gringa diaries

early

2006-08-01T04:01:00.000-07:00

No time for a real update*, but I had to share this:

Rite Aid is ready for Halloween! I kid you not. Was walking by the local Rite Aid last night and was shocked to see their window full of goblins and ghouls, pumpkins and spiderwebs.

*We hired a nanny. I started work. We're moving out of our current apartment on Friday and into our new one God knows when. (So we're essentially homeless. ) Henry has a tooth. Jack is up on his hands and knees trying to crawl. I'm still 25 lbs away from my pre-pregnancy weight- 10 months later! It's supposed to be 103 degrees today.

time to get a second crib

2006-04-28T05:57:00.000-07:00

When I went to check on the babies a couple of mornings ago, Henry had Jack in a headlock. With his feet!

They love sharing a crib*, but are becoming more mobile by the minute. Not to mention bigger and stronger. I think it's in everyone's best interest if we get another crib.

And move it out of my bedroom.

The brother to brother chit-chat is adorable. But not a 5 in the morning.

*I know this because even though my children are too young to actually speak the words, "we love sharing a crib," I am their mommy. And Mommy's intuition is the best.

wrong answer

2006-04-20T11:20:00.000-07:00

Taking Henry and Jack out for a walk in the double stroller is a bit like taking a walk with a movie star. Or how I imagine taking a walk with a movie star might go. Some people gawk and stare. Other folks try to play it cool and simply nudge whomever they're with and raise an eyebrow in our direction. They may even whisper "Look. Twins!" on occasion. And for the most part, these people don't bother me.

But then there are the autograph seekers- those people who feel that Henry and Jack (and I, by extension) are public property and who are certain that we have nothing better to do than to have a chit chat about the joys of multiples. These are the folks who ask the questions I have come to dread: Are they identical? Do twins run in your family? Where did he get those blue eyes?

The inevitable question, no matter that both boys are dressed from head to toe in blue and blue, is "are they a boy and a girl?" And today, dear readers, when asked "Male? Female?" by a sweet old man with a strong accent, I answered, "A boy and a girl". It was only after the old man said "Good, good," did I realize my mistake.

I couldn't very well correct myself. I mean, what kind of mother doesn't even know the gender of her own kids? But I can't help but wonder what kind of response I would have gotten if I had said "Two boys".

"Oh. Not so good. Boy, girl is better."

the dumbest question ever asked

2006-04-13T06:22:00.000-07:00

her: So, are they identical? fraternal?

me: Fraternal

her: Were they identical when they were born?

me: Um, no. They've always been fraternal.

milestone report

2006-04-06T07:47:00.000-07:00

It's been a banner week in the Gringa household. First, a full-night's sleep and then this:

Henry rolled over yesterday. From his back to his tummy.

Now, it only happened once. And chances are he won't repeat this particular trick ever again. But it was pretty damn cool.

Oh. That sleeping through the night thing? A complete and utter fluke. Last night I had the pleasure of getting up at 3, 4, 5, and 6. Let me tell you there's nothing like waking up every hour on the hour and returning to bed only to find that the dog has stolen your spot.

yahoooooo!

2006-04-05T05:55:00.000-07:00

Both boys slept through the night last night. I said: BOTH boys slept through the night last night. I got to sleep in until 6:00 this morning.

Hallelujah!

It was my first full night's sleep since October 30th. Not that I'm keeping track or anything.

six months old

2006-04-04T06:32:00.000-07:00

happy half-birthday, jack and henry!

anyone still there?

2006-03-30T06:03:00.000-08:00

It's been a dog's age, I know. Can we pretend the reason I haven't written in over a month is that I lead a fantastically busy life and between the book club meetings, gallery openings, brunches with friends, cocktail parties, and let's not forget playgroups, I haven't had a spare moment to cobble a couple of sentences together?

I cannot tell a lie. I do not belong to a book club and haven't read anything other than trashy chick lit since my children were in utero. The last gallery opening I attended? No lie? I think it was in New Orleans, circa 1997. I did manage a one-on-one brunch with a dear friend back in January and I've been known to throw back a couple of cocktails in the privacy of my own living room once the kiddies are safely in bed. Playgroups, however? Every week without fail. My Friday playgroup is my saving grace. The thing I most look forward to each week. When did I become this person for whom the most anticipated social event of the week revolves around drooling infants laying on blankets while new moms snack on pretzels and chocolate donuts while we compare notes on pediatricians and nursing bras?

It's not going to be this way for long.

I'm going back to work. Not to the job I last posted about oh so many moons ago. When I showed up at the interview for that gig, I was told that it was only a part-time position and that the pay was abominably low. So even if I had gotten the offer, I wouldn't have taken it. So there.
No, my new job has a semi-fancy title and a bit of prestige and I think it will be challenging and interesting, but not so emotionally draining that I'll have nothing left for my family at the end of the day. Or so I tell myself. We'll see.

I still don't have a start date since the bureaucracy that is human resources has yet to call me to make my appointment to fill out all the boring paperwork required of all new employees. And to tell the truth, I don't mind so much. The delay on their end just means an extended maternity leave for me. I'm secretly hoping that they won't get their act together until May!

That said, I am excited to go back to work. I honestly think that I'm just not the kind of woman who is cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. I don't have the patience. I don't have the creativity. I tend to feel bored and distracted more often than I care to admit. And then I feel guilty for feeling bored and distracted.

I'm hoping that by spending less than 24 hours a day with my children and my husband, I will be a better mother and wife to them. In my wildest dreams, my arrival home from work each evening will feel like coming down the stairs on Christmas morning. And weekends will have that glorified special status once again as opposed to being just two more days of the same old same old.

I am well aware that I am romanticizing the life of a Work Outside the Home Mom, just as I used to romanticize the Stay at Home option. And I know, too that I am rationalizing my return to work if only to make this decision less guilt inducing. But I have to do what I have to do. I just hope that this truly is what is best for my family, my children, for me. At least for now it feels right.

opportunity knocks

2006-02-20T04:33:00.000-08:00

I have a job interview on Wednesday. For a job I really, really, really want if they're willing to pay me enough money to make up for the guilt I feel for leaving my babies at home in the care of someone other than me. Which, by the way, wasn't supposed to happen until this summer at the earliest, but preferably next Fall when most major baby milestones (sitting up, rolling over, standing, eating solid foods, the first teeth, and possibly even walking and first words) would have already happened on my watch and wouldn't be events I'd be hearing about second hand.

That said, as soon as I saw the posting for this job (which has a kick-ass title, by the way), I fired off a cover letter and sent off my resume before you could say "A Perfect Madness". And when I got a reply a mere 4 hours later saying they were "delighted" with my resume and would I come in for an interview next week, I put the boys in their bouncy chairs, told my husband to hold down the fort, and ran off to Ann Taylor to buy a new suit faster than you could say "nine months on, nine months off".

So, Wednesday is the day. Two more days to internally debate the whole working mom vs. stay at home mom thing. Two days to figure out how easily I'll be bought. I'll let you know how it goes.

uurp!

2006-02-14T06:06:00.000-08:00

Otis the pug loves spit-up. He loves the smell of it, the look of it, the taste of it. Lucky for him, he has 2 very spit-uppity babies living in his house so there are plenty of opportunities for him to get a taste. My floors have never been so clean!

Otis' new spit-up related trick? When he sees that the babies are about to be burped or hears the uuurp sound, he runs right over to catch whatever may be coming his way. He's so well conditioned that the sound of a baby's bubble will wake him from a nap.

Of the twins, Jack seems to beOtis' favorite and I'm willing to bet money it's because Jack has Henry beat in terms of frequency and volume of spit up.

blizzard 2006

2006-02-12T12:19:00.000-08:00

Daddy and Jack

Otis

Mommy and Henry

quickie

2006-01-30T07:05:00.000-08:00

No time to write these days. My husband is out of the country for 2 weeks and despite the fact that both my mother and mother-in-law are here to help me out with the boys, I feel more stressed, exhausted, and put out than I normally do.

Still, I've managed to take a couple of photos of my guys.

They are smiling and laughing and talking like you wouldn't believe.

three things: one bad, two good.

2006-01-19T07:07:00.000-08:00

1. ALTE (all-tee) is medicalese for Apparent Life Threatening Episode. And one of the criteria is that the parent is scared that his or her their child might die.

I learned this little fact last week at the emergency room (of all places) where we ended up taking Henry after he experienced an ALTE of his very own.

Here's what happened: It was an unseasonably warm day here in NYC, and I took the babies out for a walk in the park across the street from my house. We got home about an hour and a
half before my baby and me yoga class was scheduled to begin and I put Henry in the crib so that I could feed Jack. The plan was to then feed Henry, pack a bag, change into exercise clothes, and head off to class with Henry. But while I was feeding Jack, I heard Henry crying in his crib. I went in to look at him and he was foaming at the mouth, making gagging noises, and had turned a frightening shade of blue. I yelled for my husband (who happened to be home) who ran in and scooped up Henry. By then, Henry had started breathing again, albeit irregularly. And he had gone from blue to pale. I called the visiting nurse service, not certain if this warranted a call to 911 (after all, he was breathing again) who told me to call my pediatrician. The pediatrician said to bring him right in and without restocking the diaper bag or putting jackets on the boys, we headed for the doctor's office.

Henry was seen right away by a doctor (not our usual doc who was off that day), but another woman who seemed prefectly nice and concerned, but not alarmed. She heard our story, examined Henry, and sent us off to the ER for a series of tests "just to be sure".

At the ER, Henry was examined by a million different doctors, we told the story of the episode at least 25 more times, and the attending on duty told us that he needed to be admitted. The most likely cause of the ALTE? Either RSV, reflux, or an unknown factor. Poor little Henry had to have blood drawn and a mucous culture to rule out a viral cause. He had to have an EKG to make sure the ALTE wasn't cardiac related. And finally he was admitted.

Henry and I spent the night in the hospital. He slept through the night ( a full eight hours!) in an institutional crib- the type you might find in an orphanage. I slept fitfully on a pull out sofa made up with surprising soft hospital linens. In the morning, Henry and I were wheeled to radiology for his head ultrasound. In the afternoon, a neuro tech came by to glue 100 little electrodes to his head to monitor for seizure activity. Henry was visited by med students, by residents, by carology fellows, and neurology specialists. And everysingle one of them asked to hear the story, listened to his heart and lungs, checked his reflexes and then pronounced him seemingly healthy and normal.

When we were discharged on Friday evening, the diagnosis was reflux and Henry was sent home with prescriptions for Zantac and Floven (a steroid for his lungs). My gut feeling tells me that even if Henry does have reflux (and he probably does), the reflux wasn't the cause of the ALTE. Still, I dutifully give him his meds twice a day, felling guilty as he gags and cries thru the whole routine. And I run at the mere hint of cry, praying that I will never ever find him blue in the face again.

2. I've started a playgroup. Well more like a new mommy group since the babies involved are too young to actually play. Our 1st meeting is tomorrow afternoon and I'll let you know how it goes.

3. Jack's first non-reflexive smile. He smiled for his dad yesterday while Henry and I were at the doctor for his follow-up appointment. And then for me this morning when I tickled his cheeks and cooed at him.

This picture isn't the best- my camera wasn't quick enough, but you get the idea.

Edited to add:

He just gets better with practice.

grounds for divorce?

2006-01-12T06:44:00.000-08:00

Over the past few nights, my husband has taken to kicking me in the middle of the night when one of the babies starts fussing to be fed. I called him on it this morning and he denied it. I graciously allowed that maybe he did it subconsciously in his sleep. And then? He said no, that wasn't possible because he was actually awake this morning and wanted to kick me, but didn't. Just lay there pretending to be asleep to see how long it would take me to attend to hungry little Jack.

Arrrrrgh!

Would it really kill him to feed a baby in the middle of the night? I mean, really. Isn't that why God invented bottles and formula?

knock on wood

2006-01-11T09:36:00.000-08:00

We've instituted a new bedtime ritual in the gringa household that goes a little something like this:

Bath
Massage (with lavender& vanilla baby lotion)
Pajamas
Bottle
Story
Swaddle
Pacifier
Lights out.

And all the while, lullabies play softly in the background.

From start to finish, the whole thing takes about a half hour. As soon as baby #1 gets out of the tub, my husband begins the massage and I bathe baby #2.

We've only done this for two nights so far and so while I'm terrified to jinx it, I also feel compelled to announce that Henry slept for 9 hours last night!! In a row!! And Jack only woke up once.

Please, God, let this continue.

confessions of a frazzled new twin mom

2006-01-06T06:33:00.000-08:00

1. I gave up on trying to breastfeed Henry and Jack weeks ago. When they were in the NICU, I pumped every 3 hours on the dot and refused to allow a drop of formula to pass their lips. But after they were both home, there was not as much time to sit and pump and they weren't good enough at nursing to get all of their meals at the breast. So now? They're 99.9999999% formula fed. Except for Henry who gets to comfort nurse every once in a blue moon if he's really fussy. Like yesterday at Baby and Me yoga.

2. I've given up on keeping pacifiers and bottles separate. If one of the babies is hungry or needs a non-nutritive sucking device, I reach for the closest bottle or binky- I don't care whose mouth has been on it last, as long as it's not the dog's.

3. I forgot to pack clean diapers and spit-up cloths to take to Baby and Me yoga yesterday. The result? A sopping wet Henry fussing through the 2nd half of class (See #1). The worst part? I didn't even excuse myself to go home and change him. And I wouldn't let my yoga instructor hold him while I tackled a pose that needed both hands because I didn't want her to know that he was wet.

4. I let both boys hang out in the swing and vibrating chair for extended periods of time, so that I can cook or eat, or get dressed. They are always strapped in, but sometimes only semi-attended to. I mean, I'm close enough to see them, but not close enough to touch them.

5. I haven't given either of them a real bath in weeks. They get their faces, necks, and hands washed daily. And their diaper area, too. But it feels like too much work to strip them down entirely and put them in their little tub. They get so darn slippery!

6. In order to cut down on trips to do laundry, I've upped my threshold for clothes covered in spit-up (theirs and mine). If it's not soaked through and we're not going outside, it stays on.

My new year's resolutions? To be a more prepared, more attentive, and more hygenic mom in 2006. Really.

three months old: a progress report.

2006-01-04T09:30:00.000-08:00

Henry and Jack are three months old today. And they are about 56 times bigger than they were when I took that picture of them in their snowsuits. Okay, not quite. But they are growing.

Henry had a doctor's appointment this morning and his doctor was quite impressed with his size. He's now a whopping 10 pounds, 5 ounces and according to the little growth chart, that's right where a below-average baby should be at 3 months. He's finally on the charts! Prior to this visit, he didn't even make it to the below average line. And let's not even mention Jack's sub par performance in the growth department, except to say that it is sub par no longer.

Jack finally outgrew his preemie clothes a couple of weeks ago and both boys are
actually filling out their 0-3's. Henry will be ready to move on to 3-6's in a couple of weeks, I'm sure. But for now, I'm enjoying dressing them like twins for as long they're the same size.

Still no smiles other than the reflexive ones that make me crazy with anticipation for the days they'll grin on purpose. But they look around and fixate on stuff: my face, their mobile, stuffed animals, each other. And they grab on tight to things and don't want to let go: my face, stuffed animals, each other.

Henry has learned to sleep for 6 or 7 hours at a time during the night and I am anxiously awaiting the day that Jack decides to join him in the land of nod. Until then, I should be grateful that they both nap well and that Jack only wakes once at around 4 am during the nights.

I fall in love with these little guys a little more each day. Who knew I could love them this much?
The smell of their little heads gets me each time. I want to bottle that scent and carry it with me always.

merry, merry. happy, happy

2005-12-24T07:45:00.000-08:00

jack is home

2005-11-09T15:24:00.000-08:00

We picked him up this morning and its been non-stop ever since, so please forgive me for not writing a longer entry.

henry comes home tomorrow!

2005-10-30T19:15:00.000-08:00

And there's lots to do to get ready for him.

Mommies: any last minute advice?

progress

2005-10-21T07:04:00.000-07:00

Last night when I went to the NICU to visit the boys, Henry was out of his isolette and in a bassinet! At first I didn't even realize that he was my baby. Thought maybe they had moved him to another part of the room. But the nurse on duty assured me that the bundle in the bassinet was indeed Henry and told me that he's "moving up". Music to my ears.

I think he'll be coming home soon. "Soon" being a relative term meaning sometime before Thanksgiving. But the evidence is this: He's already 4 lbs 3 oz. He's on full feeds (38 ccs of milk every 3 hours). I was taught how to give him a sponge bath last night (trickier than it looks). On Monday, he's going to start nippling (learning to drink from a bottle and a breast). And he's out of that damned isolette!

I unplugged all of his monitor wires and carried him over to Jack's isolette and the 3 of us just sat and chit chatted for a couple of hours. Heaven!

So now little Jack needs to take a cue from his big brother so that he can get on the road to coming home too. Oooh, I can't wait!

two weeks old

2005-10-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

The twins are two weeks old today. I can hardly believe that I was being prepped for surgery at this very minute exactly two weeks ago. And that now I am a mommy. A mommy with a full two weeks experience in the mothering practices of the NICU.

I have been doing my part in taking care of the boys. I don't do as much as the nurses which leaves me with a strange and guilty feeling, but I do change diapers, wash faces, take temperatures, hold hands, rock and cuddle, read and sing. It's motherhood light on the caretaking parts, heavy on the emotion. Bonding with Henry and Jack has taken a bit longer than I anticipated, but we're all getting used to each other and falling a little more in love with each other everyday. At least I am. I shouldn't put words into their mouths. But I can say for certain that they recognize my voice and touch. Both boys open their eyes when I greet them through the porthole in their isolette. Neither of them cry when I slowly and clumsily change their diapers or attempt to swaddle them in a hospital issue receiving blanket. Not so when the nurses (as kind and as gentle and as efficient as they may be) do the very same tasks. It may be a small thing, not crying for mommy, but it means a lot to me.

Both Henry and Jack are doing well. The big news yesterday was that since both of them are off of supplemental oxygen, have no more IVs, and are eating like horses (okay, miniature ponies), they have been moved from the blue team to the green team. Which means they are not considered sick, just small. To use the NICU lingo, Henry and Jack are feeders and growers. They're essentially hanging out in the hospital eating and gaining weight. In a couple of weeks we'll teach them how to drink from a bottle, from my breast. My husband and I will practice giving them baths in a tub, dressing them. We're moving, they're moving in the right direction. Towards coming home.

In the meantime, I have to log in a few more sessions with the breast pump each day to accomodate the growing appetites of my growing boys.

early arrivals

2005-10-12T14:37:00.000-07:00

Henry and Jack are here!

They made their way into this world 10 weeks early- on October 4th, at 9:25 and 9:27, respectively. 10 weeks early!

On Friday the 30th (the day before my scheduled baby shower), I went to my OB for what I thought would be a routine blood pressure check, but was sent right to the hospital by ambulance. My blood pressure was sky high. I was retaining fluids like crazy and was immediately diagnosed with preeclampsia.

Fast forward a couple of days (past the scary vaginal bleeding and dramatic drop in blood pressure) to early Tuesday morning when I woke up unable to breathe. A chest x-ray showed fluid in my lungs. My almost empty catheter bag showed that what was going in wasn't coming out- signs of kidney malfunction. I was delivered by c-section just a few hours later. Luckily, I'd been given steroid shots upon my admittance so that the boys lungs would be strong. And they are.

So the boys in the NICU and will be there for several weeks. It was hard to leave the hospital without them, but I know that they're getting the best care possible. And the silver lining in this cloud is that I can sleep through the night and can recover from surgery so that when they do come home, I am caught up on my rest and am no longer sore.

Despite their small size (Henry was 3 lbs 8 oz. and Jack was 2 lbs 9 oz. at birth), both boys are doing well. Eating a bit more each day, breathing on their own. We visit them often and read to them, sing to them, talk to them, hold them and love to have our fingers squeezed by their tiny hands.

It's a bit surreal to no longer be pregnant. To suddenly be a mother. To suddenly be a mother to 2 little ones who aren't ready to come home. But My boys are little cuties (if I do say so myself), already with distinct personalities and I look forward to watching them grow.

just not that into me

2005-09-20T09:05:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I met with a potential doula recommended to us by the woman whose apartment we are subletting. We liked the doula a lot, but weren't 100% sure that we wanted to use a doula at all since with twins, there is a 50% chance that I will have to have a c-section and an almost 100% chance that I will have to have an epidural.

Anyway, when we said goodbye to the doula, she let us know that her schedule was filling up and that we should let her know in a week or so whether or not we wanted to work with her. I definitely did. My husband wasn't so certain (for the reasons mentioned above). So he and I talked about it for a few days, went to our first childbirth class, and ultimately decided that yes- we wanted to use her.

I called her last Monday (a day before the week deadline she gave us) and then tried to wait patiently for a return call. When I didn't hear back from her in a couple of days, I sent her an e-mail. Still nothing. She called last night to tell us that she's booked. She can't work with us. That after our meeting a couple of weeks ago, she had the impression that we weren't going to go with a doula after all.

I'm so disappointed. Probably more than I should be. She did give us the contact info of the two women she works with. And I do still have about 10 weeks until the twins' ETA. So there's still time to find a replacement. But I can't help but feel rejected. I've been pursuing this woman since late June and (perhaps I should have taken this as a sign) since late June, she has been slow to return my calls and e-mails, but when she finally does get around to calling me back, she's been so apologetic and nice.

And I fell for her. I really did. Though now I am second guessing myself thinking that it's not that her schedule is full, it's that she didn't love my husband and I. Doesn't care whether or not we have labor support at our birth. She'd rather have an uninterrupted Thanksgiving holiday than spend it giving me back rubs and reminding me to breathe.

I called and left a message for one of her cronies last night. Will wait exactly 3 days for a call back before I give up on their little enterprise and take my business somewhere else. The only question is: where?

stuck

2005-09-12T14:25:00.000-07:00

Does anyone out there have a fool-proof way to remove a ring that's become lodged on a swollen finger?

Stupidly, I waited a couple of weeks too long to take off my wedding and engagement rings and now they are threatening to cut off all circulation to my left ring finger.

I've tried cold water and soap. I've tried twisting and I've tried pulling. I'm starting to think that the only thing that will work is cutting the rings off. (Though I have to be honest, I am not completely opposed to that idea. Am thinking it could mean an upgraded wedding band as a "labor day" present if I play my cards right.)

Anyway, hurry with your advice and suggestions. I figure I have a couple more days before my finger turns blue and falls off.

Baby A loves Haagen Dasz (just like his mommy)

2005-09-07T08:49:00.000-07:00

I had an ultrasound yesterday. A full anatomical scan of both babies. In addition to seeing each of their 10 perfect fingers and toes, their 4 chamber hearts, their stomachs and gallbladders, kidneys, and umbilical cords, we also learned that Baby A can kick Baby B's ass.

Baby A measured a whopping 2 pounds 6 ounces. And despite the fact that I was only 26 weeks, 3 days at the scan, he looked as though he was a full week older than that. Quite mature for his age, that Baby A.

In the other corner, Baby B weighed in at (a not too shabby) 1 pound 15 ounces. His brother was kicking him in the head- laughing all the while (or so it appeared to us. His mouth was wide open and I swear it looked like he had a smile on his face.)

Both the doctor and the ultrasound technician assured us that both babies are within normal size limits for their gestational age- and that their organs and skeletons look good.

I'm just wondering if there's a way I can make an express delivery of McDonald's fries and a chocolate cone from Mr. Softie straight to little Baby B. I'd like him to have a fighting chance against his big brother.

sooooo big

2005-08-26T14:48:00.000-07:00

I have officially outgrown my maternity clothes. The t-shirts ride up over my big belly. The pants with panels squeeze me too tight and the ones without creep down inch by inch with every step I take. Only my beloved LARGE yoga pants that fell off me when I got them at week 11 still fit. But for how long? For how long?

According to the scale at my doctor's office, I weigh a whopping 185 pounds. That's quite a bit more than where I started out. And the scary part is I have 3 more months to go. I'm not sure what I'll wear or how I'll haul my big ass and even bigger belly around. It's exhausting.

I did do a little shopping today. I had to. I can't wear those yoga pants every day (though I do wear them almost that often) and I nearly suffocated myself wearing my LARGE (but really too small) jeans yesterday. So, I caved in and bought a skirt and a pair of pants that actually fit and feel comfortable (for now). And that I think can work for both Summer and Fall as long as I can fit into them.

I really hope these boys are as big as my tummy would have me believe. They're certainly active. Wish my husband was here to see them poking my belly from the inside with their little feet, fists, elbows. It's amazing to watch.

I just I hope I don't pop.

long, hot crazy summer

2005-08-23T12:05:00.000-07:00

To all of you who have posted or sent me e-mails expressing your concern for my well-being, I thank you. I really didn't mean to make anyone worry- it's been a hectic couple of months and I just haven't had the time to check-in much less write a coherent entry, but I promise to be better from now on.

That said. . .

I am no longer living in Mexico. Packed up the apartment and the husband and the dog and left on July 26th for the good old US of A. We spent a lovely week in Maine with my mother stuffing ourselves silly on lobster and fried clams, corn on the cob, taking the dog to the beach every morning at low tide, hitting the outlet and antique stores and generally having a restful and relaxing time before driving down to hot and humid New York City to our new apartment, our new home.

I don't miss anything about Mexico yet. Maybe the weather. My big belly and ridiculously swollen ankles make any excursion out of the apartment more work than its worth. But my husband is away for 3 weeks- back in Mexico for work and so it is up to me and me alone to walk the dog, buy the groceries, take out the trash and do the dishes. The errands and the heat tire me out and I find myself in bed by 9 every night, too tired to even read myself to sleep.

Today I am 24 weeks and 3 days pregnant. The boys (yes, they are both boys. oh boy. oh boy) are moving around like crazy. I imagine them practicing their karate chops and long jumps inside my uterus. I've been so bad about recording their progress (that's what I get for neglecting my blog) so I have no idea when I felt that very first flutter on the inside (sometime in July) or when the kicks and pushes were first able to be felt from the outside (sometime in early August?) and so I wonder what I will record in the baby albums if I ever find one that I like.

Am spending my days with a phone cradled between my ear and shoulder, my hands perched on the keyboard researching childbirth classes, diaper services, adding things to my registry. I know that there is still plenty of time before the boys are due to arrive, but I am feeling anxious, unsettled. I 'm terrified that I will be put on bedrest and all of these things that I have to do will be undone and the babies will arrive without a place to sleep, a way to get home from the hospital, with not a stitch of clothing to wear. Completely irrational, I know. Even more so since we already have a closet full of baby stuff given to us by friends, neighbors, relatives. We have toys, bibs, clothes, bedding, a swing, a crib. So whether I register or not. Whether I make it to my shower or not- the babies will be/ are already well provided for.

And the good news is- there's really no reason to suspect that I will have to do the bedrest thing. At least not yet. I had my first appointment with my NYC OB a couple of weeks ago and everything looks good. A huge PHEW! since my pre-natal care in Mexico left something to be desired. But that's another story.

Suffice to say, I am settling into the new apartment, am thrilled to be back in Manhattan (despite the ridiculous temperatures), and am anxiously awaiting the return of my husband so that we can pick out a coffee table together.

16w3d

2005-06-28T14:49:00.000-07:00

We had the ultrasound last night and found out that one of the twins is definitely a boy! Baby number two was a little bit shy and squirmy, though the ultrasound tech thinks she's a girl. So, if that was correct, then my mommy's intuition was correct- I'm pregnant with one of each!

The babies seem to be doing fine. We saw their little spines. We saw their tiny hearts beating. We saw their little arms and legs kicking and waving. It was quite amazing!

We probably won't have the next ultrasound until we are back in New York, so it'll be awhile before we know the identity of the second twin. But in the meantime, we are happy that they seem to be developing normally, that they are both busy and healthy.

13w2d

2005-06-06T14:19:00.000-07:00

I am happy to report that made it to the 12 week milestone with very little fanfare. That is to say, as much as I complain about my fatigue and queasiness and growing belly- I know that I've had it easy compared with a lot of folks. And the best part is, that since I hit that magical week 12, my sense of smell is a little less acute, my nausea is gone, and I have a tad more energy (I'm able to stay up until 9:30 now instead of carshing at 8:00).

We had our 2nd OB appointment on Saturday morning and in true pregnant woman fashion, I got the time wrong. My brain has definitely turned to mush. But happily, we were able to hear both heartbeats thumping away at 140 bpm and 148 bpm respectively. A bit fast, my OB said, but nothing to worry to about. And I was just so relieved to hear those little corazons at all, that the fact they were a tad too excited didn't faze me.

Ultrasound number 3 is scheduled for the 27th and my doctor seems to think we might be able to find out the babies' sexes at that point. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but am not holding my breath. I will be happy to see the little ones onscreen again. I've missed looking at them. And the video we have from the 7 week ultrasound just seems soooooo six weeks ago.

Oh, and did I happen to mention that the hubby and I (and the twins and Otis F.) are moving back to New York this summer? We are. In 6 weeks to be exact- so there's lots to do on that front as well- namely find a maternal fetal medicine specialist covered by my insurance, find an apartment that fits a family of four and that we can afford, pack up the stuff we're taking with us, sell the stuff we're not, and convince little Otis to crawl into his travel carrier for the trip back home.

For all of the complaining I've done about Mexico, now that it's time to leave, I am getting a bit sentimental about my three years here. But then again, I am more than ready to return to NYC. To go home.

10w4d

2005-05-18T17:16:00.000-07:00

I am ti-red. So ti-red. I knew to expect fatigue once I got pregnant, but nothing like this. And so I haven't been blogging in a while. Am just too damn exhausted by the time I get home from work and walk the dog and check my e-mail. That, and I don't really have anything all that interesting to report.

I'm not complaining here, just stating the facts. In addition to feeling half-dead all day and every day no matter how much sleep I get the night before, I am also sporting a tummy. My friends who know that I am pregnant assure me that it looks like baby. I'm not as convinced. I think I just look fat. And if I do, it wouldn't be all that surprising- despite the fact that I am quite queasy most days, I am also quite famished and so I eat, eat, eat my way through my days. Miraculously, I've only gained 2 kilos so far (that's 4.4 pounds). Though my doctor did threaten to put me on a diet at my next visit if I didn't slow down. She seemed to think I'd gained 4 kilos in 8 weeks. Impossible and not true. She never took my baseline weight and went by what I told her. My scale says that I gained 2 kilos and I'm sticking with that story. So there.

Still, my pants don't lie and they are t-i-g-h-t! Thank goodness the maternity clothes I ordered are en route to Mexico as we speak (via my husband who is in the States on business). They arrive tonight and not a moment too soon.

The next OB visit is in 3 weeks. On June 4th. I'm hoping that we'll be able to hear the babies' heartbeats on the doppler by then. All we could hear at the last visit was the placenta.

It's strange to say this, but I do miss the constant trips and contact with my RE's office. I feel so on my own now- monthly visits. What if something goes wrong in between now and then and I don't even realize it? That is my worst nightmare.

But I am trying to stay sane and get ready for these babies. Did I already mention I think that it's a girl and a boy? Won't know anything until that magical ultrasound, of course. But I do have this hunch. I can't wait until we know for sure.

7w6d

2005-04-29T08:17:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday afternoon, my husband and I went for our second ultrasound appointment. Our two little beans were still there, hearts all a-flutter. I had been driving my husband crazy since the first ultrasound- convinced that something had gone wrong. Not that I had any real reason for thinking such a thing. I have a feeling I'll be nervous about this pregnancy until the babies are eighteen years old and heading off to college. But I am trying my best to take one day at a time and enjoy it for what it is. Easier said than done.

So, we're slowly outing ourselves as future parents to friends and family. The people who don't know that we did IVF all ask whether twins run in the family and wonder how long we were trying. The folks that know about IVF are thrilled (as we are) that we succeeded on the first try and are getting two for the price of one.

My mother has already picked out sweaters and buntings to knit and quilts to make. (She's handy like that.)

I am starting to feel more pregnant every day. Part of it is the fact that I am both starving and queasy every moment that I am awake and so I am eating through the nausea (at times with more success than others) . I am also exhausted and find no relief no matter how many naps I can squeeze in during an afternoon. My belly is growing, but that is more to do with all the food I am shoveling down my throat trying to nourish the little ones and less to do with the little ones who are right now only about an inch long.

I am convinced they are a boy and a girl. That the boy is the one closer to the top of my uterus, that the girl is the one on her side. Time will tell if I am right.

So everything is fine. So far. I am hoping that the end of trimester one will bring some sense of relief. Only a month to go!

two for one

2005-04-15T06:29:00.000-07:00

5w6d

I had my first ultrasound yesterday. And before the technician could even point them out, I saw the two sacs. Twins! We're having twins!

Too early to hear the heartbeats, but we will go back in two more weeks to look at the little guys again and hopefully hear those little hearts thumping away. In the meantime, we have photos to look at again and again. And a video. My babies are only 1.5 mm long, but they star in their own video!

weekend update

2005-04-09T09:25:00.000-07:00

It looks like I'm still pregnant. Five weeks and 0 days pregnant, to be exact. My second beta came back at 2453 taken exactly a week after the first. I'm told those numbers are good.

I have to say- I don't feel pregnant. Whatever that is supposed to mean. My breasts are a little more tender than usual, but I can still sleep on my stomach and I can take a shower with the water turned out full blast without bursting into tears. And the queasiness is gone. I do have some cramping, which serves the sole purpose of convincing me that the next time I go to the bathroom, my underwear will be covered in blood. Basically, my only "real" symptom is fatigue. I am so tired. More than tired, exahusted really. But I have my doubts as to whether that is because my body is working hard to create new life or because my little puppy picked up a bad habit of waking up to bark every few hours in the middle of the night.

I don't think I'll be convinced of this pregnancy thing until I have my first ultrasound and can see that little critter (critters) in there for myself. Better yet, if I can actually recognize what I am seeing as a future human being and not just a grayish blob.

I'm trying to enjoy this. Really, I am. Just not too much. Don't want to be disappointed later if all doesn't go as planned.

and the results are. . .

2005-04-03T19:57:00.000-07:00

Of course this had to be the month that the phone bill didn't get paid and so our phone service was shut off this weekend which meant I couldn't post my news.

I HPT-ed again on Friday evening and got another second line.

We called the fertility clinic where my blood had been drawn and found out that my beta results wouldn't be ready until Saturday morning. Originally, I had been told after 6 on Friday, but since this is Mexico, I have to say I wasn't too surprised at the delay.

So I remained cautiously excited, but needless to say did not get much sleep at all on Friday night.

It didn't help any that we were scheduled to go to a 1 year old's birthday party on Saturday and I didn't know how to get out of it should my Beta be negative, given that my husband is the godfather to the child.

We went to the clinic first thing on Saturday morning and I got my little envelope. My HCG was 65. My RE told me that he liked to see numbers greater than 50. And last time I checked 50 was bigger than 65, so I was happy. Very happy. Especially since the blood was drawn a day early.

I am allowing myself to call myself pregnant. At least to my husband and to my mom (called her with the news last night). And I will go back to have more blood drawn tomorrow to make sure my HCG levels are rising as they should.

I have been feeling a little queasy and crampy. I just hope those are good signs.

I guess I'll know more on Wednesday (when I assume tomorrow's results will be ready?). Keep your fingers crossed for me a little while longer please. I so appreciate it.

what i did last night

2005-04-01T05:54:00.000-08:00

I went to the lab for my Day 26 bloodwork yesterday afternoon and was confirming this morning's appointment for my Beta with the lab tech. She suggested that she draw the beta blood yesterday so that I wouldn't have to come in again today and so my poor veins would only have to be poked once. I asked her if the difference between 5:45 pm one day and 9:00 am the next would be significant and she assured me that it wouldn't. And so I let her take the extra blood.

I have to admit, there was something appealing about doing the Beta on any day other than April Fool's.

I still won't get the beta results back until after 6:00 tonight though. Possibly not even until tomorrow morning.

But. . .

I stopped at the pharmacy on the way home and picked up an HPT. And I peed on the stick.

And. . .

I got a second line. It was faint at first, but then got darker.

I was so sure there wouldn't be anything there. But I saw it. Even my husband agreed that that second line couldn't be called "faint".

I am elated.

But I am also terrified. Scared to death that this is just a false positive. That tonight I'll get a phone call that will tear everything I've been hoping for out from under me.

But until then, I am letting myself be excited. A little bit. A very little bit.

the final countdown

2005-03-31T16:57:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Beta Day.

So far I haven't given in to the evil HPTs. But I just might tonight. The closer it gets, the harder it is for me to wait.

I've pretty much convinced myself that I am not pregnant. Only slightly tender boobs. No cramps, no implantation spotting. No nausea. I'm not bloated or tired. I've felt more pregnant in previous cycles when there was absolutely NO chance that I could be knocked up.

So I'm trying to brace myself for disappointment. Which is why I just might run out and buy a little stick to pee on. Maybe even two. One for tonight and one for tomorrow.

Unless my husband can convince me otherwise.

If you don't hear from me tomorrow with the beta results it's because I'm out celebrating or have passed out from drowning my sorrows in a bottle or two of wine.

home again

2005-03-25T11:57:00.000-08:00

I'm back in Mexico. Got home late last night and am still feeling drained and groggy. What a long, strange trip it's been. And while I really want to write about all of the feelings and emotions and details of my time in New York, I need to save it for another day- when I have slightly more perspective and am feeling a bit more lucid.

But for now, the simple facts. Two embryos were transferred on Tuesday. A 7 cell and an 8 cell. They were both Grade 2 (our docs grade on a scale of 1 to 5 with 1 being best and five being worst). The transfer was uneventful in a good way and the RE who did the transfer said that the embryos looked "perfect" and it should all go well.

So why then have I been dreaming almost every night about bleeding? About not being pregnant.

More bad news today- none of our other little embies made it to freeze. So what I've got is what I've got. Not sure where to go from here if this cycle doesn't work. Will have to cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess.

Mostly, I'm glad to be home. My beta is one week from today and so far that wait seems manageable. Though I'm sure I'll be tearing my hair out by Monday afternoon.

bad news, good news

2005-03-21T08:41:00.000-08:00

The bad news is that they didn't find any sperm during my husband's surgery on Friday. Not a one. Only germ cells. So that sucks and I'm still in shock. Had convinced myself they'd find something.

The good news is that they retrieved 14 eggs on Saturday. Five were immature, but of the 9 remaining, 8 fertilized. I go in for my embryo transfer tomorrow.

And we finally go home to Mexico on Wednesday. Am definitely looking forward to that.

I promise to write with updates when I'm home and back at my own computer.

Thanks for all the well-wishes you've sent our way. Keep them coming!

slow responder

2005-03-17T10:18:00.000-08:00

After 14 days (yes 14!) on stims, it looks like I finally get to trigger tonight. Unless of course, they call to tell me that my estrogen didn't do what it was supposed to do.

My husband goes in for surgery tomorrow morning. Very early. 6:30 to be exact and even though there's donor sperm on ice, I'm hoping we don't need it.

So, my egg retrieval should be on Saturday. The RE saw lots of nice follicles today- about 8 16 and 17 mm. He assures me my lining is perfect- "a textbook example".

I'm so ready for this and hope everything goes smoothly. Thanks for all of the warm wishes.

let's get this party started

2005-03-05T16:18:00.000-08:00

I'm in New York. Arrived late Thursday evening. It's good to be back in the city I love, but even better to finally get the show on the road.

Yesterday morning I went in for my bloodwork and baseline ultrasound, had my mock transfer. "It couldn't have been easier," were the exact words that my RE said after inserting the catheter through my cervix. That was a relief. He even said that he thought we had an "excellent" chance of acheiving pregnancy this cycle. I hope he's right.

So my husband arrives on Thursday and I figure we'll be knee deep in acronyms by the end of next week (TESE, ER, ET, IVF).

Would you do me a favor and cross your fingers for us?

anti climactic

2005-03-02T04:26:00.000-08:00

I called to place the order for our donor sperm last night. Two vials of ICI prepared sperm from the donor of our choice will arrive in New York on Friday morning between 9 am and noon.

I expected to feel something when I made the call, but nothing. Just me reading off the donor number, the American Express number, the zip code. Like ordering a sweater from J. Crew.

I leave tomorrow morning and am holding up surprisingly well considering that my entire future hangs in the balance of the next couple of weeks. Sort of.

Mostly I'm sad and nervous about leaving Otis behind while I'm gone. Am worried that he'll forget about me while I'm away.

Ten bucks says that I won't be able to sleep tonight to save my life.

still life with otis

2005-02-27T10:49:00.000-08:00

If I had known that having a puppy around would be such a stress reducer, I'm sure I would have caved in and gotten one sooner. Life with Otis this past week has been amazingly relaxed- this, despite the fact that I started my Lupron injections last Sunday night and leave in just 4 days for New York where my reproductive future awaits.

Otis keeps me laughing, keeps me busy, gets me outside to the park. I sleep better at night having played with him all afternoon and evenings and don't even mind waking up at 5:30 each morning to take him outside to do his business. I've lost a couple of pounds from all of our walks. I haven't even noticed the lack of alcohol or caffeine or nicotine in my diet. I'm calm. I'm cool. I'm collected. And I really feel like Otis is the one who gets all of the credit.

I was a bit worried at first that the timing was all wrong. That bringing a 3 month old puppy into the house a couple of weeks before starting IVF might have been a mistake. But I am certain that if he were not here I would find myself obsessing over my Lupron headaches and the bruises on my stomach from the injections. I would be crazy upset about the fact that our #2 choice for sperm donor has run out of vials and our #1 choice only has a limited number of vials left and yet we still haven't gotten our act together to place our order. I can imagine the sleepless nights, tossing and turning while wondering exactly what the chances are that this cycle will be the one for us, wondering how I'll handle the disappointment if it's not. I would be stressed about the recent e-mail I got from a friend (finally!) after 3 months of nothing- still assuming that I was planning on staying with her in March while I'm in New York and my blunt and honest response to her explaining that I was hurt that she hadn't written sooner, that I had made other arrangements for my trip and that to be honest, I'm not sure how up for seeing people I will be and need to play the social engagement thing by ear.

But I am not worried about any of these things. I have quickly learned from my funny faced puppy how to just be. To eat and sleep and walk and play and let everything else go because it is out of my control. What is going to happen will happen and I will manage to get through it for better or for worse.

He's sleeping in my lap as I type. Doesn't even realize the profound effect he's had on my life. He's pretty amazing, this one. Who would have thought a dog could make me a better person?

shooting up

2005-02-21T18:25:00.000-08:00

I gave myself my first Lupron shot last night. To be perfectly honest, the anticipation was much worse than the actual shot. The needle is actually quite small and it certainly helps that I numbed the area first with ice. My husband stood by me for moral support, cheering me on from beginning to end and gave me a big hug, a kiss, and a high five when it was all over.

In bed last night he said "So this is the beginning. How are you feeling?" And I told him the truth. That I am scared.

But I have to say, this new little puppy of mine certainly helps me stay distracted. Instead of trying to figure out my due date should this IVF actually work, I worried all day long how he was faring on his first day home alone. He was fine. But leaving him to go to work this morning was much harder than giving myself the shot last night.

I know there will be more shots and bigger needles to look forward to. Whoever made up this protocol was definitely right on with the whole start-with-the-small-needle-and-the-drug-that-requires-no-mixing-idea.

Oh and PS? Last night when Otis woke up in the middle of the night and starting crying (not once, but three times?), my husband got up to reassure him that everything was alright. He's been so great with the puppy, I can't wait until he has the chance to be a dad to some real live humans.

i'm a mommy

2005-02-19T17:32:00.000-08:00

That's right. To Otis Fitzgerald. A three month old boy pug.

And yes, it was an impulse purchase in the sense that my hubby and I were walking by the pet store and agreed that if they had a pug puppy, we'd buy it.

They did. And so we did.

But we've been wanting a pug for years. Have had his name picked out since the mid-nineties, so that part? Not so impulsive.

A rash decision to adopt a dog a few weeks before we start IVF? Maybe. But I have to say I feel happier and more content than I have in a very long time.

Otis is sweet and smart and oh-so-playful. After being home for only 4 hours or so, he already knows his name, how to do his business on the papers we laid out for him, how to heel on the leash and how to chase the ball (he's still working on the fetching part).

decisions, decisions

2005-02-11T17:26:00.000-08:00

A while back I posted about how my husband and I had narrowed down our potential list of donors to three. How all were smart and mathematically inclined, how any of them would be a more than okay choice for the biological father of our future child(ren). When I posted, we still had a bit of research to do, hadn't yet listened to their audio interviews (or had we?). At any rate, what I thought was the beginning of the end was really only the beginning.

We listened to the audio interviews a couple of weeks ago. And I have to say hearing the guys' voices was surreal to say the least. That, and bachelor #1 had a slightly whiny, nerdy voice so he was quickly knocked to the bottom of the list. Bachelor #2 had a great voice and seemed to be most like my husband personality-wise, he moved into first place. And by default, Bachelor #3 came in second.

After listening to the audio interviews, my husband wasn't so sure that any of our choices were perfect. And to be honest, neither was I. Who knew that what can sound great on paper, can sound so geeky in real audio. We agreed to keep looking. To try to find some other candidates, to see if any one could top our choices. A couple of nights ago, we went back online and searched and searched, but nothing worked. We'd already agreed not to choose anyone who didn't have baby pictures on file. And so that narrowed down our choices quite a bit. The guys we did look at all had something unsatisfactory in their profiles: a low GPA, the wrong hair color, too tall, too heavy. The one guy who seemed almost perfect turned out to be (pardon my superficiality) one of the ugliest babies I have ever set eyes on.

And so we returned to our original three and decided that Bachelor #2 was our first choice. Fine. Good.

Until today. When I reread his medical history and saw a little too much high blood pressure for my taste. A few too many incidences of cancer in the family. Diabetes. Lupus. He drinks a lot (and so do I- who I am kidding), but somehow it bothered me. And so I e-mailed my husband and told him that I wasn't feeling as good about this guy as I once was. Especially since I'm adopted and have no idea what lurks in my medical history. I'd rather be cautious than regretful.

And I thought my husband would protest. Bachelor #2 was his guy. The one he found, the one he wanted above all others, the one that seemed the most like him on the audio interview. But he didn't protest. He wrote me back and said that #3 is now our guy. No discussion necessary. And I feel relieved and settled in a way I didn't when we had first made our "final" decision.

So, unless his vials run out before we place our order, we have a donor. A smart, mathematically inclined donor with high SAT scores, athletic ability, and a passion for ballroom dancing (remember him?). And while in my heart I hope we never have to use his services, its nice to know he's there for us if we do.

I never imagined that this part of the infertility would be so difficult. And yet it was the hardest part so far. But I think we're finally at the end of this stage.

Let the games begin.

dial n for nurse

2005-02-09T20:12:00.000-08:00

I talked to my IVF nurse yesterday. Believe it or not it was our first non-electronic communication. I've called her before, but always get her voicemail. Usually we just e-mail back and forth. I expected to get her voicemail again yesterday and had a message all prepared (something not too terribly panicked about why she hadn't returned any of my e-mails from last week) and was more than shocked when she picked up the phone herself. And pleasantly surprised that she knew exactly who I was as soon as I said my first name and seemed to have my file right in front of her. In fact, she had just gotten off the line with my husband's nurse.

Sometimes I forget that I'm not the only patient at my clinic and I have to say my little chat yesterday did nothing to dispel that fallacy. But in a good way. It was so nice to have the voice to voice contact, not to mention voice to voice contact that was friendly and helpful.

I do think I threw her off a bit, though. I was extremely cheerful throughout the whole conversation (in part because I was actually talking to a live person) and I kept making little jokes. Nothing side-splittingly funny, of course, (I'm no comedienne) but little one-liners about the availability of antibiotics in Mexico (no prescription necessary), getting my Lurpon across the border, and how we haven't quite narrowed down "the guy" for our donor yet. I'm sure my nurse thought I was off my rocker. Do most IVF patients call with a schtick? I don't think she knew what to do with me. She certainly didn't laugh at my attempted humor. But at least she was patient and answered all of my questions and assuaged my fears that I not had started my birth control pills for nothing because they had no record of me and Who are you again? IVF? What? When? Sorry, lady. I have no idea what you're talking about. And she didn't call my bluff in regards to covering up my fear and anxiety with tasteless humor.

She threw me off a bit too. Because of her name, I assumed the voice on the other end would be a deep throaty smoker's voice with a strong New York accent. (This, despite the fact I'd heard her outgoing voicemail messages a million times.) But my nurse has a high voice and nary a trace of a Queens or Brooklyn accent. . .I'm still holding out to see her in person. I imagine a 40 year old dirty blonde with straight hair cut in a bob. But that was before I heard her voice. Her real voice has thrown me off track for imagining her physical appearance- No way is she in her 40s. So I'll just have to wait and see.

Oh, and what I did I learn from my favorite nurse on the planet? That her e-mail hasn't been working. (She wasn't ignoring me! She never got my e-mails! She doesn't know what an anxious head-case I was last week!) That I'm all set for my mock transfer and saline sonogram on March 4th. That I'll start my stims on March 5th. That my Lupron injections are nothing to worry about. That I can do them in my upper thigh or my lower abdomen. That my husband needs to start antibiotics on the 5th. That as soon as we've chosen a donor we should let her know. And that we're good to go.

We're good to go.

The sweetest sentiment I've heard in a long time. From my nurse's mouth to my ears.

listen. . .do you want to know a secret?

2005-01-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

I have a secret. I've been pregnant before. About 12 years ago when I was in a relationship that was going nowhere, when I was still in college, yadda, yadda, yadda.
I didn't keep it. Obviously. Headed for the closest clinic as soon as I was allowed to (which happened to be at 6 weeks). And that was that.

Sort of.

I haven't let that hiccup from my past haunt me when it comes to all of this fertility stuff. I'm not the kind of person who believes that I'm being punished for past transgressions. I'm completely pro-choice and I made the decision I did at a time when that was the absolute best decision for me to make.

I have no regrets.

And yet. That damn guy who knocked me up keeps showing up in my dreams. I saw him last night in some strange wooded area. We were sitting at a picnic table with some other people I knew in the dream, but not in real life. He tried to take my wedding ring off, but it was stuck, so he put my finger in his mouth. Which worked. The ring came off.

He doesn't know. About the dreams. About the pregnancy. About where I am or what I'm doing (unless of course, he's googled me. I have to admit, I googled him when I woke up this morning.) It's just weird to be haunted by this. By him. Over 2000 miles away and I haven't spoken to him in years.

Is my subconcious feeling guilty? Perhaps. Though my conscious self knows that that relationship was a ridiculous one. I can't remember anything about it except for the night before I went for the abortion he had a Godfather party and I went, but made some lame excuse as to why I couldn't sleep over. That, and he sent me the most beautiful letters years after we'd gone our separate ways. I remember that they were beautiful, but have no idea what they said. They're in a box somewhere now. In my grandmother's basement. Or my mother's attic. I'm not exactly sure.

I'm not sure what to do with these dreams. Nothing, I suppose. I can't control them and it doesn't help that my husband is out of town until Thursday. But it's weird that he's showing up now. When I'm in the middle of all of this.

The good news is, I've been pregnant before. And hopefully will be pregnant again. My body has the capacity to hold on tight to an embryo. At least it did. Once upon a time. Twelve long years ago.

And damnit. I'm holding on to that.

i think i'm going to explode

2005-01-29T01:28:00.000-08:00

I just got home from bridal shower where no one discussed the upcoming wedding. It was a bit strange. Instead, everyone talked about pregnancy and babies. One of the women there (not the bride-to-be) recently announced her pregnancy and since most of the guests aren't thrilled about the upcoming nuptials of the guest of honor, we stuck to a topic that most people felt more comfortable with- pregnancy and kids.

I kept pretty quiet. These were my co-workers and I'm not out to them about my infertility. I tried to look interested in the conversation and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying or shouting or jumping up from the table. And I think I did a pretty good job of imitating a fertile. Happily no one asked me if I wanted kids or was planning on having kids anytime soon. I think I might have broken down and admitted that I start birth control pills tomorrow in preparation for IVF this March. And I think I wouldn't have been able to say it matter-of-factly, I would have been bitchy and rude.

My boss was there. Sitting right next to me. She doesn't know about the IVF either, at least I don't think she does, but I gave her my memo yesterday requesting a leave of absence from work in March for "a medical procedure back in the United States." I don't know if she's read it yet. She certainly didn't ask me about it. But last night I had a dream that she had somehow gotten a hold of my medical records and passed them around at work. People were coming up to me asking if I had found a sperm donor yet and I was mortified. In the dream, I called my boss all sorts of nasty names and quit. It was awful. And realistic enough that when I woke up this morning, it took me a minute to remember that no one at work has seen my records. That no one knows. That I still have a job.

The thing is, my boss's boss knows about the infertility. He's friends with my husband. And yesterday my husband told the boss's boss that he too would be getting a memo from me requesting a few weeks off in March. It was the same memo I gave my boss, no explicit reference to IVF, but he's a smart enough guy to put two and two together. So, I'm wondering if he'll tell my boss what's going on. If she'll be in the know too. And if she's in the know, will it slowly leak out to the rest of my colleagues? I'm not exactly sure what to do here. Whether to go to her directly and explain the situation and tell her that I'd appreciate her discretion (and run the risk of her not respecting my privacy despite my request). Or whether I should just let it go. Hope that the boss's boss will keep it quiet. Any suggestions would be welcome here.

This secrecy business is killing me. I tend to be a private person, but an open and honest person (if that makes any sense). And all of this feels like a big lie. I want to blurt it out so badly, but the truth is I'm not sure that my co-workers would understand. I've heard them talk and gossip about other people and I don't want to be the subject of any of those discussions. I also realize though, that by not telling I may be that much more likely to be the subject of their gossip. Like when I miss three weeks of work in March and no one knows where I've gone, I can just imagine the theories they'll come up with. So is it better that they're making up fanciful stories about me or distorting the truth that I've copped to? I'm sort of torn on that one.

My guess is that I'll continue to keep this to myself. I feel blessed to have the online support of the women in the blogs and bulletin boards I frequent. And while sometimes that doesn't feel like enough, while sometimes I wish I had real world friends to talk with and vent to, other times it feels like I get more than enough support from people I've never even met.

Infertility is lonely. I never really understood that until a couple of weeks ago. The closer I get to actually starting my treatment, the more isolated I feel. I thought it would get easier, but its getting harder and harder to be myself. To feel like a real person. It scares me. What if I never go back to the person I once was? What if I remain this empty shell of a person who bites the inside of her cheek in polite company to avoid expressing how she really feels?

How does one go through this and come out okay? I know what doesn't kill you is supposed to make you stronger, but I have a hard time believing that right now. I'm starting to feel dead inside. And this is only the beginning. What happens after a cycle fails? What happens if I'm disappointed over and over again? I can't even imagine.

I'm terrified.

ouch!

2005-01-14T16:43:00.000-08:00

Last night my husband dreamt that he had to give me a lupron shot. First he had to make a hole in my thigh and then he put the needle in. It broke off in my leg. He thought he should have probably practiced on oranges first.

I suppose I should focus less on the fact that the dream injection was botched and just be grateful that my husband is actually thinking about IVF at all, that it has even entered his subconscious.

Luckily we have quite a while before the injections begin. And an injection primer dvd on the way.

just call me charlotte

2005-01-13T16:50:00.000-08:00

We got the Sex and the City Season Four dvds for Christmas. My husband and I just happen to be big fans of SATC and since we don't have a television that gets any reception whatsoever, we often rent the dvds, order in Chinese food, and have ourselves a marathon, pretending that we still live in Carrie's city, our former city, the one we hope to return to in less than a year.

So imagine my surprise when I realized mid-way through disc two that season four just happens to be the season when Charlotte realizes she can't get pregnant and Miranda gets knocked up during her one-night-only "mercy fuck" with her ex Steve who has lost a testicle to cancer.

I've seen season four before, but it was a long time ago. Waaaaay before I found out that the plot line of my life would more closely resemble Charlotte's than Miranda's. And watching it this time was, well, different.

For one, I could completely empathize with Charlotte who usually annoys me and comes off as too high-strung, too prudish for my liking. In one episode she yells at her husband Trey because she feels like she's doing all the work, the research, talking in the chat rooms to other infertiles, giving herself shots. As she was giving her little speech, my husband turned to look at me. He'd heard it before. The first time from Charlotte herself when we saw that episode many moons ago and then every couple of weeks from me once we received his diagnosis.

Amazingly, I felt bad for Miranda too. Who worries about the effect that her pregnancy will have on her relationship with Charlotte. Who tries to be as sensitive a friend as she can be considering her own situation.

I managed to sit through all of the episodes involving the infertility stuff, up until the point where Charlotte and Trey decide that they can no longer stay married. I was impressed enough by the depiction of infertility. Charlotte was moody, she was sensitive, she was hurt. The only thing she wasn't was bloated. I cried a bit. For me, for Charlotte, for Miranda. But the whole time we were watching, I couldn't help but wonder why the hell this was the season we were given as a present. Did the gift-givers think we'd appreciate watching a story that so closely resembles our own? Were they trying to send us a message? That we're not the only people in the world who go through this? Fictional characters are infertile too? Or was it just a coincidence? Were all the other seasons sold out? Was season four on sale? I'll never know, because I'm not going to ask.

When we first got the gift, I was excited to finally own a season of SATC, imagined myself watching and re-watching that kooky, kinky foursome on Saturdays when I had nothing else planned. But I think I'm going to shelve them for awhile. Maybe forever. It just hits a little too close to home.

don't even talk to me

2005-01-11T16:58:00.000-08:00

I'm suddenly realizing just how sensitive I've become about infertility. I got a Christmas card yesterday (it takes a long time to get mail in Mexico) from a good friend and she wished my husband and I an "amazing 2005". I know she meant well, but somehow the words she chose just stung. She knows about our problems and somehow I wished she had thought harder about how to voice her sentiment. "Wishing you a happy 2005," for example or "May all your dreams come true this year." A generic "Happy New Year!" would have been just fine. (I think.)

I find myself getting angry at people who don't know any better, who don't phrase their thoughts in ways that are palatable to my infertile ear. My friends who (by sheer luck, I have to assume) express their opinions and concerns in sensitive ways are gaining points. The others are being added to my black-list one by one. I'm afraid that pretty soon I won't have any friends left.

I think I'll scream if one more person tells me that "Everything is going to work out fine." That they're sure I'll be pregnant within the year. I certainly hope that everything works out fine and I'd love to be pregnant within the year, but I also know that there's a good chance neither of those things will happen. And I find myself losing patience every time I hear a pat phrase meant to make me feel better.

I'm starting to shut down. To become bitchy. The same woman who told me to have an amazing 2005 also happened to e-mail me a couple of days ago asking if she and her husband could come for a visit in March. And that wasn't possible, would I want to go to a resort with her and some other friends in April for a little vacation. It was clear to me right then and there that she just doesn't get it. And unfortunately, I responded with a snippy little e-mail about how everything is just so uncertain right now that the last thing I can do is plan a vacation. She hasn't written back. I don't really blame her. Part of me feels like I should do the right thing and apologize for being so bitchy and part of me feels like my response served her right.

If I'm feeling this sensitive now, I can't imagine what it's going to be like once I start taking my birth control pills and hormone shots. The ground around me is going to be covered in eggshells I'm sure.

semantics

2005-01-11T14:34:00.000-08:00

eeny meeny miney mo

2005-01-09T00:23:00.000-08:00

I thought I was done with all of the preliminaries leading up to this IVF. Not so. Yesterday morning I had more blood drawn to determine my thyroid function, my sedimentation rate, and my prolactin levels. But I think this is it until March when I'm scheduled for my mock transfer and SIS. At least I hope so.

Yesterday was also the day that my husband finally got online and looked at sperm donors with me. I assumed he had been avoiding the task due to the emotional discomfort of trying to find someone to replace him in the role of providing DNA for our future children. Everytime I had asked him to look at the donors I had chosen, he said he's do it "later". Well, later turned out to be yesterday afternoon. And I was shocked at his giddy response to the searches we did. He actually seemed to be having fun and even jokingly suggested that maybe we should skip his surgery and go straight to the donor sperm since the guys topping our list all seemed to be smart, well-rounded, mathematically inclined, artistic and athletic.

We narrowed it down to three guys. Two from my original list and one that my husband found all by himself and was impressed by mostly because of his height (6'0), his high SAT scores (a 790 in math!) and his professed love of traveling by motorcycle. It didn't hurt that the staff impression of the donor was very favorable- "very cute with a great build". We ordered the more extensive profiles (essays, 3 generational medical histories, baby photos, personality tests, and audio interviews) for our picks and so are now able to download any of this information at our whim. I took a peek at some of the essays and medical histories yesterday and have to say that I didn't find any real skeletons in the closet. All three of our guys were cute kids. All three are smart and excel in the sciences. All three seem to have interesting hobbies (though my husband is a bit put off by the guy who raises tarantulas for fun).

And I finally found out what motivates these guys to donate their genetic material in the first place. MONEY! In their answer to the question about why they decided to become a sperm donor, each of our guys mentioned the money. Strangely, that wasn't off-putting in the least. I was relieved that they were being so honest about it. I'm not sure what my reaction would have been if they had written some dribble about wanting to help others achieve their dreams of starting a family. Nice thought, but come on! What 22 year old guy really thinks that way?

So the next step is to narrow down our choices. Sort of. When we order our vials, we need to have three potential donors (which we do), but we need to rank them in order of preference. That's going to be tough. It was hard enough narrowing it down to 3 guys, but now to decide which one of the three is better than the others? Do we go with the guy whose baby picture most closely matches my husbands? The one who scored highest on the SATs? The one with the cleanest bill of health? I couldn't even begin to tell you what the most important factor is to me anymore. Well I could. But I would wind up contradicting myself left and right. And that's just the dilemna here.

Luckily we have some time before we have to call in our order (about 8 weeks to be exact). And so I expect to read and reread those essays, check and recheck those medical histories, listen to those audio interviews over and over again looking and lsitening for some sort of clue. It's difficult work. But its certainly interesting. And at the end of the day, as my husband keeps on reminding me, any one of our potential donors would be okay as a biological father. If he's okay with randomly assigning them preference, then I guess I can be too. But first I want to check over those profiles again.

a date with destiny

2005-01-05T16:53:00.000-08:00

The end is in sight. Or maybe I should say the beginning. My new nurse e-mailed me today with my protocol and I'm to start birth control pills on Day 2 of my next cycle. That's the end of this month. Then 7 days of Lupron injections at the end February and then I'll start stims when I get to New York for my mock transfer on March 4.

I'm really excited. While I realize that this could easily be one of many cycles in my future, the fact that I have concrete dates to look forward to is unbelievable. Until today the prospect of starting IVF was a foggy notion. And now, there's something to put on the calendar. The countdown has begun.

I'm feeling giddy and tingly. I'm feeling positive. I'm feeling like we're finally moving forward for real. The prescriptions are being sent. The days are going by. In a little more than 2 months I will be back in New York for the real deal. No more consultations. No more diagnostic tests.

At this point, I'm thinking more about the procedure than what it ultimately means. Of course I have high hopes for a successful cycle, but I'm well aware of all the things that can go wrong. So my excitement at this point is less about the idea that I could have a baby in my arms next December and more about getting this whole process started. Amazing how one little e-mail could completely change my mood. I was feeling frustrated and helpless and stagnant and now? Not so much.

Time has passed differently for me since the diagnosis. Instead of months, I think in cycles. I've been waiting for a date, for a real timeline since we first met with Dr. Hope way back in July. And now, with Guru, I have one or at least an approximation of one. It's scary and exciting all at once.

But if nothing else, I'm ready.

new year, new you

2005-01-02T11:40:00.000-08:00

How I wish that New Year's Resolutions worked a little bit differently. That they didn't take willl-power and perseverance, but could be achieved with hope and faith. That just wanting them to happen would be enough. I wish that resolutions could take any shape or form- not simply the little promises to quit smoking or to eat less chocolate or to go to the gym more or to be a nicer person in general, but that they could be greater aspirations, things that really matter. If I resolve to achieve world peace, for example, it wouldn't mean that I personally had to sit down and come up with a plan for global harmony, but that just wanting it badly enough would result in the ticking off of that box on the old 2005 Resolution list.

You see where I'm going with this.

In 2005:

1. I resolve not to get impatient with my IVF team no matter how long it takes them to return my phone calls and e-mails.

2. I resolve not to complain (too much) about the meds and the injections.

3. I resolve to do my first cycle of IVF in late February/early March.

4. I resolve to have a successful cycle (eventually).

5. I resolve to become pregnant (maybe even with twins).

6. I resolve to have a healthy, happy pregnancy with hopefully very little morning sickness, no excessive weight gain, and no excessive moodiness.

7. I resolve to give birth to a healthy baby (or two)- though if the birth part happens in 2006, I won't complain.

8. I resolve to become a mother (again, this one could happen in 2006 without any bitching from me.)

9. I resolve to keep my eye on the prize when things get really tough and to remember why I'm going through all of this.

10. I resolve to count the blessings I already have even when they seem to be overshadowed by all of the crappy stuff.

May 2005 be the year that your dreams come true, too.
Feliz Ano!

bring it on

2004-12-26T10:17:00.000-08:00

I'm back from the beach. The trip was everything I'd hoped for- sun, sand, and pina coladas. And then some- skinny dipping in a private pool with my husband, a family of raccoons (terrifying little buggers) brave enough to come right up to our dinner table one night, and an amazing surprise x-mas gift of a photograph I've been coveting since I first saw it in my mom's friend's gallery two Thanksgivings ago.

All in all my little vacation was just what I needed.

I wish I could say that I put all obsessive thoughts of babies and IVF and sperm donors to rest while I was away, but alas I did not. But (and my husband may disagree with me here) I did manage to stay pretty damn positive about the whole ordeal.

I realized on this trip how haunted I am by the thoughts of my future children. Everything we did, everywhere we went, I imagined them watching from the shadows. I could actually see them- not as infants, but as 2 or 3 year old toddlers. And I couldn't stop myself from
talking about them as if they were already here. Crazy? Maybe, but those little faces keep me going when everything seems too hard.

It's just 5 days away from the New Year and I have to admit that I'm a bit terrified as to what's in store for me. I've got so many hopes and dreams for 2005. Getting pregnant is number one on my list, of course, but my plate is full in other areas as well: there's our probable move back to the US next summer, my husband finishing his dissertation, both of us finding jobs, finding a place to live. Everything feels terribly uncertain because, well, it is. I'm finding its not so easy to make a plan and stick to it when there are so many question marks, so many "what if's" lurking around.

I know that I need to let go of my need to know what's coming next. To find the excitement in the getting there. If nothing else, 2005 is bound to be an exciting year. Not necessarily the best I've had, but certainly exciting.

life's a beach

2004-12-18T08:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my last day of work and tomorrow my darling husband and I are headed for the beach! 7 days of sun and sand! We're returning to the place where we got engaged exactly two years ago and I'm hoping that if the setting isn't exactly Christmas-ey, it will be romantic and fun.

It's hard to believe that it was just two years ago that we made the decision to spend the rest of our lives together and only a year and a half ago that we said our vows aloud in front of our family and friends.

We had no idea at that time, of course, of the journey that lay ahead of us. It was just a year ago (give or take a couple of weeks) that we began trying to conceive in earnest- with no clue that it would take more than a couple of months for me to get pregnant. I thought for sure that this Christmas would be our baby's first.

But here we are a year later, without child and without hopes of getting one without medical intervention. And yet we're doing surprisingly well for a time of year that tends to be geared toward children. Just yesterday I left a couple of messages for my IVF coordinator to set up my sounding (thanks brooklyn girl) and IVF for March. I haven't heard back from her yet, but hope to have a date set by the end of first couple of weeks of 2005.

I'm ready now, I think. More ready than I was a year ago when I was full of naive hope that every cycle would be THE cycle. More ready than I was in June when we first learned of my husband's zero sperm count. More ready even than I was in September the month that our first RE predicted we'd be able to start IVF. I know now just how much I really want this baby. How much I really want to be a mother. What's its worth to me. What I'm willing to do to make it a reality. And I feel now, more than ever, that I'll be good at it. That all these unexpected road blocks on the path to parenthood have seemingly prepared me for anything.

And so I leave for the beach tomorrow and truly think that I will be able to relax. To enjoy the time there with my husband for what it is. I am hoping that it will be a true vacation in the sense that I will leave my list of potential sperm donors behind, not check my e-mail for word from my RE, not obsess about the number of cycles I have left before we begin IVF, not let myself think baby, baby, baby every other minute of the day (except as a term of endearment for my husband!)

Wherever you find yourself for the holidays, I hope it is as peaceful and relaxing as the place I will find myself in.

Happy, Happy. Merry, Merry.

Eureka! I think I've found one!

2004-12-12T19:55:00.000-08:00

My extremely lame Saturday night was spent searching donor profiles online. Pathetic? A bit. But I think I found THE guy. He's the same height and weight (approximately) of my husband. He's got the right hair color and eye color. He's smart (BS in Biochemistry with a high GPA), artistic (paints and draws and sculpts and has even been awarded arts scholarships), athletic (ran a marathon recently, lifts weights, scuba dives), was raised abroad and wants to raise his kids abroad- all in all a seemingly well rounded individual with most of the qualities I am looking for. Of course I still need to order his full profile, check out his medical history, personality test, baby photos and SAT scores, but I think I may be in love.

Am I a bad person for wanting the DNA of someone who can do things that neither my husband nor I can do? Namely, play sports and create art and excel at the sciences? How nice would it be to have a child who could do my taxes and bring home soccer trophies and decorate the apartment with his or her sculptures, and maybe find a cure for AIDS? Oh, and not have to wear glasses while doing all of the above? I think not.

Who is this person and why is he donating sperm? That's my only question. Who donates sperm and why? Why hasn't he been snapped up by some eligible lady (or gent) and started making babies of his own to raise (in a foreign country)? To good to be true, I think. But then again, not everyone is looking for what I'm looking for. I only hope he doesn't run out of vials before I get to him or worse that his medical history is abominable and his pysch profile makes him out to be a Jeffrey Dahmer type.

Wish me luck won't you? So far this seems a match made in heaven.

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

2004-12-10T19:52:00.000-08:00

My husband and I got a Christmas tree this week. It's very tall and very full and takes up more than its share of the corner of the entry way. We decorated it right away with the meager assortment of decorations and lights that we own and soon ran out to buy more. The lights are on, the presents are wrapped, the Christmas cds are in rotation in the cd player and I've sent off all my Christmas cards. I think I can safely say that the halls are decked. No snow here of course, but nonetheless I've been hit by the holiday spirit. Hard.

I expected this holiday season to be a difficult one. You may remember that we turned down an invitation to spend Christmas with the in-laws (and our nieces) because I worried about my oh-so unpredictable emotional state and the thought of being around little kids (conceived with no problems whatsoever) scared me. Instead the in-laws are coming to us. After Christmas, after our trip to the beach (sun and sand and ocean- oh my!). They arrive on the 29th and will be here through New Year's.

But strangely, or should I write unpredictably, I'm excited about the season. Feeling happy and merry and all those things. This Sunday I'm even making a traditional Christmas dinner for my Indian friends (who don't celebrate) and I've completely turned into my mother in that the table is already set and the serving dishes all have post-it notes attached with the names of the various dishes that they will hold.

I think it helps that I'm optimistic and feeling pretty sure that by this time next year I'll either be mothering a newborn or pregnant. I know that it's not a 100% certainty, but for now it's something that I can hold on to. And by holding on to that hope I'm able to appreciate this "last" Christmas- spent alone with my husband in the same place we got engaged. I'm looking forward to the New Year and all that it will bring.

"And so, I'm sending out this simple wish. To kids from 4 to 92. And though its been said, many times, many ways. . .Merry Christmas to You."

no surprises here

2004-12-07T21:53:00.000-08:00

My period arrived on my birthday. So there goes that fantasy. I was not nearly as disappointed as I thought I might be. I seem to be getting better at this self-preservation stuff.

But despite the arrival of the blood, it was a very good birthday. The entire school wished me "Felicidades!" in the morning, I went out for good Indian food with some friends after work, and my husband and I thoroughly enjoyed the Norah Jones concert even though we missed part of her first song (my favorite). And then this past weekend, we went to a hotel in town and pretended we were on vacation. Watched too much TV, ate really well, and caught the Basquiat exhibit at Bellas Artes. Not a bad birthday at all.

In infertility news, my in-laws received and opened a bill from our RE which billed us for all sorts of crazy tests that I had never had done so I wrote to them this weekend and am still waiting to hear back. I'm assuming that to do a uroplasma test I would have had to give a urine sample (I didn't) and so I really think that this is a billing error and not them trying to pull a fast one on me. The only procedure I had done when we were there was an ultrasound. Anyway, I also let him know that I had started my cycle and am verrrrrry regular and could we please schedule my mock transfer now so that I can let work know that I'll be gone for a few days in January. I'm debating whether or not to tell my boss what's up or whether I should just tell her that I need to go back to the States for a minor medical procedure and save the juicy details for when I need to ask for 2 weeks off in March. Any advice here would be more than welcome.

So once again I am in wait and see mode. Am less than mildly amused that the new RE was quick to answer my e-mails and phone calls when he was wooing me as a potential new patient and now that I'm a paying customer takes his precious time to respond to me. But such is life, no?

What else? I outed myself (infertilty-wise) to one friend and kept guiltily mum to another who asked about the future of babies in my life. It felt liberating and sickening respectively.

Haven't looked at sperm donors recently. Too hard. But we will. Eventually. As soon as I hear back from the RE about my mock transfer I'll start pestering him about the timeline for ordering sperm.

It's getting late and I need to go to bed. I promise to try to update more frequently. Maybe that can be a New Year's resolution?

you say its your birthday . . .

2004-11-30T16:49:00.000-08:00

It's my birthday too.

Tomorrow I turn 32. Yikes! Where did the years go. I could swear I should only be 27 or 28.

My husband and I got back from our Thanksgiving trip on Sunday night. It went better than I expected. The relatives were all respectfully supportive of our infertility issues and my cousin's baby wasn't annoyingly cute. Cute he was. But not in an overly annoying way. Though it did tug at my heart strings to watch my husband play with the baby. If anyone was meant to be a father, he is.

We got the results from my husband's chromosome testing back while we were home. All good news. No abnormalities, so we're still good to go with using his sperm if they're able to find any in March. That's quite a relief.

I'm sorry to have to admit that I'm still on the whole fantasy pregnancy kick. So much so that I bought an HPT yesterday afternoon and peed on a stick for the first time in months. It was negative, of course. And I expected it to be. My period is due on Thursday and I really hope she arrives on time so that this little fantasy isn't dragged out any longer than necessary. Still, how amazing a birthday present would a positive be? I know, I know, don't worry. I'm just dreaming.

I do have to say that even my mother-in-law jumped on the miracle pregnancy bandwagon when I started feeling lightheaded on Friday afternoon. I promise it was without any prompting from me. I tried to whisper to my husband that I was feeling dizzy and she overheard and said "Maybe you're pregnant." I nipped that right in the bud. It's one thing for me to live in a dreamworld- it's quite another to invite my in-laws along for the ride.

So as soon as the blood starts flowing later this week, I can call up the new RE and schedule my mock transfer in January. Am not looking forward to the procedure, but am definitely looking forward to moving along towards IVF.

In the meantime, I have a breakfast in bed to look forward to tomorrow (a tradition in our household) and a Norah Jones concert tomorrow night.

Happy Birthday to me.

cousine, cousine

2004-11-21T16:18:00.000-08:00

I'm nervous about Thanksgiving. It's my first time seeing my extended family since we were diagnosed with infertility. It's the first time I'll see my cousin's new baby. A 3 month old boy who was conceived when they weren't really trying.

My cousin and I have had a serious case of "sibling" ever since we were infants- born just 3 months apart, living on opposite coasts so we didn't see each other enough to know that the stories my grandmother told each of us about the other weren't exactly true. I believed her to be a star gymnast, a straight A student, popular and cool. She believed the same of me except that I rode horses and didn't know a parallel bar from a balance beam. It wasn't until we were both in college that we realized that we were actually quite similar, would probably have been good friends if my grandmother hadn't intervened. But of course, by then, it was too late. The damage had been done.

We're civil to each other, of course. More than civil even. And give us a bottle of wine or two and a pack of cigarettes and we're the best of friends. But we still don't see each other that often. Even when we were both living in New York, I only saw her once or twice a year at family gatherings far from the city.

So let's just say the fact that she has a baby and I don't is just a little hard for me to bear. I bought a present for the baby yesterday- a completely selfish act since I didn't want everyone to think that I'm bitter. Which, of course, I am. And I'm practicing my coos and aahs in front of the mirror every chance I get so that when I face the baby for real next Thursday no one will know that I'm really broken up inside.

Part of me is hoping that the baby is as sweet and cute as the reports I've gotten so that I really will fall in love with him and all my envy will disappear. But the rotten part of me hopes that he is colicky and cranky and ugly to boot so that when my baby (my sweet, good baby) is born everyone will like him or her more. Completely crazy and awful, I know. I know!

I had a dream the other night that my cousin and her husband and their kids (in my dream they also had a 5 year girl) bought a new house. And I had heard it was a tiny one bedroom in New York. But when I went to see it it was an actual house. A beautiful cool house with a grassy yard and huge oak trees in a great little suburban neighborhood. And I realized while they were giving me the grad tour that it was the exact house that my husband and I were planning to buy. Only they had somehow gotten to it first. (sound familiar?)

Later in the dream, I left my cousin's house to go to the baby shower that my mother was throwing for me. I wasn't pregnant. Still had infertility issues, but my mother thought that a baby shower would cheer me up. Thought that I could put away all the presents I got and save them for later. My cousin was at the shower and so was her mother and pretty much the whole cast of characters who will be at our real-life Thanksgiving celebration.I went into the bathroom and cried. Didn't want to come out. Didn't want to open my gifts or have the party at all, but no one seemed to understand why.

I have to say that dream did not help my anxiety about Thanksgiving any. I'm pretty sure it made it worse. But the plane tickets have been bought, the turkey has been ordered and there's no way I can't go. I just hold out hope that it won't be nearly as bad as I'm imagining it. And really- how could it be? No, don't answer that one.

dangerous mind

2004-11-20T16:56:00.000-08:00

I've gone and done a very stupid thing.

I've convinced myself that I am pregnant.

I know, I know. It's an impossibility and believe me I wish I could make myself be rational about this. You'd think after all of the semenalyses and blood hormone tests and ultrasounds and meeting with REs and urologists that I would know better than to let myself believe even for an instant that a miracle has occured. But I can't.

I think it all started when Guru mentioned to us that prior to sperm retrieval surgery 5% of his patients have sperm in their ejaculate and don't need the surgery at all. And then last Sunday morning- ovulation day- my husband and I made love. It was a full 6 hours or so before I felt the twinges in my ovaries that meant my egg was on her way down to my fallopian tubes. And then this morning? Seven days past ovulation? Cramping. Period like cramping. Even though my actual period isn't due until a couple of days after Thanksgiving.

Feel free to write in and burst my little 2ww bubble. I've thought I was pregnant before. Granted, it was prior to finding out that my husband had no sperm and so every symptom that I was quick to jot down had no bearing in the reality of my situation. Just like this time.

I'm perfectly aware that my cramps today might not be in my uterus at all, but in my stomach- a result of the cheap Thai food that I had last night for dinner. And it's been so long since I've actually timed intercourse that its quite possible that my equation for figuring out how long it takes for sperm to meet egg is all wrong.

And so- as not to jinx this misguided little premonition, I've continued to drink caffeinated coffee and drink my red wine with dinner. (Though I have to admit I started taking my pre-natal vitamins again. For my hair and nails! It's for my hair and nails! Really!)

I have to say I hate this. Will be both disappointed and relieved when my period arrives next cycle to burst my little fantasy. But as much as it sucks to be this disillusioned, its also a little bit nice to have this sense of hope that I haven't had since we got the results of that first semenalysis back in June.

Ugh. How am I supposed to last another week?

a brief hello

2004-11-18T16:38:00.000-08:00

Forgive me for not having written in a while. Work has been crazy busy. A friend from out of town was visiting, and I've just been exhausted from life in general. I'll have lots of time to write this weekend (since my husband is going out of town- again) and I plan on updating the blog with all the stuff that I've been thinking about. But for now, just wanted to pop in to say hello and let you all know that I'm alive and well, albeit very tired.

i am very shallow

2004-11-06T10:55:00.000-08:00

I've started the sperm donor search in earnest. And while there are a few guys out there who meet my criteria for physical attributes and educational background, who have written personal essays that I can live with, who don't have any serious medical problems in their histories, what I really want is a current photo.

I understand why they can't provide me with one, anonymity and all that. And they do have baby photos available for me to look at. But the thing is, all babies are cute, aren't they? Well, most of them are. But we all know that they can grow up to be quite funny looking. And forgive me for saying this, but I'd like to know that my future off-spring has the genes of a hunk.

My husband is a handsome man, if I do say so myself. And way before we discovered that his sperm might not be up to the task of getting me pregnant, we assumed, as most people do, that our child would ba a perfect blend of each of our best features. I can't tell you how many times perfect strangers (and assorted friends) have told us that we would make beautiful children together. And if it weren't for the lack of sperm in our lives, I have no doubt that that would be true.

I know this sounds awful. But the thing is there is no guarantee that the donor we pick will look anything like my husband. Even if he has the same eye color and hair color and hair texture and skin tone. Even if he's the same height and weight. Even if his baby pictures are identical to the ones in my mother-in-law's photo album.

When we first started discussing the possibility of using a donor a few months ago, trying to agree on what we wanted, my husband pointed out to me that a dear friend of his would look like a great donor on paper: he's tall, blonde, blue-eyed, a doctor. He's fathered a child. He's smart and has a dry sense of humor and I bet his personal essay would kick ass. I've seen pictures of this guy from childhood and he was a decent looking kid. But, and I hate to say this about one of our good friends, he's just not a very attractive man. Not my taste anyway. I know everyone has different things that they find attractive in a person, but this guy just doesn't do for me. And I can't help wondering about the donors that we're considering. Are they like this: looking great on paper, but in real-life couldn't hold a candle to my husband?

I know that beggars can't be choosers. And I know that it's way more important that my future offspring be healthy and kind and smart and fun than beautiful. And I also know that even if we are able to use my husband's sperm, it'll be somewhat of a crap shoot in terms of what our child gets from him and what s/he gets from me. But in that case, it's a gamble I'm comfortable with since I know and love my husband so well.

How do I choose between donor #7865 and donor #5763 without knowing anything about them other than what's in the profile I'll purchase from the cryobank? How does one pick the biological father of their child out of a hat?

It feels like an impossible task and I fear that I'll be second guessing myself constantly. If only they would give me a damn picture. One measly photograph would help me out here a lot.

here we go again

2004-11-05T21:59:00.000-08:00

I promised myself that I wouldn't do this. Not yet, anyway. But there's something about having a real date (okay, it's really more like a vague date) on the calendar for starting IVF that has made me forget all my past disappointments and has gotten me planning again.

I know it's foolish. I know that we may not find sperm, that we may end up using a donor. I know that I might not respond well to the drugs, that my cycle could be canceled for any number of reasons, that I could go through the whole procedure and wind up with a chemical pregnancy or no pregnancy at all.

But yet. But yet I've returned to the websites that estimate your due date. I've entered all possible March dates and know that if (big IF) this works, I'd be due in December. I've started planning a nursery again, thinking about a maternity clothes, baby names. I'm not as crazed as I was a year ago. It's too early for that. But then, isn't it a bit premature to start thinking about this other stuff, too?

It hit me yesterday that I'll be 33 when my baby is born. At the youngest. And while I know that's not old in the grand scheme of things, it's definitely older than I thought I would be when I started building my family. Of course, it doesn't help matters any that I was 30 when I got married, but still. We never thought we'd have any trouble and I figured 31, 32 maybe. But 33? And that'll just be the first one.

I'm excited about having a plan. But worried about all the time that I have to work myself into a frenzy. I remember how crazy I got when we started trying a little more than a year ago. And this time it's different of course. No charting my temps every morning. No timed intercourse. My period comes and goes on schedule and it's not the heartwrenching ordeal that it once was. I've come to expect it. But I know that as March gets closer and the prospect of pregnancy becomes more and more a reality, I will once again walk that line between unbridled optimism and paralyzing pessimism. One day sure that it will work and the next day certain that I am doomed to be childless forever.

I expect the next few months to be a roller-coaster of emotions. And I know that as we start this process the ride will only become more wild. I predict many ups and downs, good days and bad. I hope that I can stay optimistic. Focus on the ultimate goal. Remember that somehow, someday I will be a mother. But I'm afraid to let myself get too hopeful because I do remember how awful the bad days were when trying to conceive only meant having sex around the time I was ovulating and didn't involve a team of doctors, nurses and technicians. Didn't cost thousands of dollars and involve international plane travel. I suppose that there's a happy medium somewhere in between the wishing and hoping and the dreading and disappointment. I hope I can find it. And stay there for awhile.

where we are now

2004-11-03T16:54:00.000-08:00

I'm back from New York.

It was a good trip overall. Great to be back in the City again. To visit my old haunts and visit with friends. And of course, it was great to meet our new doctors.

I "came out" to a couple of my friends while I was there. Everyone was extremely supportive and offered me everything from places to stay during my IVF stint to use of their own sperm. I was a little bit nervous about seeing the people who I wasn't planning on telling (and didn't tell), but there was only one tense moment when a friend asked me what was in the folder I was carrying (all of our records) and I got all flustered and replied "papers, lots of papers" and left it at that. Otherwise, those not in the know just assumed I was long overdue to a visit back "home" and were happy to talk about work and life and love.

My husband had his blood drawn for karyotyping and Y chromosome microdeletion testing on Monday afternoon. We won't get the results back for another 3 weeks or so, but Guru told us that there's only a 10% chance that there would be any abnormalities. We're holding out hope that we're in the 90% that comes back normal.

We met with the new RE on Tuesday morning and he was extremely nice. He told us that our chances of conceiving with IVF/ICSI are about 60-65%. Much higher numbers than the DC clinic gave us. He'd received my HSG films and had reviewed them prior to our appointment (one point for him!) and based on that review and my hormone levels, thinks we're good to go. We told him that we're open to using donor sperm as a back-up and he actually was willing to talk to us about cryobanks (another point for the new RE). He thinks California cryobank does the best job of preparing the sperm and so, we'll begin searching for a suitable donor in earnest as soon as my husband returns from his business trip.

We went straight to Guru's office from the RE and were told that barring any abnormalities on the chromosome test, we'll be good to go for IVF in March. He probably could have squeezed us in to the December calendar, but that would mean me starting drugs tomorrow or the next day and after thinking about it awhile (prior to the appointment) I realized that I do need a little more time to psychologically prepare myself for the ordeal we are about to undertake. But March is good. Only 5 months away, but plenty of time for us to talk more, to find a donor, to make plans.

So here's the plan: I'll go back to the new RE in January for my mock transfer. I'll start my meds in February. I'll spend 2-3 weeks in New York in March for my egg retrieval and embryo transfer. And my husband will fly up a couple of days before the ET to have his surgery. Guru thinks there's a 30-50% chance of finding sperm based on my husband's hormone levels. (Blecch only gave us a 5-15% chance.) And we'll skip the biopsy and go straight to the microdissection surgery- Guru's recommendation as he doesn't want to do unneccessary surgeries.

I was interested to learn that Guru gets lots of patients who have been to other urologists who were unable to find sperm and then show up with lots of scar tissue that just makes his job harder. And happy/relieved that we went with our guts when Blecch suggested a biopsy prior to a sperm retrieval. We've avoided scarring up my husband's testicles which makes our prognosis that much better.

I'm feeling extremely hopeful and know that we made the right choice in switching doctors. Even if these new guys are more expensive and there's no money-back guarantee. We're in the right place. And I feel confident that this will work- not necessarily the first time (I'm not that naive), but eventually.

We're on the right track to parenthood.

start spreading the news. . .

2004-10-29T07:35:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving today. . .

To make a brand new start of it.

New York, New York.

First though, I have to get through 4 hours of Halloween craziness at school. Then, pray that there's not too much traffic on the way to the airport. (It's a long weekend here which always means tons of people trying to escape the city).

But my bags are packed and I'm ready to go. I have my accordian file with all my medical records in my bag. My mother-in-law picked up my HSG films from the DC clinic yesterday and fed-exed them to our new RE. It only took her 40 minutes from start to finish (including driving time). So why couldn't the DC clinic be as efficient as my mother-in-law? Apparently Nurse Helpful doesn't have access to Fed-Ex. I think thats a load of crap, but at least she finally faxed 18 pages of our files to the new doc after numerous phone calls, e-mails and groveling by my husband, so we should be in good shape when we have our appointment on Tuesday.

And besides looking forward to meeting our new team, can I also mention that I am totally psyched for bagels and decent chinese food, and true brunch experiences? And shopping and seeing my friends, and being able to converse with strangers in a language where I actually know all the verb tenses? And riding the subway? And walking the streets? And just hanging out? Because I am.

Will hopefully come back feeling just as energized as I am this morning. Will hopefully have some good news to post with regards to getting this baby-making underway.

It's up to you- New York, New York.

i can see clearly now

2004-10-23T15:55:00.000-07:00

I found out something interesting today.

Guru only does surgery in September, December, March, and June.

So that's the explanation for giving us an IVF start date in March. Six months away is still six months away, but I feel immensely relieved upon getting this new information. It means that Guru wasn't just picking a month at random (unlike my former RE). It means that we will really start meds in February and go for the gold in March barring any unforeseen circumstances.

Of course, I'm hoping that there's a way to fit us in in December. I've already figured out that my next cycle will start the day after we meet with him. And so, if I could only start BCPs right away and then my meds, I figure I'd be ready to go by mid-December or late December. I know it's far-fetched of course. And don't worry, I'm not banking on it. I'm sure Guru is already all booked up for his December surgeries. But how amazing would it be if it did happen? The best Christmas present ever!

But March is good too. March is great. And I figure if I've been patient this long, I can wait a little while longer. Really, I can.

So now all I have to do is locate those missing files so that the new RE can see that my ovarian reserve is in tip-top shape. That I'm raring to go. And maybe one of Guru's patients could do me a huge favor and cancel his sperm retrieval surgery, the one scheduled for mid to late September? I know it's a lot to ask, but hey, anything can happen.

missing

2004-10-23T10:19:00.000-07:00

My blood work is lost. My husband lost it. I figure it had to be him since I am oh-so organized and anal and type-A and have every single piece of paper relating to infertility organized in a nifty accordian file.

I first discovered my lab report was missing from the file when my husband came back from his consult with Dr. Blecch in September. Before he left for his trip I specifically told him to have Blecch make copies of our lab reports and to bring the originals home. When he came home- no originals. He left our papers with Blecch. When we discovered that my records were missing from the files, my husband assumed that he had given Blecch my results too. "They must have been all together." Impossible. My filing system has my records in a different section than my husband's.

We called and called and asked Blecch to send the originals to my in-laws. They arrived on Friday- not the originals at all, but fuzzy copies. And fuzzy copies of my husband's hormone levels only. My lab reports were conspicuously absent.

We think (we are praying) that Dr. Hope has copies of all of my bloodwork and that he didn't immediately put them all through the shredder when we broke up with him. And we've asked him to send all of my medical records to the new RE in New York. But we've asked him to do things for us before that didn't happen. Hence the break-up.

The new RE wants/needs my day 3 bloodwork before our consult with him next Tuesday. And as luck would have it, my next cycle begins the day AFTER we meet with him. So if my lab reports are truly missing and Hope doesn't have them (though why wouldn't he, right?) or if he doesn't send them in time(a more likely scenario)- we're that much more behind in getting started.

I'm so frustrated I could scream. I hate losing things. And losing my Day 3 hormone level report right now feels like just about the worst thing ever. Okay, I know there are worse things, but I'm a firm believer in "a place for everything and everything in it's place" and right now I'm having a hard time remembering which doctors have which papers. Too many doctors involved. Too many tests, too many results.

It will all work itself out (I hope) as I plan to harass Hope's receptionist until I am 100% positive that my report is in the new RE's hands. But I only have a week to do it. A very busy week it shall be.

blah, blah, blah

2004-10-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in awhile because frankly, there's nothing to write about.

We broke up with Dr. Hope last weekend and I think it went okay. We were polite, explained why we were leaving him, and asked him to forward all of medical records to the new RE. They haven't arrived yet, but I'm hopeful that they are en route and will be there when we meet with him in a couple of weeks. We'll check with the new RE's office in a couple of days and if they haven't yet arrived, we'll pester Dr. Hope some more. I'm hoping he's man enough to not take our desertion personally and will send the records without any further prodding from us. We'll see.

So, I leave for New York a week from tomorrow and have made plans with friends for brunches, dinners, shopping excursions, and cheesecake at Juniors. I think I may even be able to squeeze in a trip to my former polling place to vote on election day. It'll be a busy trip- but one I'm looking forward to for a million reasons. It'll be great to be back in my favorite city on earth, not to mention finally meet with our new docs and hopefully get moving on having a baby.

I'm not sure that there will be any news worth writing about before I go, but I'll definitely be back after my trip with an update on how it all went.

cut to the chase

2004-10-17T09:42:00.000-07:00

The more I think about it, the more I wonder why Guru told my husband that he thinks we'll be able to start IVF in March.

I'd be more understanding if we hadn't already had most of our tests done, if we weren't up to speed on the procedures, if we didn't have scheduled appointments with Guru and the new RE in a couple of weeks, if we weren't so dead-set on having a baby and having one soon, if we hadn't researched all of our options again and again and again.

But six months away is just that, six months away. And the more I consider that timeline, the more it seems too long to wait.

I just heard the news (on one of the message boards that I frequent) that an "aquaintance" of mine just found out she was pregnant with twins. I'm thrilled for her, and her pregnancy gives me hope. She and her husband were dealing with severe male factor, they did IVF/ICSI. It worked the first time. But, if I remember correctly, she e-mailed me to tell me of her husband's diagnosis a month or so after I learned of my own infertility back in July. We may have already met with Hope by then. We were probably already thinking that September would be our month.

I hadn't realized that this woman was moving along so quickly. Didn't even know that she had started taking drugs, had had her egg retrieval, that they were able to find viable sperm in her husband's testicles.

Who are her doctors, I want to know, that diagnosed and treated them so quickly? That had such successful results the first time around? And why is Guru urging us to take the slow boat? Everyone is different, I know, but I can't help but envy this woman who got to do things the way we all wish we could- boom, boom, boom, pregnancy.

I'll have the chance to talk to Guru in a couple of weeks and I'm definitely going to ask him about his timeline for us. I imagine things get hectic around the holidays (doctors and nurses and technicians on vacation and all that) and perhaps his team is booked through the New Year and beyond. If it's a scheduling issue, that's one thing, but if it's something else, well I have no qualms about telling him that I was ready yesterday.

I do believe that he is the best doctor for us, so I will listen to what he has to say. I'm not planning on jumping ship (again) due to my own lack of patience. But if it can happen sooner, why not try it sooner? That's all I want to know.

what i know now

2004-10-15T07:24:00.000-07:00

Since Wednesday, the staff at my school has been attending a conference for educators here in DF. We finished around 3:00 yesterday afternoon, and a group of us headed to a bar in my neighborhood for tapas and sangrias.

One of the teachers asked me how old I was, how old my husband was and I told her: 31 and 33. She asked if we were planning on having children. And I hemmed and hawed over my answer, wanting to be honest with her because she had just shared the intimate details of her recent separation from her husband, but in the end deciding no, that I don't want people at work to know about this. At least, not yet. And so I told her that we probably did, but we'd just been married a year and were giving it some time. What a load of crap. The confession made me feel guilty in two ways. One, for telling a bold faced lie to someone I really like and hope to become better friends with. And two, for feeling like infertility is something I can't talk about openly, honestly.

I was in an unbelievably good mood yesterday thanks to the consult with Guru. We have a plan now it seems, a realistic one. One that sits well in my stomach and doesn't make me cry with the sheer improbability of it actually happening.

My husband met me at the bar when he got off of work and when everyone else had left, we stayed for another sangria and talked alone about our days, about Guru.

I didn't realize how angry I was at our DC clinic until we started talking about the things we'll say to them when we break it off for good. Because we are going to break it off for good. I realized that despite the clinic's claim to work with patients from all over the world, they were especially unaccomodating with us in terms of scheduling our appointments and recognizing that when we fly from 2000 miles away, we want a little more than a brief consult. I think of all of the unanswered e-mails I sent, the questions I had answered only vaguely, the reluctance for anyone on that team to commit to a plan of action for us, and I boil.

I realize how my urgency to get pregnant, to get started with our treatment blinded me in some ways to the fact that the doctors we were working with weren't the best doctors for us. And I wonder where we'd be if I hadn't tapped into the blog community, the RESOLVE message boards to learn that there are people out there who specialize in male factor infertility, who are responsive to their patients, who are respectful of their patients who travel from far away in the hopes of getting the best care available.

I also can't help but wonder if things are going more smoothly with Guru because of our experience in DC. I know now what to ask for, what to demand in terms of patient care. I know now what to expect. I'm more educated about infertility about the treatment options and the diagnostic testing and I know what needs to be done and when it needs to be done. With Hope, I was following along blindly, snatching at any promising offers he made because I just didn't know what was realistic and what was off-base. And now I do. I'm no expert (though I might be by the time this is all over), but I certainly am no longer wearing my rose-colored glasses as I navigate the system.

While my husband and I were talking last night, he tried to figure out when our baby would be due if we did IVF March. DIf I get pregnant in March, I corrected him. It might not work. The eggs might not fertilize, the embryos might not implant, I could miscarry. That won't happen he said and I told him that it might, it could, it was probably more likely that I won't get pregnant than I will. And I explained that I wasn't trying to be pessimistic, but realistic. Reminded him how devastating it was to pee on a stick every month all of those months ago when we were "trying." And how much more devastating it would be to pin all of our hopes on one procedure, all that money and time and energy spent, only to have a negative result. I can't do that to myself, I told him. I can only hope for the best and expect the worst.

I think he got it.

So, this weekend, we write to Dr. Hope and tell him that we are no longer in his care. I'm hoping that we're not too chicken to explain all of our frustrations with his practice and that we're not too bitter to tell him that despite those frustrations we really liked him, his nurse. But (and I won't write this part), we just like Guru better.

the consult

2004-10-14T08:34:00.000-07:00

My husband had his phone consult with Guru early this morning. I was extremely nervous all morning, waiting for my husband's call, worrying that somehow things would go awry, that we had put all of our faith in Guru being the answer, only to discover that he was no better than our guy in DC.

But it went well.

Guru had all of our medical records in front of him (minus the ones that Blecch's office failed to fax)and my husband had a list of questions that we wrote out last night as well as the lab report from his ultrasound.

Based on all of the available information, it looks like we'll be able to start IVF in March. I'll start taking drugs in February and we'll do the microdissection surgery and egg retrieval in March. It's a little farther away than I had hoped, but still in the realm of the not-too-distant future. And unlike Hope's prediction that we'd start in September, actually seems realistic to jaded old me.

My husband set up an appointment with Guru for the time we'll be in NYC and that feels promising- three birds with one stone: the RE, the urologist, and the lab technician for the chromosomal testing.

We still need to decide whether or not to repair my husband's varicocele. Guru thinks that if we go forward with that surgery, there would only be a 10% chance of upping his sperm count. He also thinks that (based on the bloodwork), my husband has sertoli-cell only syndrome. Blecch told us that with sertoli cell, we'd only have a 5-15% chance of finding sperm, Guru thought it was more like 30-50%. Much better odds, I think. And odds that I can live with.

So, we're moving along in thie journey towards being parents, slowly but definitely surely.

Two more weeks until we meet Guru in person. I can't wait!

the beginning of the end

2004-10-11T20:53:00.000-07:00

My husband's phone consult with Guru is on Thursday and Dr. Blecch has yet to send us the originals (and our only copies) of our bloodwork results. My husband mistakenly gave them to Blecch at that consult before he realized that there was no way in hell that we would continue seeing him as our urologist. We've called the office numerous times to request that they send the originals back to us. Mostly, we get the voicemail. A week ago, my husband was lucky enough to talk to a receptionist who promised that she would check to see if our records had been mailed and if not would put them in the mail immediately. They still haven't arrived.

If we were depending on the Mexican postal service, I would completely understand this. But we asked Blecch to send the lab reports to my in-laws who live about 20 minutes away from his office. Surely, if the receptionist had really done what she said she was going to do our papers would have arrived quite a while ago.

So tonight I sent an e-mail off to Nurse Helpful in the hopes that she will fax a copy of the results to Guru in time for my husband's consult. It was a tricky e-mail to write. We still haven't confessed to Hope and Helpful that we are leaving them for someone else and so I had to sort of stretch the truth and say that we were seeking a second opinion. I told her we had tried to get in touch with Blecch but had failed miserably and would she be oh-so-kind as to fax off our bloodwork to Guru.

Sooner or later, we're going to have to come clean. We'll have to let Hope and Helpful know that as much as we love them, we can't stand their little urologist associate and are walking out of the relationship. But we want to actually talk to Guru first. Want to make sure he's waiting in the wings for us. Can't break up with Hope and then be left with nothing. Though I'm worried that my e-mail wasn't subtle enough and they'll know. "We like you, but we feel it's time to see other doctors." "It's not you, it's us." "We still want to be friends." No matter what lines you use, it doesn't make it any easier. And I know that stringing them along will probably only make matters worse. Breaking up is hard to do, especially long distance.

Did I mention my husband had his doppler color ultrasound this evening? He did. We'll get the films and lab report on Wednesday. I wasn't in the exam room with him, but I got to hear about the image of his varicocele. Bright red and blue on the screen. At least we'll have that test result in hand in time for the consult, even if Helpful and Blecch don't come through for us with our hormone levels.

always a bridesmaid. . .

2004-10-10T08:46:00.000-07:00

I've actually never been a bridesmaid. But if the adage fits. . .

My husband was made a godfather yesterday. This is his third godchild.

Yesterday afternoon, we were invited to a party to celebrate the 6 month birthday of our friend's baby. (These are the friends who got pregnant a month after learning of the husband's low sperm count.) They're Indian. And traditionally, when a baby turns 6 months old, there is a special ceremony to officially commemorate the introduction of solid food into the baby's diet. Usually, the mother's brother feeds the first bites to the baby. But my friend has no brother. And when we arrived at the house yesterday, she pulled us aside and told us that they wanted my husband to fill that role. So he was briefed on the ceremony which involved him sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding the baby in his lap and feeding her a bite from each of the dishes that we'd all be eating later that day. His forehead was brushed with sandalwood paste, a symbol of purity. He touched the different foods to her lips. (she didn't cry even at the spiciest dishes.) He offered her a plate full of various items symbolizing her future career choice and waited for her to reach for one. (She chose a silver rattle). Everyone agreed that he did a good job. And he held that baby for the rest of the day, only giving her up to me or her mother when he was ready to eat.

Mama (I think that's how it's spelled) is the name for his role. And supposedly, in Indian culture, the mama is like the godfather. He is responsible for half of her dowry when she gets married, is present at all of the important ceremonies in her life. We were shocked and honored that my husband was asked. And when we got home last night, I told him how significant it was that he had been chosen. Wanted to make sure that he understood the importance of his place in this baby's life.

It's not surprising to me that my husband has been chosen to be a godfather to three different babies. Children love him. He's good with them. Yesterday, after watching him with her baby for a while, my friend turned to me and confessed that she thought he seemed more comfortable with the baby than she was. He's going to make an excellent father, she said. And I agreed. Have always known that.

I'm not sure if this is the right time, but I have something for you, she said. They went to India with the new baby this summer and brought us back a bunch of gifts. But there was one more. A tiny silver rattle, just like the one her daughter had chosen from the plate earlier in the day. When they left for India in May, my husband and I were actively trying to conceive and had no idea that we had any problems in the getting pregnant department. Our friends knew that we were trying and bought us the rattle in the hopes that when they got back from their 3 month trip, we'd have good news to share and they'd have a congratulatory gift ready and waiting.

She gave me the rattle yesterday. It's the first baby thing that I own. I don't feel jinxed by it, maybe because it was a gift and not something I bought for myself. I didn't feel sad when she gave it to me, only hopeful. Certain that someday I will have a baby who will hold it and shake it to hear the tiny bells ring. I'm not sure I would have felt this way a couple of months ago.

You will be parents someday, she said. And now your baby will have something to remember me by.

Thank you, I said. Thank you so much.

And I meant so much more than thanks for the gift. I meant to thank her for believing in us as potential parents, for being so certain that it will happen for us that she was unapologetic about presenting me with a gift that may not be useful for another year or two or three. For wanting to be a part of our future child's life in the way that we are now connected to her daughter.

I showed the rattle to my husband when we got home and waited for his reaction. He just smiled, didn't seem to think that getting a gift for a baby that isn't even growing yet was strange. I slipped the rattle back into its velvet pouch and put it into the drawer where I keep my jewelry.

I'm sure I'll look at it from time to time as a reminder of things to come. Am not worried at all that it will make me think of what I'm missing now, only what I will have in the future. My little silver touchstone. My little jingly piece of hope.

ready, set . . .

2004-10-08T16:22:00.000-07:00

It's official. I'm going to New York. We made the appointment with the male factor infertility RE at Cornell for the beginning of next month. Apparently, he's booked until mid-December, but we were squeezed in. Thank goodness. I'm not sure I'd have the patience to wait until December for our first meeting.

The crazy thing is, as anxious as I am to get this whole thing underway, I'm really just looking forward to being back in New York. I haven't been since February and I miss the city terribly. Most of my friends are still there and I'm crazy excited to see them, go to the Halloween parade in the Village, do some shopping, linger over a long brunch on Sunday.

I'm looking forward to meeting our doctors too, of course. And to get my husband's genetic testing over and done with. I'm hoping the consult will be informative and we'll have a better idea of when we can actually start IVF. When I think back to our first meeting with Dr. Hope in July and his insane promise that we'd be starting IVf in September, I'm amazed that I believed him. We hadn't had a single blood test done then, no HSG, no physical exam for my husband. But now, or at least by the time we meet with the new RE, all of our results will be in his hands. I think that makes for a more realistic prediction of our treatment plan than 2 semenalyses and my ovulation charts- all we had in hand when we met with Dr. Hope.

So, I'm looking forward to the trip. Only a couple of weeks away. Something to get me through the increasingly crazy days at work. I'm ready.

i love new york

2004-10-05T14:36:00.000-07:00

Things are moving along. Smoothly. My husband has his telephone consult with Guru next week, and an ultrasound scheduled here in Mexico on Monday. I've chosen an RE from Guru's team and will hopefully meet with him in early November. So far, I've been pleasantly amazed at how accomodating all the folks at Cornell have been. The difference between our interactions with them vs. the interactions with the team in DC is like night and day. And I really feel like we've made the right choice in switching practices.

I was nervous about it at first. Thought that if we left Dr. Hope, we'd be starting from scratch. But of course that's not true at all. Most of our tests have already been done and we just need to get started. I know that there'sa chance that Guru will want my husband to have a biopsy, but hearing that from him seems very different somehow than hearing it from Dr. Blecch.

Suddenly, I feel like we're in capable hands. Hands that truly understand male factor infertility, hands that will help us achieve our goal of having a baby in a relatively uncomplicated manner. While I really liked Dr. Hope, I just didn't feel like we were a priority for the practice. I think that their expertise just isn't in male factor stuff. And what we need is expertise in male factor stuff. And so I'm feeling hopeful again. Even optimistic.

Of course, I won't know what our timeframe will be, what our protocol will be until my husband has talked with Guru. But based on our communication with him so far, his office so far, I have a hard time believing that he'll disappoint.

secrets

2004-10-03T14:30:00.000-07:00

My husband is a Republican. I am a Democrat. As a couple, we've come to terms on our political discord, though the truth of the matter is, we actually see eye to eye on most issues. Not all. But most. He still believes that the war in Iraq is not a mistake and would like to see George W. in the White House for another 4 years, while the thought of the war and George W. make me nauseous. He's a better debater than I am. I tend to take everything personally. I don't argue with cited studies and statistics, but with emotion. And so I tend to lose our dinner table arguments. But I like to think that even though he can't sway me on the big issues, he's able to help me to see both sides of an argument. And in my own emotional way, with examples from my work in The Projects on the Lower East Side, the inner-city schools in Oakland, I can help him to see the other side of things as well.

On Thursday night, we watched the first presidential debate at the Sheraton Centro Historico with a group here in Mexico, the Republicans Abroad. My husband isn't part of the group, but was invited to the event by a colleague of his. We don't have cable at home and both wanted to watch the debate and so accepted the invitation.

There was more press there than Republicans Abroad, or so it seemed. I'm pretty sure that I was the only Democrat in the room until the very end when the former ambassador to Mexico showed up. But the people gathered to watch the debate were a pretty sedate bunch and so there was very little audible response to either Bush or Kerry. No cheers, no hisses. And I was quite relieved.

When the debate had ended, a reporter wanted to interview my husband, but he declined, not wanting his political affiliation to be somehow linked to the university he worked for, so we slinked out while the president of the group was interviewed and others lined up for their turn in front of the camera.

The next morning at work, one of the teachers asked me if I had seen the debate and I told her that I had. I went on to explain that I thought Kerry was strong, but I'm biased in that direction and that I had watched the debate with the Republicans Abroad. I didn't mention my that my husband happens to be a Republican. I tend to let him out himself when it comes up, especially among people we don't know very well.

That night, we went out with some of my co-workers and the teacher who had asked me about the debates was there. She assumed, as most people tend to do, that my husband was a Democrat. And she asked him how it felt to watch the debates in Mexico with a bunch of Bush supporters. She said that she'd never met a Republican in Mexico. And I kept waiting for my husband to say something, to tell her that she was talking to one right now. But he kept quiet and while he didn't actually agree with what she was saying, he was vague enough in his responses to her questions and comments that he didn't let on how angry her assumptions made him.

Later, this same teacher (who I really like, by the way) made a comment about IVF. One of the students we work with was conceived using a sperm donor and we were talking about how he doesn't know his father. I can't remember exactly what she said (I'd had a few drinks by this point), but it was something about not knowing your biological parents, about not looking like your mother. I kept quiet.

The people at school don't know about my infertility. I don't know if its something I'll ever share with them. I just don't feel like I know them well enough, trust them enough to share. Part of it is, that most of them are younger than me. None of them are married or thinking about having kids. The only kids we talk about are our students. The topic of pregnancy, of raising our own kids just hasn't come up. At this point, its hard for me to imagine how it would. My guess is they assume that if/when I'm ready to have kids, I will. And for now that's okay with me. If/when I have to take time off from work for IVF, I'll have to decide whether to tell them the truth about why I'll be gone for so long. I have a feeling I'll be vague about it. Need to see a doctor, have minor surgery, something along those lines.

Since Friday, I've linked these "secrets" in my mind: the fact that my husband supports Bush and the fact that we're infertile. While neither one of these things (I hope) would cost me the friendship of my new co-workers, they both have the potential to make things feel awkward between us, something that sets us apart. I already feel a bit out of the loop having joined the staff well into the beginning of the school-year, haven't bonded with them in the way that they seem to have bonded with each other. I don't want to jeopardize the potential for making new friends. It makes me feel a little dishonest, and I'm probably not giving these people the benefit of the doubt, but I can't help the way I feel, even if it's more than a bit irrational.

We skipped a second work party last night, not because of any of the above stuff I mentioned, but because we both just felt like staying in. I should probably worry more about the repercussions of that decision than who my husband will vote for in November. After all, my vote will cancel out his.

lessons from school

2004-09-30T16:22:00.000-07:00

Part of my duties at The School entail running the library for the 3rd through 6th graders. Today I had a fifth grade class and read to them from "Blubber" before letting them look for books on their own to check out.

While everyone else was looking at books, two girls came up to me and asked me if I had a boyfriend. I told them, no, I don't have a boyfriend, but I do have a husband. I'm married.

They looked at each other and one of them asked if I wanted to have a baby.

Desperately, I thought to myself, but only said, "Someday" out loud.

"Do you want a boy or girl?"

"I don't know. I said. It doesn't really matter. How about you? If you were going to have a baby, would you want a boy or a girl."

"A healthy baby," one of them answered. And the second one chimed in, "One with 5 fingers on each hand, not six"

And the first one went on,"and with only one head, not three. And two eyes."

"And one stomach."

"And two ears."

They went on and on listing all of the possible body parts that a potential baby could be born with.

The conversation struck me. I thought that the girls might be trying to figure out if I was pregnant. My stomach can definitely give off that impression if you don't know better. But I also remembered that in the chapter I had read to them referred to the Guiness Book of World records and a 58 year old woman who had given birth, so maybe they were just trying to figure out my age. Then again, maybe they were just curious about me, wanted to know if I had a boyfriend and then when I told them I was married, jumped to the next logical question. . .But they didn't ask me if I had any kids, just if I wanted to have a baby. Hmmm. . .I don't think I'll ever know.

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Later in the day, I was subbing for the other librarian, the one who reads to the younger kids. Not knowing what to read to the kindergarten class that was filing through the door, I quickly grabbed for the longest Dr. Seuss book I could find: Horton Hatches an Egg.

I don't know if you've had the chance to read Horton lately, but the message is a nice one. Basically Horton is an elephant who sits on an egg for a lazy bird who runs off to Florida to avoid her parental respsonsibilities and comes back just as the egg is hatching. To everyone's surprise, what comes out of the egg is a little elephant bird that looks njust like Horton! The lazy bird wants her baby back, but it is clear that the baby really belongs to Horton. After all, he did all the work, sitting on the egg for 51 weeks. And he gets to keep the baby and go home with it.

The analogy doesn't work if you're talking about gestanional surrogates, but when I was reading the story to the kids, I was thinking more along the lines of donor sperm. As in, the lazy bird was the donor and Horton was the parent who got the sperm, who grew the baby and in the end who was going to take care of it. In real life, the likelihood that the baby would look like Horton is an impossibility of course, but then the idea of an elephant sitting on a bird's egg for 51 weeks is a bit far-fetched too. I was thinking more along the lines of the other traits we pass on to our children, the things that aren't genetically based.

As an adopted child, I often marvel at how similar I am to my adoptive mother. How we even have the same smile.

She was a teacher and when I was little, I would often go to school with her when I had days off and she didn't and inevitably one of her students would tell me, "you look just like your mother." It isn't really true. She's white for one thing. And I'm biracial. But we do share mannerisms and a way of speaking that could easily translate into looking alike.

Anyway, I was glad to have found Horton this afternoon. It definitely reminded me that, if we do have to go with donor sperm, if we do have to adopt, we will still be the parents. We will still be parents period. Just like Horton was.

paris and nike

2004-09-29T06:38:00.000-07:00

Last night my husband offered to take me to Paris for my birthday. He had the whole thing worked out- when we'd leave, when we'd return. He called from work and said he'd rather surprise me, but since the plans were big and expensive, he wanted to check with me first.

I turned him down.

There's nothing I would love more than a romantic birthday weekend spent in Paris. But I can't go. I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but not counting official school vacations, I only have 5 sick/personal days that I can take in a year.

I'm already using up 2 of those days to go home for Thanksgiving. Something we do every year. Plans we made before I got hired.

And I'm anticipating needing to use the other 3 for a trip to NYC to meet Guru. I don't know how I'll swing it when it comes time to actually start IVF. I suppose I'll beg and plead and ask for a leave of absence, tell them not to pay me, but to please hold my job when I get back. We'll see. That likely won't come up for a while yet.

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I had a nightmare last night/this morning. I dreamt that I was one-half of a lesbian couple. I was hanging out with some friends in a trailer home when my partner came to the door and announced that she was pregnant. I hugged her and cried. And whispered into her ear that I was a bit jealous that she was the one who got to be pregnant. She was understanding and didn't take it the wrong way.

The friends that we were with were shouting out congratulations and counting the months until the due date. My partner was clearly upset, believed that she would miscarry. I pulled a couple of the friend's aside and told them that because we had been infertile, we were really nervous about this pregnancy. Weren't sure if it was going to stick. I explained that the risk of miscarriage is much higher until the end of the first trimester and tried to get them to squelch their enthusiasm just a bit.

One guy looked at me and said "It's not the infertility that causes micarriage. It's the Nikes."

I've no idea what that means in waking life, but in my dream it was mean and insensitive. I growled at him and kicked.

I must have kicked and growled in real life too, since that's the point where my husband woke me up and told me I was having a bad dream.

when this is all over

2004-09-28T07:37:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, I schlepped over to my friend's new house for lunch. I went solo because my husband caught the cold that I was fighting last week and he didn't have a voice. I felt like I had to go anyway since I had blown off these friends last weekend using my own germiness as an excuse. . .These are the friends who got a diagnosis of a low sperm count and then got pregnant a month later.

For the first couple of hours that I was there, there was no talk of infertility and I was very relieved. I wasn't sure how I'd react if she brought up once again that we were going through the same thing. Instead, I got a tour of the new place, was asked about my job, played with her little girl, ate myself silly.

It wasn't until we were on to dessert that she asked about our new doctor. I clarified that Guru wasn't our new doctor yet, though we want him to be, that he seems to promise better treatment more specifically geared toward our problem than Hope. I didn't go into detail, didn't want to ruin my decent afternoon by bringing up all the unknowns.

My friend said (for the millionth time since she found out we were having troubles) that when she found out about her husband, she cried every day. And I thought to myself that crying every day for a month is a bit different than crying every day for 6 months (or longer.) But I didn't say that. I simply said that we're doing what we need to be doing and we can't let ourselves get depressed over something that we have so little control over. I told her how now that I'm working, I have a built-in distraction. And now that we're trying this new doctor, things look a little more positive. I think she got it.

Her husband chimed in, gesturing to his baby girl sitting in her little seat on the floor, with "When this is all over and you have your baby, you'll forget everything you went through."

I know what he meant. Really, I do. That the struggle is worth it, because when its all over you have on of "these". But at the time when he said it, it sounded all wrong.

I can't imagine ever forgetting any of this. And I think that when I finally do get pregnant, if I finally do get pregnant, I will be grateful and overwhelmed and thrilled. But when and if that little baby is snuggling in my arms, I won't forget what brought him or her into this world. What my husband and I went through to bring him or her here. I wouldn't really want to. I think it's important that our future baby know just how much s/he was wanted. How much we were willing to do to bring him or her into this world.

I also know that the couple I was visiting doesn't plan on having any more kids. They always wanted one. Just one. And now they have her.

But my husband and I have always wanted two or three. I realize there's a chance I could be blessed with twins, but should that not happen, we'll have to make the decision whether or not to go through all of this again for a second child. If we do decide to grow our family even more, we won't be able to ignore what it took to grow it in the first place.

No matter what we decide, this process will not be forgotten. How can it be? There's just too much at stake. It's too big.

And, I can't help but think, over a year later with a baby in her arms, my friend still gets a little teary when she talks about finding out about her husband's low sperm count. She hasn't forgotten. Why will I?

save the date

2004-09-27T16:10:00.000-07:00

I got a brief e-mail from my husband today that said he set up a telephone consult with Dr. Guru. The consult will be in a little over two weeks which gives us time to send him our bloodwork results and for mu husband to get a scrotal ultrasound done.

The DC clinic wasn't willing to do a consult with us by phone, no matter how many times we begged, no matter how many times we explained that we were coming from another country. So besides being a quick e-mail responder, Dr. Guru is proving himself to be quite accomodating to out-of-towners.

Another point for him.

Since we've never been able to do a phone consult before, I'm not really sure what to expect, how it will go. But I figure if Guru has all of our medical records in hand, he should have a pretty decent picture of our situation and we'll be able to fill in any blanks for him on the phone.

If it all goes well, and Guru is as cool on the phone as he has been in e-mails, we'll make an appointment for an office visit and will likely cut our ties to DC. The only reason we haven't jumped ship yet is because we want to make absolutely sure that Guru is the guy for us.

I'm also not sure exactly how to break it off with Dr. Hope. I really liked him. It's just his pal Dr. Blecch that I can't deal with.

But for now I'm just trying to focus on the positive, the budding relationship with Guru. I really hope he doesn't disappoint.

all signs point to yes

2004-09-23T16:09:00.000-07:00

Mu husband and I wrote to Dr. Guru again last night and requested a telephone consult. My husband will be in New York in November and we asked if he could set up an appointment fo a face-to-face meeting (and to have his karyotype and Y chromosome microdeletion testing done) while he's there. Sure enough, we had a response this morning- Dr. Guru's receptionist is supposed to get in touch with us to set up both the consult and the office visit.

I continue to be amazed at how quickly Dr. Guru responds to us. And how he actually addresses our questions and concerns in his responses.

We still have formally cut our ties with the DC fertility clinic. We want to wait to actually talk to Guru before we say goodbye to Dr. Hope, want to make sure that we're making the absolutely best decision for our situation.

But so far, it feels good. I am a million times less frustrated with our first contacts with Dr. Guru than I was when we first tried getting in touch with the DC clinic. So, there's a 99.6% chance we'll officially make the switch. It just feels right.

feeling the same way all over again

2004-09-21T17:05:00.000-07:00

Hopeful, that is.

Last night my husband and I carefully crafted an e-mail to send to Dr. Guru up at Cornell. We explained our situation in detail and tried to imply that we were less than ecstatic about our latest advice from our urologist. We asked him what he made of our situation and told him we'd be interested in meeting him.

When my husband got to work this morning there was an e-mail waiting for him from Dr. Guru. It wouldn't have mattered what it said, the fact that he replied to us sometime in the middle of the night and didn't have a nurse or receptionist get back to us in a few days would have been enough to convince me to make the switch. But he was thorough, answered all of our questions, and agreed with our understanding that in my husband's case, a diagnostic biopsy may not be predictive of whether or not they'll be able to find sperm later, at egg retrieval.

Now, Dr. Guru is more expensive than Dr. Hope. And there's no money-back guarantee if we don't bring home a live baby after a set number of cycles. But I don't really care right now. I'm impressed that he responded to us so quickly. I like knowing that he's had more than a bit of success with non-obstructive azoospermia, that he is the pioneer of the microdissection technique.

The latest plan is to e-mail him back to request a phone consultation and then to hopefully set up a fac-to-face meeting sometime in November. We realize that he may still advise a biopsy before proceeding to IVF, but I'd feel better about getting that recommendation from him than I did from Dr. Blecch.

There's still quite a bit up in the air, obviously. And will be for a while. But I'm feeling hopeful again. Feeling like the possibility that I will get pregnant with my husband's biological child is not completely out of reach.

family matters

2004-09-19T01:52:00.000-07:00

My aunt called this morning. I haven't spoken to her since last Thanksgiving. She's the mother of my cousin who just had a baby. The cousin who wasn't even trying to get pregnant. Or at least, didn't think it would happen so quickly.

My mother finally decided to tell the family about my fertility problems. I guess the birth of my cousin's child, the upcoming reunion at Thanksgiving, and a little talk I had with her when I hung out with her in Boston for a few hours a couple of weeks ago spurred her into action. So she told my grandmother last week and then called my uncle and told him. Hence my aunt's phone call this morning.

It was a shcok to hear from her, but I knew immediately why she was calling. And to her credit, she didn't beat around the bush. "Your uncle told me about what you guys are going through and I just wanted you to know that even though we don't see you that often or talk as often as we should, we love you. We're thinking about you and praying for you. And we're here if you ever want to talk."

It was actually quite perfect what she said. And before she could evem finish offering her support and love for us, I was a mess of tears. She didn't ask about the treatments and I was glad, didn't wonder about a timeline for pregnancy, didn't want details. She just wanted to tell me that she hoped we were okay.

My aunt is adopted like me. And years ago, she was the one person in the family who was willing to talk to me about the possibility of finding my biological parents. In the end, I decided not to, but she had looked up her biological mother as a teenager and was able to tell me about her experience. Was able to understand why it might be important for me to know where I came from.

And today, on the phone, she acknowledged how important it seems to an adopted child to have a biological child of her own. She got it. In a way that even my husband and closest friends can't truly understand. "It doesn't matter how wonderful your parents were, you still want that connection, someone who looks like you."

It was a short conversation, the talk between my aunt and I. She told me a million times how much she loved me. Loves my husband. Told me that she hopes things will work out, and not just work out, but work out the way that we want them to. She didn't say that she knew that they would (a huge pet peeve of mine), but that she just hoped. And she reminded me that if it came down to it, adoption isn't a bad thing. "Look at us," she said, "Look at you. Wonderful things can come from adoption."

She didn't mention my cousin. She didn't talk about her new grandchild. She just wanted to talk about me. About how I'm doing and how she and my uncle are there for me. How I should let them know if I need anything, even if I just need them to back off. And I have to say, it was the exact thing I needed to hear. It was possibly the best conversation I've had about infertility since this whole thing began in June.

great expectations

2004-09-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I was so disappointed when I got the phone call from my husband yesterday afternoon to report on his visit to the urologist. I suppose that in my mind, I had built up the importance of this consult. Believed that the new uro would provide us with answers, clarity, direction.

He did none of that. If anything, we're more confused than ever and are ready to pack it in at our clinic in DC and head up to Cornell to meet with the microdissection guru there.

I wasn't there, of course, but based on what my husband told me- the new uro was anything but helpful. My husband had to wait an hour to see him. And when he finally got into to Dr. Blecch's office, Blecch asked him "So, what can I do for you?" Apparently, our RE hadn't sent over any of our information. Luckily, my husband was armed with all of our medical records and test results.

My husband explained the problem, got a brief exam. Was told that he has his vas deferens (phew!) and that his testicles are normal sized (not often the case with non-obstructive azoospermic men), and that his varicocele is pretty large. Blecch recommended the biopsy, said it was a simple procedure, and that we he couldn't predict how to proceed until we got the results. That's fair, but when my husband asked about hypothetical situations: what if it's sertoli cell only? what if its maturation arrest? will you do microdissection? Dr. Blecch was only willing to say that we'd have to wait and see. Oh, and that if it's sertoli cell only, there'd only be a 15% chance of finding sperm through microdissection and he'd recommend going with donor sperm.

Ouch.

Now I know that a 15% chance of finding sperm is low. But I'll be damned if I give up on having my husband's biological child that easily. I can see trying the surgery and hoping that they find something, but in case they don't having donor sperm on-hand as back-up. But I can't see throwing in the towel if there's any chance at all that they might find something. Maybe I'm being irrational and naive, but its how I feel at the moment. At this point, I'm willing to try anything to have my husband's biological child. Anything.

There's a recommended three month wait between surgeries which means that if my husband has his biopsy in November (the earliest possible time for him because of work stuff), we'd be looking at an IVF start date of February or March. And that's if the biopsy results give us any hope at all. Otherwise, it'd be IUI with donor sperm. A possibility I've thought about in the past, but the more it becomes a potential reality, the more I hate to imagine it.

The thing is, Dr. Blecch really didn't tell my husband anything that we didn't already know, hadn't already read. My husband's biggest problem with him (and mine by proxy) was that he was so hurried, didn't want to answer the long list of questions that my husband had brought with him, snapped at my husband when he asked for clarification on one point.

My in-laws called from China last night to find out how the consult had gone and I told them what happened. My father-in-law told me that that's how uros are. "They're surgeons, not doctors," he said. When I reported that back to my husband this morning on the phone, he told me that a doctor friend he'd had dinner with last night had told him the same thing. I'm not sure exactly what it means, but I think we shouldn't expect any hand-holding from Dr. Blecch. That is, if we decide to stay with him at all.

So, we have some decisions to make. Do we leave Dr. Hope and Dr. Blecch behind for the Cornell doc of my fantasies? Do we stick with Blecch's treatment plan? Do we have the biopsy here in Mexico or up in the States? Do we ask Dr. Hope to recommend another uro that works with his practice and hope that the newest uro has a slightly less prickly bedside manner?

I pondered these questions last night over a bottle of wine and a half-pack of cigarettes. (obviously, I'm feeling over my cold). And I didn't come up with anything useful. As is often the case in life- every scenario has its pros and its cons. Every option has its limits.

I know we're not exactly back to square one, but it feels like it in a way. I should never have let myself believe that Dr. Blecch would have the answers to my prayers. I should never have pinned so much hope on one meeting with a doctor. I've learned my lesson. My expectations have fallen. Hard.

the same but different

2004-09-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

Late last night a friend of mine here in Mexico called. She said she just wanted to check on me. We were supposed to get together earlier in the day, but I had canceled. I'm at the tail-end of my cold and want to totally beat this thing before I have to go back to work on Monday. That, and I didn't think it would be all that considerate to expose her baby to my germs. So when we spoke yesterday morning, I told her that I'd give her a call on Saturday if I was feeling better and wanted to do something.

When she called last night and asked me how I was doing, I assumed she meant physically. So I told her that my cold had moved out of my head and down into my chest, but overall I was feeling a million times better than I had been earlier in the week. She asked if my husband had called from DC and I told her that he had, but that he hadn't had his appointment yet and so I didn't have any news on that front.

"You sound like you're keeping in good spirits," she said and again I assumed she meant because I had spent the entire day inside the house, save for a quick trip to the video store to stock up on brat pack films.

"Well," I answered. I've rested a lot today and am feeling better." Not to mention I had just watched "Pretty in Pink" one of my all-time favorite movies from the 80's.

But that's not what she meant.

"You know, when we had this problem last year, whenever my husband was away, I cried and cried. But you sound like you're doing okay. But please call me if you need to talk tomorrow after you find out how the appointment went."

And I realized that she wasn't calling to check up on my physical health, but my mental health. And while it was a well-intentioned gesture, it rubbed me the wrong way. Not the gesture itself, but the idea that she put our fertility problems into the same category.

I realize that I'm probably not being completely fair. She and her husband tried for a year to get pregnant with no results. And then they went in for tests. She was fine, but her husband had a low sperm count. Not zero, mind you, but low. And the doctor told him to drink lots of water and take some hormone shots once a week. And he did. And a month later, she was pregnant. Their baby was born in April.

The part that kills me about their story (not that I'm not happy for them- their little girl is absolutely precious) is the part where they conceived a month after their diagnosis. Maybe I'm mistaken (though with all of my recent reading on the male reproductive system, I don't think so), but my understanding is that the sperm that a man ejaculates today was made 72 days ago. So, yes, her husband had a couple of shots and yes, he drank all that water, but the truth of the matter is the sperm that got her pregnant was not likely affected by the new hormones raging through his system.

They had one or two doctors visits, got treatment and got pregnant. But as we all know, its usually not that easy. Not even close.

And so when she suggested that as soon as my husband returns from the States, we should all get together because they know exactly what we're going through and can give us some support and advice, I wanted to say "Hold on a minute there, girlfriend. You went through something, but not what we're going through."

I'm not trying to say that it wasn't hard for them. Or frustrating. Or meaningful. Or eye-opening. I'm not trying to suggest that they didn't struggle. This friend and I used to work together and I remember how each month that they were trying to conceive, she would think (like so many of us) that THIS was it. This was the month. And she'd list her symptoms hopefully. And when her period arrived, she was always shocked, dejected, sad.

So, I know how much she wanted a baby. And I know how hard it was for her to see our co-workers and colleagues pregnant. I know that she was scared. That she and her husband discussed adoption and donor sperm and had come to terms with the fact that adding to their family might not happen in the way that they had imagined.

And yet. And yet, I still can't help but feel that it was easier for them. Because, well, it was. Maybe harder for them than for other people. But easier for them than for me. And since I'm in a self-centered place right now, that's all I care about. The fact that she sees my situation as the same as hers. Or at least similar.

There are similarities of course. I'm struggling with a male factor just as she was. But they didn't have a million consultations with various specialists before pinpointing the problem and figuring out a way to solve it. Her husband didn't have to have surgery on the most sensitive part of his body. They weren't told that there was only a 5-20% of finding any sperm at all. They didn't have to worry about whether their doctor was proceeding in the most potentially successful way possible. They didn't have to shell out tens of thousands of dollars to conceive. They got to do it the old-fsahioned way. To me, right now, that seems lucky. And do I dare say it: easy.

I don't begrudge my friend her success at achieving motherhood so quickly. Just as I wouldn't want anyone to begrudge me if I became pregnant without the help of a team of specialists. But I do want her to acknowledge that its different, what we're going through. And that even the way we deal with it is different.

She cried to me on the phone when she first learned of her husband's sperm count last summer. I told her casually about mine one day on the phone when she asked if I was pregnant yet. I cry about our infertility sometimes (though not recently) but usually when I'm alone. It's just not my style to cry in front of people. It never has been. And I think that throws her for a loop. That maybe if I'm not crying all the time, if I can talk about it without my voice cracking, its not as bad as it sounds. I don't know.

I'm glad she's offering to be there for me. I just wish I knew how to make her see that I can use her support even if we didn't experience the same things. That just being a friend is enough. We don't have to have the same story in order to comfort each other.

hear me roar

2004-09-16T09:30:00.000-07:00

I've been really angry in my dreams lately. Screaming and yelling at all sorts of people. My mother, my students, friends, strangers. And yet the things that are getting me so riled up while I'm asleep seem almost silly to me when I wake up.

Last night I was angry at my mother-in-law for forcing me to have a wedding at x-mas time so that her prize x-mas tree could be the focal point. Only it wasn't my real mother-in-law in the dream. And I was already married, had already had the wedding of my dreams which my mother pointed out to me during one of my many tantrums, when I had calmed down enough to listen. "That's not the point!" I yelled. "It's just not fair!"

In real life, I've been remarkably calm. Sick, yes. And tired, yes. But (and my husband may dispute this fact), I haven't been yelling at anyone. I don't feel angry. Okay- after an awful day at school on Monday, I was pretty pissed off at the principal, but I vented in waking life and felt much better. So where is all of this night-time rage coming from?
I have to admit, it scares me a little. Because (and again, my husband may dispute this fact), I'm not a yeller or a screamer. I'm the kind of person who holds it in and acts polite and tactful until I have a chance to vent in a less volatile setting. At home, to my husband for instance. Or in my journal. Or in my blog. But rarely, very very rarely do I let loose on the person who is making me crazy at the moment that they're making me crazy. In my dreams however, I'm out of control. Letting everyone within shouting distance know exactly why I'm so pissed off and then some.

I know that my sub-conscious isn't making all of this up on its own. I have been frustrated with more than a few things at my new job. And the infertility stuff is always in the back of my mind, even when I'm awake. But the form that all of that stress is taking in my dreams seems illogical. Though I realize that the very nature of dreams is surreal, it would make more sense to me to be yelling and screaming at our new urologist (the one my husband left this morning to go see.) Or to be crying over all of the new babies in my life (It seems everyone I know is giving birth right now). But instead, I'm getting into battles over x-mas trees and weddings.

I can only hope that I resolve these night time rages somehow, some way. It was much nicer when I was dreaming of pregnancy (my own) and holding sweet-smelling babies in my arms. But I suppose too, that if I need to act like a bitch, better to do it in my sleep than in my waking life. (another fact my husband may dispute.)

sick and tired

2004-09-14T14:38:00.000-07:00

I'm sick. My immunity to little kids germs is zero and unfortunately there are little kids germs running rampant at The School. And so I'm sniffling and achey and tired and feeling quite miserable and yet I have to go to work because we only get 5 sick days a year and I'm trying to save mine up for when I really need them- hopefully for a trip back to the States someday in the not so far future to get on with IVF.

Luckily, I have Thursday and Friday off this week and will spend those days trying to recover from this bug while I sit by the phone anxiously awaiting news from my husband who will be in DC meeting with the new urologist and our financial coordinator.

I've been so busy at work the last couple of days that I haven't had time to obsess about the upcoming visit to the uro. This is a good thing. Two weeks ago I would have spent every waking minute online reading and rereading articles about NOA, testicular biopsy, success rates, etc. But I come home from work so exhausted each day that its all I can do to reply to my e-mail, check-up on my favorite blogs and try to craft an entry of my own that makes some sort of sense. I think I'm failing miserably at the last item on that list, but hey, at least I'm trying.

Tonight though my husband and I will put together a list of all the questions we have for the urologist. I want to make sure we cover all of the bases, that we're absolutely sure of our next steps and are comfortable with them. I know that we're bound to have more questions after the consult, but hopefully my husband can go in with enough information of his own that we're not completely clueless as to what's supposed to happen.

At the spa this weekend, I had a shiatsu massage. My first. I've had massages before, but not like this. I was amazed at how many knots she found in my shoulders and how thoroughly she was able to make them disappear. I'm even more amazed that they're already back, that I can't be un-stressed for more than 3 days at a time. Make that 3 hours. The masseuse told me that those knots were due to high emotions about something. No kidding I wanted to say. I've got high emotions about a lot of things. But I didn't know how to say it in Spanish and so I just sighed and let her keep doing her thing.

I think I may go for another massage this weekend at a place closer to home. Regardless of how the consult goes on Friday, I think I'll need it.

spa la la

2004-09-10T14:42:00.000-07:00

In honor of my completion of a full week of work (no, not really. some friends gave us a gift certificate which expires pretty soon and this is the first weekend in a long time that we've been in town or haven't had guests) the hubby and I are headed to Cuernavaca tomorrow morning to spend the day and night at a spa. I'm hoping its going to be sunny and warm as I have big plans for laying by the pool, doing some outdoor yoga or pilates, and getting some serious sun. Oh, and I have a massage scheduled- will see if I can guilt trip my husband into buying me another treatment. I've been so stressed out lately and really deserve one, don't you think? He's signed up for a facial. His first. And I can't wait to see what he thinks of it.

Tonight we've been invited to a co-workers house for wine and cheese. Our first social outing in what feels like ages. Did I mention we don't have too many friends here in Mexico? We don't. So this little gathering is somewhat akin to an invitation to the Vanity Fair Oscars party for us. Though a bit more casual, I'm assuming.

Will do my best not to drink too much and make a fool of myself so that I get invited back. And so that I'm not all hungover and grumpy at the spa tomorrow.

Yay for weekends.

dr. blog

2004-09-09T15:35:00.000-07:00

I haven't cried about my frustrations with infertility in ages, but last night let it all loose in a dream. I cried and swore and shouted and ruined a wedding. And felt much better when I woke up. I'm pms-ing hard, so the waking tears are bound to appear soon and I hope that they bring as much relief as the dream tears did.

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I wonder if they know we're all out here in bloglandia. Our doctors, I mean. Our gynecologists and REs, our embryologists and lab technicians, our radiologists and nurses. I wonder if would make a difference if they did know, if they actually took the time to read our blogs. Would they realize (possibly with horror) that they aren't dealing with isolated patients, but with a community of infertiles who communicate with each other fairly regularly about our diagnoses, our treatments, our every interaction with them ?

Would they recognize themselves in our blogs, see how we dissected our last phone call with them, the last e-mail we got, the last office visit? Would they bother to comment , to explain why they spoke to us the way they did, why they took so long to return our calls, why they recommend the course of treatment that they do?

My guess is that if they knew that we were out here in such great numbers, they might be a little bit intimidated. Dr. Hope might suddenly realize that my million questions are not coming out of nowhere, but are informed. Not by research or science necessarily, but by the experiences of other women who are struggling with similar situations.

If they knew that we were comparing notes on them do you think that they'd do things any differently? Would they explain things better? Try to make things a little less confused for us, a little less frustrating? Maybe. But maybe not. Would we censor ourselves if we knew they were reading?

What if they had blogs of their own and complained about us? Praised those of us who are the "good" patients? Quoted our questions and then made a snide comment? I shudder to think what Nurse Helpful's stand-in would write about me.

three things

2004-09-07T14:55:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't you know it. A week after I started a new job, the organization that I was hoping to work for, but who turned me down in June, wrote to me and asked if I was interested in doing a long-term consultancy for them. And I can't of course. But passed the info along to a friend here who is looking for work and am hoping that she gets it.

I'm liking the new job more and more. And I am slowly acclimating to the hours away from home, away from my computer, away from the internet. I'm still exhausted when I get home every day, but it's a good exhaustion that comes from being productive as opposed to the exhaustion I had before which came from sitting on my ass all day.

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Nurse Helpful is back from vacation and has already e-mailed me twice (twice!) since she returned. I'm feeling better about going with the DC clinic, though I do have some questions about their expertise in dealing with male factor infertility. Hopefully, we'll get some good answers at my husband's consult next week and will be able to decide whether or not to stick with the RE and uro we have or move on to someone with more experience with azoospermia. The guy we've picked for plan B, unfortunately, is very expensive. And there are no guarantees which we have at our current clinic. I also worry that we'll be back to square one if we do decide to bail on Dr. Hope and his entourage. It might not come to that, but then again, it might. Just trying to keep all of the options open.

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I saw a t-shirt the other day that said: Hay no peligroso. Soy sterilidad. (There's no danger. I'm sterile.) Would you believe it was being sold just steps away from the Centro Fertilidad? It was. And no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't see the humor in it.

the wonder of weekends

2004-09-05T10:59:00.000-07:00

I'd forgotten how much I like weekends. Easy enough to do when one day melts into another, the only thing distinguishing a Thursday say, from a Saturday, being the fact that my husband is home with me. But now that I am working again (and granted only three days into it), I remember the wonder of the weekend. Two full days of total relaxation, sleeping late, the luxury of spending the day in your pajamas, reading the paper, going to a matinee, running errands, . Definitely something that's better appreciated when viewed in contrast to waking up early, spending the day in an office, trying to get a decent dinner on the table when you get home, feeling too exhausted at the end of the day to do much more than watch a video.

But the flip side of course is Sunday evening. In forgetting the luxury of weekends, I'd also forgotten the Sunday evening panic, the wish that you had just one more day to play at home, to recuperate from last week. And since I'm in Mexico, no Labor Day off for me tomorrow. Though I do have Mexican Independence Day coming up in two weeks. Four luxurious days to spend as I wish. Too bad my husband will be in the States meeting with the urologist, while I'm here alone watching reruns of Friends on dvd.

I'm still too newly employed to really dread going to work tomorrow morning. My husband and I went to Office Max yesterday and stocked up on some new supplies for my office, supplies that I requested from the principal, but probably won't actually receive for another couple of weeks. So I'm a little bit excited to bring in my new loot and make my office feel a little bit more like a workplace, as opposed to the Lost and Found closet it was before I moved in.

It's still relatively early as I write. My husband and I are going to see a movie this afternoon, run to the grocery store to stock up on food for the week, take a walk around the park. I've got almost a full day ahead of me before the Sunday evening panic sets in.

dream a little dream

2004-09-03T04:25:00.000-07:00

I dreamt I had a baby last night. A little infant girl. I was in a hotel room with my grandmother who was tidying up all around me as I tried to breastfeed. I couldn't get it right. The baby would latch on for a second and then lose her grip.

I haven't dreamt about babies since this spring. Before we knew what a struggle it would be to have one of our own. I hope the dream means something. The part where I had a baby, at least. I also dreamt that I had to breathe through a plastic contraption in my neck. That part, I hope, won't come true.

Talking to my husband last night, we realized that he should reschedule his consultation with the urologist back to September as originally planned. We have way too many questions for the urologist and don't want him to go for the biopsy just two days after the consult if we're still unsure about the protocol. We read a lot of stuff online last night that makes us question why our docs want to proceed in the way they want to proceed.

So we're hoping his appointment in September is still free. And that we can get all of the answers to our new set of questions during that consult. Everything feels like its getting more and more complicated as time goes on.

But I had that dream. So at least my subconscious is allowing me to think positively.

postponed

2004-09-02T17:07:00.000-07:00

My husband called the urologist's office today and rescheduled his consult. For October. but he also scheduled his biopsy for two days following the consult.

Waiting until October to find out if we have any viable sperm seems like waiting for forever, but because of my husband's work schedule, there was no way he'd be able to have his biopsy until October anyway. And it seems silly for him to fly all the way to DC for a short meeting with the doctor. This way, he can get it done in one fell swoop.

I'm surprising okay with having to wait. It helps that I'm working again (and today went much better than yesterday, thank you very much) so I don't have as much free time to obsess over our infertility. And in a way, I'm glad to be able to dive into work over the next couple of months without worrying that I'll have to take time off for my first IVF cycle.

I no realize just how naive I was to believe that we'd be starting IVF in September. Now, if we get the go-ahead for November, I'll feel grateful. But something tells me not to get my hopes up. Probably the horrible odds that Dr. Hope gave us for finding sperm. The more I think about those numbers 5-20%, the more I realize just how fucked we really are.

Still, 5-20% is better than 0-15% and we'll just have to wait until October to know for sure whether my husband can beat the odds.

first day

2004-09-01T16:58:00.001-07:00

As far as first days at work go, today was not awful. Neither was it incredibly stimulating or challenging. No, I take that back. It was a bit challenging. Staring with the minute I arrived at my new office door only to discover that it was locked. When I asked the secretary about how to gain access to my new digs, she shrugged and said to ask one of the maids or maintenance men for a key. She didn't tell me where to find the maids or the maintenance men, however, so I wandered the campus until I found a woman in an apron with a broom and tried to explain in my best Spanish that I needed the key to my office.

I was supposed to be introduced to the staff and the kids at the morning line-up. That didn't happen. And as a result, all day long I got curious looks from people. There was never really a time to introduce myself or explain what I was doing there (as if I even know myself) because the teachers were always teaching or taking their kids from one place to another. No time to chat.

No computer in my office yet, which for me is like being in an office without oxygen. It'd be bad enought not to have internet access, but no computer at all? I tried writing with a pen and paper and felt extremely stifled. Filled about 8 pages of my notebook making lists of the supplies I need, how bored I was, which referral and observation forms I need to rewrite.

I read files on kids whose problems ranged from attention deficit disorder to having problems with reading. None were all that enlightening.

I ate my lunch. Alone. In my office. Which was so cold I had to keep my jacket and scarf on all day long.

I tried to meet with the principal who was always meeting with someone else.

I made a to-do list for tomorrow.

It was a long day.

in a nutshell

2004-08-31T14:56:00.000-07:00

In an amazing turn of events, Dr. Hope's stand-in nurse spent her entire day in a back and forth e-mail conversation with me. No longer do I feel neglected. No longer am I anxious and frustrated. No longer will I threaten to go off in search of a new RE.

The upshot of the situation is this:

1. My husband has a consult with a urologist scheduled for mid- September. Yes, he's already had a consult with a urologist, but that guy wasn't affiliated with our fertility clinic, so we start again.

2. My husband has to have a diagnostic biopsy. If they find sperm, they'll freeze it. Unfortunately, Dr. Hope thinks that the chance of finding viable sperm is low. Only 5- 20%. But that's better than nothing, right?

3. We can't have the biopsy at the same time as the consult because my husband's schedule and the urologist's schedule are not at all in sync. And we can't have it at the same time as an egg retrieval for IVF because Dr. Hope doesn't want me to go through all of the preparation for IVF for nothing. But we're hoping to schedule the biopsy for October. Early October.

4. Dr. Hope sees no reason why we couldn't start IVF soon after the biopsy- if they find sperm, that is. Or with donor sperm. Either way, it's a bit later than we originally hoped for, but still within a reasonable timeframe. Definitely okay by us.

I've still got a few questions, but the major stuff has been answered. And I'm more than a little relieved that we actually have something concrete to look forward to in this process, even if it's just a consult. And a lot relieved that I'm not being ignored by our docs. Baby steps. Baby steps.

working girl

2004-08-31T10:00:00.000-07:00

I met with the principal of The School this morning and will officially start my new job tomorrow. The principal was warm, kind, and helpful and I think that I'll like working at The School. It sounds like I'll have a bit more responsibility than I originally thought, which is a good thing. The last thing I want is to be a superfluous addition to the staff, but the psychologist they had last year is now gone and so I will be replacing her- and will pick up where she left off.

My last job in social work was with a completely different population- inner-city adolescents and I hope that the adjustment to working with privileged elementary school kids won't be too difficult. From what the principal told me, most of the kids that get referred to counseling don't have major issues, but tend to need help setting limits and are seeking attention. A far cry from the non-stop crisis interventions I'm used to, and hopefully a lot less stressful.

Having met some of the staff and getting such a warm reception from the principal, and realizing that yesterday's mishap with the headmaster won't be the norm, I'm actually feeling excited about getting back to work. . .If nothing else, having something to temper my obsession with the infertility will be a good thing.