nurse was a little surprised at our little conga line. "They're both coming back?"

When the nurse practitioner came in to the ultrasound, they started asking their questions. The NP -- new to the practice -- didn't have all the answers, but said she would bring Donna in when we were done. And then she couldn't find my left ovary, which has been known to hide. "Stay undressed, I'll get Donna and see if she can find your left ovary. She does wonders with the probe."

Donna came in, immediately found my left ovary, and then sat there while the girls peppered her with questions. At this point, Donna was saying that there were some residual cysts left over from last month, but we could still go ahead, to start the meds tonight and be back on Friday for a follicle check.

Hope and Heather weren't ready to accept that that was the best thing for me. The most impactful question, and I think it was from Hope, "if she got pregnant in December, why wouldn't you try to do the cycle the exact same way? Why increase her dosage so much, why add a new medicine to the mix? Especially when using more medicine didn't seem to create a better quality or quantity of eggs?"

Donna thought about it for a minute and then said, "Well the cysts are a little bigger than I would like." She looked at me, "what if we put you on the pill for three weeks to suppress ovulation, let your cysts go away, and we'll start up on July 13 with just the Gonal-F?"

It felt like a weight off my shoulders. And in thinking about it, that was the way the cycle worked when I got pregnant. I was on the pill for two weeks to manipulate my cycle so that we could fit it in before Christmas. So this isn't a bad thing, it can only be a good thing.

And if I can fit in a visit or two with E or J (or dare I say both?) in the next three weeks, all the better.

And so I went back to the gym tonight for the first time in five weeks. I lasted about half hour on the treadmill. It was a start. I'll give myself this week to get my endurance back up and then start running next week.

Today was a better day than Friday. At least we're moving in the right direction.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

At least my body doesn't let me psyche myself into believing that the test was a false positive. I woke up this morning to my period and quickly realized I had very little in way of supplies to deal with it. Ugh.

I started making a list of questions for the doctor. Hope is going with me to the baseline to help ask questions and be an extra set of ears.

* what more can I do?
* what are the chances of getting pregnant?
* did the increase of Gonal-F and Menopur cause over-stimulation to the point that the follicles stopped growing and it caused the spotting?
* should FG re-examine me to see where things stand with my reproductive levels?
* would taking a month off make any difference?

That's what we have so far. It will be good for Hope to be there. I ask why I'm not getting pregnant and I get an answer like, "you're doing all you can." Hope will push and ask for an actual medical explanation.

For the past two years, I've never wavered. I've never doubted myself or my decision. This is what I'm supposed to do. I can be a single mother. I will have no trouble with it. But now, as I'm nearing my last chance, I am starting to doubt adoption.

How reasonable is it to take on a debt that large and add another person to my household? A person who is 100% dependent on me for all of his or her needs?

I'm casting the net, and actually this is where Fran being Fran is a good thing. She's casting the net. She's got her Nigerian priest looking into adopting from his country, she's working something with a woman who may or may not have someone in her family to take care of her baby which has to be taken from her as soon as she gives birth, and then she asked my oldest sister about anything that her husband may have (he's the former DA of a small town and now has his own private practice).

Hope asked me the other day if, knowing that I believe in fate and destiny, I needed to go through the past two years of failure and disappointment so that my heart would be completely open to an adopted child, that if the past two years were fate's way of making the timing exactly right for the child that is meant for me.

It's a nice thought. And one that I'm sure will become my mantra the minute I'm holding my baby, however that baby comes to me.

Eleven Down....One to Go

My test was negative today. I was indifferent to the results. It has become the norm to hear the bad news, at this point. I can only cry so many times.

The girls and I went on a field trip after getting the news. Wal-Mart to get me a diet Pepsi; Kohls for a shopping excursion; and McDonald's for grease.

And then I got back to the office and ran into a co-worker who is only in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She had been looking for me the other day, wanted to tell me something before I heard it from someone else, was just going to say it.

"You're pregnant." It wasn't a question, because just like hearing the negative test result, hearing that other people are pregnant has become the norm. "I'm happy for you."

"I know you are."

"I'm probably going to cry, but I'm happy for you." And then I walked into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and sobbed.

After that one of my friends said, "maybe you just adopt. Isn't that what they say? You adopt, and then when you least expect it...."

But that's not going to happen to me. Unless Mr. Right suddenly shows up. It happens to those people because they have a husband, they're having sex. The only sex I'm having these days is protected, for the most part.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm ready to give up. But I won't. I have one try left and I have to do it. I've already called in my prescription refills for the next round of ovarian stimulants, even before I get my period.

And so I'll do what I've done the last 10 times I've heard, "the test was negative, if you want to try again, call us on the first day of your cycle." I'll feel sorry for myself for the weekend, and then get right back on the horse.

This, however, will be the last horse I'm riding. Win or lose. After the next round, I'm done.

Some days are so hard

Babies are everywhere. And if they're not there, their parents are, talking about them. And some days, I'm happy to listen and join in on the conversation, and others....not so much.

Today was one of those days.

A group of us went to lunch today and on the way drive back to work, it was nothing but babies.

And the right amount of years between the first and second. (Can I just have one, please, before all you breeders start planning for your next one?)

And when people were going to start trying to having a baby. "We're going to start in August." (And you'll probably be pregnant by the end of the year.)

And how one baby is getting teeth and the other one is walking. (I got nothing on that one, just sadness for myself.)

I went to read my Rochester friends' blog -- and shouldn't have since it's all about the little girl they just adopted. Probably not the best reading in my current mood. She's thisclose to crawling, and eating new foods and has new teeth. And I'm so happy for them -- and so sad and jealous.

It's one of those nights when I'm hoping for no baby-related shows, an easy fall to sleep, and a restful night. I have yoga tomorrow, and I'm hoping to be out of this mood by then.

I have my blood test on Thursday. I'm feeling indifferent. Some twinges, less than last month, but then again, I wasn't pregnant last month.

I'm so tempted to buy an HPT, but I won't.

But I want to.

Visualize...and Make it Happen

FG offered a class in making vision boards last week. It was at the same time as yoga, and not really wanting to be the only single one there, I opted to go to yoga. But that's not to say that I totally give up on the vision board idea.

Two procedures ago, he told me to visualize. "See what you want. Imagine what you will get. Think about a beautiful healthy baby. See your child." And so, I found this picture in a magazine and though, not every night, I try to look at this picture often.



I don't know what my child will look like. I only know that when I saw this picture in a magazine, it made me think of what my child could look like.

I showed FG two weeks ago when I went in for my IUI. He looked at the picture and grabbed my hand. "I have chills."

And for those who don't know what I look like, here is a picture of me at about 2 1/2.