And this says it all...

Surgery. December 13. Pre-op consultation December 5 where I'll learn all the relevant details.

This is a good thing. Scary, but good.

Religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin

Does anyone else feel like saying "I got a rock" this year?

Yeah, me too.
---

I just finished carving the last of our five pumpkins (G carved two of them, also). I can remember when I was younger that this was an activity for my mom and I, and we usually stayed up late to do it. For that matter, we stayed up late to dye Easter eggs or decorate the Christmas tree, as well; Mom and I were both night owls at that time. I've changed since then; I'm REALLY tired now, and it's not even midnight.

(Of course, this could also be attributed to the fact that last night, I had insomnia, and ended up staying up until 6 am (or rather, 5 am Daylight Savings Time) watching the last of the season one episodes of Lost I rented on DVD. I then fell asleep and woke up when my clock (still on normal time) said 11 am. Thanksfully there was opportunity for a nap earlier in the afternoon, but I'm still tired. Yawn.)

But I digress. I was thinking as I was cleaning up that I was acting like a parent; I can think of the number of times over the years that I got interested in something else while Mom finished dipping white eggs in blue dye or cleaning the guts out of the last pumpkin. That's what Moms (or Dads) do; they understand that a kid's attention span may trickle off after the first few minutes, but that the next day when it's time for trick-or-treat, the sight of those jack-o-lanterns all lit up on the front porch will make them ooh and ahh, and they'll tell all their friends which one they carved all by themselves.

I'm practicing now, I guess. Hopefully for a good reason.

Concentrate and ask again

G called me near the end of the work day yesterday and started telling me about the relevant parts of his health insurance that would cover fertility treatments, should they become necessary. I looked over it last night while he was out with a friend and at least on the surface, it's good coverage; 90% coverage for most everything, although drugs have some pre-authorization requirements and some are considered non-formulary. Compared to my insurance (zero coverage after a diagnosis of infertility), it's great.

I was all set to be relieved, thinking "this is good; even though I *probably* won't need it; even though fixing these other fixable things will most likely result in a successful pregnancy for me, at least no matter what the Universe decides to throw at me in the coming year, we will NOT have to go into debt for it."

Then G said "this is how much it would cost to put you on my insurance..."

Bad: they charge $50 extra a month if a spouse who is currently working (and therefore has access to their own insurance) decides to go on their plan. That, plus the additional cost of husband/wife coverage, would mean that we would be spending almost $1100 more per year on health insurance than we would if we stuck with the status quo.

And, seeing as how there's that teeny tiny little point that I may not need it, G doesn't necessarily think that we need to make a change.

At the time of our phone conversation I said "well, we don't have to decide now; we can talk about it, right?" Meaning, maybe I can talk some sense into you before the deadline for open enrollment, of course. Ahem.

But he's convinced that everything will go right, that the Universe will suddenly start throwing ticker-tape parades in our honor, that's how lucky we'll be; that we'll fix the septum and treat the clotting disorder and *PRESTO-CHANGE-O*, we'll have a baby, by gum! (Okay, maybe not; he's got high hopes, for sure, but I'm thinking the MONEY is a bigger issue for him. Sigh.)

I, of course, am not so easily convinced. Hope, that brazen hussy, keeps trying to barge in here and whisper sweet nothings in my ear: You won't even probably start trying again until March, at the earliest. That means you'd have *nine months* before the next open enrollment period, and surely you can get pregnant again in that timeframe! If not, then you can get on his insurance at that point and all will be well with the world.

(Why would it have to be NINE months, anyway?)

Contrary to what G thinks I think, I do not automatically think we should get on his insurance. It's a lot of money for something we may not need. Logically I can see that. But that little nagging voice in the back of my head keeps wondering "what if something else goes wrong?" (As in, who are you, Universe, and why does it look like you're ready to smack me from behind with a shovel??) In the grand scheme of things, $1100 would look like chump change if indeed we were suddenly facing the cost of a complete IVF cycle.

We're trying to do our homework, here. G is going to try to get more information from his insurance plan on Monday, such as whether there is a pre-existing condition limitation (bad) and what specifically they mean by "assisted fertilization procedures." I'm thinking about calling my doctor on Monday and seeing if they can tell me any information about whether in their professional opinion I have any possibility of needing any type of ART procedures or medications. (Not that I realistically think they'll be able to tell me that, but it is worth asking.)

I just wish things didn't have to be this complicated, or that the right answer was more clearly defined.

It doesn't help that I went to one of those Magic Eight Ball Sites, and every time I asked, I got "It is decidedly so;" "Without a doubt" or "The answer is yes." (Clear enough for you, Universe??)

Luck of the draw

I'm back from my RE's appointment, and I have news, and bad news.

The news: surgery is not yet scheduled, but will probably not be before December or January due to the schedule. (Sometimes it really SUCKS to live in a city with a "center for excellence in women's health," usually when it relates to being seen QUICKLY.) I suppose it's good news that surgery will be scheduled at all, though, so I have to try to keep my perspective. The doctor who will be doing the surgery (Dr. S) is out of the office today, so I will be actually setting the date on Monday. The word is still out about whether they will do a lap/hyst or just the hysteroscopy, and Dr. W said he'd defer to whatever Dr. S wanted to do. I don't know whether I'll push for the lap or not (or whether they'd agree even if I push) -- we'll see.

Ok, now for the bad news: remember when Dr K's (my old doctor's) office called me and told me that all of my bloodwork was completely normal?

Well, guess what. It wasn't.

I'm not sure what happened, but the packet of labs that I picked up from their office and delivered to Dr. W was incomplete, so he decided he wanted to re-order some of the tests. While the NP was going over the tests with me (Factor V Leiden, Prothrombic Gene Variant and MTHFR, I said "I *know* I had those done." So she called the lab for me, who faxed over the results.

It turns out that in addition to the septum, I am homozygous for MTHFR. (In other words, genetically speaking, I'm a train wreck all over the place! Hmmm.)

Despite the obvious jokes about that name (yeah, I'm a homozygous MTHFR) this could be pretty serious, for more than just pregnancy purposes. Gynecologically speaking, I will need to start on mega-folic acid and when we're pregnant again, I'll need to be on some sort of blood thinner. Pregnancy risks aside from recurrent miscarriage include:

• preeclampsia
  
• placental abruption
  
• intrauterine growth restriction

The risks to my general health, though, are greater as well, and I've been referred to a hematologist to further discuss them. However, the short list of risks* can include:

• increased risk for developing atherosclerosis, which can in turn lead to coronary artery disease, heart attack, and stroke
  
• increased likelihood of having a blood clot in the veins
  
• possible dementia, particularly Alzheimer’s disease

The obvious burning question in my mind is "why didn't Dr. K's office TELL ME THIS??" From the copies of the chart that I have it does clearly look like this was an addition to the earlier results, and perhaps it was not all sent at the same time, so I don't know whether the lab or the office would be at fault for not getting the information out to me.

I know it could be worse news, truly. I have read of success stories with this disorder and that with the surgical treatment and proper medication, there should be no reason why I wouldn't be able to have a healthy pregnancy.

But I'm still pissed.

*Risks from "Homocysteine and MTHFR Mutations" in Circulation

"Getting it"

One of my co-workers has apparently experienced both miscarriage and unexplained infertility. I found this out because I am not altogether quiet about what I've been through, and in the course of talking about my RE appointment, she disclosed to me that she'd seen one as well, years ago, during her first marriage. She's now dating someone who already has adult children and grandchildren, and from what I can gather, these grandchildren are her surrogate children. She talks about them all the time.

One thing I cannot understand is her need to refer to one of them as THE BABY. She does this all the time, so much so that I thought that one of them actually *was* a baby, when in fact, upon asking "how is is she?," was told that she's three. As in "years old," not weeks or months.

Not only does she refer to her as THE BABY, she does so loudly. And often. And repetitively, as in she repeats the same story about what THE BABY said, or what THE BABY did, over and over, until I am ready to rip my ears off with my bare hands.

She even has a special BABY-ish voice that she uses when she's telling someone what THE BABY said, using THE BABY's own words of course, which makes it such that even if I have been successfully tuning out their conversation, my still-injured-and-bleeding ears cannot help but perk up and listen. (I have yet to put my hands over my ears and start saying "LA-LA-LA" at top volume, but some days, I really do feel like doing it.)

She's a nice woman, really. But I cannot understand how she does not "get it", having been through the trials of trying unsuccessfully herself.

Do people really forget what it's like to feel this way?

Pigeonholed

Being a relatively new blogger, I have kind of a hodgepodge of blog links listed in my blogroll.

I started out with only linking to Lorem, the person who got me started blogging (just by having her own - thanks!). I slowly began checking out her links, and the links of those she linked to (and her two friends, and her two friends, and so on, and so on... extra points if you get the seventies pop cultural reference)

Gradually, I began to form my own little community.

I then found the mega-bloggers. Those who have been at this a long time, those who are legendary. Those who have links pages that categorize people into various groups. Trying. Pregnant. Loss Survivors. Infertile. IVF'ers. Adopting. Moving on.

I've often thought about putting some sort of category on the links that I have, because then if a reader is feeling particularly vulnerable, they can skip the pregnant links. Or if they want to learn more about someone who's survived a loss, they know where to go. It seemed kind of odd, though, and then there are those folks that have done it all -- where to categorize them? What happens when they move from one phase to another? A lot of folks I've come to know have had the unfortunate luck to take one step forward, two steps back along their path towards having a baby. Should I really try to pigeonhole someone into a little block of HTML?

But I realized that above it all, we're all women speaking about something near and dear to our hearts: children, whether we have them or have lost them or desperately want one or are in a situation that's some combination of the above. There have been several excellent posts recently (here and here come to mind immediately) that speak to this desire, this want, that has managed to escape all of us, for one reason or another. Even those with secondary infertility, or losses after a first child, know this desire, and it binds us together in a way that those who don't want children will never fully understand.

Eventually I may change the way my links are displayed, but for now, the hodgepodge seems to fit the way we actually exist: in some way, we're all in this together.

Out of the blue

Last night G came into the kitchen while I was making dinner, and said that they'd gotten their information for open enrollment at work. He and I are currently on our own insurance, through our own employers. I was thinking he was going to say something completely different than what came out of his mouth next:

"There is some coverage for some type of fertility things."

So if we would need it (and I'm not saying that we will, just thinking ahead) there may be an option for it. Even though I'm not sure the extent of the coverage, I think this is positive news -- not only that it's covered, but that he brought it up to me once he saw it. Small miracle, there.

He's going to bring home the information tonight for me to review, and then I guess we will have a talk about whether it's time to get on the same insurance.

Random Monday thoughts

I'm exhausted today. I haven't felt this tired in a while; it's making my day really difficult. I'm fighting the urge to put my head down on my desk, like we did in grade school.
--
Three and a half days until my followup with the RE. Lorem, I had another question and might as well ask you here: did you get a choice of what anesthesia they would use?
--
After Laura's recent post about hair color, I dyed my hair on Saturday. It's now a darker brown, with just some hints of red but not as much as I'd have liked. I think I should've picked "medium auburn" as opposed to "light reddish brown." Has anyone ever tried applying henna over permanent color? (i.e., will that make my hair fall out??)
--
We recently got a Sur La Table store that is within walking distance of my office. I've been there twice since Thursday afternoon. I could do a LOT of damage to my credit cards in that place. Sometimes I wish I would have chosen to do something with my life that involved cooking, and although it would not be unusual to go back to culinary school at my age, the funds are just not there. Plus there's that whole *I plan to be a stay-at-home-mom* thing that I'm still hanging onto, because "I'm really optimistic that we'll get through surgery just fine and get back to the work of getting pregnant again." (repeat ad nauseum to convince myself.)
--
Time for a nap. (I wish.)

Moratorium on loss

I put up yesterday's post before checking in on my blogroll. As it was a fairly glib post, I was feeling upbeat, and as such was rather unprepared when I clicked on Kath's blog and read her bad news. (I'm so sorry, Kath.)

She's not the only one, of course. Anne for example. Laura not so long ago. Probably others that blog (that I'm not aware of, yet), along with many more that don't blog. There are far too many like her. Like us. I hate that this is neverending.

Why can't we all get a break?

I e-mailed her to say I'm sorry and in her reply, she said something that I hope she doesn't mind me posting (paraphrased a little, of course): "let's make this the last miscarriage for both of us."

And I second that notion, only I'd like to extend it to everyone out there who's suffered recurrent miscarriages. Would that we could just declare "ok, this is the last one, ever" and be done with it, right? That would be perfect, mmmkay?

No more heartbreaking losses. No more worrying when we get double pink lines, "will this one stick?" No more fear.

I wish that I could make it so.

Report card

Picked up the copy of my chart that I first requested from my old doctor's office in AUGUST. (Can we say "glad I'm outta there"??) It's interesting to be able to see what these folks have to say about you:

At follow-up after first loss, where I cried a lot in her office: "Coping well." (Ha, hahahahaha. Ha.)

Same appointment, where I begged her to test my progesterone and she said there is no normal level: "Patient was reassured of normal ovulatory function. No need to do testing or add progesterone." (Umm, just because YOU feel that way doesn't mean I agree.)

Notes from phone call after second loss, where I had an emotional meltdown with the doctor to whom I'd never spoken before: "Patient very frustrated with 2 spont. ab's and wants w/u to be done." (No shit, sherlock! What was your first clue? My remark that I wanted to be tested by your office or I'd find someone who would??)

Same phone call, where doctor quoted me such helpful stats as most miscarriages are chromosomal in nature and we're only able to determine a cause with very few miscarriages even though I told them that I wanted to be tested anyway: "Standard stats/expectations reviewed." (Oh boy, this is really starting to be fun!)

Shame they didn't have more to say about me. I'm actually kind of enjoying this.

days of old long since

But we've wander'd monie a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.

loosely translated, from this Scottish song website:
But we've wandered many a weary mile
Since the days long ago.
----------------------
What a year it's been.

This morning I was looking back at old charts and noticed that we did not start trying the cycle we got pregnant the first time (which began 11/12/2004); we actually started the cycle that started 10/16/2004. So it has been a year after all. I feel like Father Time, preparing to usher out the old and make way for the new. (And "new" *would* have to be equated with a baby, wouldn't it??)

As anyone can see from my blogroll, I have branched out from reading just loss related blogs and have found the vast world of the infertility bloggers. These witty, well-versed women know a lot about FSH, uterine abnormalities, and recurrent miscarriage, not to mention Clomid, IUI and IVF, and I feel that I am not only learning a lot by reading their stories, but also becoming a more understanding person. (I hope!)

But even though Resolve defines infertility as "a disease or condition of the reproductive system often diagnosed after a couple has one year of unprotected, well-timed intercourse or if the woman suffers from multiple miscarriages," I sometimes feel funny reading and/or commenting on their sites, as though I'm an interloper who is treading on sacred ground. I don't equate myself as infertile, at all; we had an easy time getting pregnant and were spared the heartache that trying month after month with no results brings. Not to mention expensive treatments with no guarantees of success. But I read, and try to understand better what they've been through.

I've also learned a lot about the blog world; even though it hasn't even been a full four months yet since I began this site, I've learned a lot about the community. About statcounters and trackbacks. About lurkers, spammers, and trolls (oh my!). I've taken the time to read Julie's archives (although I missed Grrl's, unfortunately, as I came too late). I've read blogs of women around the world whose stories struck a chord with me, even though I'm far from where they sit, both literally and figuratively.

If you're reading along (and I know some of you are, and some did not find me from my comment on Mare's site, either), I hope you'll also check out some of the other folks out there to see what they're going through.

I know that for me, treatment and/or surgery, whatever the plan becomes, will bring fresh options to start anew, whether I'm ready for them or not. There may be problems ahead that have not been uncovered, but for now, I'm going to have to take it day-by-day and remember that many others have "wandered the weary mile" before me, in one path or another, and made it through. They may not have ended up where they expected, or they may still be making their way, but they are adventurers who help those of us who follow.

We'll take a cup of kindness yet, I'm sure.

you can check out any time you like...

Yesterday, I was feeling too sorry for myself to blog. (Yeah, I know. Unhealthy and all that BS. Meh.) Today, I'm doing better. Feeling much more like kicking someone/something. (That has to be productive, right??)

But for the short term, I'm in Limbo, and there's not a whole lot to see here. All the tourist attractions apparently went out of business long before my arrival. The sidewalks fold up at night, and there's a curfew on Main Street. (Damn that travel agent! Those colorful brochures were just a ruse.)

I remember this place. I've been here before, under slightly different circumstances though. There was that seven-week stay here in December, and a nine-week trip in June. Ah, good times -- trying like mad to pass the days when you feel like the second hand of your clock is moving in slow motion -- never mind the blocks of the calendar. (Better accomodations then, but both trips ended rather abruptly.) I can remember my stays like they were yesterday -- how warm and inviting the rooms looked, and how comfortable I tried to get there. How much I didn't want to leave.

This time, the trip is different. I've gotten a deal on a cheap room, but it has none of the amenities. (The mattress is lumpy as hell.) I can see familiar faces checking in at the place across the street, and they're scared -- they don't know what to expect, and they know that their stay could be cut short without notice. I wouldn't say I'm jealous, exactly -- I know that my self-booked trip to Limbo is easier on the mind than theirs -- but I can't help but think about being back there again.

---

I'm in a weird place right now. *Not* trying to get "back there" is an odd feeling, every month. Whereas G used to always seem more , umm, amorous during my non-fertile times, now that we're on strict orders not to conceive, it appears that his fertile sensor has perked up and he's feeling frisky. And I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but I'm terrified to let him near me -- of all the years I *didn't* get pregnant using birth control, now would probably be the one time that I would, and I can't go there. Just. can't.

Waiting for a doctor's appointment is also tedious. Six weeks doesn't seem like that long when you're looking out into the future, but for some reason now that it's just over a week away, time has slowed to a crawl. Once I get through this appointment, there will likely be more waiting -- before and after surgery, if that's what it comes to -- but then I will have the ultimate challenge: will I be up for another extended trip?

(If I book early, can I get a good rate on a better room?)

pick your poison

G and I drove to the nearby farm market this afternoon, where they are having their annual Fall Festival. Normally, we go into the "pick-your-own" field and make our selections, away from the crush of toddlers climbing all over the piles of pumpkins, the families posing for pictures in front of the haystacks, the kids clamboring for candy apples and painting faces on gourds. (Saying this makes me sound like someone who doesn't really like kids, which couldn't be further from the truth; however, the main festival area is usually pretty crazy and the pumpkins in the field are much fresher.)

But this year, we couldn't find the "pick-your-own" lot... no signs designating that area as usual. We parked and went inside. The market just opened a wine shop, so we indulged in a few tastes before inquiring about the location of the "pick-your-own" area.

Oh, you need to take a hayride up to the top of the hill to get to that this year. In other words, wait in line for a good while, or get my pumpkins from the stacks.

Since I LOVE to torture myself, I chose the latter. We walked around the piles, trying to stay out of the way of the moms who were taking pictures. I tried my best not to look at any of the newborns wearing cute orange and black outfits for their obvious "first visit".

I stared off into the sky and just repeated over and over in my head "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry" while G was off looking at the largest pumpkins, trying to find a good one. He knows how much I normally enjoy doing this, and when he realized I was getting overwhelmed he offered to go look for the perfect tall one to complement the two squat ones we'd already picked out. He's so wonderful.

I managed to keep it inside until we got home and took them out of the car. G offered to finish putting things out, but I said "I've got to get on with life" and dried my tears.

A prayer...

... for what could have been.


I miss you both.

3 blog entries in one day! *gasp*

First of all... I wanna have the big BLOGAPALOOZA those of us in the tri-state area could *easily* plan. Just saying.
---

Tonight we put up the Halloween lights that I've added to each year since we've owned the house. I love Fall, I love decorating for Halloween, I love when the kids come around to trick-or-treat. Sometimes I dress up, or at least wear something seasonal. (I tend to look like I should have been an elementary school teacher - not far from the truth, there.) Every year since I've known my husband, I have *insisted* that we get pumpkins from the local farm market and carve them into jack-o-lanterns. Last year, one of the pumpkins we bought was almost 42 lbs!

I just wish I didn't remember that this was supposed to be the Halloween where I took a two-month old for his/her first pumpkin. No pumpkin patch, no hayride, no pictures on the little train that would've been too big for our firstborn this year, but I would've put them on for a minute anyway, just so I could capture it for my scrapbook.

I'll have to try harder not to remember.

sure, I *could* blog about something else...

...but it's hard when the only part of a conversation my boss is having with a coworker in the cubicle next to me that I overhear is this:

"how's B's baby..."
"good - his wife's pregnant again!"
"wow, the younger one's a year old, right?"

Damn. Damn damn damn.

TGIF

The week's almost over, and boy am I glad.

I had a lot of meetings this week, the type where we had to be focused and there was no shortage of irritating situations. I've read that a lot of bloggers with loss and/or infertility situations have quit their stressful jobs to see if it helped - sounds like a wonderful idea in this camp. Not an option, but a nice thought.

The ankle's feeling better, thankfully, although I'm now just all-over achey. Probably the stress combined with the injury combined with the weather. My FMS doesn't bother me all the time, but when it does it can be a real pain (no pun intended).

Getting to Friday means I'm one day closer to my RE appointment (only two weeks away, now!). I hate not doing anything, but I know it's a necessary evil at this point. But it makes for some boring blog entries. Haha.

Pain.

I'm in it. For once, not the emotional kind though.

Similar to Justin's computer tossing incident, on Monday I also managed to have problems operating my legs properly (tripped on a computer cord) and twisted my ankle. At the time it didn't hurt that badly and I thought nothing of it.

However, having fibromyalgia, I often pay the day after (or for several days after) for a seemingly minor injury. That's the case with this one. My ankle is killing me, my left hip and knee are sore from being wrenched sideways, and my left ring finger is swollen and stiff from smacking it against my cubicle wall from trying like mad keep from falling. (I cannot get my rings off to save my life, not even with soapy hands!)

I'm sore all over, and even 800 mg of ibuprofen haven't been helping. (In fact, not even ice, elevation and Smithwick's, Laura...tried that last night with no positive results. Darn shame.)

And to add insult to (horribly klutzy) injury, because of the pain and a stressful meeting at work yesterday, I forgot to go to my counseling appointment last night. Good one, eh? *sigh*

Oh well, the day's almost over.

but it took so long to bake it...

My reply to Catherine's comment made me remember something light and airy I've been meaning to blog about for some time, so here it is.

I've got my very own jukebox, right in my head.

Only trouble is, it's on autopilot. I never know what song it's going to pop in there.

Being a musical person, I remember lyrics, pretty well. I also had an annoying habit in our band of knowing when we were playing a song in the wrong key. (Guitarists hate it when you tell them that, BTW.)

But the internal jukebox thing, man that can be annoying.

One morning last month I had just gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed when the line "someone left a cake out in the rain" popped into my head. (I don't even *LIKE* that song. At. all. Can't make me.)

If I accidentally turn on the shower water hotter than I want it, Kool and the Gang starts playing. (If you don't know what song I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky and I *won't* tell you, I promise.)

Even the mere suggestion of a phrase can be enough to have me hearing bad Mariah Carey songs (wait, are there any other kind?) ALL DAY.

If I actually hear a song (as opposed to just conjuring it out of my subconscious) it can be even more pervasive, and to rid my mind of it I've been known to repeatedly sing "Happy Birthday" or some other childhood song so that it is knocked out of my brain for a while. (This happens a lot when I'm trying in vain to fall asleep, and I've been known to think "Rockabye Baby" over and over and over and over and... well, you get the picture. It's my equivalent of counting sheep, I guess.)

Apologies to anyone who is now humming something annoying by the mere power of suggestion. Although I'd be very interested to know: what song gets stuck in YOUR head??

The suspense is terrible... I hope it lasts*

My cd3 results are back, and....

They're all normal! (For once, something about me is, haha.)

E2 was 47, LH was 3.1, prolactin was 19, TSH was 2.9, T4 was .82... and above all, FSH was 7.9. (I know they say your FSH is only as good as your worst result, but I'm relieved that it was lower anyway.)

I feel like I just got a golden ticket.

*The 1971 classic version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was on TV tonight, and in light of all the blogging I do about how terrible it is to have to wait and wait and wait, I couldn't resist using this quote.

con-cen-TRA-shun

Day one of trying to eat healthier and start an exercise program. Figures that I would pick Tuesday to start something like this; never denied that I'm a little odd! So far so good, although I have dinner ahead of me and even though I'm cooking it, I seem to have the hardest time in the evening. For the past few days I've been trying to take the stairs instead of the elevator, park a little further away from where I'm going, all of that, but tonight I plan to ride the recumbent exercise bike in the gameroom that has been gathering dust for a while now.

Several times in the past fifteen years I have attempted to lose weight, most often by doing We!ght Watchers. I am trying the same thing this time only not paying for it; the toughest part about this is the lack of accountability. Something about paying someone to weigh me each week managed to motivate me, at least for a while. But as with so many things I do, I would tire of it after a certain point and no amount of money lost would be enough to make me follow the program.

It's a theme of mine, really, and partially the reason a few months ago that I was convinced I had ADD; this jumping into something wholeheartedly only to get bored with it or forget that I was supposed to be doing it or just generally taper off from whatever it was. The counselor I spoke with about it told me that it wasn't likely I had ADD, since I was a good student and don't recall having trouble focusing until adulthood. Maybe it's just lack of discipline, or poor concentration habits, or depression, but whatever it is, it seems to strike me at the times when it's most inconvenient.

I read other people's blogs, and it is even evident to me there. I wish that I were a better writer. I tend to use far too many parenthetical phrases and most of the time my entries are spare, brief, disjointed. (This may have been why I liked grant writing so much; it fit my writing style since you need to be short and to the point in most cases.) Sometimes when I sit down to write I think I have a lot to say, but once I get going I seem to sputter out after only a few short paragraphs.

Actually, I *do* have a lot to say. It may just be getting stuck on the way out of my head.

home at last

I'm back, and I'm very behind on my blogs. I've made it to a few today to catch up, but still have more to do here in the house and am fighting a sinus headache, so I'll post quickly and try to catch up tomorrow.

Our trip was very nice despite the weather. It was gray for the whole trip, windy on Friday morning, drizzling Friday night, pouring Saturday afternoon, and cold Sunday. I always say, though, that a rainy day at the beach is better than a beautiful day at work any day, and I definitely enjoyed my trip.

I am always sad to come home from the ocean. Coming back to reality is even sadder, though. Life can't be all about vacations and rich food and good wine; no, life also includes jobs that suck and extra pounds and bad hair days and waiting. Waiting for answers, waiting for results, waiting for good news. Waiting to find out what the future holds.

(I know what I said in my last post about whining. This is more like me being... philosophical. Yeah, that.)

I've decided that I have to do something productive while I wait or I will go insane. So I'm going to try to lose some weight. It won't be easy, given that I have no motivation to exercise and a lack of willpower with food. But perhaps I can focus my mind on something else for a change, and maybe it'll make this waiting bearable. (It might make me cranky and irritable, too, but that's a risk I'm going to have to take.)

my first illegal move

No, it's not that I can't drive 55; apparently I can't follow directions.

I was supposed to fast for twelve hours before my prolactin test this morning, not the eight I could *swear* I'd heard the nurse say on the phone when I scheduled the appointment. To do this, I'd have essentially had to grab a granola bar for dinner and let G fend for himself last night as I was not even home to begin making dinner before 6:30. Oy. The end result may not be all that bad... as I've been told many times by many people "well, you can at least GET pregnant" so the prolactin is not likely an issue in my case. I still wish I'd been able to get it right, but I'll try to let myself off the hook. The worst that will happen is that it will appear elevated and they'll repeat it.

And, the other tests - estradiol, FSH, LH, TSH and T4 - did not depend on the fasting. I'm now of the opinion that worrying about my borderline FSH is not getting me anywhere. Worrying that I *might* be heading towards ovarian failure is only going to make it more of an issue when we finally are able to start trying again, and may even work against me when it comes time to finally start doing the deed for real again. (Nothing like a little pressure to create performance issues if you get what I'm saying!!)

So today I am taking a cue from my bloggy friends who have given optimism more than just a compulsory stab, and am focusing on the positives:

• We have something fixable (septate uterus) ahead of us;
  
• Time between appointments gives me time to enjoy my vacation, have a glass (or two!) of good wine, or maybe even expensive champagne on my anniversary (G mentioned in passing last night while staring at a previously-enjoyed bottle that maybe buying a bottle of Dom shouldn't be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for us);
  
• I am going to the beach this weekend! We're leaving tomorrow morning for Cape May, NJ, which is somewhat of a fall tradition for G and I; we got engaged there six years ago next Saturday in fact. Even if the weather is rainy and gray, a rainy day at the ocean is better than a sunny day at home ANY time.
  

Hopefully I can maintain this positive focus for at least a few weeks. (Oh, and anyone reading has permission to remind me of this post when I start wallowing again, scout's honor.)

marking time

21 hours 15 minutes until my CD3 bloodwork appointment.

1 days 21 hours until we leave for a long weekend trip with my in-laws.

8 days 7 hours 45 minutes until my next counseling appointment.

23 days 23 hours until my follow-up appointment with the RE. (Scary timing there!)

30 days 11 hours 13 minutes 6 seconds until our five-year wedding anniversary.

38 days 11 hours 13 minutes 6 seconds until our one-year anniversary of starting to try to have a baby. (Has all this really only happened in less than a year??)

That's enough to keep me occupied mentally for a while.

get your own countdowns here

family ties

The party yesterday was a typical "large family gathering" in many respects, although G's family has its own unique dynamic in that one branch of the family doesn't tend to socialize much with the other two, except on occasions such as this. As such, G hadn't seen many of his first and second cousins since his grandmother's 85th birthday. Oh, and the other thing about this branch of the family is that there are a LOT of them -- lots of kids, grandkids and great-grandkids, and even a few great-great-grandkids thrown in for good measure.

I am amazed that I held it together when they took pictures of the various generations and made a point of including the one pregnant girl (of course, since she's got the next generation in her perfectly round belly). There was also a new set of twins there, born in May, I think, and their mother kept accidentally hitting me with things when she'd walk past my chair -- the diaper bag, her purse, the girl's carseat.

No one asked us about our plans to start a family, thankfully.

Woulda been, coulda been, shoulda been. Oh well.

well, that explains it...

Turns out there was no need to have been cranky about M's visit; aside from the fact that he was "on" all night (as usual) he didn't say anything irritating, at all. My bad.

And here's the reason for the crankiness: my period is here today, full-force. (But not before noon, so by my RE's office calculations *tomorrow* is CD1. At least I will be able to get my CD3 bloodwork before we go out of town on Thursday.)

Back to update on the big 95th birthday party later.

more fun than...

Tomorrow is G's grandmother's 95th birthday, and there will be a big party. So tonight, G's brother M is coming in from Louisville. He's actually staying with my in-laws, but they have other plans for the evening, so he's coming to our house for dinner.

How to describe M... he talks a lot. So much so that it's hard to get a word in edgewise. Also, he's fairly sarcastic, and constantly expresses how much better it is in Louisville than here. (No offense, Lorem -- I've been there and know it's nice there, but according to M, everything we've done here THEY have done 10x better, apparently.) Of course, he will then backpedal and say "but of course it's not really all that terrible here in your neighborhood" or some other such left-handed compliment. We usually only see him once or twice a year, at Christmas primarily, and that is usually quite enough for me.

For example, last Christmas we announced pregnancy #1 to each of our families separately, my folks on Christmas Eve and G's on Christmas Day. M was going on and on about his new kittens ("the babies," he called them) and the fact that his wrapped Christmas presents had been unceremoniously torn open by the TSA at the airport (and when I say on and on I mean it came up in every possible way you might think, to every person that came through the door), but after we made our announcement, he *then* proceeded to make it seem like "gee, here I am making a big deal out of my stuff and you guys have an even bigger deal!" I know he was happy for us, but it was just irritating.

G thinks I hate him, and that's not true. I have a hard time dealing with him, but I don't hate him. I'm worried that he's going to say something dumb about our losses, but I don't hate him. (Yes, I realize I am trying awfully hard to convince someone of this. Not sure it's working.)

Please, let it be a calm evening.