Why?

I got an e-mail today. The last e-mail I wanted to get.

I have a friend from college…we lost touch and got back in touch…many times. I realize she is a friend that needs me when things are rough and forgets about me when things are good. Which isn’t a great kind of friend. But I have known her for almost 20 years and I just deal with it.  She was one year behind me in college. I just re-read the post, and it was even before my first IVF. WOW. Seems like a million years ago. I even say, “Hopefully I only have to do it two times”. Guess I was wrong. How wrong I was.

Well, guess what she wrote me today…after not hearing from her in a few months:

I have some news to share that I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I didn’t know the right way to tell you ~ I’m pregnant! About a month into my second trimester now. I contemplated calling or telling you in person and I have wanted to tell you for a while now, but I know how hard trying to have a baby has been on you and I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to react a certain way or be positive right away for me. The last time I broached the subject with you, you were very upset about the whole pregnancy thing (understandable) so I didn’t think it was a very good time to bring this up. I can only imagine what you are going through and the emotional roller coaster you are on so I thought that an email would be the best way. Please forgive me if I chose wrong, but I was really only trying to protect your feelings.

Guess what. You DID hurt my feelings. And IT ISN’T FAIR that your gay husband with fertility problems knocked you up when you travel so much for work….and it only took him 3 months (or less) if I count all the time you have been out of the vicinity. And you SMOKE A PACK A DAY. And you DRINK A BOTTLE OF WINE A NIGHT. And you are 20 POUNDS UNDERWEIGHT. How can you even say you imagine what I am going through? You cannot fucking imagine ANYTHING I go through on a daily basis. I know you are trying to cushion the blow, but it didn’t help.

And I realize now, that the last time I talked to her she was already pregnant. She probably wanted to tell me, but after my diatribe about shots and pills and procedures, and how naive she is about stress and anxiety and “just relax and it will happen”…she chickened out. So she didn’t tell me then, and thought it would be best to e-mail me after her 2nd trimester started. So lucky me, I got the e-mail today.

And this just makes me feel even stronger that IT IS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN FOR ME.

And I am having horrible thoughts. Like…don’t get too cocky, bitch. Lots can happen in the next 6 months. I know. I know. That is the most horrible thing to say. But I am SO tired of this shit. She fucking blinks an eye and gets pregnant, just by deciding it is “the right time”. And now they are looking for a multi-million dollar house in the hills for her baby-to-be and any siblings she may have (she always wanted four kids).

And here I am. Stuck with a fucking 12 year old bitch-brat-spoiled-whore-to-be step-daughter (again, I apologize, but I will fill you in on the last two days with PT on the next post) and a clueless husband who has no idea what I am going through. Why?

With my luck, PT will get pregnant and I will be stuck in a custody battle with X on who should get to raise the grandchild. That is, if X doesn’t die of cancer first. Then I guess I would get to raise the baby.

I apologize for my bluntness and how evil I am. But I had to vent. I had to get it out. I am in a BLACK MOOD.

Advice from someone in a BAD MOOD

1. If you are a personal trainer and you teach a class in strength training, please be someone that can inspire. Don’t show up to class 50 pounds overweight, with flab on your FOREARMS, a bad dye job, 6 rolls on your belly, and 5 chins. Don’t tell me on the first day of class that you used to look different, you used to be in good shape. Don’t sit on your rump the whole time you teach class, watching us work our asses off. Don’t say, “And UP and hold, hold, hold and UP and hold, hold, hold” in the same monotonous voice because you are too fucking lazy to count. When you send us on our way to do the free weights, don’t sit on the bench and rub a feign knee injury, like that is the reason you don’t burn more than 12.5 calories a day. Let’s face it. You are a LAZY whore. How did you get this job? How could you be PAID for this? How could you make me PAY for this? And don’t ask me if everything is okay when I march out 30 minutes after class starts. NO. Things are NOT okay. And NO, I am NOT coming back.

2. If you already look like a pig, with a bald head and the most porcine nose I have ever seen, do not wear a light pink shirt with a pink tie to emphasize your porkishness. Do not stand in front of a room of people giving a presentation about your new CRM software. Instead of listening, we will fixate on your shirt, too taught to button at the bottom, and the pale, white skin covered in red hair sticking through the gap. By the way, your black pin-stripe suit from 1982, really needs a belt to go with it. We will stare at your wedding ring and wonder who, who, WHO is unfortunate enough to share your matrimonial bed. I guess she is unfortunate unless she happens to be Ms. Piggy. She is probably home now, suckling your 8 children, one on each teat. Bet you rush home every night for your slop. Do you have a rat named Templeton in your pen that forages after you are done?

3. If you are the bio mother to someone who now has a step-mother. BE NICE. Don’t call CPS on her. Don’t tell your daughter that she is evil. Don’t call her to yell at her and threaten that if the girl ever calls her “Mommy” again, there will be hell to pay. Because you know what? You may get breast cancer some day. And you don’t have any friends. And who will you need to call for help? That would be HER. And she is going to help, but she won’t forget.

Kill me now…

I have this “friend”. She is from my college days and lives near me. We only see each other a couple of times per year. She drops off the face of the earth for a while and then I contact her and we have dinner, and then no contact for months…I am always (almost always) the one to make contact…but she e-mailed me out of the blue yesterday — because, yes, she wants something. She and her husband are going to France for a wedding and they would like to stay with my parents for a few days. Whatever. She asked me how I was doing (she knows I am TTC) and so I briefly wrote back that we are still trying and not having any luck. And this is what she wrote back…mind you…she has NO clue about any of this stuff. She and her husband have been married less than two years and are not TTC. Although, for some reason they have already researched IVF clinics, and it is mostly her husband that is doing the research. He has been married before, and he didn’t have any kids, so I am assuming that he already knows that he has a sperm problem. Why else would a guy be researching IVF clinics before even trying on their own? It sounds a little fishy to me.

Anyway, here is her e-mail:

“I am so sorry you are down about getting pregnant. This probably isn’t going to be much help, but in the celebrity magazines I keep reading how certain celebs try 2, 3 sometimes 4 times before it happens –and even some give up and then presto, it happens on it’s own. Stress is such a big factor.  Also, I hope your place has a good track record cuz’ M keeps telling me about this place he found in the Peninsula that ‘guarantees’ you will get pregnant. Let me know if you want the info. I’m sure you’ve already read every book on the planet, but I read somewhere it also depends what you eat that day/week -something about changing the chemistry in the uterus. Seems to me they are implanting you with fertilized embryos, so I would think it’s some slight chemical imbalance down there that needs to be worked out. What do they tell you?”

THANKS for the advice Dr. C! Yes, it must be some slight chemical imbalance “down there” that needs to be worked out. I never thought of that, and neither did my doctors!!! I should probably eat something different on the day of my embryo transfer. OMG could she add anything else annoying into this e-mail? At least she didn’t say, “Just adopt!” I wrote her a RANT back, she probably will never speak to me again, but I just wasn’t in the mood for her blathering!

On another note, my friend that blew me off on Sunday wrote me an e-mail. I didn’t make any contact. She apologized about backing out and explained how exhausted she was because she worked two nights until 8pm and for about 5 hours on Saturday, and she was feeling overwhelmed and not enthused about coming to the event that she promised to come to and help with. I haven’t responded, I am leaving her hanging for a bit longer. I know that is a petty way to behave, but I feel petty right now. I will forgive her, but I have to be in the right mood to talk to her. My thing is that I was WAY more tired and she was, I had to be. I had worked until 10pm for the whole week, all day Saturday and by the time she flaked on me, I had already worked 6 hours on Sunday, and I had to work on Monday too. So hearing that she was too tired didn’t help her case. I know I am being harsh, but I just don’t have the energy to deal right now. I will probably contact her in a couple of days. Thanks for all your support on this one!!

Follie Report Part Deux and Emotional Upheaval (Updated)

 ***UPDATED **

It is very strange. In some ways I feel totally normal. Like I can’t tell that I have all these weird hormones coursing through my body. I have barely any physical symptoms, none of the ones I was warned about. But my temper. And my tears. I am on a very short fuse. VERY.SHORT. Last night I brought some cookies home that one of my co-workers had made. I had tasted one earlier in the day and didn’t really care for it, but brought some home for TW and PT in case they would like them. I brought 4 cookies home. I served up dinner, and afterwards I asked them if they wanted a cookie. They both said they did, so I got up and brought one back for each of them. They gobbled them up. Then PT asked TW if he wanted another one. So she went into the kitchen and brought one back for each of them. Mind you, I had no desire to eat one of the cookies. But I said, ”How many are left” (knowing full well that there weren’t any left). Both PT and TW immediately offered me their cookie, and I started to cry. I told them I didn’t want the cookie, which was true. But I was crying like a baby. I wanted them to offer me a cookie before they took the last two. This is common courtesy, right? Especially after I brought the cookies home in the first place. But crying about it instead of telling them how I feel? I am acting like a baby. And I know it. But I can’t help it. Then to make things worse, I got up to take their dishes to the kitchen, and TW grabbed my sweats and pants-ed me. He does this ALL THE TIME, and I usually just pull them up and walk away. It bugs me but he thinks it is hilarious. He has done this about a thousand times since I have known him. This was NOT the right night to do this. I turned into Linda Blair in the exorcist. I think my head spun around 5 times and I am surprised I didn’t projectile vomit all over him. But I screamed. SCREAMED. “DON’T FUCKING DO THAT TO ME!!!!! IT IS SO DISRESPECTFUL!!! DON’T FUCKING DO IT!!!” I was hysterical. I couldn’t stop crying. I was sobbing and could barely breathe. I ran into my room and belly flopped on the bed, and buried my head in the pillows. Amazingly, TW chased after me. He crawled on the bed and took the pillows off my head, and covered my face in kisses. He said he was sorry and said he wouldn’t bug me anymore. He apologized that they took the cookies without asking if I wanted one. He told me to come back to the family room when I felt better. And after 10 minutes I did. I had let it all out. And I felt better.

Had another u/s this morning. Dr. P was there, he seemed like he was in a good mood. The nurse who told me it was impossible to have a cyst on Lup.ron was there too…I had to bite my tongue from explaining that one CAN have a cyst on Lu.pron according to the doctor! I just let it go.

Here is the follie report: Right ovary - 18mm, 18mm, 17mm, 13. Left ovary - 17mm, 16mm, 13mm, 11mm. The left is a little slow on the uptake, huh? But, it is what it is. They gave me one more shot of Folli.stim (225 units) this morning, and sent me back to the crazy pharmacy to pick up one more 300 IU vial just in case I need it (or to return to the clinic, since I ‘borrowed’ some of theirs this morning). I feel like I am bleeding money! But as long as that is the only thing I am bleeding, I can handle it. E2 report will be coming in a few hours. They think I will trigger tonight or tomorrow night. Retrieval will be on Thursday or Friday - I am FREAKING out! I decided to take all of next week off (well the 3 days I would have normally worked)…then we have Thanksgiving on Thursday/Friday. God, I am so nervous.

**UPDATE**. My E2 was 1264 and I got an e-mail that my stimming is over. Yahoo! I am to take 10,000 units of HcG tonight at 11:30 PST exactly. My egg retrieval will be at 11am on Thursday!

The pharmacy I go to is worse than the post office. There are about 10 people working like bees behind the scenes, and only one girl at the register. Every time I go, they say that they are “getting my stuff ready”.  How hard is it to get a box of Folli.stim ready? It isn’t like they have to do anything…no counting of pills, or measuring anything. But whatever. It is what it is. This is my new motto: IT IS WHAT IT IS.

So, I plunked down on the chair, waiting for them to get whatever ready that they needed to get ready. I picked up my book: “Happiness Sold Separately” (I am a couple of books behind on the Barren Bitches Book Brigade). I was reading a particularly poignant passage where the main character was reflecting on how she treated her husband during fertility treatments, and whether she had driven him to have an affair…she was describing the way her marriage had deteriorated before her eyes. I felt so fearful, like it was happening to my marriage before my eyes. And if it does happen, it would be mostly my fault. I know it, and I want to stop it, but I can’t. Well, I hope I can. Maybe I can? I was on the brink of tears. And then a mom came and sat down next to me with her adorable two year old. They had to wait for the pharmacy to get their stuff ready too. So she asked the little boy if he wanted to read a book, and he said he did. So she pulled a copy of Thomas the Train out of her bag and started reading it out loud to him. I could see the little boy in profile, he had creamy skin that I just wanted to touch. And his eyelashes were longer than any that I have ever seen. And he had that little soft baby voice. My heart just melted. And the mom came to a passage where Thomas served tea and cupcakes to his friends. And the little boy said, “I love tea and cupcakes” in his tiny voice. It was too much for me. My eyes sprang a leak and I had to exit stage right to compose myself.

Please let me be a mom. Please.

8 Things About Me

Okay, so I have been thinking that this Lu.pron thing is a piece of cake. The injections are not so bad, I feel a tiny sting when the tip of the needle pierces the skin but then it is smooth sailing. And no side effects. And no bruises (just a few tiny black pin-pricks here and there). I thought. However, last night I woke up totally sweaty, and I am grumpy as all hell. And my boobs are super sore and I have a headache. Poor TW. It is his birthday today, and I walked in the door after work and immediately started griping about the dishes (I had left a note for him to unload the dishwasher). Also, I had made him a birthday dinner last night - I made a really expensive beef tenderloin roast for him, his dad, PT and me. And he told me he ate some of the leftovers for lunch, by chopping it up and scrambling it in some eggs. I almost castrated him. He scrambled $26.99/lb beef tenderloin in eggs? OMG. I ripped him a new one. I stormed out of the house and took the puppy to the dog park. On the way there I realized that I really shouldn’t have gotten so unbelievably upset over some left over meat. How he eats his leftovers for lunch really shouldn’t concern me so much! And I was at work so he fended for himself (which is actually better than usual — sometimes I come home and he hasn’t eaten all day!)…was it right to scream and yell and slam the doors because of his scrambled egg lunch? Probably not. I am going to blame it on the Lu.pron. But it could possibly be because I am just naturally a raging bitch. Not sure. I will keep you posted on that whole thing and will let you know as soon as I figure it out.

Missed Conceptions nominated me for the “8 Things About Me” meme…so here goes!

1. I am terrible at sharing. If I order something really yummy at a restaurant, I don’t want to give bites to anyone. I also covet things like my favorite hair tie, my favorite pen, because I don’t want anyone else to use it (even if I am not using it!). I force myself to share but it is really hard. I know this about myself and it scares the shit out of me, since I want to be a mom so much. Mom’s have to share everything. Will this change when I have a baby? I sure as hell hope so. I need to work on this. In other ways I am very generous, like with my time, and I will do anything for my friends and loved ones. But share my favorite pen? Not so much.
2. I need to touch my keys. I think I have some sort of OCD? I need to know where my keys are at all times. I lost them once about 10 years ago and ever since then, I obsess about them. You would think this would have caused me to always leave them in the same place, but I get so distracted…one time I found them in the freezer! Not only do I need to know where they are, I have to touch them. So if I am out for dinner with friends (for example), I will open my purse at least 5 times to make sure my keys are in my purse (and touch them). Even if I just checked 1/2 an hour before, I do it again, knowing that I haven’t moved them (but also knowing I am such a spaz, that maybe I did move them?)
3. I have had 2 nose jobs. Yes, TWO. When I was 10 I walked face first into a very clean sliding glass door. My nose was always bigger than I liked but after that I had a prominent bump on one side of my nose…I had a “good side” and a “bad side”, and I was always aware of which side was visible to the people around me. When I turned 18 I asked my parents if I could get a nose job, and they said it was fine (I was shocked!). So, the summer before college, I got my nose fixed. The doctor called it a “deviated septum” and truth be told, I did breathe much better afterwards….and my nose was straight. The recovery was horrible. But the next summer I had a follow-up and the doctor was not pleased with the results and offered to do it again for free. And I said yes! So I did the whole thing again. Amazingly, I am still not happy with my nose. This was 20 years ago and I think that nose jobs have come a long way…but don’t worry, I am not going through it again! The scary part is that TW has a long Italian/Greek nose…our baby will probably be worse than Cyrano. TW just found out that I got a nose job because when we were moving he found this old picture of me. I never told him — I truly blocked the whole thing. But I came clean…and now he makes fun of me. Argh!
4. I always have at least 4 of everything in the supply closet (probably related to the OCD!). Four toothpastes, four packages of toilet paper, four laundry detergents, etc. If I get down to 2 of something, I need to run to Target to replenish ASAP. If I only have 1 left of something (even if the opened one is almost full), I feel the DIRE need to shop for it, like it is an emergency. I never run out of ANYTHING.
5. I love animals but I eat meat. I cannot reconcile this at all. I never squish a spider, no matter how ugly it is. I trap it under a cup and take it outside. I volunteer my free time to save unwanted puppies. I am the person who stops every person on the street with a dog so I can give the dog some love (usually I get on the ground with the dog, no matter what I am wearing). I love ALL animals, even reptiles. I want to be a vegetarian but meat has been so ingrained in my life from an early age, even when I give it up for a while, I go back to it like an addiction. My dad grew up in Eastern Europe (as a jew) during World War II, and almost starved. My mom grew up in India and meat was a coveted thing, maybe obtained once every two months. So when they came here to the U.S. and meat was so available, they fed it to us 5 days a week, like it was a well-earned prize (and in a way, it was). But I know what horrible, awful deaths these poor animals go through. And even though I think about it all the time, I still buy steak at the grocery store. I get so obsessed about the environment and the plight of domestic and wild animals that sometimes I cry, but I feel too paralyzed to do anything about it. I could seriously pay a therapist every day for the rest of my life, just on this issue alone.
6. I weigh myself twice a day. I know this is really bad for the morale, but my mom bought me a scale when I was 12 and the only time I have skipped weighing myself is when I am on vacation and there isn’t a scale in the bathroom. I play this game in the evening before I go to sleep, I weigh myself and then predict how much I will weigh the next morning, thinking about what I ate that day, and how much I exercised, and what I am wearing. I always weigh myself clothed at night and naked in the morning. (Oh God, more OCD).
7. I never eat breakfast. I know that it is “the most important meal of the day”. However, when I was still in grade school, my mom slowly reduced her efforts at breakfast from cooking a hot meal, to making frozen waffles, to pouring cereal, to leaving cereal out for me to pour. At the end of the breakfast era, she would leave the cereal out but leave a vitamin in the bottom of the empty bowl, knowing I would just pop that and go to school. My mom and dad were not breakfast eaters either, just coffee and tea. I am so used to going about my morning with no food in my stomach that on the weird occasion when I do eat in the morning, I am totally thrown off. And I am actually much hungrier on the days when I eat breakfast. I don’t get hungry until lunch. I asked my doctor if this was okay, and she said not to force myself to eat if I am not hungry. So there.
8. Cooking is my therapy. I love to cook. I love everything about it. I love thinking up new recipes and imagining how the individual ingredients will combine to tantalize the people who eat it. I never use recipes while I am cooking but I read them for fun and modify as I feel fit. I watch cooking shows all the time for ideas as well. No matter how tired I am after a shitty day at work, I can go grocery shopping (which I also LOVE), get home and put together an awesome meal for family and friends. And I always feel rejuvenated afterwards. Feeding people is love. This is the one thing that I love to share.

Okay, now that you all think I am neurotic and not fit to be a mother (except maybe for the cooking thing), I nominate SarahS-P to do the meme next.

Vent.

 WARNING - PITY PARTY FOR ONE

I cannot be happy for pregnant people anymore (with a couple of rare exceptions, Kona & Brinko & Kelley — you are three of them!). And I find myself just glaring/staring at the bellies as I pass them by.

I am healthy. I am not overweight. I work out 4-5 times per week. I don’t eat crap. I get acupuncture twice a month. I don’t smoke. I take my daily vitamins. I don’t do drugs. I only drink wine (and I have basically quit as of late). I get enough sleep. I have a good job, we have a nice house. I am well educated.  I have a MS degree in counseling psychology. I am good with our money. WHY CAN’T THIS HAPPEN FOR ME??!?!?!

The other day I went to a large meeting of administrators on the college campus. It was in an auditorium. I ended up sitting next to a woman I worked with several years ago. She is grossly overweight, she is bi-sexual and not in a relationship (she lives with her mother). She drinks a lot and smokes cigarettes. She does not take care of herself AT ALL. What was the first thing out of her mouth? “Guess what - I am pregnant!”. I almost fell over.

At Starbucks this morning there was a woman sitting outside. She must have been about 100 pounds overweight and she was smoking. She had the cutest little baby with her.

Then don’t get me started on people like Nicole Ritchie and Anna Nicole Smith (may she rest in peace). Talk about two women who didn’t/don’t take care of themselves AT ALL.

I honestly feel like I am cursed. I don’t understand how I am trying to do everything right, and this one thing, this one thing that comes so naturally to everyone, will not happen for me.

I am 4DPO. I hate the 2WW.

I did a very bad thing…

Please don’t judge. Here is what happened, I have to make a confession, and I don’t go to church. So this blog will be my church.

Last night was back-to-school night for PT. PT is with her mom this week, and TW was out of town on business. He told me (not asked me, mind you) that I would have to go alone. I told him I would go but he would have to remind me, because when PT isn’t with us, it is hard for me to remember. It always irritates me when I go to school stuff alone - especially considering that PT’s mom doesn’t even go. I have been to FOUR parent/teachers conferences by myself!!! And it irks me to no end. All I want is my own child, I want to be a responsible mother to MY OWN CHILD. Why do I have to be the only responsible mother to someone else’s child? Don’t get me wrong, I do love PT, but I know the love I feel for her is not the same as if she was my bio child…. PT has a mother and I want her to be the responsible one!!! Isn’t that her job? But I digress.

Meanwhile my neighbor (we have the best neighbors in the world) call me up two nights ago to ask if I could pick up their 13 year old son at their house at 5:15pm and take him to trumpet lessons, and then take him home after. No problem. (Although the mood I am in makes it really hard for me to keep caring for other people’s kids!). All day at work yesterday I was fixated on it; I was worried I would totally forget (which really isn’t like me!). I completely forgot about back-to-school night instead.

So I left work a little early, and drove home to get the neighbor boy — and at about 5pm I remember back-to-school night. But TW never reminded me. When TW asks me to remind him of stuff I ALWAYS remind him. I remind him of everything, always. I don’t know what he would do without me, seriously. So I make the decision — I will go to back-to-school night and bear with all the parents saying, “How nice of you to come — where are PT’s parents??” IF TW reminds me. If he doesn’t remind me, I am going to lie and say I forgot b/c he didn’t remind me.

So I talked to TW several times during the evening, and I was waiting, waiting, waiting for him to say, “OH!! Don’t forget back-to-school night!” But he never did. So I went to the dog park right when back-to-school night started. I got home at about 8:30pm and TW called at 9:30pm and said, “Did you go to back-to-school night?”. I said I forgot. And he said he forgot about it too. So there.

I feel guilty (kind of) but also justified.

The Seeing Eye Dog

I was walking my puppy this morning, with his Easy Walk Harness (which helps me because he won’t pull me down when he sees a squirrel; also it stops him from choking himself). This guy walks up to me and says, “Is that a seeing eye dog?” What the hell? Do I look blind? Or, maybe he thought I was training a guide dog for the blind? In any event, I just didn’t have the tolerance to be nice today. So I said, “No, it is a Thinking Brain dog, do you want to borrow him?” Okay, I didn’t really say that. But I wanted to!!