Friday, July 30, 2004

lift with the legs

I threw out my back on Wednesday night. The hubby and I decided to rearrange the living room furniture and while moving a heavy bookshelf type thingy, I failed to lift with my legs and ended up really hurting myself. On Wednesday night I could barely move and I perched on the couch as best as I could while directing my husband to move the plants and the chairs and the coffee table there, no there, a little bit more to the right.

All day yesterday I lay in bed and popped advil every couple of hours and today I'm feeling much better, thank you, but still not quite up to snuff. That is, I'm in enough pain to put off going to the gym, but not enough to put off doing laundry.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

i'm in with the in-crowd

We're back from DC. And we've figured out the problem. More or less. We met with Dr. Hope on Monday morning and I was relieved that he was way more attractive than his goofy picture on the clinic's website had led me to believe. When I first saw his photo,I was worried that I wouldn't be able to take him seriously, but he has gotten a haircut and grown some facial hair since the embarrassing photo was taken and is not a bad looking man at all- but I digress.

I loved Dr. Hope. He talked with us for about an hour and then we met with his nurse, Nurse Helpful of the instantaneous e-mail responses. I loved her too. They basically gave us the run-down on the entire IVF process and ordered more bloodwork for my husband and I and the dreaded HSG for me (which I'll have to do next cycle). The clinic's success rates are high and I left feeling better about things, especially since it looks like we can start IVF as soon as September, if we choose to do so.

On Tuesday, we met with Dr. Too Cool for School (the urologist) and he was friendly and all, but young. Very young and I got the distinct impression that he had some sort of chip on his shoulder since he wasn't one of the urologists that Dr. Hope regularly refers his patients to. But, I had to like him if only because he provided the missing link to the whole infertility mess: My husband has a variocele.

Now, for those of you who don't know, a variocele is basically a varicose vein in the scrotum. Mmmm, delish! And it can be repaired with surgery. Dr.TCFS told us that if my husband gets variocele repair surgery, there's a pretty good chance that we'll be able to conceive naturally. But, unlike Dr. Hope, DR. TCFS didn't have numbers to back up this claim. And while the idea of conceiving naturally is more than appealing, I couldn't help but feel that Dr. TCFS deosn't want us to have IVF because of some weird adolescent feeling of rejection by the docs at Dr. Hope's clinic.

Now maybe that's not fair, but its how I feel. And so we're planning on seeing another urologist here in Mexico for a second (third?) opinion. Someone who is so far out of the DC infertility clinic loop that they won't let a little thing like peer rejection inform their recommendations to us.

I'm also not sure about having my husband go through the surgery, waiting the six to nine months to find out if it takes, only to discover that he's still without sperm and we're back to square one. Then again, I'm not all that psyched about shooting myself up with hormones every night and having to spend 3 whole weeks with my inlaws while Dr. Hope monitors the growth of my follicles. So, right now its a toss-up between going straight for the IVF or giving the variocele repair a try. I hope it becomes more clear after we meet with the doctor here in Mexico.

So, we found some stuff out, but we're still at a standstill for now. But at least the trip to IKEA was successful. The new duvet cover is on the bed as I type.

Friday, July 23, 2004

nervous, worried, anxious

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, my husband and I will get on a plane for DC. We meet with Dr. Hope (the RE) on Monday morning and have an appointment scheduled with a urologist on Tuesday.

Believe it or not, I've been a bit less obsessive about all of this infertility stuff for the past couple of weeks, if only because I've read everything that there is to read online about it. Besides the infertility support websites, and the scientific statistics, I've been reading blogs and skimming message boards. And frankly, there's just nothing else out there for me to get my hands on. Plus, I know that until we meet with the doctors, there's absolutely nothing I can do on this end to make our problems go away. And so, whether I like it or not, I've had to let go a little bit.

But now, with the doctors visits suddenly seeming real and not just a date impossibly far away, I'm getting nervous, worried, anxious. And I can't really put my finger on exactly what I'm worried about. Or rather, there are so many things that I'm worried about that I can't even prioritize the fears in some logical order. But for your viewing pleasure, here they are:

1. Worry that Dr. Hope will take all of 5 minutes to look at our medical history forms (4 very detailed pages each, people!) and send us on our way, telling us to make an appointment with the receptionist on our way out as there is nothing practical he can do at this time.

2. Fear that by seeing the urologist AFTER seeing Dr. Hope is doing things backwards. And/or fear that they will disagree on how to proceed.

3. Worry that the results from my bloodwork are abnormal and discovering that in addition to having a male factor issue, we also have a me factor issue.

4. Anxiety that Dr. Hope WILL want to start our protocol right away, but my husband will have to return to work thereby either delaying the process for another month at least or abandoning me in DC to undergo whatever treatments are necessary on my own.

5. Fear that our chances of getting pregnant this millenium are nil.

6. Fear that I have some rare blood disorder that will be revealed to me when Dr. Hope looks at my lab results.

7. Worry that Dr. Hope will order an HSG for me.

There are more, but they all run along these lines. You get the idea. Basically, I'm just a nervous wreck about any and every possibility for the visit.

Except for the part where we get to go to IKEA to pick out a new duvet cover and some frames. I'm pretty sure I know how that will go.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

breaking up is hard to do

I found out yesterday that friends of mine have split up. They've been together for over 10 years if I'm doing the math correctly and have been married for at least 6 of those years. They bought a house together just over 2 years ago. She moved out in February. Didn't tell anyone that she had left. Didn't even tell her parents until a couple of weeks ago. I'm in shock.

Of my friends, this is the second couple I know of that have called things off. I found out recently that another friends husband moved out a couple months ago, but she knew that it was over a couple of years ago. They too, had recently bought a house. They too, had been together for a long time.

I don't know what to think about all this. I can't imagine things ever getting so bad in a marriage that you feel like you need to bow out. I know that it happens everyday. I know that there are a million different reasons to end a relationship, but the idea of having to make that decision whether to keep trying or finally give up seems like an impossible one.

The friend who told me about couple #1's separation told me that they were in counseling right now. Apparently their therapist said that this wasn't the first marriage she's seen break up soon after buying a house. Apparently, home reparation/restoration is a major deal-breaker for a lot of couples. That made me wonder what potential infertility has on a relationship.

For my husband and I, so far so good on that count, though I am not naive enough to believe that some harder times lie ahead. I know that we will have to make some hard decisions in the upcoming months and years. But for now, at least, we are on the same page about the big things.

The break-ups of my friends feel like such a shock to me and I know in part, its because I've been away for so long. Even if I personally didn't know about their troubles, I have to remember that there must have been troubles for some time. I believe that they did try to work things out, but that that task became to all-consuming, too hard, to impossible to keep up. It makes me sad. One more thing to add to the list.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

waiting

I got the results from my blood tests yesterday. I have no idea what the numbers mean. As far as I can tell, my hormone levels are all within range, but are they normal? There are websites that tell you what the numbers should look like on day 3, but of course, I had my blood work on day four. And so I have no idea if I'm contibuting to our inability to get pregnant too. I have to wait until we meet with Dr. Hope on Monday to find out and its making me crazy, this not knowing.

Monday, July 19, 2004

testing

This morning, while my friend toured Mexico City on a big red double decker bus , I had the pleasure of getting my blood work done. On Friday, Nurse Helpful told me that day 4 bloodwork would do in a pinch. And so first thing this morning I headed over to Centro de Fertilidad to get myself stuck with a needle.

Happily, there was only one needle and only one vial of blood. The lab tech found my vein with no unnecessary poking or prodding. I get the results back tomorrow afternoon and am keeping my fingers crossed that all my hormone levels are in the normal range. And I hope too, that the 2 1/2 bottles of wine that we polished off during dinner last night don't screw with the results. I can just see Dr. Hope telling me next week that my hormones are all just fine, but my blood alcohol level is through the roof and the clinic's protocol is to turn alcoholic patients away- a lush like me doesn't deserve to be a parent.

Friday, July 16, 2004

almost famous, part 2

I don't think I'm going to be in that Rum ad. No one has called to tell me that I'm one photo shoot away from being the next big thing. And that's okay. I'd feel a little bit guilty if my friend flew 2000 miles to see me, but I was too busy shaking my tush on a catwalk to entertain her. My time will come.

Oh yes it will. While its not quite as exciting as the prospect of seeing my face on billboards all over the city for the next year, I may have a cameo appearance in the September issue of Marie Claire Mexico.

Intrigued? I knew you would be.

I was walking home from the Office Max yesterday. (I had to run out to buy masking tape for the bookshelf painting project.) And I stopped by this little boutique to look in the windows at their shoes. (I need shoes for a wedding we're going to at the end of August.) And while I was peering in the windows, a woman from Marie Claire Mexico came up to me and asked me if I would answer a couple of questions and then get my picture taken for the magazine. "Porque no?" I said. And she proceeded to ask me about femicide.

Now, her exact question was (and granted, this is based on my shoddy Spanish ability): What is your opinion of femicide?

Me (in Spanish): Can I answer in English?

Her (in Spanish): Sure.

Now I have to say here that I thought that if I spoke in my native tongue, I'd have a much better chance of expressing myself somewhat intelligently. But I should have stuck to the Spanish. I sounded like an idiot. And at least if I was speaking Spanish, the woman would have thought that the language barrier was giving me troubles. Instead, the fact that I had just lost about 356,067,965 brain cells because of the paint fumes in my apartment quickly became apparent.

Me: Well, I think that femicide is the killing of women. Just because they're women. And it can be done by husbands or boyfriends or strangers. It's really bad.

(Can you tell that a good part of my graduate education was spent studying violence against women? Yep. I have two masters degrees!)

Her (in Spanish): Do you know about the killings that happened up in-

Me (gesturing wildly, sort of pointing up to the sky)

Her: Juarez?

Me: Oh yeah. It's horrible. And as an American, I have to say that I'm a little shocked by the lack of intervention by the police.

Her (nodding and wishing she hadn't stopped me for this little interview): Well, thank you.
(pulling a big piece of paper and a permanent marker out of her bag) Can you write down something that represents your feelings about femicide? It can be a word or a sign. Anything that expresses your feelings.

Me (taking the paper and crouching down to write on the sidewalk): ANGER

(Am I really angry? A little. But most of the things I'm angry about have very little to do with the women who have been killed up north. My anger at the moment is directed at my husbands malfunctioning testicles and the patient care coordinator at the clinic in DC. But is "anger" the word that best describes how I feel about the stuff going on in Juarez? Not really. "Ignorant" would have worked. Or "Apathetic at the Moment" or even "Too Preocuppied with Other Things". But no, I wrote ANGER.

I held up my sign and the two photgrapher guys took my picture. The woman who owns the little boutique came outside all pissed off that her window was going to be in the picture. She shouted at the photographers about how they needed to ask her permission first. Of course, when she found out they were from Marie Claire, she calmed right down. Ooh, free publicity!

Did I mention that I was running a quick errand in the middle of my painting project? And that I was wearing a grungy gray t-shirt and jeans with holes in them and I had specks of paint on my face and in my hair? Did I mention, too, that while I held up my ANGER sign, I had a huge smile on my face for the camera? Oh, but I did.

They thanked me and said that the article would come out in September. So, if you happen to pick up a copy of the September issue of Marie Claire Mexico and some idiot gringa woman is quoted as saying that femicide is "really bad", well, that would be me.

bookish

If anyone's wondering, the bookshelf arrived at 11:45 yesterday morning. Not too bad, all things considered. And I got right to work with the paint job. My husband and I finished the final touches last night at around 11 with less bickering than you would imagine.

By the time we woke up this morning, the paint was dry and we moved the shelves from the entry way into the bedroom and its already full of books, looking like its been in that room since day one. We did a good job on it, I must say. And I did have my doubts at about 3:00 yesterday afternoon when it was only half done and my vision was blurred due to all of the paint fumes I'd inhaled. I'd post a picture, but it wouldn't do it justice.

I have to say, tackling that project made me wonder how on earth the people on shows like Trading Spaces and While You Were Out manage to redo entire rooms in a matter of a couple of days. It took almost 12 hours for me to paint a bookshelf! I didn't even have to make the thing! What if I had had to make curtains and paint the walls and make a funky headboard for the bed too?

Luckily I didn't. Because a good friend of mine is coming for a weekend visit in a couple of hours and there's no way in hell all that would have been done by the time I have to leave to pick her up from the airport.

But damn, if that bookshelf doesn't look good.

visitor

My period arrived this morning. It was a 26 day cycle for me and I was hoping to make it to cycle day 27, at least. Why? Because I was supposed to have my blood tests done on cycle day 3, you know, to confirm that I'm ovulating and all. But now, cycle day 3 is on a Sunday and the labs are closed which means that I'll have to wait a whole cycle before we know for sure.

The thing that really pisses me off is that if Ms. Patient Care Coordinator had ever gotten back to me, I could have had these tests done last month, but she never did. And by the time I got in touch with Nurse Helpful, this cycle was already underway.

I'm pretty sure that I'm ovulating. I've been charting since December and my temps rise and fall as they should, my cervical mucous does pretty much what its supposed to do on any given day, but Dr. Hope needs confirmation, my FSH levels and Estrodiol levels, my LH and TSH and Prolactin levels. And without the day 3 blood tests, its anyone's guess.

I'm hoping that this little setback won't mean that we have to wait that much longer to get started on whatever it is we're going to have to do to get me pregnant. But I fear that it will. A month at least. Damn.

Thursday, July 15, 2004

do it yourself

I am waiting for my new bookshelf to arrive. The guy who's making it said he'd bring it to the apartment at 11:00 today. It's 10:45 and I should know by now that this is Mexico and there's more than a good chance that the new bookshelf won't come at 11:00 or even today. Or even this week. Especially since I ordered it from a guy on the street, paid 100 pesos as a deposit, but didn't get any sort of receipt. But I'm holding out hope.

I designed the thing myself. A long low, two-shelfer for the bedroom. And I'm planning to paint it if it ever arrives. The paint and brushes are ready and waiting; the newspaper is already spread on the floor; every single window in the place is wide-open so I don't asphyxiate on the paint fumes. I'm ready. Already dressed in a grungy grey t-shirt and a pair of old shorts I'd forgotten I'd had.

So, the thing better come. And soon. I have a two-tone color scheme in mind and the coats will need to dry and did I mention I want to have the entire project finished by tonight so that I can put the new bookshelf in my bedroom tomorrow morning and fill it with all of the books laying in piles around the apartment before our weekend guest arrives tomorrow afternoon?

Yeah, I know, I'm ambitious. And more than a little naive.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

almost famous

I went to the casting call yesterday. I almost chickened out, but my husband encouraged me to go, saying that it might be fun. And he was right. It was. After a half hour cab ride that should have taken 10 minutes, I arrived at the tiny office of Shelley Producciones. There were about 3 other people waiting when I got there, 2 men and a woman. The guy behind the desk gave me a form to fill out and happily the top of the form explained why I was there. Apparently, I was auditioning to be a model for a one day photo shoot for a West Indian Rum adverstisement. If I got the gig, I'd be paid $4,000 for a days work and would be privy to seeing my face on billboards, posters and rum bottles all over Mexico for a whole year!

I had to write in my height and weight (and I lied a bit about the weight, dropping 3 kilos in less than a second), the color of my hair, skin, and eyes, my shirt size and my pants size (again I went down a size on the pants). And then, after maybe 6 minutes of waiting, I was called into the other room.

The guy in the little studio room was very friendly. Told me that my hair was perfect. He had asked me to take it out of its ponytail and bush it out afro-like which I was happy to do. He had me do a couple of pre-fab model poses which he filmed on video camera and then I said my name, gave him a left profile, a right profile, a little twirl and I was done. They'll call me and let me know, he said.

I wish the casting call had been a year ago when I was in top form for my wedding. Ten kilos lighter than I am right now (and that soul food in Savannah didn't help matters any). On Monday, my husband and I started Atkins again, but sadly, it'll take a while before I'm back in the pants that I've "outgrown" over the past year. And yet despite the thunder thighs and the beer belly, I'm crossing my fingers that the rum commercial people want someone with hair just like mine. There was no one else in the waiting room who looked like me- as I waited to get called, 2 more women came in, both very thin and tall, but with straight, straight hair. Though, I suppose they could wear wigs. Still, until I get the rejection call or until the day of the shoot passes (whichever comes first), I'm daring to dream that they will pick me and airbrush away my flab and bulges. I want to be on a billboard. I want to be on a bottle of rum. I want to make $4000 for a day's work.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

moving right along

Today is a good day.

After leaving a message on Ms. PC's voicemail yesterday, I wised up and decided to call Dr. Hope's office directly. I was put through to the voicemail of one of his nurses and reiterated my plea for some indication of how long it would be necessary for my husband and I to stick around in the DC area for our testing. Nurse Helpful e-mailed me back immediately with some questions about the tests we've already had done and this morning when I got home from the gym, she had already responded to my e-mail to her. So, it looks like I'm in for a battery of blood tests come day 3 of my next period, but at least I won't have to wait another full cycle after meeting with Dr. Hope at the end of the month. Things are moving along.

And in non-fertility news, at the gym today, the woman on the elliptical machine next to mine invited me to a casting call this afternoon. It seems she runs a production company and they're looking for West Indians. I'm not West Indian, but I took down the information anyway and am still debating whether or not I'll take the cab ride to the offices later today. The gig, whatever it may be, would pay $40,000 pesos which is a decent sum of money. I've got no acting experience or modeling experience or any experience related to any sort of performing whatsoever, but I also have plenty of time on my hands and nothing to lose.

Monday, July 12, 2004

always something there to remind me

I'm back.

My husband and I got back to Mexico late last night after a terribly fun trip. Savannah and Charleston are both beautiful cities and if you haven't been, I highly recommend a trip. We toured historic homes and museums, walked the streets, stuffed ourselves silly with all manner of soul food and fresh seafood, and got in some good shopping. It was good to get away. No, it was great to get away.

That said, it's also good to be back. True, I have a to-do list a mile long for today. But its mostly stuff like doing the laundry and re-stocking the refrigerator, and going to the gym to try to work off some of the eating I did while I was away. But I also have to call Ms. PC, the patient care coordinator at the clinic in DC, who still has not gotten in touch with us about our appointment at the end of this month. Arrrgh!

I tried, as promised, dear readers, to leave the infertility stuff at the door while I was away. And for the most part I succeeded. No teary discussions about sperm donors over our anniversary dinner, no blow-outs about why my husband doesn't seem as interested in all of this stuff as me. But, even though I tried to leave it behind, it managed to find me:

1. On the very first day of our trip, I picked up Town and Country magazine at the airport to read on the plane, only to discover an article on infertility.

2. On our last morning in Savannah, USA Today ran an article entitled "Fertility patients deserve to know the odds- and risks"

3. Driving out to Bonaventure Cemetary in Savannah, we heard an interview on NPR with a woman who had gone the sperm donor route and had all 4 of her insurance-paid-for IVF treatments fail.

4. The Ethicist column in yesterday's NY Times magazine featured a question from an infertile couple who wanted to know whether they should tell their child that they had used an egg donor.

5. And the clincher? In the movie on the plane home, "The Whole Ten Yards", the Bruce Willis character supposedly is "shooting blanks". Except, being Hollywood, he never has a test to confirm this suspicion and his wife ends up getting pregnant at the end of the movie.

But five reminders over 10 days isn't all that bad, I suppose. And while I read the articles, listened to the radio, and watched the movie on the plane, I managed not to obsess. And that's what vacation is all about.

Friday, July 02, 2004

leaving on a jet plane

I leave for my Romantic First Anniversary Southern Getaway in a matter of hours. My bags are packed, I'm ready to go . . .Looking forward to the nine (yes, 9) days that my husband and I will spend in romantic bliss touring the historical southern cities of Savannah and Charleston. If at all possible, I will check the infertility baggage at the gate and pray that the airline loses it- at least until we return to Mexico and I can once again spend seven hours a day online reading everything I can get my grubby little hands on.

The in-laws called last night to tell us that they had received our information packet from the DC clinic. We have a lot of our more important mail sent to their address as the Mexican postal service can be less than reliable. My husband has been having his mail sent to them since he first moved down here in 1992. And he doesn't have a problem with them opening up his bills and bank statements, knowing just how much he paid for a new pair of jeans, dinner out, groceries. And that would be fine- except now his bills are my bills too. So his parents are very aware of what our spending habits which makes me a little uncomfortable.

Anyway, they opened the packet from the clinic and read what was in it. At this early stage, my husband and I have decided (as much as we can without more information) that we're going to do the shared-risk program at the clinic. Which essentially means that we'll get six IVF cycles for the price of two. And if we don't bring a live baby home at the end of those six cycles, we get our money back.

We figure that, if by some miracles of miracles, it works on the first try, we'll be so thrilled that we won't care that we just lost $10,000. And if six cycles go by without a pregnancy, at least we'll have the money back to help pay for my sure-to-be-necessary stay in a mental hospital, or adoption, should it come to that.

Anyway, the in-laws saw the price of the shared-risk program and called us to ask us about it. "Does your insurance cover it?" Ummm, no. We're pretty much going to wipe out our savings, thank you very much. I think they were shocked at the cost which of course doesn't include the plane tickets we'll need to get to the clinic or the drugs we'll have to take or any of that other stuff that is usually included in the very fine print.

My mother-in-law told my husband (I can't talk to them about this stuff without pulling out a hunk or two of my hair) that the packet also included some forms for us to fill out. I think she wanted to read him the questions and write in his answers for him to save us from having to do it ourselves. But of course the questions were about our sexual histories- number of partners, kinds of contraceptives used, STDs- that kind of thing. And there is no way in hell I'm telling my mother-in-law how many people I've had sex with in my 31 years!

When it was clear that we weren't going to take the survey by phone, my mother-in-law asked if she should send the packet on to one of the hotels that we'll be staying at over our Romantic First Anniversary Southern Getaway. And I shouted "NO!" with a force that was probably unnecessary since I wasn't even on the phone with them. The last thing I want to do on my wedding anniversary is fill out forms about my sexual history and chronicle every pap smear I've had since I was 18. And I don't think my husband will feel particularly romantic after reading, in detail, the ins and outs of testicular biopsy. And so the packet will remain with my in-laws until we arrive in DC at the end of July to fill out the forms ourselves. They will no doubt, have read every last word of the information. But, hey, at least then they'll have a better understanding of what we're really about to undertake.

Anyway, T minus 4 hours and counting and I'm getting away from all of this. At least I'll try. And I promise dear readers, to fill you in on how well I managed to avoid the baby talk upon my return.

Thursday, July 01, 2004

doctor, doctor

I'm not on vacation yet, so I'm claiming my right to obsess a little while longer. Tomorrow at 3:15, I will relax. Right now, I need to vent.

I still haven't heard back from the patient-care coordinator at the clinic in DC. I spoke to her on the phone on Friday and she assured me she'd e-mail this week to let me know just how long we'll need to be in the states for our first visit(s) with Dr. Hope. When I spoke to her on Friday, she said we were an "unusual case" since we were traveling from so far to her beloved clinic and she wasn't sure what the protocol would be. I told her everything we know so far and tried to make it clear that we didn't want to travel 3000 miles only to give our medical histories and be told to come back in another month.

Okay, well, it just so happens that this clinic does have a protocol for out-of-state patients. It's written out in detail on their website. And despite Ms. Patient Care's protests, they typically will do an initial consultation by phone. And then they have the patient do lab tests with their local doctor. And then they make an appointment for that patient with the RE at the DC clinic. A full day visit. Where you meet with the nurses and the doctors and take the IVF class and talk to a financial counselor.

And of course, that's what I want. The full day visit. Not a mere ten minutes with Dr. Hope who will surely ask us questions we've already provided Ms. Patient Care with the answers to.

So I called Ms. PC yesterday to ask her about the out-of-state protocol that I saw online. And she wasn't there, so I left her a detailed message and asked her to call me back. Told her to e-mail me if she couldn't get through. I reiterated that we were coming from verrrry far away and that we already knew that my husband is without sperm. And I haven't heard from her yet. Okay, I realize its only been a day since my call. But its been almost a WEEK since I spoke to her last Friday.

Yesterday, I was further enlightened to the ins and outs of male factor infertility. The kind women on the resolve message board told me that we should see a urologist who specializes in fertility. That an RE can only do so much and usually works with a uro anyway in cases like ours. So this morning, I called up a highly recommended urologist who specializes in fertility and works in the DC area and made an appointment for my husband. For the day after our appointment with Dr. Hope.

When I called my husband to tell him about his new appointment, he asked why he had to see a urologist too. And what was going to happen at that appointment that was different than at the DC clinic. And I told him I have no idea since Ms. PC hasn't called me back yet. Last night I wanted him to call and make the appointment himself, but he said I should do it since I knew more about all this stuff. And okay, I do. But only because I take the time to read about it. If he visited the resolve website even once, the DC clinic website even once, he'd have a pretty good idea of what was going on himself! And how hard is it to call up a doctor and make an appointment? What do you really need to know about infertility to give your name, address and say "Yes. That date works just fine for me."?

The truth is, I'm not 100% sure why we have to see a urologist AND an RE. But I hope that between the two of them, we'll get some answers and maybe even start our way down the road to solving the problem. And since Ms. PC seems determined to keep me in the dark about what to expect, and my husband is in wait-and-see mode, I feel the need to take the bull by the horns and schedule appointments with whoever is willing to see us. If we end up having to cancel, we'll cancel. But seeing as we're pretty clueless right now, I'll take what I can get.

take me out to the ballgame (not)

We leave tomorrow for our romantic first anniversary southern getwaway. I just checked the weather in Savannah and Charleston and it looks like we'll be treated to scattered thunderstorms the entire time we're away. So much for the walking tour of Charleston's historic homes. I guess I'll pack the umbrellas.

As if the impending rains weren't disappointment enough, we're also without tickets to the Brave's game on Saturday. I guess we're not the only ones who think that a Saturday evening at the ballpark is a nice way to pass the time. I'm not even a big baseball fan, but there's something about going to a game. And I was really looking forward to the $50 hot dogs and $75 watered down beers. And I know my husband was happy about continuing the tradition of going to a game over our wedding weekend. Last year, it was the Portland Sea Dogs.

Still, despite the weather and the lack of tix for the game, I'm looking forward to getting away. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to let go of my little obsession with fertility for a few days and enjoy the time with my husband. We'll have plenty of time to make ourselves crazy when we get back.