Working and Getting Ready

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Yesterday and today have been HOT. Yesterday morning I started early - all I did was go in the yard with the dogs and next thing I knew I had a shovel in hand and was digging up weeds, turning and amending soil, building up a small rock retaining wall (think, 2 feet square), nurturing my garden, setting a couple brick pavers and watering all my plants....good grief! Sometimes I don't consciously decide what I'm about to do, I just suddenly find myself doing it! (If it weren't for these drugs I'm on, I'd prefer to find myself sipping a Mojito in the shade!).

No big news here. I started Delestrogen shots a couple days ago. My DH's technique led to a little argument. I started it, saying, "God, man, get a grip!" I don't recommend arguing when someone is standing over you with a sharp instrument in their hand, but it couldn't be helped. We got through it okay. Whew!

I owe a special thanks to musicmakermomma who previously recommended to me a pre-icing, post-heating technique to help reduce discomfort. It worked great!

I have an appointment at the dreaded OMC on Tuesday to check my lining and E2. Hope, pray and wish on a star that my numbers are okay this time. The good news is that when I made the appointment, the girl casually mentioned which doc would be doing the U/S. And it's not Dr. Creepy! Yayyyy! It's "the tall one" (in her words), who happens to be the guy who stands, watches the monitor and barely glances for the target.

If the results from Tuesday's appointment are good, then I think we are good to go and will have no further appointments until the transfer.
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Tickling the Fringe of Consciousness

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Some of you know about my good friend L, whose husband was diagnosed last Thanksgiving with a stage 4 brain tumor. She is one of the few people IRL who know my husband and I are seeing an RE and that we've been cycling our way toward an FET with donated embryos.

Once again as our tentative FET date draws near, I can't help but start thinking about possibilities. My husband and I have never discussed baby names. I can't do it. I can't indulge myself in such a luxury. It would jinx the transfer for sure.

Months ago when I first told my friend L about the donated embryos, the FET process, and how excited I was that this could actually work, she said one short sentence that caused me to crumple into tears.

She said, "Well, we'll have to throw you a baby shower."

For someone who has suffered miscarriages, having watched her hopes, love, dreams, beliefs and the whole beautiful future that had been riding on that baby, crumble to dust before her eyes, the mere concept of a baby shower never - never - exists in her mind as a conscious thought.

If she is lucky enough to get another BFP, her first thought is, when is my next beta? Will it have doubled properly? Will it continue to double? She then worries whether there is a heart beat. And whether that heart beat will continue to exist. She notices every twinge and wonders whether it is signaling the beginning of another miscarriage. If she is lucky enough to pass these hurdles, she then begins to think about quad screens and whether the baby could have a genetic defect. Is her placenta sufficient? Is the baby reaching the target milestones for size and development? Each day presents a new set of questions and risks that need to be met and overcome.

A baby shower? When L said it, an image flashed in my mind. It was me. Huge belly pregnant me. On our lawn under the tree in the backyard. All my friends, laughing and chatting and hugging me and setting down pastel yellow and green and pink and blue wrapped and ribboned gifts. There was a table with punch and cake and sandwiches. The flowers bloomed and the sun shone and it was a perfect day.

The image presented itself. I never went looking for it. I wouldn't dare. I began to quietly sob. L felt so badly and began apologizing. Through my tears and shaky voice, I said, "No. It's wonderful. You don't understand. It's really wonderful. A baby shower never occurred to me. I could never permit myself to imagine such a fantastic thing as my own baby shower. But it could really happen, couldn't it? We might one day really have a baby shower! The thought alone is a gift. Thank you."

And then I was laughing even as I cried.

Since that conversation, I haven't quite been able to bring myself to think of it again fully. Just shallowly, around the edges. I know what must come first. The meds. The U/S and b/w. The transfer. The pregnancy. The betas. The heartbeat. And everything else. But somewhere in the outer fringe of my consciousness drifts the idea that perhaps one day I will be lucky enough to attend my own baby shower. It is a sweet whisper all its own.
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The Leering Dr. Creepy and E2 Anxiety (Updated)

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I had an appointment at the OMC this morning. Dr. Creepy did the U/S. I think he's a bit of a perv. He's the only one who does not knock or call out a "hello?" before entering the room. He's also the only one who feels the need to sit down between my knees once I'm in position, lift the paper drape and have himself a good long stare before taking the wand and doing the job. One of the other docs doesn't even sit and barely glances down to locate the target. That doc stands the whole time and watches the monitor. Not Dr. Creepy. I'm just waiting one of these days for him to be so close "down there" that I feel his breath. Gross. Sorry.

Ovaries quiet, lining thin. Good things. Just waiting for my E2 results. Pending those, my coordinator already called and said if the E2 is fine, I'll start Delestrogen tomorrow and if everything stays on track, my FET will be July 1st or 2nd.

I have been more relaxed this cycle, but I'll become more anxious once I start the Delestrogen. Last time my E2 spiked too high. My Delestrogen dosage this time will be 1/3 less than my dosage last time. Hopefully that will allow me to stay in range. I know I have no control, but I'll be worried about the level anyway. I just want to get to transfer this time.

---UPDATE---
E2 was fine. I can start Delestrogen and other meds tomorrow. I will have an U/S and b/w in a week.

Here's my manatra:
Perfect E2!
Thick, thick lining!
No Dr. Creepy!
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Don't Hold Your Breath

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AF arrived like a freight train early Saturday morning. Wow, that was quick. So Monday will be CD3. I know my Clinic likes to do an U/S and b/w before noon on CD2 or CD3. But, you know, we have to coordinate this with the outside monitoring clinic (OMC). My Clinic is not open on the weekend, so they'll get my message about AF early Monday and may try to get me in for an appointment with the OMC a few hours later.

Ohhhhhhh, the OMC hates being rushed about anything. They recoil when demands are placed upon them. Let's see if my $125 per visit coordination fee buys me a timely appointment! It is all about coordination, after all. Right? [I hope you all can hear my cynical, contemptuous laugh from where you are - as though I think there is a shot in hell of getting in on Monday]. Funny how eye-rolling cynicism sets in so quickly.

What
Ev
er.
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Paying Up and Reading Up

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Today, just simple things.

I took my final BCP Wednesday morning (2 days ago). I am already spotting (!) and AF should be here by Sunday. Usually 4 days precisely, maybe early this time. On CD 2 or 3, I will go for U/S and b/w. Presuming all looks fine, I'll begin taking the other slew of meds including twice weekly Delestrogen shots.

Delestrogen is considered a stim med. My Clinic requires payment in full before start of stim meds. Ha ha ha, here we go again. My friend M at the Clinic emailed me the contract form to sign and return with payment. I will. The refund posted to my credit card account today.

When I was cleaning out the garage this week, I came across a box of dusty books I intended to donate to G.ood W.ill. Among them I found John S.teinbeck's "East of E.den." I think I purchased it at a used bookstore long ago, but never actually read it. I used to be a voracious reader. Law school and law practice changed that. After spending my days reading, analyzing, drafting and editing legal documents, I could barely manage to read the newspaper. Now, however, my brain is much more relaxed. I pulled the book from the box, dusted it off, and have been sinking myself into the story for the past several days. I realize that I missed pleasure reading.

My DH and I have tossed around the idea of reading some of the classics - sort of our own book club. We'd take turns choosing the next book to read. It could be kind of fun. Maybe we'll head over to the bookstore this weekend and get started (he's the idea man, but I am generally the one nudging things into motion!).

Happy weekend, all.
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Beauty, Despite Injustice

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Today is a picture perfect, gorgeous, sunny, breezy day. It was calling to me. I took the dogs to the park for a nice, long walk. It's a wonderful park and I always feel peaceful and centered there. It's a place where I can think. There is a dirt path that circles it, it's about a mile around. There are always joggers and people walking, and women pushing baby strollers and lots of dogs. A young girl will stretch out on a towel in the grass and read a book. Ducks and geese waddle about the tiny pond in the center of the park. Huge trees stand here and there while squirrels race up and down the trunks. One or two homeless men can be seen sitting on a bench, their worn bicycles leaning against a nearby tree. There is a huge rose garden on one side, the colors and fragrance grabbing you by the eyes and nose as you walk past. Sometimes an aspiring artist will sit under a tree with an easel, painting. It's really quite wonderful.

So today I walked. In one of the open grassy fields a soccer game was going on. More than a dozen grown men, in uniforms even, ran and hollered at their teammates and chased the ball. The ball got away as I neared and rolled across the dirt path about 20 feet in front of me. One of the players was right behind it, stopping it expertly with his foot, looking over his shoulder and calling back to his friends.

I watched as joggers passed me, huffing, ipods in their ears. Two young women pushed baby strollers side by side, one had a double stroller. They chatted, although I couldn't hear what they talked about. My own dogs skipped happily along, trying to dart after an occasional squirrel and excited to meet other dogs.

I suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that the world is such an unjust place. In this park, I can have these thoughts. I feel safe thinking about such things and exploring my emotions, because I feel so open and serene there.

Watching those men play soccer on a sunny Thursday afternoon, I badly wished my friend's husband could be there playing soccer. Instead he is in the hospital, 6 months post brain tumor surgery, trying now to recover from a blood infection, hydrocephalus, spinal compression fractures and God knows what else. How I wished he could be running carelessly in the sun, chasing a soccer ball. Why can they play freely while he suffers in the hospital? It seemed so unjust.

Watching the young women push the baby strollers, crossing the street out of the park and into the quite well to do neighborhood, chatting lightly, I thought of so many of my bloggy friends, and myself, aching and struggling and paying and praying and riding the horrendous roller coaster that is IF, all in hopes of having babies to push in a stroller. Why is it so easy for some and insurmountable for others? It seems so unjust.

Watching (from the corner of my eye) the homeless men sitting on the park bench, their grizzled faces, filthy clothes and wild stringy hair blowing about in the wind, I thought of a former co-worker of mine. She wears religion and faith on her sleeve like a piece of ostentatious jewelry. She goes around announcing to everyone, all the time, how "blessed" she is (which always seems to starkly contrast with the facts of some nearby person's life, intimating how "un-blessed" they must be). Currently she is "so blessed" to have bought a 3,200 sf "resort" home (her words) at a rock-bottom-price foreclosure sale. She's having an open house to show off the gourmet kitchen, soaring ceilings, in-ground pool surrounding by bowing palm trees, gorgeously manicured acreage and everything else. Is she so much more worthy of blessings than those homeless men? It does not seem just.

How can life be so unbalanced? So unfair? I mean, I know life is not fair. It's an axiom. But doesn't everything equal out eventually? It has to, doesn't it?

From some long ago physics class I remember the principle: For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction.

That must be true, right? For every suffering, mustn't there be a joy? For every loss, surely there must be a gain? It can't be true that some people are endowed with all the blessings, can it? I think of men spending years in prisons for crimes they did not commit. Where is their justice?

These thoughts reached into me and shook me to the core, as the sun shone and dogs walked and the men kicked their soccer ball.

Did you see the movie A.merican B.eauty? One of the characters is a teenage boy who is regularly beaten by his father. There is a scene where the boy tells his girlfriend he wants to show her something really beautiful - some video footage he shot with his camcorder. The video plays. It shows a small paper bag, outside, trapped in a corner of a building. The wind blows and the paper bag leaps into the air, twirling and twisting and dancing again and again. The boy's eyes gleam as he watches it. He says something like (paraphrasing): There is so much beauty in the world that sometimes I feel my heart will burst because I can barely take so much beauty. Despite his father's cruelty, he was able to find joy in the small movement of the paper bag.

Maybe that's the only way to get through difficulties and come to terms with all the injustice. By focusing on the little pieces of beauty around us. By accepting them and finding joy in them and letting all the bad stuff go out of focus. A beautiful day, a blue sky, a cool breeze. These are beautiful. A rose garden and waddling ducks. Pink puppy tongues and the sound of a friend's voice. My DH's warm embrace. Perhaps these are the beautiful things that will fill my heart and keep me from going insane thinking about all the injustice. But I know it is out there.

I guess a heart can burst either way, can't it?

Please tell me about some little beautiful thing in your life that makes your heart burst with joy.
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Gently Apply Pressure HERE

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You guys are so funny. Wishing you had seen my cursing, ranting, all-fired-up post about my billing refund problem. I was mortified what you would think of me. You might think I was a cursing, ranting, all-fired-up woman who was really off her nut this time.

But to give you a little satisfaction, I will tell you that I had it out with them on the phone today.

I was stomping mad all day yesterday after an unsuccessful telephone call to the Clinic. I was mad all afternoon. All evening. My DH even gave me a really nice, 30 minute foot rub/calf massage to help soothe me. I went to bed mad (not at him) and I woke up mad. I watched the clock this morning and waited.

At 10:45am this morning I finally called M at the Clinic. She is the one I have been trying to work with for the past 2 weeks. I began calmly and pleasantly, inquiring about the status of my refund (again). When I got the same song and dance (sorry, need manager's approval, he's out on a family emergency, nothing I can do, sorry to inconvenience you), I launched.

In a stern, tight, teeth-clenched but completely under control voice, I said, "I'm sorry, but this is beginning to border on unacceptable. We have been discussing this for 2 full weeks now. You were to discuss this with the office manager a week ago. I do not understand why my request has not been approved. It is ridiculous that it has taken even this long. I imagine that your office has been able to make charges on people's credit cards during the past 2 weeks. You should be able to make refunds. I cannot believe that no one in the entire office other than the manager has the authority to approve my refund. If, God forbid, something terrible happened to him, are you telling me that the entire financial dealings of your office would come to a screeching halt? I somehow believe that someone else is able to make a decision."

She was polite but I had clearly ruffled her feathers. She asked me again why I didn't want to leave the funds on their books since we are currently in a new cycle. I already had this conversation with her here under update item (5) and I was sick of having to explain why they are not entitled to keep my money.

Finally she said she would have A, the IVF coordinator, and definitely a person of position and power in that office, call me. Twenty minutes later I received an email from A, promising my account would be refunded by Friday, apologizing for the delay and stating that the refund person has been out of the office. I responded, thanking her and explaining that I understand it is the Clinic's policy that they receive payment in advance, but that because there are no assurances that any given cycle won't be cancelled, I prefer not to have to pay in excess of $5,600 to my credit card company until necessary.

Shortly after that, M the finance girl called back (wow, she is brave!) and told me that she was processing my refund right now and wanted to confirm my card number.

My credit card company says it will be 2 days until the credit posts to my account.

By late this afternoon, I actually was feeling guilty for how harshly I spoke to M (although no F-bombs passed my lips!). I called her back. She took my call! I sincerely apologized for being so angry this morning. She was very sweet, sounded at ease, and said she completely understood. We talked and even laughed a little bit. She said that in fact, after she spoke with me this morning, she decided to go ahead and just post refunds to several patients who requested them (jeepers, how many were there? How many cancelled cycles? But this is an entirely different issue).

Anyway, the whole thing ended on a positive note. I should have my funds back, I remain on good terms with the Clinic (at least I think), and I never said the F-word once.

I did ask my DH whether he thought a person who is fuming angry burns more calories than the same person when relaxed. He just shook his head, smiling.
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