**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.
