Mary Scarlet

Plans

Tomorrow night I fly to London, and the day after I get back I have an ultrasound to see if that thing they found on my right ovary last month has gone away. Assuming I don't have something there I have to worry might kill me, we take another big international trip in July. When we get back in August, we are going to move to a new RE and give this one more try. Two years later, IVF # 4 coming up. Stay tuned.

For historical reference

I know this is a ridiculous thing to be posting about after more than 6 months of silence, but I finally looked through the records I'd requested from my RE. My RE had refused to give me actual beta numbers for the cycle I'd miscarried, but there they were, and kind of interesting. At 3w6d I was 67, and at 4w1d I was 117. So, like, that seems a pretty good sign things were not headed in a great direction, right? I really wish they'd just given me the numbers so that I would have been a little more prepared for the heartbreak and devastation that followed.

I finally started looking through the file because I've been in to see my primary physician about some odd menstrual issues, and am being referred to a real gyno (I had to leave my last one due to an insurance switch) and a barrage of ultrasounds and blood tests. I don't think this is anything serious and it has nothing whatever to do with thinking about or preparing to cycle or try to conceive or anything. Just want to keep the old girl in good enough working order to have a nice healthy life. Plus my hair has been falling out more than normal and want to be sure there are no underlying problems.

So otherwise life has been ok I got a promotion, still haven't finished that damn book but still hoping to, possibly dealing with some low grade depression or dysthymia but mostly feeling alright, doing better at the regular exercise. We are not going to be adopting. And it's coming up on two years since our last failed cycle, and it looks like we're not going to be miraculously conceiving naturally. And most likely not going for a fourth and final cycle of IVF, donor or no. How do I feel about this? I STILL DON'T FUCKING KNOW. So the final component of the get-healthy plan is to finally get self to a freaking therapist, because oh my God how out of touch with yourself can you possibly be?

-Mary Scarlet

Still here, still nothing happening

I can't tell you how many times I've logged in in the last six months, and opened a new post, and stared at it, typing nothing, then closed it and went away. Which is exactly what's been happening in the treatment/conception realm. Zippo. And not sure that's horrible, but not closing the door exactly.

Tales of drivebys and cowardice

I thought I was pretty much beyond it, honestly, and then this happened today.

The scene: a hallway outside my office. I am talking to a (female) colleague ... when will we be having the holiday "security meeting" ... how much scotch is left in that bottle from last time... the usual Wednesday afternoon stuff.

Another colleague (also female) I know only very slightly walks by and says, "When are you gonna have a baby?"

Me: [stunned silence] "... Uh, I don't know, is that how we're greeting each other these days? [recovering slightly] When are YOU having a baby?"

Her: "No, my kids are grown, I'm done!"

Me: [laughing uncomfortably, backing away]

Later, as I was relaying this story to a good friend, who also happens to work with me and is the only person who actually knew about the pregnancy, and, I must admit, sort of congratulating myself that I didn't lose it totally, and isn't it great that I don't really get upset by these drivebys, though she's lucky she didn't get her head ripped off ... and what ever happened to the rule that you DON'T ASK SOMEONE IF THEY ARE PREGNANT UNLESS YOU ACTUALLY SEE A BABY COMING FROM THEIR VAGINA ... blah blah blah ... and my friend gets this uncomfortable look on his face [yes, he is a man, and yes, he is one of my best friends, and yes, he actually listens to me when I talk about this stuff].

So as it turns out, this same woman came up to him out of the blue in the week that I was pregnant that he knew I was pregnant before the miscarriage, and asked him almost the same question: "I've been watching Mary and, well, is she pregnant?"

You know where this is going, right? That instead of taking this to mean that a) she's a total bitchface, and b) I need to lose some weight because even random strangers are beginning to infer things, I've decided that it means that she is psychic and she has mysterious powers of seeing, and even though every medical test we've taken says the chances of it happening are beyond miniscule, somehow we have miraculously succeeded in conceiving naturally and SHE COULD SENSE IT with her evil powers, and it will all be kittens and lollipops from here on out.

La la la ... I'm not listening to you.

...well, it was a nice thought anyway...

Moving on to the cowardice portion of our program:

I received a copy of my chart. It has been sitting in my bedroom for five days. I took it to work over the weekend and made a photocopy, eyes clamped firmly shut so that I wouldn't accidentally read anything upsetting. I am afraid to look at it.

Help me.

-Mary Scarlet
Listning to "Steve Martin: A Wild and Crazy Guy" (see, esp, track 6, "...but listen to THIS ..." God I love Steve Martin)

p.s. Cute baby Christmas Card Count: 1

Fart sandwiches

Dangit, I wanted to be good about posting regularly again but time is flying by. I'm going to finish this post even though it sort of feels like I don't want to say any of the things I really should be saying.

I did talk to the nurse at my old RE's, who called when they got the letter asking for a copy of our records. She is lovely and she lives in my neighborhood and said she keeps expecting to run into me somewhere. Then I had to talk to the billing person and she was sweet too. Sigh.

So in case you didn't see that, we are now waiting for a copy of our records. I thought getting out the file to fight the last fight with the insurance company was painful. I can't decide if I want to look through the chart or not. There it will be in all its glory: every blood test, every semen analysis, every embryologist report. Hopefully something about the hydrosalpinx. Presumably something about the pregnancy and miscarriage.

So the question is, have you or would you read yours if you could? Or would you keep it in its envelope until you go to your new doctor? I obviously thought we should have our own copy or I would have let them do it doctor-to-doctor handover style. But now I'm not so sure.

btw, fight with sibling patched, apparently.

Thanksgiving sucked

Hope everyone else had a nice one ... mine was pretty depressing. Nothing major happened, but my husband and I had competing sibling groups in town so we saw little of each other. While I saw a lot of mine, I also got into a really nasty fight with one that's had me in tears all day and ended with me sending an email that I'm almost certain to regret tomorrow.

My grandmother is 95 this year and for the first time she seemed really old on Thanksgiving. We haven't ever been close and I have a lot of issues with that side of my family but she was always pretty with it and she's clearly sliding fast -- almost blind, very deaf, and with several frightening coughing fits.

I guess I'm thankful that this year is nearly over. And also for these very amusing creatures that I can't imagine not having in my life. As requested.

Better days.

Soundtrack meme from Pru

Ooh, this one is a good one. And my first meme too...

Opening Credits: The Crane Takes Flight - Ted Leo & The Pharmacists (an excellent start)

Waking Up: Sweet Child O Mine - Guns N Roses (hmm ... okay, i guess, childhood but not quite the kind meant in the song)

First Day of School: Svo Hljott - Sigur Ross (confusion, everyone speaking as though in tongues)

Falling in Love: Lorelei - Cocteau Twins

Breaking Up: If God Will Send His Angels - U2 (yes ... heaven help me)

School formal: Amelia - Cocteau Twins (the edgy variety only, please, with lots of black eyeliner)

Life's Okay: Banquet - Bloc Party

Mental Breakdown: Your Blood in Mine - Serena Maneesh (eek, this is a scary good match)

Why Can't We Be Friends: You Win Again - Hank Williams

Movin' Out: Honey - Moby

Getting Back Together: Belfast Child - Simple Minds

Wedding: Deathwish - The Police (this is the best one I think)

Birth of a Child: Outsiders - Franz Ferdinand

Final Battle: Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago - Soul Coughing

Death Scene: Idiots Rule - Janes Addiction (perfect)

Funeral Song: Horn - Nick Drake

End Credits: Sherry Darling - Bruce Springsteen (tears leaving the theatre)

...I don't seem to have the evil zen ...

White dudes in suits

**UPDATED to add ... so sorry, DD, for the terrible news. Our thoughts are with you. Somehow I missed this news and feel a bit of an ass for the chatty/inane post. What a rotten place this is we're all in.***

No more details to share yet, sorry, having a crazy busy week and waiting until next week to make the call to the new RE and get moving on an appointment. Although we live in Illinois and we apparently still have our heads up our asses* about American Indian mascots, we do get some things right, namely mandated insurance coverage for infertility treatment. This makes us extremely, extremely lucky. I hope one day you all get this, it makes me angry that we don't all have it. I blame the white dudes in suits (more on them later). But we had such a horrible, horrible time with the insurance company last time that we've decided we're going to do this with or without it, and if they hassle me about this being my fourth cycle, or if any of my levels are off, or they don't like what we're fixin' to do, we're going to do our damndest to find the money to do it anyway. Since my track record is shitty, we might be in for another few rounds, and that gets expensive, and I'm scared about it, but it's worth it. Not having to worry about our fate being in the hands of the insurance company makes a big difference, though. That added to my stress in a huge way.

Friends of ours who started at 38, had a kid, are now, at 42, pregnant with their second (I think IUI first time, IVF second). It's inspiring. And time to get moving. And we will. This time, a new doctor, and hopefully someone who's willing to talk about why we're choosing the protocol we are, and what our chances really are, and why I always had breakthrough bleeding on the pill, and what it really means, and all of it. I loved my old Dr. but he was a little bit of a dictator and they had a slight tendency to treat patients like addlepated children.

I'm feeling hungover today despite only having three glasses of pretty crappy white wine last night. I went to a super fancypants event for my husbands work (SERIOUSLY fancypants ... like 350 people in one of the nicest hotels downtown for a full hour of open bar cocktail and then a sit down four course meal) and I think they were serving us rotgut. It was enough to make me a little dangerous. I tried very hard to have the professional, wifely, supportive, intelligent look on my face as I was listening to the pompous fatheaded guest of honor give a clueless, boring speech during which he mistakenly said "bisexual" when he meant "unisex" (I shit you not) but I was having a hard time controlling the eyeballs. You can try to pass off an eyeroll as something else the first few times, but then you just start to look twitchy and weird. Anyway, all I could say as we left and got in the car to go home was how glad I will be when the time comes when the chairman of the board, the trustees, and the guest of honor are all women instead of white dudes in suits. And I'll be even happier the day I go to one of these events and the speaker is a big old lesbian.

I thought you might be interested in hearing that those adorable kittens have become absolutely huge and we suspect that they are not true cats but rather some kind of cat/horse hybrid. Seriously, they are seven months old and they weigh 13 pounds each. We're not overfeeding them (well, maybe a little), they're big, and the vet has predicted they'll get to 20. However, since they are both still cuddlebuns and they come sit on my chest the moment I lie down on the couch for a little rest, life with cat/horses is still good.

This will be the third weekend in a row I'm working and I have to give a presentation tomorrow, which I've not yet started, so time to get going. Man, I'm so excited to be rejoining this active infertility blogger thing. Missed you guys.

-Mary Scarlet
Listening to "24 Hours", The Sundays

*I was at an academic computing conference about ten years ago, and two of the clueless IT guys who were presenting put up what they thought was a very humorous picture of themselves with Indian chief headdresses on. One of the earlier presenters had been an anthropology prof, and she got back up and TOLD. THEM. OFF.  It was a great moment. She asked how we would feel if there was a mascot dressed up in a priests robes with miter and crozier, dancing a jig on the sidelines, and wouldn't we feel that, maybe, a line had been crossed? I just do not get the whole Illiniwek thing. It is so freaking stupid.

Out of the blue

For me, typically, change comes in the form of a fog suddenly lifting. At work, and home, at school, whatever. Knowing this is both a blessing and a burden: it makes it hard to kick the procrastination habit, because there is a high likelihood of a spectacular resolution and finish.

To get to the point: I think we might have a plan for moving forward. It does not involve adoption, yet. It does involve going to see a new RE. I find this both terrifying and exhilarating. It wasn't me who made the suggestion, which is sort of shocking. I have many ducks to get in a row, and then I'll be back with more information, maybe when my thoughts are in better order.

Oh my sweet blog

I am sorry to have neglected you so cruelly. It has been more than a month since my last posting.

Vacation was really, really wonderful. I was a little worried about all the time sitting in the car driving, both in fear that it would drive me batshit, or that we'd fight the whole way, or that my bulgy disc would get to bulging and I'd be in agony. Miraculously, none of the above occurred. To avoid the Sturgis motorcycle rally, we headed west via the northern route, through Minnesota and then North Dakota. North Dakota is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Not spectacular, but quietly beautiful.

It helped that we left the interstate as we crossed the border and did the eastern half of the state on state roads through gentle, rolling hills. Massive fields of sunflowers. Farmers who let their dead equipment lie where it falls. A slightly stormy sky helped.
Go there once before you die, it is lovely.

Montana was also gorgeous, but it was a little more frightening because of its size and vast emptiness. We also tried the state road approach, but in MT we rarely saw any signs of other humans, other than the road we were traveling on and the occasional ranch. Then this one biker, literally in the middle of nowhere.

Glacier is waaaay over in the northwest corner of the state, so we didn't even really see much mountain until we were pretty close. It was cold, and rained a little, but I think it is the most gorgeous place I've been to.
We did a long hike up to one of the glaciers, I'm so proud of us. Made the whole trip worth it. Make your visit to Glacier before 2030; they estimate the glaciers may all be gone by then.

After our 3 days in Glacier, we drove back by way of South Dakota and stopped in the Badlands. Meh. Sorry, South Dakotans, your state just doesn't rock like ND. Get thee hence to your northern neighbor. And Wall Drug? Totally not worth stopping. Don't let that advertising fool you.

So, here I am. Back to reality. Work immediately got stressful again, and has crescendoed to the point where I am waking up consistently at 3:30 am and unable to fall back to sleep until 5 or 6. Even my foolproof fallasleep method*, usually as trusty even as my Burger King constipation cure**, has not been working.

My husband keeps telling me that I am mean. Which means that I am no longer filtering anything; all of the blunt commentary that runs in my head is now coming directly out, and it's not nice. I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to work on that, or if I should just go with it. The New Adventures of Old Mary Scarlet.

And this is a week of sad anniversaries. Obviously, Sept. 11. I tried to avoid TV yesterday but I did want to see part of the name reading ceremony, and the waterworks started immediately. The day it happened I was on a vacation day from work, riding bikes in the forest preserve with my brother who was visiting from out of town. We didn't even know it had happened until we packed up the bikes to head home at about 11:30. Then I got my (then-fiance) husband on the phone and heard the incomprehensible news. When I got home and turned on the TV it finally hit me and I spent the rest of the day crying, like everyone else. It was that footage of seeing women standing on a bridge, screaming as they watched the towers fall.

Friday will be the one year anniversary of our miscarriage. Unlike the delivery date, I am trying to let this one pass quietly. I remember, and that is enough. It doesn't feel as sad as the EDD did, except that it is a reminder how quickly time passes, and how much it is against us. I can't believe it's a year already.

I'm so glad I've had this blog for that horrible period while I was doing IVF, and particularly glad that I transcribed the entries on loss. I expect to revisit them a lot in the next few days, and as long as I'm able to keep this site up, I'll leave them there for any other women suffering through to read.  I really wish that I felt I had arrived somewhere now. That I felt life was going to be OK for me, and that we could live as we are, and eventually let that silly, irrational hope go. I don't feel that way yet. And I don't want to end this on such a sad note, so I won't say it's my last post. Maybe at some point in the next few months or a year, I will have my epiphany, or a breakthrough, or feel the finality. So I'll come back and post then. Or maybe just when I'm feeling less squashed.

Until then, I will keep reading all of you and try to be better about the commenting. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting, and helping me to stay upright and alive these past few months.

Love to you all,
Mary
-Listening to "The One I Love," David Gray

*Pick a movie you've seen a million times. Try to replay it in your head scene by scene. With Bridget Jones Diary, I would always be asleep before the "All By Myself" scene in the opening credits.

**Uh ... eat a Whopper Jr., wait 10 minutes. Works every time.