Making Eggs and Eggless in New Jersey!

Making Eggs…

Throughout this journey towards motherhood (and this journey through life) I always try to inject a little humor into any given situation. My humor might fall on the side of sarcasm but it is always all in good fun and something definitely needed when things aren’t going the way you thought they would. After all I truly believe that Laughter IS the Best Medicine.

Laughter and Loudness is a family trait. I’m loud, my mom’s loud (though she is the quiet one of the bunch) my sisters are loud, my cousins are loud, my aunt’s loud and we are all VERY, VERY animated. All stories are told with visual demonstrations and sound effects.

It is completely evident at family gatherings as we all take turns telling humorous stories about the people we’ve encountered, ridiculous things we might have done or said, driving stories, funny sighting, even Sasquatch sightings (yes, that is for my nephew Adam…we both have Sasquatch sighting stories…hmm must run in the family). And all the while we are talking over each other or jumping in with one-liners as our laughter and voices rise. It even gets to the point where my mom raises her hand and jumps up and down declaring: “I got one! I got one!” And then she’ll get up and act out this hilarious story that has us in stitches no matter how many times we’ve heard it!

I am pretty sure that’s where I get my sense of humor from. My mom's always telling me: “You should do stand-up! You’re so funny!” and I tell her: “Just because my mom thinks I’m funny doesn’t mean that I am” I could just see it now…me doing stand-up and nobody laughing of course except for my mom in the back of the audience!

So laughter is how I get through the day.

Since I started my IVF journey, I’ve had this running little joke…due to the fact that I’m not really doing it all that well and my efforts results in so very few…I joke that when I am cycling I am busy Making Eggs!

I’ll go on saying things like: “It’s exhausting making eggs!” or “I’m just gonna go home and make some eggs!”

Sissy L plays along and she’ll go: “Whatcha doing?” and I’ll respond: “I’m making eggs!”

Sissy L: “Where you going?”

Me: “Home to make some eggs”

Yes, I know silly and funny. Well at least to me and Sissy L it’s funny. But then again Sissy L is easily amused!

“Making eggs” is my little “ha ha” fun with IVF moment…hmm…Fun with IVF…do I see the potential board game in the future?

So on my last RE visit to check my follies, Dr. Wow came in, looked at my chart and says “Okay, well you are not over-stimulating but at least you’re Making Eggs”. Now of course I laughed a little too hard at this (is my crush showing?) But then I thought: “Hey wait a second, this guy is stealing my shtick!” Like the correlation between IVF and Making Eggs is some kind of comic genius! But either way Dr. Wow still found a way to make me feel good about my lack of eggs.

But unfortunately that didn’t last too long…

At my visit with Dr. Wow he told me to trigger that night (Saturday) with my ER on Monday. I had a sneaky suspicion (or maybe it was my eggstincts!! HA! HA!! Wow that was bad but I couldn't resist) that due to the fact Dr. Wow was in on the weekend I would end up with Dr. Corny on Monday. And, of course I was right.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire…

This morning when I got up everything seemed a little weird or surreal. I don’t know how to explain it but I knew things weren’t going to turn out good…I just knew it (maybe it was my damn eggstincts again! Okay not funny anymore but I had to take one more crack {ha!} at it!).

Sissy L drove me and we spent the whole morning joking around. While I was waiting for my procedure to start we had a grand old time laughing about this:

The Universal Pain Assessment Tool (Wong-Baker Facial Grimace Scale):

Yes this is on the wall in the prep room! Yes it took 2 doctors to come up with this! And apparently its Universal b/c they have it is 5 different languages! Now this is a very high tech, medical terminology going on here!

Once I was prepped I said to my sister: “I’m all sorts of glamorous now. I’m hot in this gown and cap! I have no idea why I’m single” as she takes a picture of me in all my pre-ER glory.

Yup I’m one hot mama!!

But not to be outdone, I told Sissy L it wasn’t fair that I had to wear the beauty enhancing cap and she didn’t. So, she put one on.

Okay we are complete dorks!!

But we continued laughing as the nurse declared: “You two are having too much fun in there”. And it was in that moment that I mouthed to my sister: “I have a bad feeling about this”

There really isn’t any need to go into the procedure. You can read about what happens when the RE gets up close and personal here.

But the end result turned into me waking up before the procedure was done and only have 3 eggs retrieved. Dr. Corny had ZERO bedside manner and made some kind of excuse about eggs sometimes getting stuck inside…I don’t know what that means…

I am sad. I’m defeated and I’m not finding any of this funny.

I left the RE’s office in a huff (a real huff with a curse or two thrown in!) which in hindsight I do feel bad about…

Now I’m walking on egg shells (HA!! I guess I had 1 more obvious joke hanging on in there!) as I wait for my fertilization report and pray that I have the Golden Eggs!

At this point it’s either laugh or cry and I’ve been crying all day!

Eat, Sleep and Poop!

Today I went in for my ultrasound and blood work to determine how many eggs I have, what sizes they are and to see when my ET will probably be and well the news wasn’t good! It is coming dangerously close to my greatest fear being realized. My greatest fear is that I would go in, lay back, place my feet in the stirrups, wait for the doctor to insert the ultrasound cam (or as so many of the TTC ladies like to call it “the dildo cam”) and as the doctor moves the cam around inside of me he says “There are no eggs!” That is my greatest fear. And no it didn’t come true today but after 1 week of stimming on the highest doses of meds possible, I have 4. Yes, I know it could be worse. 4 is better than none. I know that and I am trying to be grateful for the 4 I have but…it hurts.

Dr. Wow, well, he always lives up to his name because he kept saying “Everything is good. Everything looks good”. He continued with: “Alright, well, we have something to work with which is good.” Followed by his sweet handshake, which he doesn’t really shake your hand but cradles your hand in both of his (which is very comforting) and then smiles and says: “Hang in there my dear”. But I know it’s not good. I know these numbers suck! They suck out loud! But boy did today only confirm to me the fact that I have a giant crush on Dr. Wow! Even with my sucky ass numbers he still found a way to make it all sound good. When I was with Dr. Doom you could hear an audible sigh of disgust or disappointment when he would do your ultrasound but not Dr. Wow. Always so sweet. Serious crush!

My last 2 cycles for each I had 6. I was hoping to have the same or more, not less. Less hurts. It puts my chances for success on my last cycle really low. And it hurts. I just wanted a fighting chance.

After my disappointing doctor’s appointment I went to Violet for some acupuncture. I told her about my numbers and how upsetting it is. She listened and then said as she was putting each needle into my belly, in her adorable Eastern Block accent she says: “You never know!” “More eggs could develop and they can mature very quickly. You never know. Now try to relax.” She shut off the lights and I was out.

I don’t remember what I was dreaming when she came back in but she says: “I see you were able to relax”. I smiled and said “Yes” (as I think I was wiping some drool away). Then she said (with that sweet accent of hers) “You have done everything possible to make this work. You have to now trust. You cannot get upset or depressed. All you have to do now is eat, sleep and poop!”

Since I already feel asleep during the session I had that covered. I went and got a sandwich and well…now I’m not sure if the extra needles in my belly were her intentions to make the last part of her statement come true but when I got home let's just say achieving the latter portion of her advice was a giant success!

So, I go back on Thursday to see how everything is growing and until then I am going to follow Violet’s advice and just “Eat, sleep and poop”. I’m pretty good at all three so it shouldn’t be too hard.

What’s going to become of me?

When I grow up…

I wanted to be an actress. I spent over 10 years in NYC pursuing that dream. It was a magical time in my life. Everything was fresh and new. And dreams…dreams were alive, breathing and attainable.

After many years of pounding the pavement I decided to release that dream and create a new one for my life and although it was sad I could envision a new life. I could move on…

Throughout my time of running down this dream, I always pictured myself meeting the one, getting married and having babies. I can clearly remember the visions I would have of me at different points in my life (late 20’s, early 30’s, mid 30’s) pregnant. And until this day, even though it now seems impossible, I still picture myself with a toddler and an infant on my hip. These visions are almost a given. Not really a dream but path in my life I knew I was going to take. It is a part of who I am.

But now I often wonder what is going to become of me if I never fall in love again. I often wonder what is going to become of me if I don’t succeed in my quest to become a mother. Can you move on with a missing part?

At the bar I work in there used to be this woman who would come in and hit on all the young guys. She would walk around the bar pressing herself up against any guy that would let her. And believe me they would let her. Her name was Judy and Judy clearly had some figure enhancing surgery of the extra large variety done and Judy was definitely older. But she wore tiny little clothes to show off her extra large enhancements. She would rub her extra large enhancements up against the young guys, flip her hair and make the “duck face” by pursing her lips together. All of this in an effort to get some guy to go home with her (or at least to buy her a drink). I used to watch Judy and think she was sad. She had no one. Here was a woman (to my best guess) when she was younger probably had men falling all over her and now, now that she was older, she was desperate for the attention. Watching Judy always made me sad. What was Judy’s story? Did she have love and lose it? Did men just always use her and she never found love and if I remain single and never find the one could a life without love lead me to be Judy?

I wonder if I am ever going to fall in love again. And without it…Without love...Without that hand that touches mine to say “You’re safe!” Without that smile I catch as I look up that says “I’m yours!” and without the whispers of “I love you!” in my ear will I ever be truly happy? Without love will I turn into Judy, desperately seeking affection? Will you find me in some bar throwing myself at any guy who will let me in some hopeless bid to not be alone?

There’s another woman who comes into the bar; Coffee Lady. She’s the complete opposite of Judy. She comes in with a cup of “to go” coffee (she got somewhere else) and sits quietly at one of the tables. She’s unkempt. She’s unsocial. If you didn’t know any better you would think she’s homeless. She harmless but in some ways she makes me uncomfortable. I am not sure of her story. Someone at one time or another told me she was that way from doing drugs and that she’s been this way for a long time and lives with her mother. She is isolated. Lost. I walked up to her one time to offer her some coffee and she turned to me a smiled. And when she did, her smile was eerie, almost scary and her eyes were sad and lonely.

Is this what happens when you don’t have a family of your own? Is this what happens when you have no purpose but to wander into different stores all day long in hopes of getting a cup of coffee? And if I never have a family of my own will I find myself isolated and lost? Wandering around in a world of emptiness?

We all know the jokes about the “Crazy Cat Lady”; the woman that has 10, 15, 20 cats. I have 2. I have 2 cats. I am 42 and single and I have 2 cats. I can usually deal out the jokes with the best of them. You know that an older woman with cats must either be gay or the “Crazy Cat Lady”. And I joke around saying that it’s only a matter of time before I have a house overrun by cats. And when I see stray kittens around my condo complex, I want to take them in. I make a conscious effort not to look directly at them because I am sure if their little, sad, lost, cold and lonely eyes catch mine I will have no choice but to take them home.

Is this what happens when your desire to be a mom is so strong but never gets fulfilled? Do you go around taking in stray after stray after stray to try to fill your maternal instincts? And if I never become a mom will you find me obsessively hording pets?

My Grandma H passed away on April 8th 2008. She was 95 years old. The last 10 years of her life (let’s face it, it was probably more like 15) she spent debilitated with Alzheimer’s. My Grandpa passed away in 1972. 36 years before Grandma H. She never remarried. My grandmother had suitors (that’s what she called them “suitors”) but she would always say “I had my husband”. She could have had another 30 year marriage. Not lived alone. I often wonder if the being alone and wishing for days gone by attributed to her Alzheimer’s. I wonder if living in the past became a better alternative than trying to live in such a cold, lonely present and even lonelier future.

Having a family is not a dream that has to be released. This is a piece of me. Can I live without this piece? But more importantly will I want to?

If I don’t find love, if I never become a mother will I completely lose hope in the future so that all I can do is live in the past?

And as the days approach to finding out whether or not my last IVF cycle is going to work I find myself wondering “What’s going to become of me?”

I can’t fight this feeling anymore…

What will I become?

I keep trying to feel nothing. Nothing at all.

If I feel nothing, nothing at all will I be able to avoid the pain, the pain if I fall?

As I try to feel nothing, nothing at all, my world closes in around me, I fall to the floor.

The emptiness that surrounds me, a giant gaping hole, as I sob and sob

I scream “I can’t cry anymore!”

“Please God I can’t cry anymore”

As I try to feel nothing, nothing at all there’s a flutter inside.

Could it be hope, is hope still alive?

I dream of what could be and all its possibilities.

For a moment I smile.

But what if it’s not meant to be?

As I try to feel nothing, nothing at all I can’t help but wonder “What’s going to become of me?”


*Note – I have never claimed to be a poet or even a writer for that matter. As I struggle with the question “What’s going to become of me?” these are the words that came to me. So I thought I would share.

Say What??

How to speak Moronic:

We’ve all heard the sayings. “We” meaning my wonderful Sisters in Fertility who are TTC. We hear the same sayings time and time again. For the life of me I can’t figure out why people find “this advice” in anyway helpful but they are always ready to give it. Quickly I might add. It just comes flying out of their mouths like there is some kinda of “Asinine Shit” center in the brain that can’t be shut off in time. And once you are around a lot of people uncomfortably discussing your plans to have a baby the “Asinine Shit” center of the brain overfloweth.

The holidays provide many opportunities for these awkward conversations to blossom. From the company Christmas Party to gathering at mom’s house, all eyes, ears and mouths spewing Asinine Comments will be focused on you.

I went to V’s Company Christmas Party this week. The group consisted mostly of women and it didn’t take long for the “Ever so helpful. Why didn’t I think of that sooner” advice to come my way about my quest to be a mother. Now I know that this is all because they want to help and have the best intentions but after a while, after you have heard the same moronic advice over and over, you end up giving you’re honest feedback. So here are some of the answers I gave…

Well some I gave verbally and some I screamed in my head, and for some I smiled and said “Thanks. I’ll try that”.

The number 1 Asinine Comment from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain is (and it’s no surprise):

What you need to do is relax! Just relax! Have a couple of drinks and relax…

Why is “Relax” the number 1 Asinine Comment people give you when you tell them you are trying to conceive? And why would this advice be even remotely helpful to a single woman of 42 TTC when the object of my baby making affection is a catheter? So I proudly told them: “Yes, I could do that! I could get drunk before my insemination or transfer, show up at my RE’s office and try to make it relaxed and romantic.”

In my best, sexy, slurring, drunk voice I explained how I could make the moves on my RE:

Me: “Wow, Dr. Wow you look…you lookkkk…so hot…hot with that vaginal ultrasound” “I’m just gonna slllipp in the other room and taake my pants off”

Wink! Blow kiss! Pull off pants and return to the examining room…

“How do you like my paper gown?” “Sexxy”

As I skootch onto the table:

“I’m gonna put 1 leg here (moving my legs ever so sexy into the stirrups) and the other here (wink). How do you like that? (blow kiss) Now I’m jussst gonna lay backkk, relax and let you, that speculum and catheter have your way with me! Because you are hottt and I am relaxed and we’re gonna make a babbby”

Dr. Wow:

Number 2 Asinine Comment from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain:

You’ve got plenty of time…

Oh for the love of God I DO NOT!!! In case you missed it the 1st time, 2nd time or 3rd time I AM 42!!

But wait I know the next answer to that: “My girlfriend had her 1st baby naturally at 43!”

She is the exception not the rule. So I politely remind them: “After age 35 your fertility falls off a cliff. And it only gets worse as you get older. 80% of women 38 and over will need some form of A.R.T. to conceive and that number only increases with age. But I am so glad to hear that your friend was one of the lucky 20%.” And in my head I was screaming: “I wish someone had told me the facts instead of blowing sunshine up my ass by saying You’ve got time!”

Now there was one comment that did somewhat make sense and made me feel a little better.

“You didn’t know. How were you to know you weren’t going to meet the guy?”

And that’s true. I had no idea that I wasn’t going to meet the guy. I held out. I held out way too long!! And in the process of holding out I would always get Asinine Comment # 2 “You’ve got time” and also during this time I would get those wonderful unprovoked Asinine Comments on dating and looking for the one. I would get:

When you least expect it…

It’s cousin: When you’re not looking…

I can honestly say there are many, many times that I have been “least expecting it” over the last year since I’ve put my full focus on TTC. And I have completely stopped looking. I wasn’t sure what to put under Hobbies on my Match profile anymore: “Likes long drives to the RE office and injecting hormones daily”, so I decided to delete my profile all together. So I am clearly not looking and guess what; it still hasn’t happened. And that’s okay because based on this advice I figure that one day I will be sitting on the toilet with my eyes closed when the man of my dreams bursts in, I will somehow be relaxed enough to make love and then I will magically be pregnant at 45!!

You’ve got a friend!

And we all know they know someone:

My friends’ unlce’s sister ‘s cousin got pregnant when she….

Stopped trying…

Just relaxed…

Adopted a baby from China…

Got drunk and accosted her RE!

So based on what happened to their friend’s uncle’s sister’s cousin I will get pregnant after unsuccessfully trying to seduce my RE and successfully adopting- just not sure where the relaxing and least expecting it comes in on this one…oh okay I will successfully seducing my RE in the oh so relaxed atmosphere of the examining room and then finalized my adoption only to find that I am pregnant from the drunken tryst! Hey it could happen!!

But in reality everyone is just trying to help (how this helps I have no idea) but they are trying.

Don’t Speak…

And some people just should be allowed to talk at all.

There is one comment I have shockingly gotten twice. Once from a man (understandably guy’s are pervs) and most recently from my mom’s wacky female friend (not sure why a woman would say such a thing) but this one truly belongs in the Asinine Comments from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain Hall of Fame.

“Why don’t you just go out and be slutty and sleep around?”

When my guy friend said it, it was more like: “You’re missing all the fun. You should go out and sleep with every guy in sight”

My mom’s wackadoodle friend said it after my mom announced I was doing another Series. Cycle mom not series, cycle. So then my mom’s wackadoodle friend said something like: “It would be a lot cheaper and a lot easier if you were slutty and went out and slept around”

WHAT!! SAY WHAT???

Do I need to dignify that with a response?

And to think the advice used to be “If you’re going to be slutty and sleep around use protection” (As it should be!) And in honor of my slutty days of Christmas Past, I followed the latter advice.

So with a big smile I turned to my mom’s wackadoodle friend and I said “Thanks! I’ll try that!”

But all joking aside that comment is just too Asinine for a response!

So in honor of the holidays when we are subjected to having to converse more than we would like, what are some of your favorite Asinine Comments from the Asinine Shit Center of the Brain?

The Long and Winding Road….

Sio (the ex) has a girlfriend. It’s not just a girlfriend. He’s fallen in love. This shouldn’t bother me. I left Sio 6 YEARS AGO!!  I do not want him back. I honestly thought that when I left Sio 6 years ago that I would meet someone right away, get married and have children. All the things that I wanted that Sio wasn’t ready for I figured I would get if I left him and moved on. But the road hasn’t been that easy or that simple and I am still on my journey towards my family. But Sio, Sio’s met someone. Sio’s fallen in love. Sio is moving forward and it is bothering me. It’s bringing me to tears. I’m melting down at the site of their "We're a couple" Facebooks pics, at the sounds that their “I love you” “Can’t wait to see you” posts whisper in my ear and at the thought of him loving someone else.

I mentioned this meltdown to M2 at her family’s Annual Christmas Brunch held every year on the Sunday before the Sunday before Christmas.

I said to M2 “Sio has a girlfriend and it is really bothering me”

and M2 said “Why? Didn’t you break up with him for good reasons?”

Me: “Yes”

M2: “Do you want Sio back?”

Me: “No”

M2: “Is it because he should be miserable and spend the rest of his life pining away over you?”

Me: “No! God no!” (well maybe a little!)

It’s because he’s experiencing those beautiful, wonderful moments of meeting someone that gives you butterflies, the excitement of going out for the first time and the second time and the third time, that first kiss, second kiss, third kiss, the moments when all you can do is kiss, the lingering stares, the expanding touches, the holding hands, the resting of your head on their shoulder and that sigh of relief when you finally know that this is really going somewhere. He has that. And I guess what I am really crying over is the fact that I don’t!

Would any of this matter if I hadn’t miscarried and I was carrying for a newborn now? Probably not. Is all this emotional release truly related to Sio’s new love or is it a side effect of BCPs and Lupron? Most likely a little of both. Is it because deep down I do want Sio back? No. There are many, many wonderful things that I have in my life now that I wouldn’t have if I had stayed with Sio. My sobriety is one of them. If I had stayed with Sio, I would stuck in the same place in my life never moving forward. When I was with Sio I drank too much, smoked too much and partied too much. I knew that wasn’t the life I wanted. I knew I had to move on and I knew that moving on meant leaving Sio behind. Sio and I aren’t meant to be. So what is it?

Could it be that this is just a deafening reminder of the single side of this journey? Bringing to the forefront the unmistakable fact that I am lonely? Bingo!

My loneliness was all too evident when I had the Itch Scratcher come over the other day. Yes, I caved. The Itch was too unbearable I just couldn’t keep scratching it myself (well in a little confession, I’ve caved a couple of times now). So, I called the Itch Scratcher. Well, actually he called me but either way the end result was some good old fashioned Itch Scratching. And it was good. It’s always good but after he left I knew I would probably go back to scratching my own itches for a while because I want more. I don’t want more from the Itch Scratcher himself. I want more in the form of a relationship. I want what Sio has. I want to fall in love.

This time last year I had decided to take motherhood into my own hands. I was with Dr. Doom doing IUIs with Clomid. The insurance company didn’t want to cover my expenses. They stated it was because I was single and they couldn’t prove I had fertility issues without a semen sample. Since I was with Sio for 5 years and some of those years off Birth Control, I asked Sio if he would provide a sample so I could get insurance coverage. I wasn’t sure what his response would be. And he said as a matter of fact “Sure! A cup, a towel. It’s going to go some place that day anyway! Besides I always wanted to do it in a doctor’s office!” He’s funny and we laughed and I said “You really do love me” and he said “It never was a matter of not loving you.” And I guess in that moment I did feel loved and I didn’t feel so alone. I ended up not needing that sample because my test results came back so abysmal but it was nice to know that I could turn to someone. To my Sio.

Flash forward 1 year later and I am alone, painfully alone, following my Path to Motherhood and the one person that I could turn to has fallen in love. I am happy for him. I really am. I guess it’s just that when you are taking the road less traveled it would be really nice to have a travel companion.

Praying for Someday…

Throughout this journey I have always had a plan. From the moment I heard those words: “Practically zero percent chance…” I knew they were wrong. In my heart I knew it wasn’t true. My 1st plan of attack was to prove Dr. Doom wrong. And I did. And then it fell apart. After my miscarriage my plan was to get pregnant again as soon as I possible. It was the only thing I could think of doing to stop the pain (and it still is) so I decided to move directly to IVF. After my 1st IVF cycle failed my plan was to change my donor, double up my holistic efforts, start meditation tapes, go to psychics, lite candles, use a dreambox, rub a pumpkin on my womb (yes I rubbed a pumpkin on my womb!) etc. All to ensure success. I stopped going to my acupuncturist Violet and enlisted the services of Dr. Wang (thinking that old Chinese medicine men held some kind of ancient secret). I was certain this plan would work. And then IVF cycle 2 failed and I was back to square one. I had no plan. I had no idea. Should I triple my holistic efforts (I wasn’t even sure how to do that)? Change donors again? Take this? Increase that?

I was on the phone with Sissy M explaining all this to her and she says: “I guess you are just going to have to let go and let God”. I was looking for answers. Her response pissed my off at the time. My reply was (and I quote): “Like I have a fucking choice” but that was exactly what I was going to have to do...

I’ve realized that there is nothing I can do or not do that is going to change the outcome of this last cycle. It is either going to work or it’s not going to work. I cannot change that. I went back to Violet because I feel more at home with her. I went back to my old donor because the other donor didn’t have any sperm available. Normally that would have freaked me out and made me think this cycle was doomed. I’m letting go and letting God. I still continue with all my supplements but I am not as strict. I figure a tiny drop of regular coffee mixed in my decaf isn’t going to ruin me. I’m letting go and letting God. And my plan? My plan has become prayer. Every night before I go to bed I pray. Well I don’t know if you could actually call it prayer anymore. I mean let’s face it; it’s more like downright begging. Where is the line between praying and begging? Yeah, it is downright begging but I figured it’s the only shot I have. So every night before I go to sleep, I thank God for all the good in my life, ask him for the strength to carry on down the path that I am meant to take and then pray (beg and I mean beg) to become a mommy. I beg God for my family. So yes, my new plan is begging…

And somehow the being thankful, asking for strength, praying and yes the downright begging has given me a little sense of peace.

But there are some things you cannot avoid. No matter how hard you try or what you do you will eventually come across, run into or find yourself face to face with the constant reminders of your empty womb, childless existence or single life. Reminders are all around you. I would imagine the only way to avoid these reminders would be to work from home, always order delivery so you never have to go to the supermarket and around the holidays you would have to order all your gifts online in order to avoid the place where all reminders like to convene; the MALL!!

Yes, the other day I ventured out into the Holiday Torture Land and hit the mall with Sissy L. As we walked past all the various stores we pointed at shoes and purses, checked out the newest gadgets, “Ohhed” and “Ahhed” at the little mittens, tiny coats and little hats. We walked past pregnant women, a sea of strollers, happy couples and happy families everywhere. Teary eyed I watched the little ones sit on Santa’s lap and at lunch at the table right across from us a woman with twins put her adorable little babies into their highchairs and fed them lunch. I looked with longing and Sissy L would say “I can’t wait” and would declare “Me too!” But somewhere underneath it all was the fear, the overwhelming fear that it may never happen for me. I think Sissy L sensed this because later on after our trip to the pet store to “Ohh and Ahh” over the adorable puppies and fight the maternal urge to bring one home (to be a mommy to something), we were sitting at a little coffee shop drinking our Ginger Spice Lattes (yes it was decaf) and watching all the families walk by and Sissy L leaned in and said “Someday there will be a woman looking at you with your adorable children wondering when it’s going to be her turn”.

And I realized that is exactly what I have been praying for all along; my someday. I am begging for it to be my turn. I am praying for someday!

…to be okay

When looking for a new design for my blog I went onto a website called Deviant Art. I scoured through pages and pages of artists and photos. There’s some amazing work on there. I was looking for something I could relate to. Something, I didn’t know what, something, something that said me. I just knew I would know it when I saw it.

I would email my blog designer Barbara “What about this one?” What about that one?” and she would respond; “I like this one” or “I like that one”. We decided we liked a beautiful piece of digital art by Selenart; the clock and the butterflies but then I came across another beautiful piece of digital art by Julia Starr. The title of the picture was “…to be okay”. The title grabbed me. The picture grabbed me. I emailed the artist. I gave her a brief summary of my situation, a link to my blog and I asked for permission to use her artwork. She said yes and we decided to do a combination of the 2 pieces. But there was more than just her permission in her response. Her response still resonates with me:

“Yeah ,you can totally use it :)
I read some of your blog but I am in hurry at the moment lol. But it was interesting. In a way you're similar to my mom. She always wanted to give birth to her own children
but my dad was infertile, so she became fascinated in adoption and adopted 6 kids over the last 27 years. She has been single for a long time. My dad was never a very good loving person,
and was very greedy about adoption. But it's just the fact that the child is getting a loving mother :)
And from the way you sound, I think you'd be a great mother! :)
I have to go, but I will certainly read more later!
-Julia”

Wow! And in my head, I can’t stop singing “It’s a Small World after all! It’s a Small World after all!” But more so her email is a reminder that being a mother has nothing to do with biology. I knew that to be true of a father from my own personal experience of growing up without a dad. I guess I needed to be reminded it's true for moms too.

If my last IVF cycle doesn’t work and I have to use my Alternate Path to become a mom, I will not be having my biological child and I need to be okay with that.

One day I am convinced that I am fine and whatever the outcome I will be okay and the next I am full of tears and pain not knowing what I'll do if this doesn't work...

I received my BFFs Christmas card in the mail which had both her children BBG (Beautiful Baby Girl) and BBB (Beautiful Baby Boy) on it all dressed up in their Christmas best and I was looking at their perfect little faces thinking BBG looks like my BFF and BBB looks like his dad and I lost it. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn't stop pleading with God and I realized I am not okay.

Later on that day, I was driving to work and I started thinking of my Alternate Path. I started thinking of all the reasons I want to be a mother and not one of those reasons is so my child can have my eyes. That doesn’t matter. I started wondering what my child will look like and I smiled. I am okay.

I think about others going through infertility with PCOS, Endometriosis or Male Factor Infertility and I know that I don’t have any of those issues. I wasn’t robbed of my ability to have children. I have DOR due to Advanced Maternal Age. I did this. I waited too long. I took my fertility for granted and if I never get pregnant again I need to be okay. I need to find a way to let myself off the hook. I need to take full responsibility and then forgive myself. If I don’t forgive myself I will never be okay.

On the Fertile Thoughts Board one of the girls who struggled very hard and finally got pregnant just had her beautiful twin baby boys. And two other girls, who like me, are considered to be of Advanced Maternal Age, both struggled cycle after cycle and both were showing off their belly pics as they enter their 2nd trimester. This reminds me that the process works. It gives me hope and I have to let myself be okay to have hope again. I’ve lost that. I’ve been so consumed with the thought that this might not work that I haven’t let myself believe that this might work. I need to be okay with believing.

I need to find a way to be okay no matter what the outcome is.

As I sit here looking out my window as the first few snowflakes starting to fall, I look at the barren trees against a cloud filled sky and never thought that I would be barren too. I wonder if the trees know that come spring they will bloom again. Is that why the trees don’t seem to mind? Is that why they keep growing, reaching towards the sky? Is that why they’re okay?

“But it's just the fact that the child is getting a loving mother :)”

Can my journey towards motherhood keep me growing; keep me reaching up towards the sky? Can knowing that in the end I will be a loving mom make me okay?

Where's that confounded bridge?

On Thanksgiving Day I was forced (yes, forced) to reveal my Alternate Path to my family. My Alternate Path is the next step in my journey towards motherhood should my Current Path not lead me to my destination. My Alternate Path is something very personal to me. It took a lot of crying, a lot of soul searching and a lot of researching before I became happy (and actually excited) about my Alternate Path. But I was only going to reveal my Alternate Path if I needed an Alternate Path. I still have one more cycle and I am praying that this is it. I am praying that I won’t need an Alternate Path. I am praying that the Current Path leads me to motherhood!

“I would never be content or happy not being a mother at all…”

I read those words on S.I.F.’s blog and they have been ringing in my ears ever since. My heart embraces those words. Those words hit home because I know that the same holds true for me. I know that becoming a mom is a “non-negotiable”. It was in that moment, that moment when I read and re-read those words, that I realized I needed a solid Alternate Path. I needed a new path in case the one I was on ended at a dead end. I figured the best way to move past the pain that I may never carry my biological child or the pain that I may never be pregnant again was to have a solid path laid out in front of me. I needed a solid path to motherhood and that is what I have been doing for the last month. I have been finding my way. Finding my path. And if it’s my way and if it’s my path, don’t you think I should be the one to tell people?

I made the mistake of including my sister, Sissy L, in discussions about my Alternate Path. I brought up the topic of my Alternate Path to V when we were out to dinner. Sissy L was with us. I included her. I didn’t think that my sister would tell others. Now I did not state that my Alternate Path was top secret so in that respect it is my fault. I just didn’t realize she would take my Alternate Path and make it her topic of conversation but I should have known better. Ever since we were little she’s tried to retell my stories and when she does they never seem to come out right. I can only image how she butchered the tale of my Alternate Path. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not mad at her. I just wish that it was me telling my friends.

But either way, it doesn’t matter. She revealed my Alternate Path and now my Alternate Path was out there! Close friends knew. Friends that I wish I was the one who told but instead my sister did. I had to reveal my Alternate Path because others knew and my mom would be so upset if she wasn’t told by me.

* Lyrically, the bridge is typically used to pause and reflect on the earlier portions of the song or to prepare the listener for the climax.

So I knew Thanksgiving Day would be the perfect time to reveal my Alternate Path to the rest of the family. I tried to avoid bringing up the topic of my Alternate Path by leaving information about it directly dead center on my coffee table. I figure one of them, my mom or my other sister, Sissy M, would point it out and say “Michaela, what’s this?” but nooooo, the giant elephant just sat in the room the whole time. And Sissy L kept making side comments the whole time. It was like she had Alternate Path Tourettes! Spurting out random words here and there! Till finally the moment came when I started to tell everyone what my Alternate Path is if my next cycle doesn’t work. And as soon as I started to tell the tale my mom cuts me off and says: “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there” and I looked at her and said: “I can’t do that. I can’t do that knowing that the bridge might collapse underneath me. Knowing that I can be dropped into the darkest abyss without some way out, I can’t. I can’t cross that bridge when I get there.” I know my mom is just trying to protect me by avoiding talking about it. If we all act as if it’s not there maybe it will go away and then we won’t have to face the giant “What if” staring right at us. But it won’t go away because there is a very real chance that this next cycle won’t work. There is a very real chance that I might never carry a child but there is no chance that I won’t become a mother. So I told my family my Alternate Path. They all embraced it.

This is my journey to motherhood. No matter what path I end up taking, no matter how many bridges I need to cross I will in the end be a mom. I need my Alternate Path. Right now my Alternate Path is my security blanket. It's a way to protect my heart. And in planning my Alternate Path it is my time to pause, reflect and prepare for the climax.

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was "thank you," that would suffice. ~ Meister Eckhart

My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. It always has been. For me it’s the one day in the year where you can just put everything aside, breath, relax, look around and say “thanks”. I am by nature a grateful person. I embrace this holiday. I treasure it and I live by it. But I am having a hard time…

I’m having a hard time letting all the things I am grateful for and all the things I am thankful for easy the pain of what I am missing.

Every night I thank God for all the good things in my life. Every night. Not just on Thanksgiving. And I am truly grateful. I am truly thankful. But that doesn’t close the hole. It doesn’t easy the pain. It doesn’t heal the wound.

So on this day as I count my blessing, celebrate the day and laugh with my family, I will put aside the hole in my heart, breath, relax, look around and say "thanks"!

On the edge of cynicism:

I’ll be the 1st to admit that when someone starts talking about Jesus as their savior and quoting the bible my 1st reaction is a giant eye roll. It’s an unstoppable reflect. I don’t know why. I believe in God and Jesus. I respect all religions. I don’t mean to be cynical. I try to think back and I try figure out what has made me this jaded that I would roll my eyes at the Lord’s words and I have nothing. (*Actually I just rolled my eyes at typing that phrase “The Lord’s words”). I guess it evokes mental images of the extremes. Extremes you are only exposed to with age because I don’t recall sitting in church when I was little and rolling my eyes. When I was little I would go to church with my grandmother. She was a deacon in her church. Church was a place of utmost respect. She always made you stand up straight and sit up straight. You had to sit with your ankles crossed and your hands folded on your lap. There was no acting up. There was no fussing and there was no fidgeting. If you fussed, if you fidgeted or if you slouched you got a pinch on your leg. A good pinch! I guess it was an old fashioned form of shock therapy delivered with a stern scowl by Grandma H. But it worked. There you were drifting off into space, starting to slouch and PINCH! Or if you started fidgeting, tapping your foot, playing with your hands: PINCH! It got to the point where if Grandma H just slightly moved you automatically became erect and still in your seat.

And my respect for the church was evident this Sunday when I returned to church for the 1st time after my miscarriage. Now mind you, I am not a regular "church goer", but I didn’t go into church rolling my eyes. Although I do find the whole shaking of everyone’s hands and saying “The Peace of something or other be with you” a little corny, I am not checking out the backs of my eyelids when Pastor Don reads the scripture. I listen intently. I sit up straight with my ankles crossed and my hands folded on my lap. But then again Pastor Don doesn’t just drone on and on reading passage after passage from the Bible. He reads one or two small passages and then goes into how they pertain to life with amusing stories, funny anecdotes etc. all relating back to the lesson of that scripture. I don’t know if all Pastors/Reverends/Priests do this. I don’t recall if Reverend L did this when I was little but then again I was too busy focusing on sitting up straight, crossing my ankles, folding my hands on my lap and not fidgeting. Doing all of that and in my mind trying to finding a way to do it while sleeping! So at church today when I would feel myself slouch I would sit up straight, cross my ankles and fold my hands on my lap. When I would start to fidget I would sit up straight, cross my ankles and fold my hands on my lap. I was not rolling my eyes. So, if anything church makes me sit up straighter!

I will admit that I am not “up to date” on the proper rituals of the church. This was evident when I went to a Catholic Church for the first time with my ex Sio for his Aunt’s funeral and thought that the kneeler was a footrest. Yup I asked him, in the middle of the funeral, if he would like me to put the footrest down. And with a look of confusion and then amusement he goes: “What?” and I said: “The footrest…would you like me to put the footrest down?” and through his laughter he says: “It’s a kneeler. You kneel on it to pray!” So, of course now as I look around the church I notice several women kneeling and praying. We laughed. We laughed out loud in church but continued to pray! And I never felt like rolling my eyes once that day. But then again the whole sermon was in Spanish so I had no idea what the priest was saying.

Even 2 years ago when my beloved Grandma H passed away and my sisters, cousins, aunt, mom and myself were sitting in church, the same church Grandma H brought me to when I was little, I didn’t feel jaded by God’s words. I felt at home. Right at home considering that my sisters, my cousins and I burst out laughing in the middle of the church. The Reverend was preparing to start the service and he went to move the collection plates out of the way. As a joke he passed the collection plate to my sister M. The looks, and I say looks because her face went through a couple of emotions in about a minute, were hysterical. First she was like “Oh” and she starts looking in her purse for money and then her face was kind of pleading like “someone give me some money” and then it went to anger like “How dare you ask for a collection at my Grandma’s funeral” and then the Reverend let her off the hook and said with a smile “I’m just kidding” and we lost it. Burst out laughing until my Aunt N yells “Girls! We are in a church!” I felt at home. So, why do I have this unstoppable reaction to roll my eyes …

And church isn’t the only place I do it. I roll my eyes at sappy songs. I find Rascal Flats way too whiney for my tastes. You’re a bunch of guys. Quit whining and act like a man! And I truly want to throw Celine Dion overboard every time I hear that song from the Titanic.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not without feelings. I bawled my eyes out several times during Homeward Bound when the dogs and kitty cat get lost and are trying to find their way home. I cried like a baby when ET’s heart light started glowing beneath the clear plastic, alien body bag.

So what is it? What constitutes my eye roll?

Do I direct my cynicism to certain aspects of my life because it reflects areas in my life where I’ve been burned? That is a justifiable assumption. I’ve been burned more than once in love and God and I are still working on some serious burns.

Maybe being cynical is really a protection reflect? If I keep everything at arms distance in the “seeing is believing” mode I won’t get crushed when it doesn’t come into my view.

And if I get burned on my last IVF cycle will I then become cynical about A.R.T or older woman trying to have babies? Will I roll my eyes at their stories instead of providing my insightful (and witty) advice?

If I do not get pregnant, if I never carry a child will I forever be jaded and cynical about pregnancy and birth? Will I completely lose myself in anger and resentment?

I like who I am. I like that I can find humor in trying situations. I like that I can celebrate and rejoice. There is actually a part of me that doesn’t want to move forward. That doesn’t want to do this last IVF cycle because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of falling over the edge. Over the edge of cynicism.

Will I be able to laugh, celebrate and rejoice or will I be rolling my eyes?

*Note the church in the picture is the First Presbyterian Church of Stanhope NJ. The church that Grandma H would bring me to when I was little.

A fear like no other: The return of Whiffer!

When I was little I used to play softball. I played on the Little League team and then played well into my teens. Anyone who plays softball knows that feeling of striking out. When strike three either whizzes past you or you swing and miss, its defeat. It’s even a greater sense of defeat when the game is on the line. Runners are in scoring position, the pitcher winds up and…bam…strike 1. Now your heart starts to race. You tell yourself its okay, you have 2 more chances. You wait for the perfect pitch and there it is. You swing. You miss. Strike 2 and it’s all on the line. One more strike and you are out. Game over. It’s pressure. It’s a lot of pressure and you are out of chances. How will it end? Will you watch the perfect pitch whiz past you? Will you swing the bat and miss or will you hit it out of the park? When I used to play softball at one time or another, I did all three. And although sometimes I struck out, I also knew that I could get a hit. My fear of the strike out didn’t overwhelm me. But there was one place that it did.

My overwhelming fear of the strike out didn’t come to me on the softball field. My fear of striking out showed up in my own backyard. My childhood friends and I used to play Whiffle ball in my backyard and there was one friend who when he pitched I could NEVER hit off of him! And that pitcher was cousin Bb. Yup cousin Bb struck me out every time. He wasn’t really my cousin. He was my childhood best friend LL’s cousin but I called him cousin anyway. I did that with all her cousins. I don’t know why initially I couldn’t hit off cousin Bb, maybe it was a childhood crush or the fear of embarrassment was too strong but there I was: strike 1, strike 2, strike 3 YOU’RE OUT!! Each and every time. And always at the hands of cousin Bb. Cousin Bb even gave me a nickname. Yup, I was called Whiffer! And the longer this went on the more terrified I became of batting against cousin Bb. There were games that if cousin Bb wasn’t pitching, when I got up to bat he would run to the mound (with the chant of Whiffer rising up through my yard) and 1, 2, 3 strikes I’m out and then trot back to the position he was playing. Just like that boom. The more this went one, the greater the fear became.

I’m down to my last IVF cycle. I was sure when I bought the 3 cycle package that I would hit it out of the park by my 2nd try. After my 1st failed IVF I was okay. I had 2 more chances. But now, now I have 2 strikes and the pressure is on. The fear is rising. I have 1 more chance and I can either hit it out of the park or swing and miss. I am terrified. It’s pressure. It’s fear. Which could be followed by the ultimate defeat and it’s in my own back yard. Am I destined to become Whiffer again? I am praying hard that cousin Bb isn’t pitching. I’m praying hard that Whiffer doesn't return.

All the signs pointed too…, Never text while crying, Hey Jealousy and A Date that was Due…

It has to be a sign:

Everything leading up to this cycle, everything about this cycle all pointed to success. Although I am struggling with the “Everything Happening for a Reason” and the “Meant to Be”, I truly believed that this cycle would be a success. I truly believed all the signs that pointed to success. With every sign: my baseline showing no cyst = sign, the fortune teller saying I will get pregnant once my left ovary starting working again and my left ovary finally producing eggs this cycle = sign, the fortune teller saying I would find out I am pregnant (3 months prior) on October 18th = sign, Leroy being 9 days late making me have to skip the August cycle and do the September cycle making my pregnancy test fall exactly on October 18th = sign, the Math FINALLY falling in my favor = sign, my mom coming with me to my ER = sign (really good sign in my book!) and so many other signs, all of it, I believed it more and more. I believed it was God trying to show me that this was going to happen and that I just need to trust in God and it would all work out. And I trusted. I trusted that God would not send me all of these signs only to let me fall. And I focused. I focused on a positive outcome knowing in my heart that this was it. And I let go. I let go of all negative thoughts. I wouldn’t let myself even for one second entertain the thought that this wasn’t going to work. And I believed. I 100% completely believed. I believed so strongly that I knew I was pregnant. I knew I was pregnant until about 5 days past my ET when all the signs in my body pointed to no. But I tried to ignore those signs b/c God gave my so many signs up until then so I made myself believe that this was just a test and I had to trust, focus, let go and believe even stronger than before. And I did and it turned out that I’m not pregnant. And now I am having a very hard time trusting, focusing, letting go and most of all believing.

Thank you for thinking of me. I’m not pregnant. I am very sad:

Yes, that is the text I sent out to some close girlfriends on Monday October 18th when I found out that I wasn’t pregnant. I cried when I typed it into my phone and I cried when I hit send. I cried for hours on end that day but one text in response to that text actually had me laughing!

“I am so sorry to hear that. I lost my phone last week and don’t have everyone’s number yet so, who is this?”

What? Huh? A return text from who? From TM? I thought I sent the text to TT…oh no…I thought I sent out the text to some of my girlfriends from work and instead of sending it to TT I sent it to TM who is a guy I used to work with about a year ago! I just sent this guy, a guy I hardly know, a text saying “I’m not pregnant”! I quickly tried to move past it by texting “Sorry I meant to send this to TT” His text back: “Who is this?” The jig is up…I respond: “It’s Michaela”. And now the text messages continue: “Hey sorry to hear that. I didn’t know you were trying to have a baby. At least you get to keep trying. That’s the fun part!” Yes, TM I do get to keep trying and NO it is not fun! But I didn’t want to text him that. This guy already (now!) knows more of my business than he needs to so, in trying to put an end to my embarrassing text moment and I text back “Thank you and I guess you didn’t really need to know any of this. LOL!” A little LOL thrown in there to lighten things up and we should be done…nope…his text back: “I guess not! I didn’t know you were romantically involved to the extent babies were involved. They shit and cry a lot anyway!” Why do people with children always have to say something negative about children or babies to people trying to have a baby? Is it an involuntary reflex?

Oh the text I wanted to send back. The one about my struggles and being single. The one that tells TM in no uncertain terms to cherish his little baby and every little poop he produces b/c not everyone gets that chance. But I didn’t. My text back was: “At least accidentally texting you made me laugh today”. And it did.

If I hadn’t blown the whole thing years ago I might not be alone:

I’ve been many things in my life. I’ve been jealous, jaded, shallow, bitter, petty and angry. Yes, I will admit that I have at one time or another been all those things but I have never been all those things all at once until now. And I can’t seem to help it or stop it.

A lot of the women on my Fertility Boards who’ve gotten pregnant after I did are having their babies. I am jealous.

When they announce their betas, if it is low I automatically think the worst. I am jaded.

They talk about names they’ve picked out, decorating their nurseries and their baby showers. I automatically negate their choices. I am shallow, bitter and petty.

I think about the time I’ve wasted over the years. I think that if I had only tried to have a baby years ago, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I think about my miscarriage. I think "That should be me!" I am angry!

I do not like this person I’ve become. I don’t like feeling or thinking this way.

My due date:

Maybe a failed IVF cycle right before my due date has exaggerated all these feelings and I am really not that bad of person? One can only hope. But Sunday October 31, 2010 was the day I should have had my baby. My Angel. On a day where everyone will be wearing a costume, pretending to be someone else, I too will be pretending. I will be pretending to move on. I will be pretending to move forward. I will wear a mask. A mask with a smile on it when in reality I am sad.

Last Stop!!! Lostville!!

This is actually a post I didn't want to make. I wanted to find some humorous way of expressing how I am truly feeling right now because I've always been one who tries to find the funny side of life...Instead I have to rely on my other side. The side that just tells it like it is...my truthful side so, for those of you wondering where the Crazy Train left me off...well, it wasn't Disney! It feels like it stopped in the middle of a very long, dark tunnel and I am walking around trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. And it is not there. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. I am lost in the dark. I’m trying so hard to see but I have no idea where I am suppose to go and what I am supposed to do. You see, the Crazy Train, when it stops, even though your IVF cycle has ended unsuccessfully, you still feel lost, left off in the middle, you don’t feel like this is your final destination but you don’t know what direction you are supposed to go in either. The sadness is overwhelming and self pity becomes prevalent. I have never been one to wallow in self pity but when you are stumbling around in the dark unable to see you tend to get a case of the “Why me’s”. “Why is this happening to me?” Which then makes me wonder if I am paying off some karmic debt? You are lost in a maze of questions, worry, fear and self doubt and you just can’t see a way past it. A way past the sadness, a way past the pain. You can’t see the road you are meant to travel and you can’t see the future you so desperately want…you are stumbling around in Lostville.

And although I only found out yesterday that I’m not pregnant it feels so long ago. I find myself staring off into space, drifting and remembering my last cycle like was in another lifetime. I am mourning. And I know I need to pick up the pieces and move on but I don't know which direction I'm suppose to go in. I am trying so desperately to find the light. To find the ray of light to illuminate my way but I’m grappling in the dark, reaching out, straining to find that glimmer of hope. The problem is...it is so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when your eyes are full of tears.

An Autumn Harvest in the land of Dixie, Call Me on the Line, Time to Transfer and The Crazy Train:

I normally wouldn’t put in a disclaimer in for one of my posts. I do believe in “Read at Own Risk” and those that know me know that I am a “tell it like it is” kinda gal. Sugar coating is not my strong point and sparing no detail is. But I do realize that not everyone reading my blog really knows me and those that do know me might want to be spared certain details. So, for those of you who don’t wish to know exactly what happens when the doc gets up-close and personal. I would advise you to skip this post…

Sorry this is so long.

Please consult the acronym list for definitions of certain abbreviations.

If you come from the land of cotton…

The fertility clinic that I go to has two REs. There is Dr. A who I call Dr. Wow and then there is Dr. C who, let’s just say, I call him Dr. Corny. Now, Dr. Wow and Dr. Corny alternate the days they are in the office. So for my regular monitoring visits I am never sure if it will be Dr. Wow or Dr. Corny doing my ultrasound. If you can’t tell from my sweet, little nicknames, I don’t really care for Dr. Corny. I prefer Dr. Wow.

My last 3 monitoring visits, it was Dr. Corny. I was starting to miss Dr. Wow but I knew he would be doing my ER or so I thought …

On the day of my ER, my mother drove me. On the way I told her it would be Dr. Wow doing my surgery. I assumed it would be Dr. Wow. After all Dr. Wow was my doctor NOT Dr. Corny and Dr. Wow did my last ER. I explained to my mom how I preferred Dr. Wow and how Dr. Corny got on my nerves. And of course my mother asked what was wrong with Dr. Corny. I explained to her about certain “demeanors” that he has that drive me crazy…like how he has a southern accent…I’m not a fan…so when he comes in he says: “How ya’ll doing this morning?” and then gives me an off to the side, halfway handshake (I hate halfway handshakes) I’m already starting to cringe. And it’s not just a southern accent; it’s a perky southern accent. I don’t do perky. Especially before 9:00 am! He says things like “Alrighty then feet in the stirrups” and always pats both stirrups with his hands. Once you lie back and put your feet in the stirrups he’ll say “Now skootch on down” and then proceeds with “Alrighty then, you’re just gonna feel my hand first” and then he “adjusts” my cookie so he can insert the vaginal ultrasound. He’s even annoying when he does your ultrasound b/c he has to point out everything. I don’t know about the rest of you but when I look at the screen all I ever see is some gray fuzz, static and an occasional black dot. But Dr. Corny is always “Ohhh, there’s your bowel, ya see that. There’s your lining, ya see that and here’s your ovary, ya see that” and I want to say “NO! No I don’t see it” but I always say “Uh huh!”

To all my southern readers, southern friends and southern folk in general I mean this in no disrespect but I am a Jersey Girl (with an equally annoying accent) and there is only so much southern hospitality and southern charm I can take. Dr.Wow is more “down to business”. He walks in says hi, has you lie back, inserts ultrasound, looks at what he needs to look at and he’s done. Dr. Corny is like a some kinda of Dixieland Mary Poppins! It’s just too much perk for me!

Now of course my mom and I are laughing about this as we are heading to the doctor’s office for my surgery. Once we get to the office and I sign in, I see Dr. Corny walking around in scrubs. I am puzzled. I look at the receptionist and I say (in horror) “Is it Dr. C today?” and she says “Yes, why?” Now I can feel the tears starting to build. I choke them back. I reply “I thought it was going to be Dr. Wow” and she tells me Dr. Wow is away. My mom and I go to the waiting room and I start to cry. I know Dr. Corny is an excellent, capable doctor but I can’t seem to fight back the tears. And you have to remember that I am on a lot (I mean A LOT) of hormones! The nurse comes back to bring me to the prep room before my surgery and she sees I’m crying. I tell her I’m okay and then my mom has to tell her I’m upset b/c I want Dr. Wow…now I am trying to stop my mom from doing this. I don’t want everyone to know that’s why I’m upset…especially Dr. Corny…he’s about to do some very delicate work in the downtown area…I don’t need him thinking he brings me to tears! The nurse assures me everything will be okay. And of course it was.

Dr. Corny came in with his usual Dixieland Perk and introduced himself to my mom. Once he left of course we started laughing because he presented all the “demeanors” to my mom that I was telling her about. And I am whispering to my mom “You see! You see what I am talking about!” And my mom says “Well, he is a little upbeat!” and we started laughing again. I actually felt a lot better.

As I was lying completely naked and barely covered with my feet up in the stirrups waiting for the anesthesiologist to put me out, in walked Dr. Corny and said “How ya’ll feeling?” I said “Good” and he said “Alrighty then I’m just gonna put the speculum in” and all I remember was lying there, with the speculum hanging out of my cookie, thinking “Hurry up and put me to sleep” and I was out! Dr. Corny retrieved all 6 eggs.

I will say this as a side bar. I did wonder if people talked at all while under anesthesia so I asked the anesthesiologist, and he said “Yes but I never tell” so of course now I am fearful that I might have unconsciously called Dr. C by his nickname Dr. Corny while I was out so I said to the anesthesiologist “Did I talk while I was out?” he said “I will never tell” UGHHHH….when your doctor is that up-close and personal you don’t want to be calling them Corny!!

After your ER you go home and rest…pass out again is more like it. And all you can do is wait until the next morning when the doctor calls to give you your fertilization report. It always seems like forever before they call and they always seem to call at random times. It’s never an exact time or time frame. Dr. Corny called me at 10:30 am with my fertilization report. Out of my 6 eggs, 5 were mature and 4 fertilized…this report was much better than my last one…and now all you can do is wait until Day 3 after your ER (ER counting as Day 0) to see how your embryos (which I like to call my embabies) are growing and when your transfer will be. So I waited the whole next day and the following morning for my call…

Well the last time you called…

Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep the night before my transfer. I was up at 7:00 am pacing the floors waiting for my call. I knew they wouldn’t call that early but I couldn’t sleep. I had this overwhelming (but not completely unfounded) fear that none of embryos made it to Day 3. On my last cycle none of my embryos made it to a Day 5 transfer, this is the reason why we are doing a Day 3 transfer this time so the chances of my embabies not making it to Day 3 were very low but still the last time…9:00 am the phone rings…I answer…it’s Dr. Wow and all the sudden I was wishing it was Dr. C. The last time Dr. Wow called me it was really bad news…”How are you feeling?” he says. “Nervous” I said. “Oh don’t be” he said and then I said “Well the last time you called me…” and I started laughing. He reassured me and said that he would have the nurse call me to let me know what time I should come in for my ET. And then he said something that really made me pause…right before he hung up he said “And I will be doing your transfer so you don’t have to worry”…"so you don’t have to worry”…UGHHH…insert curse word here!!!! FFFFF, SSSSSSS, DAMN everyone in that office knows I cried when I was told Dr. C was doing my surgery. If they even told Dr. Wow who was away that day what are the chances Dr. C doesn’t know!!!! Now I really feel bad.

And the wait goes on…

I don’t think the doctors, nurses or receptionists realize how agonizing the wait is for the phone call…your stomach is in knots the whole time and you are on the edge of your seat…10:10 am the phone rings…the receptionist wants to know if I can be there at 11:00 am. I live 20 minutes away. I still need my prep time so I rushed to jump in the shower. There are certain things a gal must do to be “presentable” before a doctor’s downtown visit. And although Dr. Corny was in the vicinity on Monday, I still had to follow protocol and get my cookie ready for today’s visit. Now I cannot speak for everyone but I make sure my legs are shaved, my armpits are shaved (Why? I have no idea! That is the only area they don’t get to see!) and the carpet is groomed from front to back. Well, me personally, I have hard wood floors so they are shined from front to back. Cookie prep done and I was off to my ET.

Transfer Time…

I had no idea what to expect after all this was my first transfer. I was told to drink about 16 ounces of water before you got there. They want you to have a full bladder. I bought the largest bottle of water I could find and began drinking it on my way to the doctor’s office. Once I got there they bring you into the same room where you had your ER but this time you are awake for the whole procedure. Dr. Wow comes over and discusses how many embabies we should transfer. We decided on all 4. The embryologist gets the embabies prepared while Dr. Wow rinses your cervix. Now they want you’re bladder to be full for this procedure. They say it helps them see better on the ultrasound machine and I clearly thought mine was full but when they looked on the ultrasound they said it was not. But man did I feel like I had to go….oh no…I am a very regular person and on this morning with all the phone calls and waiting I did not take care of my morning business. There is a little fear I have when going to the downtown doctor and that is a fear of an accidental release…now with my transfer ready to start…a delicate procedure…I am fearing that accidental release and trying oh so very hard not to clinch at the same time…

The embryologist comes in with a picture of my 4 embabies. I am in awe. I am in love. I forget about the pressure, the procedure, the speculum and I lie there looking at their beautiful picture. Dr. Wow says to me “That’s baby’s first pictures.” I said “I will put it in my baby book.” Dr. Wow says: “First page” and I say “No, I took a picture of all the needles I had to give myself. That’s going to be the first page. So when my kid acts up I can pull out the book” and now we all start laughing, me, the nurse and Dr. Wow and with that laugh the downtown pressure seems to drop a little bit and my fear of an accidental release came back rushing back. In my mind I am thinking…don’t clinch, relax and for the love of God don’t fart! But 1 second later he was done! I let out a deep breath and I am glad that is all I let out!

All Aboard (ha ha ha ha ha ha!) yes you can cue up Ozzy!...

I’m going off the rails on a Crazy Train!

After your ET you enter into the 2ww and board the Crazy Train…

I knew I would be boarding the Crazy Train as soon as my ET was over but what I didn’t realize was how fast the stop to Looneyville came up. I figured I would reach Looneyville by day 3 or day 4 after my ET. I reached Looneyville in a record 30 minutes after my ET. Since my “morning business” was put on hold for my ET and now my bladder was finally filling up with all the water they had me drink, I felt that all was about to let loose. As I lay with my feet up waiting for the nurse to tell me it was time to go, I tried really hard to “hold” things in. You have to remember that there is another woman in the bed next to me, separated by a curtain, waiting to go in for her ET. And as much as I thought I could quietly let myself “release” some pressure, I also knew I was lying there without any bottoms on so I didn’t want to risk the acoustics boosting the noise level. So I uncomfortably continued to “hold” things in. Finally the nurse came in a said that I could get dressed. I rapidly asked if I could go to the bathroom. And before she even finished I was dressed and headed to the bathroom. I figured I would pee and maybe shoot off some warning shots of what’s to come and then go home to finish my business but no…my business had a mind of its own. It wanted sweet release right then and there. Now I know you are probably thinking “Okay, so what…you took a poop at the RE’s office” and on any other given day I wouldn’t think twice (or give 2 you know what’s!) about pooping in a doctor’s office. But once I started feeling the train (my poop) about to leave the station…the Crazy Train pulled up to Looneyville! I was afraid to poop. I was afraid to push. I was afraid I would push my embryos back out! I know it’s crazy! I know it’s silly but did I not just say I pulled up to Looneyville. So there I am in the bathroom, trying to poop without pushing! You might wonder if that is even possible. And although this was an experiment that I didn’t mean to partake in, the answer is no. No it is not possible to poop without pushing. It’s only a matter of the level of pushing. Pushing becomes involuntary. And now I was completely paranoid that I had “pushed” out more than poop. I was completely paranoid that I pushed out my embabies. I tried to reassure myself that it wasn’t possible to push out my embabies (and it’s not) but I had already boarded the Crazy Train and reached my 1st stop in Looneyville. I will have to say that over the rest of the day I had to curse my very regular, cleansing bowels two more times and rest assured my conclusion from my experiment in the bathroom in the doctor’s office still holds water…no you cannot poop without some level of pushing (*fast poopers not included in this experiment).

I am now 4 days past my transfer. I am still on the Crazy Training and so far it has pulled into Looneyville, it has pulled into the This Isn’t Going to Work Station and it has pulled into Over Analyze Central! I have 7 more days to go and I can only imagine the stops that the Crazy Train has in store for me! But I am on that train and there is no turning back. When the train stops I will either be in the Happiest Place on Earth or the Saddest. And I will have no choice. I will have to get off!

Everything happens for a reason – What if the reason sucks!?

I used to think “Everything happens for a reason” I used to believe in “meant to be” but when you are trying to figure out how you ended up alone with the fear of never having children and you pour over your life with a fine tooth comb and still can’t find an acceptable reason the only conclusion you can come up with is “Maybe everything doesn’t happen for a reason or maybe the reason sucks!”

In the dissection of your life, you start to think about the good things that just didn’t work out and you say “Wow, I wonder what would have happened if I went to a different college, if I gotten that job, moved away, dated so n so, married so n so” etc and you can see some of the reasons you ended up where you are now: If I had gotten that job or moved, I would have never met V or MA and I wouldn’t BFFs, M2 and I would only be mere acquaintances. I wouldn’t be as close to my sisters or mother. I would be divorced and struggling. I wouldn’t have my condo, I wouldn’t have experienced going to school in Manhattan or a whole host of reasons and then you think “Well, maybe everything does happen for a reason”

Then you start to go over bad things that have happened in your life. Are there some things that you can put into perspective and possible see the reason you had to go through that experience? Yes, there are. I can almost see why I’m having children older. I can’t quite understand the single thing but I can see the reason for the older. I always said that I didn’t want to be one of those mothers who drank and smoked and felt their kids got in the way of going out. I didn’t want that. I wanted my party days to be well behind me when I became a mom and it took me longer than most. “You’re out of time” is the reason I cleaned everything up. And maybe I needed that wake up call. I can see that reason. I can live with that reason. But I still to this day can’t figure out the reason my father left me when I was little. Was that to prepare me to be a single mom? Because if that’s the reason then that reason really sucks! And my miscarriage…there will never be an acceptable reason…ever…

So, yes, there are times when you can see the reason but there are other times where there is no clear answer and without out that answer then there is no reason. Or maybe the reason is that unclear, very vague answer your mother would give you when she had no good reason: “Because. Just because”. What if the reason is “Because”!!

I usually get the old standby reasons: “It’s because are so strong” or “You are stronger than most” So, if I was weak I wouldn’t have to go through this heartache! What kinda reason is that? “God is testing you” Well, you know what….go test someone else! I’ve had my fill thank you! Why don’t you go pick on someone weak! On that one I’m just kidding. In that case I’d rather it be me…could that be the reason? Or there’s the ever so popular: “God only gives you what you can handle” So when is it enough? When have you reached all you can handle? When do you get to cry “Uncle”? I think the big guy’s missed the boat on this one b/c I’m at my limit!

To me the above are not reasons…and if they truly are the reason then the reason does suck!

How can you look a woman in the eye and say that there is a reason she can’t have children? There is a reason she has recurring miscarriages? There is a reason her hopes and dreams might not come true? But a) you might never find out that reason or b) the reason may suck! I really don’t think that I believe that “Everything happens for a reason”. If it was true then all of this is happening because of some vague, cryptic reason …I just don’t buy it! And if you never find out the reason then what’s the point!! Or if the reason is just “Because” then there is no point!

And as much as I don’t get it. As much as I don’t buy it. As much as the “Everything happens for a reason” excuse has flown out the window for me, I continue to ask God to show me the reason. Every day I ask him to please show me what I am supposed to do and what I’m supposed to learn. I ask him to please show me why I am at this place in my life, why I am at this scary, emotional place and I keep asking him what the reason is! I keep asking for a reason greater than Because!

An Update and an Award!!

The last we saw our fair maiden, she was off to the supermarket to pick up some ice cream in an attempt to “cool things off” and we were left with the lingering question: Pervert or Mass Egg Producer? What did the ultrasound reveal? Hmmm, well…I think the jury is still out. The ultrasound showed 6 Eggs. Not bad for a woman of advanced maternal age (oh how I hate that phrase!) with a diminished ovarian reserve but not quite the number of eggs I was expecting given my “condition” and of course not quite the number I was hoping for after reading about other woman and their 10 plus (some 20) Eggtravaganza! So, I would imagine that there are 2 factors “heightening” the situation. One being the extra Eggs and the second being that I am a woman of “advanced sexual age” (much better term and one with a huge bonus woman have to look forward too as they say goodbye to their 30s). Mix those two together and bam...increased (extremely increased) “sensitivity”! The conclusion: I am a red hot, sexually charged, semi-perverted (I can live with that!) ravishing woman who’s trying to have a baby! And I’m feeling very fertile!

Next up: an Award!

S from Ticking Clock and Shannon from Chasing Rainbows nominated me this week for The Versatile Blogger Award! S I met through my new found blog world that I am now happily immersed in and Shannon and I met on the Fertile Thoughts Single Sisters in Fertility thread. S is starting her 2nd IUI (2 is a charm and my fingers are crossed for you!) and Shannon is now pregnant from her 4th IUI! Shannon I couldn’t be happier for you and I can’t wait to meet little Chiquita.

Thank you both for the nomination!

Now here are the rules to those who I award the Versatile Blogger Award to:

The Rules ~
•thank and link back to the person nice enough to give you the award
•share seven things about yourself
•pass the award along to seven other bloggers who you think are fabulous
•contact the bloggers you chose and let them know about the award

Okay now here is the fun part!

7 Things about me…

1. I used to make pizzas for a living.
2. I sometimes look under my bed before I go to sleep. I have no idea what I would do if something or someone was actually under there. Crap myself is probably it!
3. When I eat a piece of lunchmeat, I always make it into a smiley face first.
4. I have double jointed toes (weird!).
5. I can sleep anywhere, at anytime, with any noise level.
6. When I take a shower, I make the water as hot as I can take it! I come out looking like a lobster.
7. I’m not afraid of growing old. It’s growing old alone that scares me.

And here are my nominations – I am new to this wonderful world of blogging and I know there are many, many wonderful blogs out there I have yet to discover. If you have one those amazing blogs I have yet to discover, send me a comment (or follow me!) and I will gladly give it a read and follow you. As I said I am fairly new to this wonderful world of blogging but so far I love what I have discovered and now I nominate:

Shannon at Chasing Rainbows
Charity at Charity's Journey to Single Motherhood
Hopeful at My (hopeful) Journey to Motherhood
S at Ticking Clock
Katie at from IF to when
The Baby Chaser at The Baby Chase Project
SIF at Single Infertile Female: Now What?
Erica at Parenthood for Me

Happy Blogging!