I've only just started to get hits from people's random web searches - so far, it's been a couple of hits looking for information on Peggy Orenstein and infertility. But today I discovered this search for the "definition of assvice" - and look at the company I'm keeping! (Top results are Olivia Drab, me, Tertia and Julie - I stopped after that, but there are more, of course. Not meaning to leave anyone out or anything.) Dude, I feel like I'm sitting at the grown-ups table or something.
I especially like the smartypants suggestion from the search engine: "Did you mean 'definition of advice'?"
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Thursday, March 24, 2005
pop!
You know that bubble I was talking about? Um, yeah.
So we met with Dr. L on Monday. Now, to recap, I’ve been trying to get an appointment since my new health insurance took effect on January 1. First I had an appointment with my new GP, Dr. Youthful, who referred me to the Fertility Clinic. Then we had to go to the introductory class at the clinic (2 week wait). Then we got an appointment with the NP (5 1/2 week wait). And then, finally, we were allowed to make an appointment with the big cheese herself (3 week wait). So, for those of you counting along at home, that’s one week shy of a trimester that it has taken us to actually see the doctor. In theory, this is because they want to educate us, and run all the tests, so that when we actually see her we’ll be ready for a plan.
And what a plan it is.
Step one: More tests. Yep. Because I’ve never had an HSG. Why they couldn’t order this before the magic appointment with Dr. Big Cheese I have no idea.
Actually, that’s step two. Step one is inducing a period with Provera (or at least its generic equivalent). So, 10 days of provera, followed, we hope, by a period. Then...
Step two: HSG
Step three: Wait. Because I needed more practice with that one.
Step four: Get period, or induce with provera again.
Step five: Next cycle, presuming the HSG comes back fine, I’ll do Clomid (150 mg, CD5-9).
Step six: After being given the go-ahead from the wand monkey checking my progress, J will give me a trigger shot in the ass. Oh, I guess I skipped the step where he learns how. It’s in there someplace.
Step seven: IUI.
Step eight: Cross fingers, pray, consider the possible benefits of baby dust.
Which means that we’re probably looking at an IUI in early June. Which is 5 months after we started “working with” the new HMO.
I laid it all out on a calendar to see if it really sucked as much as I thought. It does. In this time, we’ll pass by two important dates. The first is J’s birthday - he’s going to be 30. I’m not upset over the age factor, but over the thought that I had so many years ago that I wanted to be pregnant by his 30th birthday. No particular reason, it just seemed like about the right timing. The other thing is that our friends’ twins (via IVF) are due in early June. These are the friends with whom we’ve shared all our life milestones - J’s parents and B’s parents were friends, and J & B lived together in college. I actually dated B before I was with J. (But that’s a story for another time.) We got married within 2 weeks of each other, and bought houses the same summer. When we started TTC, I knew without being told that they were too. And now they’re expecting twins, and we’re waiting and waiting for our first IUI.
But hey, at least we actually have a plan.
---
Here’s the info on the article I mentioned in a previous post:
Rizk, Bedaiwy, and Al-Inany. “N-acetyl-cysteine is a novel adjuvant to clomiphene citrate in clomiphene-citrate resistant patients with polycystic ovary syndrome” Fertility and Sterility Vol 83, No.2, February 2005. 367-270.
I’ve also put a copy of the .pdf online since I’m not sure how accessible the PubMed database is to folks not at Universities.
So we met with Dr. L on Monday. Now, to recap, I’ve been trying to get an appointment since my new health insurance took effect on January 1. First I had an appointment with my new GP, Dr. Youthful, who referred me to the Fertility Clinic. Then we had to go to the introductory class at the clinic (2 week wait). Then we got an appointment with the NP (5 1/2 week wait). And then, finally, we were allowed to make an appointment with the big cheese herself (3 week wait). So, for those of you counting along at home, that’s one week shy of a trimester that it has taken us to actually see the doctor. In theory, this is because they want to educate us, and run all the tests, so that when we actually see her we’ll be ready for a plan.
And what a plan it is.
Step one: More tests. Yep. Because I’ve never had an HSG. Why they couldn’t order this before the magic appointment with Dr. Big Cheese I have no idea.
Actually, that’s step two. Step one is inducing a period with Provera (or at least its generic equivalent). So, 10 days of provera, followed, we hope, by a period. Then...
Step two: HSG
Step three: Wait. Because I needed more practice with that one.
Step four: Get period, or induce with provera again.
Step five: Next cycle, presuming the HSG comes back fine, I’ll do Clomid (150 mg, CD5-9).
Step six: After being given the go-ahead from the wand monkey checking my progress, J will give me a trigger shot in the ass. Oh, I guess I skipped the step where he learns how. It’s in there someplace.
Step seven: IUI.
Step eight: Cross fingers, pray, consider the possible benefits of baby dust.
Which means that we’re probably looking at an IUI in early June. Which is 5 months after we started “working with” the new HMO.
I laid it all out on a calendar to see if it really sucked as much as I thought. It does. In this time, we’ll pass by two important dates. The first is J’s birthday - he’s going to be 30. I’m not upset over the age factor, but over the thought that I had so many years ago that I wanted to be pregnant by his 30th birthday. No particular reason, it just seemed like about the right timing. The other thing is that our friends’ twins (via IVF) are due in early June. These are the friends with whom we’ve shared all our life milestones - J’s parents and B’s parents were friends, and J & B lived together in college. I actually dated B before I was with J. (But that’s a story for another time.) We got married within 2 weeks of each other, and bought houses the same summer. When we started TTC, I knew without being told that they were too. And now they’re expecting twins, and we’re waiting and waiting for our first IUI.
But hey, at least we actually have a plan.
---
Here’s the info on the article I mentioned in a previous post:
Rizk, Bedaiwy, and Al-Inany. “N-acetyl-cysteine is a novel adjuvant to clomiphene citrate in clomiphene-citrate resistant patients with polycystic ovary syndrome” Fertility and Sterility Vol 83, No.2, February 2005. 367-270.
I’ve also put a copy of the .pdf online since I’m not sure how accessible the PubMed database is to folks not at Universities.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Infertility TV, take 2
I was going to share the details of my latest visit with the evil HMO, but then I came across a couple of mentions of this new genre of television programming currently in development and got distracted.
Apparently, there are two programs currently in development - one for UPN (I think) that seems to be untitled and lacking in details, and the other at NBC, called Inconceivable.
Excuse me while I gag.
Okay, now that I’m back. I’m not sure what I think of this whole idea - it could be a good publicity move for infertiles everywhere, or it could be as nauseating as the above description (which I culled from a random, and not necessarily fully legitimate source).
I’m imagining the possible storylines now:
Maybe they’ll do a little shout-out to the infertile army, the barren bitch brigade, the obnoxious among us who will watch this while snickering about the inaccuracies, much as I imagine doctors do during ER, lawyers during Law and Order, and scientists during CSI.
Speaking of CSI, though, I wonder about the possibilities of a boom in the business of infertility as a result of the publicity. How many kids wanted to be forensic scientists before CSI? Now they can all aspire to beinfertile bitches infertility doctors.
Things they may already have done accurately:
1. The character of the main fertility doctor is described as “Charming, handsome, incredibly smart, and ruthlessly ambitious, this renowned specialist has a well-earned God complex. Ethically ambiguous, but a lovable rogue. Has personalized license plate: ‘BABYMAKER.’ [Um, that’s more letters than would usually fit on a license plate. I guess they make extra-extra-special plates for the Gods among us.] Likes to Google himself.[Who doesn't?]”
2. It’s hard to find concrete information about the show. What is out there is self-congratulatory but not particularly informative, and you have to click around a lot gathering information to get a good sense of things -- just like trying to get information from a fertility clinic.
Thoughts?
Apparently, there are two programs currently in development - one for UPN (I think) that seems to be untitled and lacking in details, and the other at NBC, called Inconceivable.
The drama is a soap and a franchise set at a high-end fertility clinic, where a team of doctors and other specialists assist clients who cannot conceive children through traditional methods. The storyline explores the moral and ethical gray areas where science pushes the boundaries of law and where doctors are put into positions that some might say involve "playing God." But to the young couple who couldn't before conceive a child and now hold their newborn baby in their arms, those same doctors are merely heroes.
Excuse me while I gag.
Okay, now that I’m back. I’m not sure what I think of this whole idea - it could be a good publicity move for infertiles everywhere, or it could be as nauseating as the above description (which I culled from a random, and not necessarily fully legitimate source).
I’m imagining the possible storylines now:
- The fat, bitter, infertile comes to the hotshot clinic in grubby sweatpants, with unwashed hair and a chocolate bar in each hand, and emerges thin but for her perfect pregnant belly. (Sounds like the Extreme Makeover - Infertile Edition I suggested over at Within the Woods. Or, as Amy suggested we call it, Pimp my Ute.)
- The movie star who is not having IVF, no way, twins just run in the family. Got a problem with that? Talk to the “very attractive attorney” who founded the fertility clinic after leaving law because “her humanity became a liability.” Mmm, okay.
Maybe they’ll do a little shout-out to the infertile army, the barren bitch brigade, the obnoxious among us who will watch this while snickering about the inaccuracies, much as I imagine doctors do during ER, lawyers during Law and Order, and scientists during CSI.
Speaking of CSI, though, I wonder about the possibilities of a boom in the business of infertility as a result of the publicity. How many kids wanted to be forensic scientists before CSI? Now they can all aspire to be
Things they may already have done accurately:
1. The character of the main fertility doctor is described as “Charming, handsome, incredibly smart, and ruthlessly ambitious, this renowned specialist has a well-earned God complex. Ethically ambiguous, but a lovable rogue. Has personalized license plate: ‘BABYMAKER.’ [Um, that’s more letters than would usually fit on a license plate. I guess they make extra-extra-special plates for the Gods among us.] Likes to Google himself.[Who doesn't?]”
2. It’s hard to find concrete information about the show. What is out there is self-congratulatory but not particularly informative, and you have to click around a lot gathering information to get a good sense of things -- just like trying to get information from a fertility clinic.
Thoughts?
Monday, March 21, 2005
Pathetic optimism
I spent a bunch of time last night researching on PubMed last night - looking for information about soy and phytoestrogens (or oestrogens from some of the international journals!) and, separately, about Clomid and this new amino acid my acupuncturist said has been shown to increase the effectiveness of Clomid in PCOS women. And I found the article she had mentioned.
I had been growing dissatisfied with my acupuncturist, mostly due to the total lack of visible results, but also due to a less-than-perfect vibe. But this new information (and the fact that she is actually out there gathering information) has warmed me to her again. So the new acupuncturist will have to wait while I stick with this (hee!) for a while.
We’re off to an appointment with the new RE today. I am strangely optimistic -- because the evil HMO has made me jump through so many hoops, actually seeing the doctor seems like a monumental occurance. Actually, this is really pathetic.
But still, I’m trying to be optimistic about this - a new doctor, a new clinic, a new cycle, a new amino acid. The bubble hasn’t burst yet.
(I’m sure I’m just setting myself up for a crash, though. But maybe if I say that it will soften the fall when it inevitably comes.)
I had been growing dissatisfied with my acupuncturist, mostly due to the total lack of visible results, but also due to a less-than-perfect vibe. But this new information (and the fact that she is actually out there gathering information) has warmed me to her again. So the new acupuncturist will have to wait while I stick with this (hee!) for a while.
We’re off to an appointment with the new RE today. I am strangely optimistic -- because the evil HMO has made me jump through so many hoops, actually seeing the doctor seems like a monumental occurance. Actually, this is really pathetic.
But still, I’m trying to be optimistic about this - a new doctor, a new clinic, a new cycle, a new amino acid. The bubble hasn’t burst yet.
(I’m sure I’m just setting myself up for a crash, though. But maybe if I say that it will soften the fall when it inevitably comes.)
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Let's talk about sex
I mentioned to my therapist yesterday that I had a low sex drive and that sex wasn’t really all that fun anymore. She fixated on this point - wanting to know when we last “made love”. I had to restrain myself from snickering.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been a fan of the phrase “make love” but especially now that our sex for the past however many months has been focused on trying to get pregnant, I can’t do much more than call it sex. When we first started TTC, we could still think of it as BMS (baby making sex) or the ever-so-cheesy BD (baby dance).
The first time we “made love” after we decided to try to get pregnant was magical. We knew we might have problems, but at that point those problems were off in the distance. We were caught up in the possibility that we were, at that very moment, conceiving a child. It was wonderful. (Well, the missionary position isn’t so great, but the moment was wonderful.)
But now that we’re old hands at this, the BMS has lost its magic. Sure, I still stay lying down for a while afterwards, just in case that helps move things along. But overall, it seems like one more chore to do in the whole process - something that happens on schedule so I can put it in my chart.
I think it’s because of all this that I’m strangely hopeful about the (probable) upcoming IUI. It’s not so much that I think it’s going to work (of course I WANT it to, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up about that right now) but that it will change the way we think about sex again. Of course, I’m sad about the IUI, since it makes this whole process seem so clinical - moreso than Clomid and frequent wanding and bloodletting. But I’m hopeful that by freeing us from the BMS we’ll be able to reclaim the idea that sex is “making love” and not just another procedure.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been a fan of the phrase “make love” but especially now that our sex for the past however many months has been focused on trying to get pregnant, I can’t do much more than call it sex. When we first started TTC, we could still think of it as BMS (baby making sex) or the ever-so-cheesy BD (baby dance).
The first time we “made love” after we decided to try to get pregnant was magical. We knew we might have problems, but at that point those problems were off in the distance. We were caught up in the possibility that we were, at that very moment, conceiving a child. It was wonderful. (Well, the missionary position isn’t so great, but the moment was wonderful.)
But now that we’re old hands at this, the BMS has lost its magic. Sure, I still stay lying down for a while afterwards, just in case that helps move things along. But overall, it seems like one more chore to do in the whole process - something that happens on schedule so I can put it in my chart.
I think it’s because of all this that I’m strangely hopeful about the (probable) upcoming IUI. It’s not so much that I think it’s going to work (of course I WANT it to, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up about that right now) but that it will change the way we think about sex again. Of course, I’m sad about the IUI, since it makes this whole process seem so clinical - moreso than Clomid and frequent wanding and bloodletting. But I’m hopeful that by freeing us from the BMS we’ll be able to reclaim the idea that sex is “making love” and not just another procedure.
Friday, March 11, 2005
stupid vampires
The lab at the evil-HMO is like a really dumb vampire. They’re in the mood for something nice and tasty, and then they get me instead - bitter and pissy. Sounds yummy.
I went back to the lab for a follow-up from one of the tests the NP ran at my last visit. Apparently my liver function test was off (high or low, she didn’t actually say) and the new RE (whom I’ve never met) wanted to rule out Hepatitis, even though we’re all pretty sure that this has to do with the Glucophage. But I guess it’s good for them to double check.
I tried to go to the lab on Wednesday afternoon - I had some time, I had eaten, I was wearing comfy clothes. Except that the lab closes at 12:30 on Wednesdays. Which I clearly didn’t know. (It was nice for a minute, there, looking at the spacious parking lot that’s usually hard to navigate. Too good to be true, though.)
So I went back to the lab today. The NP had said she’d fax over the lab request, so I stood in line to check in and told the bitchy woman that the form should have been faxed. Of course, she didn’t have it. So she sent me back to the NP (conveniently located next door) to get it. The very nice receptionist at the fertility clinic went to check with the NP and determined that it was waiting for me right there at the front desk of the clinic. Easy enough, if I had known.
So, back to the lab to wait in line again. And then wait. And wait. They seemed to be short staffed. And the waiting room was fairly crowded, and there was this obnoxious guy who was giving a running commentary of the lab and the people and the woman who cried after she left the lab and how it must be a bad lab tech and a big needle and on and on. [Incdentailly, I saw the woman, and I know she was referred from the OB/Gyn clinic next door, which is largely the fertility clinic, so I’m guessing her crying had less to do with the lab tech and more to do with whatever they were checking for today. Dropping beta? Who knows. But I felt for her. She looked so fragile.]
So I finally got called back into the lab, where the tech informed me that iit would be 5 vials of blood.Because he’s a vampire and was getting hungry. I’m a little unsure about this, since it’s just one test, but I realize that it’s really a whole panel of Hep tests, so maybe requires more than one vial. Yes, I was rationalizing. So I told him I needed to lie down for that much blood. [This was supposed to be my experiment in being a normal person in the blood lab who just sits in the chair with the little arm thing and then walks out totally fine. I tend to get a little lightheaded during blood draws, but I’m trying to get out of the pattern. But I wanted to start with a small draw on a non-fasting day.] So he leads me back to the EKG room, which is where I get to lie down for bloodwork (every single time I’ve been to this lab I’ve used this room). Everything seems to be going well - he doesn’t give me grief about needing to lie down (unlike the bitchy woman I had last time who I shouted at - the same bitchy woman at the front desk today). He drew the blood and everything was fine. I got up, feeling mostly fine, and went back to his regular station to pick up my ID card. And then he hands me..... someone else’s card.
Me: This isn’t my card.
Him: It isn’t?
Me: Um, no.
Him: Oh, what’s your name?
Me: [myname]But isn’t it a little late to be asking me that?
Him: Oh, your card is right here. [Attached to MY LAB FORM]
Me: Um, does that mean you ran the wrong blood work?
Him: Nope, the card just got separated.
Me: Are you sureyou lying asshole?
Him: Yes, it’s fine. Have a nice day.
Me: [speechless]Thanks for nothing, you stupid vampire.
I thought it seemed like an excessive amount of blood, but then they always seem to want more blood than it seems they should need, so I initially chalked it up to their lab weirdness. But now I’m convinced that the reason he drew five vials of blood and ruined my attempt at normalcy was because he was using the wrong lab order form. Dumb fucking vampire.
I went back to the lab for a follow-up from one of the tests the NP ran at my last visit. Apparently my liver function test was off (high or low, she didn’t actually say) and the new RE (whom I’ve never met) wanted to rule out Hepatitis, even though we’re all pretty sure that this has to do with the Glucophage. But I guess it’s good for them to double check.
I tried to go to the lab on Wednesday afternoon - I had some time, I had eaten, I was wearing comfy clothes. Except that the lab closes at 12:30 on Wednesdays. Which I clearly didn’t know. (It was nice for a minute, there, looking at the spacious parking lot that’s usually hard to navigate. Too good to be true, though.)
So I went back to the lab today. The NP had said she’d fax over the lab request, so I stood in line to check in and told the bitchy woman that the form should have been faxed. Of course, she didn’t have it. So she sent me back to the NP (conveniently located next door) to get it. The very nice receptionist at the fertility clinic went to check with the NP and determined that it was waiting for me right there at the front desk of the clinic. Easy enough, if I had known.
So, back to the lab to wait in line again. And then wait. And wait. They seemed to be short staffed. And the waiting room was fairly crowded, and there was this obnoxious guy who was giving a running commentary of the lab and the people and the woman who cried after she left the lab and how it must be a bad lab tech and a big needle and on and on. [Incdentailly, I saw the woman, and I know she was referred from the OB/Gyn clinic next door, which is largely the fertility clinic, so I’m guessing her crying had less to do with the lab tech and more to do with whatever they were checking for today. Dropping beta? Who knows. But I felt for her. She looked so fragile.]
So I finally got called back into the lab, where the tech informed me that iit would be 5 vials of blood.
Me: This isn’t my card.
Him: It isn’t?
Me: Um, no.
Him: Oh, what’s your name?
Me: [myname]
Him: Oh, your card is right here. [Attached to MY LAB FORM]
Me: Um, does that mean you ran the wrong blood work?
Him: Nope, the card just got separated.
Me: Are you sure
Him: Yes, it’s fine. Have a nice day.
Me: [speechless]
I thought it seemed like an excessive amount of blood, but then they always seem to want more blood than it seems they should need, so I initially chalked it up to their lab weirdness. But now I’m convinced that the reason he drew five vials of blood and ruined my attempt at normalcy was because he was using the wrong lab order form. Dumb fucking vampire.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
notes from a bookstore
Yesterday was J's first day off in I don't know how long - definitely since before our trip East for the funeral. So, it was a low key day - he slept in, watched some TV, had a very late breakfast. And then later we went to Borders and stayed for nearly 7 (yes, SEVEN) hours. He read two books, I browsed through a couple and then got through a chunk of grading. It was really nice.
A couple of observations:
1. They've moved the section of infertility books from their old, obnoxious spot next to pregnancy and baby name books to the Women's Health section (near other health issues and far far away from baby books). This was one of my biggest problems with that bookstore (and most others) and I'm glad to see that the letters other infertiles wrote (or the vibes we sent?) got those books moved to a much less depressing location. Score one for the infertile army.
2. The spot J found to sit and read (after an hour or two sitting on the floor in the travel book section) was next to the pregnancy books. It was mostly quiet until a giddy couple (who probably had just peed on a stick this week) showed up to look at “Pregnancy for Dummies” or whatever (really, that should be AND whatever - they took 8 or 10 books to browse through, but didn’t seem to pick one to buy). It was so sweet and naiive. And almost harder to watch than the parade of pregnant bellies looking at baby name books. And how jealous am I? Oh, very. I want to be that excited and blissfully unaware. I don’t begrudge them their happiness, and I hope nothing happens to disrupt that bliss, but I am SO JEALOUS.
A couple of observations:
1. They've moved the section of infertility books from their old, obnoxious spot next to pregnancy and baby name books to the Women's Health section (near other health issues and far far away from baby books). This was one of my biggest problems with that bookstore (and most others) and I'm glad to see that the letters other infertiles wrote (or the vibes we sent?) got those books moved to a much less depressing location. Score one for the infertile army.
2. The spot J found to sit and read (after an hour or two sitting on the floor in the travel book section) was next to the pregnancy books. It was mostly quiet until a giddy couple (who probably had just peed on a stick this week) showed up to look at “Pregnancy for Dummies” or whatever (really, that should be AND whatever - they took 8 or 10 books to browse through, but didn’t seem to pick one to buy). It was so sweet and naiive. And almost harder to watch than the parade of pregnant bellies looking at baby name books. And how jealous am I? Oh, very. I want to be that excited and blissfully unaware. I don’t begrudge them their happiness, and I hope nothing happens to disrupt that bliss, but I am SO JEALOUS.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Retail therapy
I stopped off at the drugstore to by the special Neosporin+Pain Relief in the hopes that my finger (which is weirdly infected and painful) would revert to its normal size and sensitivity. And I needed Q-tips.
I’m a terrible errand runner. I get into a store, even a drugstore, and I wander aimlessly. I’m the reason they developed those nifty displays of new nail polish colors (I bought a small bottle of a bright turquoise that matches this skirt I just bought - not at the drugstore. It’ll look great on my toenails when they’re sticking out of my sandals, and it was on sale!) and endcaps with special discounts on bottled water (6 bottles for $1 - that’s a good deal, and I’m supposed to be drinking more water). And hey, maybe my new haircut would look better with some little clips or something. And I’ve been meaning to buy another generic birthday card for when we remember we need to send one right away. And so on.
It’s not that these were extravagant or unnecessary purchases. It’s just that I seem to lack the ability to run in and grab the two things I need. This drives J bonkers. It’s hard when we try to shop together - I’ll be wandering the aisles and he’ll be ready to check out. I do it at grocery stores, too.
I think this stems in part from the legitimacy of the purchasing. In college, when I was mostly on my own financially, I had a credit card that was billed to my mom. This was not a clothing and eating out card, but a basic provisions card - medications, groceries (to supplement the dining hall), and emergencies. So, mom’s credit card would buy me cough drops and kleenex, and a magazine and nail polish to cheer me up while I was sick. Nothing excessive, but I got to spend money without feeling guilty about it. [I could muse about whether having tight finances makes me spend money differently than someone who grew up not feeling cautious or guilty about any of their spending, but I won’t. At least not more than I just did.]
This “legitimate” purchasing style continued with my own money. I could go on a moderate shopping spree for the foods I needed for a special diet (my current one included) and not feel guilty or excessive. When I go clothes shopping, or shoe shopping, I often feel guilty. It’s not going to fit soon (either because I’m going to lose weight, or because I’m going to get pregnant) or it’s going to be out of season or out of style. (I’m more likely to buy a purse - since I won’t grow out of it.) In fact, most of my clothing (or purse) shopping sprees (such as they are) happen at a place like Target - where I can pick up a new shirt, and a birthday card, and some kitchen towels, and the post-it notes I need for the next round of grading. This is the shopping I like best.
But don’t expect me to just pop in for a toothbrush. I’m afraid that’s impossible.
I’m a terrible errand runner. I get into a store, even a drugstore, and I wander aimlessly. I’m the reason they developed those nifty displays of new nail polish colors (I bought a small bottle of a bright turquoise that matches this skirt I just bought - not at the drugstore. It’ll look great on my toenails when they’re sticking out of my sandals, and it was on sale!) and endcaps with special discounts on bottled water (6 bottles for $1 - that’s a good deal, and I’m supposed to be drinking more water). And hey, maybe my new haircut would look better with some little clips or something. And I’ve been meaning to buy another generic birthday card for when we remember we need to send one right away. And so on.
It’s not that these were extravagant or unnecessary purchases. It’s just that I seem to lack the ability to run in and grab the two things I need. This drives J bonkers. It’s hard when we try to shop together - I’ll be wandering the aisles and he’ll be ready to check out. I do it at grocery stores, too.
I think this stems in part from the legitimacy of the purchasing. In college, when I was mostly on my own financially, I had a credit card that was billed to my mom. This was not a clothing and eating out card, but a basic provisions card - medications, groceries (to supplement the dining hall), and emergencies. So, mom’s credit card would buy me cough drops and kleenex, and a magazine and nail polish to cheer me up while I was sick. Nothing excessive, but I got to spend money without feeling guilty about it. [I could muse about whether having tight finances makes me spend money differently than someone who grew up not feeling cautious or guilty about any of their spending, but I won’t. At least not more than I just did.]
This “legitimate” purchasing style continued with my own money. I could go on a moderate shopping spree for the foods I needed for a special diet (my current one included) and not feel guilty or excessive. When I go clothes shopping, or shoe shopping, I often feel guilty. It’s not going to fit soon (either because I’m going to lose weight, or because I’m going to get pregnant) or it’s going to be out of season or out of style. (I’m more likely to buy a purse - since I won’t grow out of it.) In fact, most of my clothing (or purse) shopping sprees (such as they are) happen at a place like Target - where I can pick up a new shirt, and a birthday card, and some kitchen towels, and the post-it notes I need for the next round of grading. This is the shopping I like best.
But don’t expect me to just pop in for a toothbrush. I’m afraid that’s impossible.
Monday, February 28, 2005
To make a short story long
Today’s visit with the NP was mostly uneventful. Before I got to see her, the other nurse did the weighing/blood pressure stuff and asked the date of my LMP. And when I said 3 months, she made me take a pregnancy test. Right. Because I wasn’t there for the fertility clinic or anything. (Then again, this is the same place that suggested in the orientation class that some people just needed to have better timing and then lie there for 20 minutes - as if that was a new breakthrough in treatment technology. I guess these are the same people who might not know that they actually did get pregnant while waiting for their fertility appointment.)
But I digress. After the inane test, and the obligatory disrobing and wrapping myself in the paper bolero vest and paper sheet (in case I didn’t already feel like a cog in the machine) we sat around and waited for the NP. And may I just say that I supremely dislike being forced to disrobe and sit in a freezing room to have my nether regions prodded without having previously met the prodder. It’s one thing if they’re just wanding me, but this was a full-on pap and breast exam, and I kind of wanted to exchange pleasantries first, or at least have her see the cute outfit I was wearing. (Okay, nothing really cute, but they were clothes, and they were mine, and that’s got to be good enough.) And for an uneventful story, this is sure taking a long time to tell. Sorry about that.
Anyway - pap, breast exam, and a quick ride on the wand. And J was there for the whole thing, which might have been nice, but was mostly kind of weird. He’s been in the room for an u/s before, just not the more mundane pap and prodding. Add to that her lecture about weight (”I suggest you identify your weakness and then see if you can cut it in half” - to which I replied, “I’ve already given up caffeine, chocolate, sugar, flour, and dairy.” Do you want me to halve my decaf green tea consumption? Yeah, I’m fat, but I’m already trying my best to change that) and I was in a mighty good mood by the end of it. But J was very supportive - he kept trying to maintain contact by touching me on the shoulder or back, which was nice except that with all the other touching that was going on, it was too much and so I kept shaking him off. Next time I think we’ll try some simple hand holding. Also, next time I’ll probably be wearing a shirt, which will help me feel slightly more human. (Especially if it’s this shirt. Or maybe one of these.)
So, the details. My lining is thin, despite the 3 month hiatus my period has taken. Ovaries are fairly normal, with many small cysts, as expected. J’s last SA showed low volume, low count, and low motility, so we’re looking at an IUI almost for sure. And I had to have more blood drawn before we could meet with the RE. No Provera for now - they just ran CD3 and CD21 tests on whatever day it is today (88, but who’s counting?) and will wait to force a visit from the lovely AF until we’re ready to cycle. Which I guess means less waiting when that time finally arrives.
On the plus side, I actually have an appointment to meet with the doctor, who actually is an RE (not all of the doctors in the clinic are). And we already did the last of our bloodwork (another icky experience that I’m trying to let settle before I rant about it here). And so that’s it for now.
I’m off to enjoy a mindless hour of television and a glass of wine. Or maybe an something a little fancier.
But I digress. After the inane test, and the obligatory disrobing and wrapping myself in the paper bolero vest and paper sheet (in case I didn’t already feel like a cog in the machine) we sat around and waited for the NP. And may I just say that I supremely dislike being forced to disrobe and sit in a freezing room to have my nether regions prodded without having previously met the prodder. It’s one thing if they’re just wanding me, but this was a full-on pap and breast exam, and I kind of wanted to exchange pleasantries first, or at least have her see the cute outfit I was wearing. (Okay, nothing really cute, but they were clothes, and they were mine, and that’s got to be good enough.) And for an uneventful story, this is sure taking a long time to tell. Sorry about that.
Anyway - pap, breast exam, and a quick ride on the wand. And J was there for the whole thing, which might have been nice, but was mostly kind of weird. He’s been in the room for an u/s before, just not the more mundane pap and prodding. Add to that her lecture about weight (”I suggest you identify your weakness and then see if you can cut it in half” - to which I replied, “I’ve already given up caffeine, chocolate, sugar, flour, and dairy.” Do you want me to halve my decaf green tea consumption? Yeah, I’m fat, but I’m already trying my best to change that) and I was in a mighty good mood by the end of it. But J was very supportive - he kept trying to maintain contact by touching me on the shoulder or back, which was nice except that with all the other touching that was going on, it was too much and so I kept shaking him off. Next time I think we’ll try some simple hand holding. Also, next time I’ll probably be wearing a shirt, which will help me feel slightly more human. (Especially if it’s this shirt. Or maybe one of these.)
So, the details. My lining is thin, despite the 3 month hiatus my period has taken. Ovaries are fairly normal, with many small cysts, as expected. J’s last SA showed low volume, low count, and low motility, so we’re looking at an IUI almost for sure. And I had to have more blood drawn before we could meet with the RE. No Provera for now - they just ran CD3 and CD21 tests on whatever day it is today (88, but who’s counting?) and will wait to force a visit from the lovely AF until we’re ready to cycle. Which I guess means less waiting when that time finally arrives.
On the plus side, I actually have an appointment to meet with the doctor, who actually is an RE (not all of the doctors in the clinic are). And we already did the last of our bloodwork (another icky experience that I’m trying to let settle before I rant about it here). And so that’s it for now.
I’m off to enjoy a mindless hour of television and a glass of wine. Or maybe an something a little fancier.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Gravida 0
The good news is that my medical records from the old clinic arrived yesterday - just in the nick of time for my Monday morning appointment at the new clinic. I’ve been reading them over, and have learned some things about myself.
1. I’ve gained weight since I started fertility treatments. Not a huge shocker, I know, but nice to see it clarified right there, so I can blame the fertility treatments for my needing to go buy new pants today. (They’re fairly cute, too - black and baggy, which is pretty much what all of my clothes are like.)
2. My old clinic uses a transcription service for all notes - my file is clear and legible, but lacks any sense of a human being actually having anything to do with the details of my body.
3. In my initial patient history, they got correct that my grandfather died “of suicide”, but got my mother’s age wrong. This is somehow very disturbing to me.
4. Each of my parents is entitled to one medical problem - no more, no less. “Father is a 75 year old living with high cholesterol.” Not, “Father is retired and an artist.” I guess medicine has to reduce us to our bodies.
5. J is “healthy, but he has never fathered children previously.”
6. Aparently, lab results weren’t included in my file. This is mostly fine - the new clinic is going to repeat all the labs anyway, and the u/s results are in the notes (I certainly didn’t expect to see the pictures). But, I’m wondering what I would have had to do, besides check all of the boxes on the form (which I did) to actually get my lab results. Do I have to request them directly from the lab? What’s weird is that the only lab report included is one from the clinic before this last one - perhaps because it shows a prenatal screening panel (Rh factor, antibodies, etc.).
7. And finally, all of the notes once we started trying to get pregnant, begin with “She is a __ year-old gravida 0.” Gravida 0 sounds so serious. I’m gravely zero. What fun. I think now I need to get the T-shirt (props to Akeeyu) to wear to my next appointment. Just put it right out there for them.
Whatever. At least I have the records to show that I have done previous Clomid cycles, and that I didn’t respond to anything lower than 150 mg. And that even on that dosage, they really needed to give me a trigger, because I once I produce a decent follicle, my ovary is in awe of itself and just can’t seem to let go on time.
Meanwhile, my acupuncturist is a bit irked, I think, that I’m going back to traditional medicine. I am too. I was really hoping that she’d at least get my period to show up, but so far no luck. She did a different set of needles this week in addition to the usual suspects, so maybe that will help.
So, new clinic on Monday. Working on flattery strategies to get me in good with the nurses and other staff. It’s never too early to start!
1. I’ve gained weight since I started fertility treatments. Not a huge shocker, I know, but nice to see it clarified right there, so I can blame the fertility treatments for my needing to go buy new pants today. (They’re fairly cute, too - black and baggy, which is pretty much what all of my clothes are like.)
2. My old clinic uses a transcription service for all notes - my file is clear and legible, but lacks any sense of a human being actually having anything to do with the details of my body.
3. In my initial patient history, they got correct that my grandfather died “of suicide”, but got my mother’s age wrong. This is somehow very disturbing to me.
4. Each of my parents is entitled to one medical problem - no more, no less. “Father is a 75 year old living with high cholesterol.” Not, “Father is retired and an artist.” I guess medicine has to reduce us to our bodies.
5. J is “healthy, but he has never fathered children previously.”
6. Aparently, lab results weren’t included in my file. This is mostly fine - the new clinic is going to repeat all the labs anyway, and the u/s results are in the notes (I certainly didn’t expect to see the pictures). But, I’m wondering what I would have had to do, besides check all of the boxes on the form (which I did) to actually get my lab results. Do I have to request them directly from the lab? What’s weird is that the only lab report included is one from the clinic before this last one - perhaps because it shows a prenatal screening panel (Rh factor, antibodies, etc.).
7. And finally, all of the notes once we started trying to get pregnant, begin with “She is a __ year-old gravida 0.” Gravida 0 sounds so serious. I’m gravely zero. What fun. I think now I need to get the T-shirt (props to Akeeyu) to wear to my next appointment. Just put it right out there for them.
Whatever. At least I have the records to show that I have done previous Clomid cycles, and that I didn’t respond to anything lower than 150 mg. And that even on that dosage, they really needed to give me a trigger, because I once I produce a decent follicle, my ovary is in awe of itself and just can’t seem to let go on time.
Meanwhile, my acupuncturist is a bit irked, I think, that I’m going back to traditional medicine. I am too. I was really hoping that she’d at least get my period to show up, but so far no luck. She did a different set of needles this week in addition to the usual suspects, so maybe that will help.
So, new clinic on Monday. Working on flattery strategies to get me in good with the nurses and other staff. It’s never too early to start!
Saturday, February 26, 2005
you get what you pay for
(or, why my new attempts at frugality suck)
I was LONG overdue for a haircut. I had been stalling because my old stylist had been out on maternity leave (I kept hoping that she was contagious as she cut my hair in her very pregnant state, but no such luck) and she was scheduled to be back in February. Except that she’s back at a different branch of the salon (the fancy downtown one, which apparently has on-site day care -- how cool is that?) and it’s further away and costs more. So I kept stalling. I had planned to make an appointment to check the place out at least once before deciding I’m not cool enough to be there, but hadn’t gotten around to it. And it’s such a production. And meanwhile my hair is getting shaggier and harder to manage and I finally had to just break down and do something, anything, right now.
So I went to El Cheapo, no-appointment-necessary salon ($14 student rate!) and hoped for the best. The stylist seemed to be squeezing me in while her other client’s highlights set up. (I know it’s SO MUCH cheaper, but I’m not sure I could bring myself to get highlights done there. Though I was there at all, which says something about my desperation.) I sat down in the chair, and she said “How much do you want cut?” And then I had to try to explain that just taking off an inch wouldn’t really help my curly, but not too curly, hair. We went back and forth about length for about a minute (certainly no longer) before she bustled me off for the fastest shampoo I’ve ever had. I don’t think my scalp even got wet. Then back to the chair where she trimmed the bottom and looked pleased with herself, as I sat there trying to explain that I didn’t want her to cut too much from the upper layers, but that the bottom was shaggy and didn’t curl as well, so it should be shorter. And she trimmed and snipped and started in on the layers and kept telling me how she was doing what I wanted. You know where this is going, right?
It’s not really what I wanted. The top layers are too short, and the bottom is just sitting there (as I said it would). BUT... the middle is okay, I think. And it only cost $14. I guess I knew what I was getting into, and I’m sure it could be a lot worse. Hell, the last stylist I tried (before the pregnant one who understood curly hair) did an equally mediocre, if not worse, job and charged way more.
Now to go play with it and see if I can get it to curl more and frizz less. Wish me luck.
I was LONG overdue for a haircut. I had been stalling because my old stylist had been out on maternity leave (I kept hoping that she was contagious as she cut my hair in her very pregnant state, but no such luck) and she was scheduled to be back in February. Except that she’s back at a different branch of the salon (the fancy downtown one, which apparently has on-site day care -- how cool is that?) and it’s further away and costs more. So I kept stalling. I had planned to make an appointment to check the place out at least once before deciding I’m not cool enough to be there, but hadn’t gotten around to it. And it’s such a production. And meanwhile my hair is getting shaggier and harder to manage and I finally had to just break down and do something, anything, right now.
So I went to El Cheapo, no-appointment-necessary salon ($14 student rate!) and hoped for the best. The stylist seemed to be squeezing me in while her other client’s highlights set up. (I know it’s SO MUCH cheaper, but I’m not sure I could bring myself to get highlights done there. Though I was there at all, which says something about my desperation.) I sat down in the chair, and she said “How much do you want cut?” And then I had to try to explain that just taking off an inch wouldn’t really help my curly, but not too curly, hair. We went back and forth about length for about a minute (certainly no longer) before she bustled me off for the fastest shampoo I’ve ever had. I don’t think my scalp even got wet. Then back to the chair where she trimmed the bottom and looked pleased with herself, as I sat there trying to explain that I didn’t want her to cut too much from the upper layers, but that the bottom was shaggy and didn’t curl as well, so it should be shorter. And she trimmed and snipped and started in on the layers and kept telling me how she was doing what I wanted. You know where this is going, right?
It’s not really what I wanted. The top layers are too short, and the bottom is just sitting there (as I said it would). BUT... the middle is okay, I think. And it only cost $14. I guess I knew what I was getting into, and I’m sure it could be a lot worse. Hell, the last stylist I tried (before the pregnant one who understood curly hair) did an equally mediocre, if not worse, job and charged way more.
Now to go play with it and see if I can get it to curl more and frizz less. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
no more midnights
Note to self: While perhaps you were able to craft coherent arguments (and indeed, whole papers) at 2am while in college, this is no longer your most productive time. Please try to remember this before blogging in the wee hours of the morning. Thank you.
In other mundane news, it’s CD 82, and by crossing my eyes and hopping on one foot, I got FF to give me a tentative cover line. Lest you cheer, know that to get the coverline I had to let it count my temps from the traveling-funeral-jetlag days that were abnormally low and under particularly stressful circumstances. I’ll probably go back to discarding those temps before the first visit with the new clinic, lest they otherwise miss how totally fucked up my body is.
I’m excited, but not too excited, about this upcoming appointment. It’ll be nice to finally be taking the next steps, but my three month hiatus was supposed to be this magical time when the acupucture and herbs were going to make my body miraculously normal, or at least more normal. Not only have I no period, but even on the acupuncturist’s special (but ill explained) diet, I haven’t lost any weight. I had told people (mostly myself) that the point of the diet was to get my body healthier, not to lose weight. But, of course, it would be healthy for me to lose weight.
So now I’m thinking about nixing the acupuncturist (or finding a new one, but more on that another time) and her herbs and modifying the diet to one that may more likely cause me to lose some weight. I’ve heard people (including Cecily) are trying the Fat Flush Plan, so maybe I’ll try that. Plus, I should find a way to exercise more.
I walk this fine line - I’d like my body to be in better shape to sustain a pregnancy. So, I should incorporate more exercise. But, I don’t want to do anything too strenuous that will be contraindicated in pregnancy (or active TTC). So, I was going to a yoga class once a week, which was gentle, but probably not enough to count as my exercise for the week. I think about joining Curves on and off, but tend to skip it both because I’m not sure it would be the right plan for me, and because in my fantasy world I’d just have to stop soon. My latest thought is that I’ll join the Y - yoga classes and NIA (which I think I might like) and a pool - and prenatal fitness classes too, should I ever get that far. J has been talking about getting an exercise bike, so he could get some exercise in while watching TV. Given how much TV we watch, I guess this isn’t a bad idea. It just seems so 80s.
In other mundane news, it’s CD 82, and by crossing my eyes and hopping on one foot, I got FF to give me a tentative cover line. Lest you cheer, know that to get the coverline I had to let it count my temps from the traveling-funeral-jetlag days that were abnormally low and under particularly stressful circumstances. I’ll probably go back to discarding those temps before the first visit with the new clinic, lest they otherwise miss how totally fucked up my body is.
I’m excited, but not too excited, about this upcoming appointment. It’ll be nice to finally be taking the next steps, but my three month hiatus was supposed to be this magical time when the acupucture and herbs were going to make my body miraculously normal, or at least more normal. Not only have I no period, but even on the acupuncturist’s special (but ill explained) diet, I haven’t lost any weight. I had told people (mostly myself) that the point of the diet was to get my body healthier, not to lose weight. But, of course, it would be healthy for me to lose weight.
So now I’m thinking about nixing the acupuncturist (or finding a new one, but more on that another time) and her herbs and modifying the diet to one that may more likely cause me to lose some weight. I’ve heard people (including Cecily) are trying the Fat Flush Plan, so maybe I’ll try that. Plus, I should find a way to exercise more.
I walk this fine line - I’d like my body to be in better shape to sustain a pregnancy. So, I should incorporate more exercise. But, I don’t want to do anything too strenuous that will be contraindicated in pregnancy (or active TTC). So, I was going to a yoga class once a week, which was gentle, but probably not enough to count as my exercise for the week. I think about joining Curves on and off, but tend to skip it both because I’m not sure it would be the right plan for me, and because in my fantasy world I’d just have to stop soon. My latest thought is that I’ll join the Y - yoga classes and NIA (which I think I might like) and a pool - and prenatal fitness classes too, should I ever get that far. J has been talking about getting an exercise bike, so he could get some exercise in while watching TV. Given how much TV we watch, I guess this isn’t a bad idea. It just seems so 80s.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
midnight (well, 2am) musings
I should be asleep. Or writing something more “real” and “important” than this. That is, if I plan to complete my graduate program sometime this century. Instead, I’m designing my ideal job in my head and noting how grad school and academia don’t seem to fit in the picture. This should tell me something, but I don’t think it’s as clear cut as it seems. Or else it is, which is too much to deal with right now.
It’s the beginning of J’s crazy time of year - back to back projects that require a lot of hours and stress and that keep him from having the energy or attention span to engage in any lengthy meaningful conversations. Which is a shame, since I have to decide really soon if I’m going to stick this out or throw my hands up in the air and say I’m done.
This is not what I envisioned for myself, or for us. I think I had assumed I’d get pregnant and take a leave of absence at that point, and then decide if I really wanted to finish. But without the pregnancy, I have to just decide - or take a leave without the pregnancy and sit around in my pity puddle.
Just the bright post you came for, right?
---
Okay, here’s something. I heard a program on infertility on our NPR station today. (The audio is available from the link, if you’re interested.) The hour-long episode of “Health Dialogues” featured a fertility doctor, a medical ethicist, a therapist specializing in infertility, a member of RESOLVE, and author Peggy Orenstein, who is apparently writing a book about her struggles with infertility. (IIRC, she got pregnant naturally at age 41, after 3 failed IVFs.)
[Peggy Orenstein wrote a beautiful piece published in the New York Times Magazine about (one of ) her miscarriage(s). Her other articles are also quite interesting - moreso than her books, I think - at least more than Schoolgirls, which I read in college at some point.]
Anyway, the radio show spent what felt to me like too much time talking about factors such as maternal age, especially in the discussion of ethics and insurance coverage. They didn’t mention PCOS at all, even when talking about common known causes of infertility. I didn’t expect much, since talking about ICSI (which the woman prononced “ick-see” -- is that normal?) is way sexier than talking about overweight hormonally imbalanced anovulatory PCOSers like me. It’s easier, and cleaner, to talk about IVF and the ramifications of PGD or the benefits of ick-see than to deal with the messy nature of my kind of infertility.
The show wasn’t all bad, though. Mostly what was good was that the show aired at all - perhaps this will have some kind of advocacy effect. Maybe this will help catalyze a political movement to mandate insurance coverage for fertility treatments, and to increase the availablilty of support systems such as child-care, though these were touted as important in convincing women to begin TTC sooner in life (as Orenstein suggested).
Or maybe this is just a day for me to be living in a bit of a fantasy world. And not the good computer-game kind. Though maybe we should make one, kind of like Ollie’s board game.
Going to bed to dream of a job and a pregnancy. Not necessarily in that order.
---
p.s. I have no idea why the links are behaving so weirdly. I apologize, but I can't fix it. Any hints?
** UPDATED: I've fixed the links. Not that anyone cares, but still. I triumph over technology. Yay. **
It’s the beginning of J’s crazy time of year - back to back projects that require a lot of hours and stress and that keep him from having the energy or attention span to engage in any lengthy meaningful conversations. Which is a shame, since I have to decide really soon if I’m going to stick this out or throw my hands up in the air and say I’m done.
This is not what I envisioned for myself, or for us. I think I had assumed I’d get pregnant and take a leave of absence at that point, and then decide if I really wanted to finish. But without the pregnancy, I have to just decide - or take a leave without the pregnancy and sit around in my pity puddle.
Just the bright post you came for, right?
---
Okay, here’s something. I heard a program on infertility on our NPR station today. (The audio is available from the link, if you’re interested.) The hour-long episode of “Health Dialogues” featured a fertility doctor, a medical ethicist, a therapist specializing in infertility, a member of RESOLVE, and author Peggy Orenstein, who is apparently writing a book about her struggles with infertility. (IIRC, she got pregnant naturally at age 41, after 3 failed IVFs.)
[Peggy Orenstein wrote a beautiful piece published in the New York Times Magazine about (one of ) her miscarriage(s). Her other articles are also quite interesting - moreso than her books, I think - at least more than Schoolgirls, which I read in college at some point.]
Anyway, the radio show spent what felt to me like too much time talking about factors such as maternal age, especially in the discussion of ethics and insurance coverage. They didn’t mention PCOS at all, even when talking about common known causes of infertility. I didn’t expect much, since talking about ICSI (which the woman prononced “ick-see” -- is that normal?) is way sexier than talking about overweight hormonally imbalanced anovulatory PCOSers like me. It’s easier, and cleaner, to talk about IVF and the ramifications of PGD or the benefits of ick-see than to deal with the messy nature of my kind of infertility.
The show wasn’t all bad, though. Mostly what was good was that the show aired at all - perhaps this will have some kind of advocacy effect. Maybe this will help catalyze a political movement to mandate insurance coverage for fertility treatments, and to increase the availablilty of support systems such as child-care, though these were touted as important in convincing women to begin TTC sooner in life (as Orenstein suggested).
Or maybe this is just a day for me to be living in a bit of a fantasy world. And not the good computer-game kind. Though maybe we should make one, kind of like Ollie’s board game.
Going to bed to dream of a job and a pregnancy. Not necessarily in that order.
---
p.s. I have no idea why the links are behaving so weirdly. I apologize, but I can't fix it. Any hints?
** UPDATED: I've fixed the links. Not that anyone cares, but still. I triumph over technology. Yay. **
Monday, February 14, 2005
Thank you universe. I think.
It’s Valentine’s Day, and I have what looks like EWCM.
And we’re at my in-laws’ house, in a room that shares a wall with my BIL.
Um.
And we’re at my in-laws’ house, in a room that shares a wall with my BIL.
Um.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
ready and waiting
It’s a common practice to name a baby after a member of the family. In Judaism (at least in my practice of it), it is more appropriate to name a baby after someone who is no longer living, for fear that naming the child after a living relative will confuse the angel of death - or something along those lines. (Not that my parents bought into that superstition. I was named after my father’s parents who were very much alive - and in attendance - at the time of my birth.) In any case, I like the idea that the name is a connection to the past.
All that is background for saying that when I dream about baby names, I tend to start with family names. When my grandfather died a couple of years ago, I pondered how to use his name for one of my future children. His name is somewhat dated, and I thought that really what I’d like to do is modify it to be used as a girl’s name. It was the perfect middle name to the first name I wanted to use - a blending of names from both sides of the family. The first name comes from J’s grandmother, and a close cousin, both on his mom’s side of the family. But, they were both living, and if we’re following the notion that we shouldn’t name after the living, then that name was off the table.
At the time, we weren’t actively trying to conceive, so it was clear that even in the best scenario this was planning for the future. When we actively started trying to get pregnant, I kept my list of baby names private. I’d toy around with them from time to time - to give me hope for the future or something to focus on besides tests and medications. But mostly the names would sit, gathering dust in the back of my mind. Friends would have babies, and I’d think, “please don’t let them take my names” - and so far it’s worked.
This week, I pulled out my list of names again. At the top of the list is this name - the blending of J’s grandmother and my grandfather. And as of this week, I can use it. J’s grandmother (Nana) died. Nana had been ill for many years and for the entire time I’ve been a part of this family, was in another place mentally. And so I never really knew her. J mourns the loss of his grandmother, though she’d been mostly gone for a long time. I am saddened that I never got to know Nana as she was. My MIL spent the evening writing her mother’s eulogy and reminiscing about summer trips, volunteer work, jokes... and I’m sad I never really got to know this woman who led such an interesting life.
And, in the back of my mind, is another thought. Maybe now that her name is available, the child will come to be. Maybe it was too soon before, and now that both of our grandparents have released their hold on these names the cosmic-powers-that-be/god/the-great-spirit-in-the-sky/my-ovaries/his-sperm will somehow get it together to produce this child. Her name is ready and waiting for her.
All that is background for saying that when I dream about baby names, I tend to start with family names. When my grandfather died a couple of years ago, I pondered how to use his name for one of my future children. His name is somewhat dated, and I thought that really what I’d like to do is modify it to be used as a girl’s name. It was the perfect middle name to the first name I wanted to use - a blending of names from both sides of the family. The first name comes from J’s grandmother, and a close cousin, both on his mom’s side of the family. But, they were both living, and if we’re following the notion that we shouldn’t name after the living, then that name was off the table.
At the time, we weren’t actively trying to conceive, so it was clear that even in the best scenario this was planning for the future. When we actively started trying to get pregnant, I kept my list of baby names private. I’d toy around with them from time to time - to give me hope for the future or something to focus on besides tests and medications. But mostly the names would sit, gathering dust in the back of my mind. Friends would have babies, and I’d think, “please don’t let them take my names” - and so far it’s worked.
This week, I pulled out my list of names again. At the top of the list is this name - the blending of J’s grandmother and my grandfather. And as of this week, I can use it. J’s grandmother (Nana) died. Nana had been ill for many years and for the entire time I’ve been a part of this family, was in another place mentally. And so I never really knew her. J mourns the loss of his grandmother, though she’d been mostly gone for a long time. I am saddened that I never got to know Nana as she was. My MIL spent the evening writing her mother’s eulogy and reminiscing about summer trips, volunteer work, jokes... and I’m sad I never really got to know this woman who led such an interesting life.
And, in the back of my mind, is another thought. Maybe now that her name is available, the child will come to be. Maybe it was too soon before, and now that both of our grandparents have released their hold on these names the cosmic-powers-that-be/god/the-great-spirit-in-the-sky/my-ovaries/his-sperm will somehow get it together to produce this child. Her name is ready and waiting for her.
Friday, February 04, 2005
spam spam spam
Two items caught by my spam folder today:
1. did they turn you down because you don't...
2. Have children? Should have a big house!
Um. Well. Okay.
If you're looking for a laugh along these lines, check out Spamusement - cartoons based on spam subject lines.
I also have an offer of a "Phd for sale" which you know would be so much easier than actually finishing my grad program. Now if they just had one that said "Your application for a baby has been approved" I might open it.
1. did they turn you down because you don't...
2. Have children? Should have a big house!
Um. Well. Okay.
If you're looking for a laugh along these lines, check out Spamusement - cartoons based on spam subject lines.
I also have an offer of a "Phd for sale" which you know would be so much easier than actually finishing my grad program. Now if they just had one that said "Your application for a baby has been approved" I might open it.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
neverending cycle
la gringa said somethng recently about thinking in cycles instead of months. I think this may be why I’m in a funk right now - this is a neverending cycle. I’m not just on hold for the appointment with the new doctor, I’m on hold for any reminder that there are cycles by which I could measure time. I’m on CD 61 and counting, with almost a month to go before my first appointment at the new clinic. I have an old prescription for Provera, but I don’t want to use it because I want the new doctor to see how ridiculously pathetic my cycles are. That’s not totally sick, is it?
It just gets better and better, though. I just got off the phone with the receptionist at the new clinic. Apparently, my first appointment is not with the RE, but with a nurse practitioner. So, there’s still no end in sight to the waiting period.
This is so frustrating and seems ridiculous. The initial visit is where they’ll do a pap (I already had one scheduled for next week, but if they’re going to do one anyway, then I don’t need TWO) and order bloodwork and a semen analysis. Except that my GP already ran a ton of bloodwork in preparation, and J has had THREE SA’s in the past 6 months. Granted, I haven’t had CD3 bloodwork in a long time - but this is partially because I haven’t had a CD3 in a long time! So, I’ll go in for this visit (trying not to be the surly patient they come to hate, but rather the well-informed patient they respect) and get my pap, and probably an ultrasound, and an order for some bloodwork. Then, and only then, will I be able to get an appointment with an actual RE. Apparently my clear lack of ovulation and two failed Clomid cycles don’t mean I get to jump right in.
Unless I try tactics for skipping the NP. J suggested calling to speak with the NP, and explaining that I’m transferring from another RE and so I’m not totally new to all this. The receptionist said I could check to see if there had been any cancellations to move up that first visit. Personally, I’m thinking hibernation sounds really good right now. Can’t I just go to sleep and wake up when I can actually see a medical practitioner who will help me? But then, that might leave me asleep for years.
Is this what it’s like in the UK or other state-managed health systems? I vent and complain because it’s much worse with the massive HMO than it was with the regular private insurance company, but maybe this is just a field of daisies in comparison. If so, I’m sorry for whining. Well, maybe not. But I’ll make room in my cave if you want to hibernate with me.
It just gets better and better, though. I just got off the phone with the receptionist at the new clinic. Apparently, my first appointment is not with the RE, but with a nurse practitioner. So, there’s still no end in sight to the waiting period.
This is so frustrating and seems ridiculous. The initial visit is where they’ll do a pap (I already had one scheduled for next week, but if they’re going to do one anyway, then I don’t need TWO) and order bloodwork and a semen analysis. Except that my GP already ran a ton of bloodwork in preparation, and J has had THREE SA’s in the past 6 months. Granted, I haven’t had CD3 bloodwork in a long time - but this is partially because I haven’t had a CD3 in a long time! So, I’ll go in for this visit (trying not to be the surly patient they come to hate, but rather the well-informed patient they respect) and get my pap, and probably an ultrasound, and an order for some bloodwork. Then, and only then, will I be able to get an appointment with an actual RE. Apparently my clear lack of ovulation and two failed Clomid cycles don’t mean I get to jump right in.
Unless I try tactics for skipping the NP. J suggested calling to speak with the NP, and explaining that I’m transferring from another RE and so I’m not totally new to all this. The receptionist said I could check to see if there had been any cancellations to move up that first visit. Personally, I’m thinking hibernation sounds really good right now. Can’t I just go to sleep and wake up when I can actually see a medical practitioner who will help me? But then, that might leave me asleep for years.
Is this what it’s like in the UK or other state-managed health systems? I vent and complain because it’s much worse with the massive HMO than it was with the regular private insurance company, but maybe this is just a field of daisies in comparison. If so, I’m sorry for whining. Well, maybe not. But I’ll make room in my cave if you want to hibernate with me.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
a little cycle music
I’ve started 4 blog entries this week, and couldn’t bring myself to finish any of them. I’m just so incredibly tired so much of the time. (And waiting for the results of the most recent bloodwork to see if there’s a reason - like low thyroid or soemthing).
I want to thank you all for your comments on the blog privacy thing. After having already mentioned to both my mom and the in-laes that a blog exists (unfortunately before your wonderful advice) I’ve decided not to share it wil them. Still considering sharing other people’s blogs, or at least selected postings, if they might provide insight without reading my words. Hell, my new therapist wanted to kow if I wanted to share my blog with her. (I politely declined - she can hear my rants in person, thank you very much.)
--
While my in-laws were here, we went wandering around this touristy shopping area, and they went into a toy store (something I generally avoid doing with my mother-in-law, since the time she was cooing over all the cute baby things). So, I only barely stepped into the store, but J was playing one of those lap harps - you know, where you slide the music under the strings, and then you can just follow the little chart to play the song. I looked down at the music, and what did I see? Looks like a temp chart to me. (Rhyming totally not intentional, but rather appropriate.) So, giggling, I mention this to J, who says “I wonder what your chart would sound like?”
I want to thank you all for your comments on the blog privacy thing. After having already mentioned to both my mom and the in-laes that a blog exists (unfortunately before your wonderful advice) I’ve decided not to share it wil them. Still considering sharing other people’s blogs, or at least selected postings, if they might provide insight without reading my words. Hell, my new therapist wanted to kow if I wanted to share my blog with her. (I politely declined - she can hear my rants in person, thank you very much.)
--
While my in-laws were here, we went wandering around this touristy shopping area, and they went into a toy store (something I generally avoid doing with my mother-in-law, since the time she was cooing over all the cute baby things). So, I only barely stepped into the store, but J was playing one of those lap harps - you know, where you slide the music under the strings, and then you can just follow the little chart to play the song. I looked down at the music, and what did I see? Looks like a temp chart to me. (Rhyming totally not intentional, but rather appropriate.) So, giggling, I mention this to J, who says “I wonder what your chart would sound like?”
| Not very melodic, I’m guessing. But with lots of ups and downs. |  |
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Request for advice
This is actually my second blog. The first consisted mostly of my venting about fertility, family, and life in general (okay, not so different from now!), and I decided I should get a fresh start in case I wanted to share the blog with anyone I know outside the internet - specifically, in case I want to allow my parents and in-laws to read the blog. I considered this in the hopes that by reading the blog they’d better understand what’s going on with us, and that I wouldn’t have to repeat the same information several times. I know there are people in blogland who share their blog with some members of their families, and others who are careful to keep the two separate. I’m curious what people’s thoughts are on this. Is it a terrible idea to share the blog with family? Do you end up censoring yourself?
---
Case in point - [I’ll consider deleting this if ever I give access to the in-laws, even though they were there for the conversation.]
Setting: In the car on a long drive with J and his parents (visiting from out of town)
Conversation goes something like this:
Me: So, um, I wanted to mention that I know you’re trying, but telling me over and over that losing weight would help us get pregnant is really not at all helpful. I’d appreciate it if that didn’t get pulled out as if it’s the cause of this situation.
MIL: Well, it’s true that weight has an impact on fertility.
Me: (gets ready to bang head on a wall, can’t find wall, looks at J for help)
J: That’s really not the point.
Me: While that’s true in general, it’s not a useful piece of advice for me. [And even if it were, you’ve already told me several times.] My weight is a SYMPTOM of my PCOS and is exacerbated by the fertility drugs [and my depression over the fertility problems].
MIL: Yes, but weight is still really important.
Me: [deep breath, count to 10]Yes, but it’s not helpful for you to tell me that anymore. I have several doctors and an acupuncturist working with me on these issues - including rethinking the categories of food that I consume. Besides which, our fertility problems aren’t just with me. There are some... sperm issues.... too. [Why don’t you tell HIM to work on HIS weight?]
J: Maybe she doesn’t know the rules.
MIL: The rules?
Me: Oh yes, the rules. Number 1 - Don’t try to be my doctor. I already have several, thank you. Please just be family. Number 2 - Don’t assume I’m in the mood to talk about this - I may be, and I may not be, and there’s no real way of knowing. That’s just how it is. Number 3 [They had already herad this one.] - If we want someone to know about our fertility issues, WE will tell them. This is not your job. [Note: Things have improved a lot with my mother since introducing these rules - hopefully the same will be true for MIL.]
I do think she got it, in the end, but it was frustrating how long it took. That being said - please, no harsh comments about my MIL. She means well, and she’s trying, and I’m not angry with her nor do I want anyone else to be. It’s just one of those sticky situations we have from time to time.
So, is is a bad idea to share the blog with them? Or will it be a useful way of communicating without engaging in these sorts of conversations over and over? Am I going to end up censoring myself?
---
Case in point - [I’ll consider deleting this if ever I give access to the in-laws, even though they were there for the conversation.]
Setting: In the car on a long drive with J and his parents (visiting from out of town)
Conversation goes something like this:
Me: So, um, I wanted to mention that I know you’re trying, but telling me over and over that losing weight would help us get pregnant is really not at all helpful. I’d appreciate it if that didn’t get pulled out as if it’s the cause of this situation.
MIL: Well, it’s true that weight has an impact on fertility.
Me: (gets ready to bang head on a wall, can’t find wall, looks at J for help)
J: That’s really not the point.
Me: While that’s true in general, it’s not a useful piece of advice for me. [And even if it were, you’ve already told me several times.] My weight is a SYMPTOM of my PCOS and is exacerbated by the fertility drugs [and my depression over the fertility problems].
MIL: Yes, but weight is still really important.
Me: [deep breath, count to 10]Yes, but it’s not helpful for you to tell me that anymore. I have several doctors and an acupuncturist working with me on these issues - including rethinking the categories of food that I consume. Besides which, our fertility problems aren’t just with me. There are some... sperm issues.... too. [Why don’t you tell HIM to work on HIS weight?]
J: Maybe she doesn’t know the rules.
MIL: The rules?
Me: Oh yes, the rules. Number 1 - Don’t try to be my doctor. I already have several, thank you. Please just be family. Number 2 - Don’t assume I’m in the mood to talk about this - I may be, and I may not be, and there’s no real way of knowing. That’s just how it is. Number 3 [They had already herad this one.] - If we want someone to know about our fertility issues, WE will tell them. This is not your job. [Note: Things have improved a lot with my mother since introducing these rules - hopefully the same will be true for MIL.]
I do think she got it, in the end, but it was frustrating how long it took. That being said - please, no harsh comments about my MIL. She means well, and she’s trying, and I’m not angry with her nor do I want anyone else to be. It’s just one of those sticky situations we have from time to time.
So, is is a bad idea to share the blog with them? Or will it be a useful way of communicating without engaging in these sorts of conversations over and over? Am I going to end up censoring myself?
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Professional assvice
Today was our introductory class with the Fertility Clinic.
The clinic is part of the huge HMO that is both insurance company and medical provider, so everything is in-house - pharmacy, labs, GP, OB/GYN, and of course the fertility clinic. In order to get an appointment at the fertility clinic, you have to first attend a class on fertility. Now, who do you think would teach such a class - an RE? A nurse practitioner from the fertility* clinic? No, of course not. That’s what the education department is for.
The educator was nice enough, and she is a nurse, but you could just tell that this class (which they offer at least once a month) is all the contact she has with infertiles, and most of us were just sitting there silently. Among the pearls of wisdom:
This doesn’t take into account the littlecatfight disagreement we had when she asked what some of the drawbacks of temp charting were and I said it doesn’t help if you don’t ovulate the temp rise is too late to use as a predictor of ovulation, and she said the temp rises BEFORE ovulation. Um, okay. Apparently, we’re both right, since the pink handout says the temp rise happens AROUND ovulation. So there.
Otherwise, I tried to restrain myself from the snide comments [I saved them for you all - now don’t you feel lucky?], because I suppose it’s nice that they offer this orientation class. J learned that fat holds on to estrogen, and that there were versions of ART beyond a ‘simple’ IVF. I learned that they offer a class on how to do injectibles - now that’s something for which I’llactually want desperately need an in-person class!
We also watched a video from the ASRM called “To Have a Child” - this was actually probably the most useful part of the class for people who don’t already have a Google degree in infertility. The video explained the most common diagnostics for male and female factors, and talked some about treatment options. The best part was the section of clips from an infertility support group - cheesy 1990s clothing to be sure (I was going to say 1980s, but I really think it was 90s - and how weird that that’s long ago enough to look dated!), but suggested some of the conflicts in relationships that seem so common to infertiles - dealing with well-meaning but obnoxious relatives, personal questions from everyone and their mother, strained marital relationships - the laundry list of infertile emotional issues. No pat solutions were offered, which was also good.
So since we’re such overachievers (not only did we already deliver our paperwork, complete with my last three FF temp charts, but we’ve already had a ton of diagnostics run) we should be first in line for an appointment. They have to read over our questionnaire forms and figure out how much our situation sucks. And then we’ll see what they offer next.
* I just mistyped this as FRETility, which really does make sense. A clinic designed just for my fretting. What more could a girl want?
The clinic is part of the huge HMO that is both insurance company and medical provider, so everything is in-house - pharmacy, labs, GP, OB/GYN, and of course the fertility clinic. In order to get an appointment at the fertility clinic, you have to first attend a class on fertility. Now, who do you think would teach such a class - an RE? A nurse practitioner from the fertility* clinic? No, of course not. That’s what the education department is for.
The educator was nice enough, and she is a nurse, but you could just tell that this class (which they offer at least once a month) is all the contact she has with infertiles, and most of us were just sitting there silently. Among the pearls of wisdom:
- Some people just need the information from the class and no medical intervention. This would be, apparently, the people that don’t know that they need to have sex.
- ”Lifestyle factors” are more important than learning about tests, possible causes, potential treatments, or the nuts and bolts of how this particular clinic works. No, we need to spend a lot of time talking about how smoking and drinking are bad for fertility (”But I’m not suggesting you walk out of here and just quit drinking. Maybe try cutting back gradually.” Thanks. That was helpful for those of us who have already given up not just alcohol and caffeine, but flour, sugar, and dairy.)
- Stress managament is important. They offer yoga classes.
- Taking your BBT is pointless, because it’s hard to interpret correctly.
- Fertility monitors are pointless because now that we’re patients of the fertility clinic, they’ll do the monitoring.
- Ovulation predictor kits work like pregnancy tests. (I guess because you pee on them?)
- Two things we could do right away (or rather, after we got home): fill out the intake forms [yeah, so we filled them out right there in the classroom and hand delivered them to the clinic - who needs to waste a stamp or all that time] and practice “coital factors” - have sex around ovulation [hee - ovulation - that’s funny!] and stay lying down for 20-30 minutes after intercourse.
This doesn’t take into account the little
Otherwise, I tried to restrain myself from the snide comments [I saved them for you all - now don’t you feel lucky?], because I suppose it’s nice that they offer this orientation class. J learned that fat holds on to estrogen, and that there were versions of ART beyond a ‘simple’ IVF. I learned that they offer a class on how to do injectibles - now that’s something for which I’ll
We also watched a video from the ASRM called “To Have a Child” - this was actually probably the most useful part of the class for people who don’t already have a Google degree in infertility. The video explained the most common diagnostics for male and female factors, and talked some about treatment options. The best part was the section of clips from an infertility support group - cheesy 1990s clothing to be sure (I was going to say 1980s, but I really think it was 90s - and how weird that that’s long ago enough to look dated!), but suggested some of the conflicts in relationships that seem so common to infertiles - dealing with well-meaning but obnoxious relatives, personal questions from everyone and their mother, strained marital relationships - the laundry list of infertile emotional issues. No pat solutions were offered, which was also good.
So since we’re such overachievers (not only did we already deliver our paperwork, complete with my last three FF temp charts, but we’ve already had a ton of diagnostics run) we should be first in line for an appointment. They have to read over our questionnaire forms and figure out how much our situation sucks. And then we’ll see what they offer next.
* I just mistyped this as FRETility, which really does make sense. A clinic designed just for my fretting. What more could a girl want?
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