Mary Scarlet

Very slow progress

Two ultrasounds later, apparently the "cysts" on my right ovary are nothing other than proof I am ovulating. I appreciate that my GP was being cautious but I'm a little annoyed by the amount of intrusive wanding I had to endure to find this out. Ovulating was never my problem, it was the one-two of blocked tubes/hydrosalpinx and apparently some super crappy egg quality. Both possibly attributable to a bout of PID, according to my former RE.

I am now under the care of a realio trulio OBGYN, and next up on the diagnostic menu is a hysteroscopy. I have been a heavier and a longer bleeder since my miscarriage a few years back, and since nothing is showing up in bloods or ultrasounds to explain why I get a week of red and a week plus of brown every month, she's is going to go in for a lookaround and do a little "gentle scraping." Once again I wish I had not opted for the natural miscarriage route; it is possible I still have some retained products in there that are causing the trouble. Other possibilities include overgrown lining, precancerous stuff, fibroids (unlikely as nothing shows on ultrasound) or maybe just a ball of serpents. Since I already tell everyone my womb is full of serpents when they ask why we don't have kids, I'm hoping for that last one.

So two weeks to the hysteroscopy, then a week and a half later my husband and I depart on our fabulous international trip (vacation for me, workish for him). When we get back we get bizzy on the IVF, assuming I can find a new RE and figure out what my new insurance requires of us, and get appointments scheduled. Since by far the most stressful part of my last three rounds (other than the sad conclusion to the one pregnancy we did achieve) was dealing with bureaucracy and insurance, I'm taking a really deep breath right now. But lucky we at least have the insurance option, and making progress forwards, ever so slowly.

Thanks for all the lovely comments, all, and I'm sorry to have missed you fabulous UK ladies while I was there. It was an insanely jammed and short trip considering the distance. Next time I will be more leisurely.

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.

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.

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.

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.

For Cricket

Did you know? All you have to do it suggest a posting topic, and lo. This one is for Cricket, please go and say hello to her.

As requested: an update on the kittens

It's all about the poop. We have been keeping them isolated from their older siblings because they spent their first 6 weeks out of doors and we wanted to be sure any worms, fleas, feline leukemia, and impure thoughts were expunged before we mingled the generations. They spent the first 2 weeks in our unused upstairs kitchen. Then we realized the rush towards us every time we entered the room was not a show of affection, but a desperate rush to freedom. They don't know about the extremely cranky and bitchy cat who already rules the roost.

Anyhoo, we decided we should give them more space, so it's now big cats upstairs, little cats downstairs. Except for this morning when my husband accidentally let Big n' Bitchy out (who, it turns out, is more interested in kitten food than kittens), it's been a pretty successful experiment. It is hilarious to be interrupted every 20 minutes at the computer by needle-sharp claws up and down your shins. Ha ha. Oh, ha ha ha ha. Except they also sit behind the laptop screen and peer over every few just so see if I'm still there. THAT makes it worth the scratching and the biting and the bad kitten breath.

What was I saying?

Oh, poop. So, the down side to the expanded freedom is that they are having a little trouble distinguishing fluffy down comforters from litter boxes. The first time, it was just some tinkle. But on Saturday night, at about 11:30, drunk as a skunk and about to collapse into bed, I discovered the most foul, wet and smelly pile of kitten poop smack in the middle of the pure white bed. Ag. I mean, I didn't get dogs so that I could avoid having to confront poop that isn't at least 3 hours old, dried, and nicely floured over with magical dust.

Other than that, they are delightful, and sweet. They have this trilling noise they do that's not quite a meow and it's so adorable. I'm hoping they will stay lap cats, our other two are pretty standoffish in that department. Tomorrow I give them their last dose of worming meds, and then we introduce them to Big n' Bitchy and Ms. Scaredypants. I expect a few weeks of drama and fighting over poop pans and food, then a Peaceful and Serene cat kingdom. And the claws? Are totally coming off. We're going to do it when we take them in for the desexification at about 6 months. We gave it some very careful thought but it's happening.

Oh, what you meant was you wanted kitten pictures? Not stupid kitten stories?
Here ya go:

and three others

Also, has anyone been following the bizarre 13th district congressional race in North Carolina? The  challenger has raised his opponent's childlessness as an issue. His wife had a hysterectomy at age 27 due to endometriosis (according to the news reports). From a recent story in the local paper:

Are claims pertinent?

Robinson said he brought up the Millers' childlessness in the broader context of showing that Miller was outside the mainstream. He said being childless might influence Miller's votes, citing Miller's opposition to providing vouchers to allow children in Washington, D.C., to attend private schools.

"Those were stated in the context to explain why he takes these lunatic positions," Robinson said. "If he had a child, he would not have voted against all the poor children of the District of Columbia who need to get out of the failing dangerous schools they were in."

The Robinson mailing also seeks to tie Miller to Markos Moulitsas Zuniga, a Californian who runs The Daily Kos, the nation's largest liberal Internet blog. The Robinson literature describes Moulitsas, who is a married Army veteran, as a "militant homosexual rights advocate" under the headline: "Brad Miller's San Francisco Soul Mate."

Miller said Robinson was clearly using code words to suggest that Miller is gay. Miller said his only connection is that he, like numerous other congressmen and former President Jimmy Carter, posts a diary on Moulitsas' Web site to reach millions of Democrats. Miller recently met Moulitsas for the first time at a Raleigh book signing.

The article was written by a local paper, and I haven't exhaustively researched this, but the few things I've already read are pissing me off. And I mean beyond the base and inhumane attack on a fellow infertile. What really gets me is the attempt to balance the analysis of the two candidates, instead of presenting the obviously true perspective that Robinson is a total nutbag. Something similar happened in Illinois when Obama was running: after the Republican frontrunner, a ManBarbie who turned out to have taken his famous actress wife to sex clubs in Paris (oops!), dropped out, Alan Keyes came to town and joined the race last-minute. I don't know how that guy wasn't ridiculed out of town the first day, but he managed to get like 33% of the vote. I believe it was because no local paper ever ran the completely accurate and true headline: "Keyes: Nutbag."

I'm supposed to be working, so I'd better get to that. But I'm anxiously awaiting posts from Amanda later today and Thalia tomorrow, so mostly it will be a few days of hitting refresh. Good luck, you two, and fervent, fervent good wishes.

Two it is

It's too late to avoid being weird cat people, so we've decided to go for two. Thanks to everyone for the advice, it seems to be unanimous that the kittens will be happiest if they stay together. One week from tomorrow we should be welcoming a small black and a small dark striped kitten to our home. Of course there will be pictures! Thanks to T for the awesome name suggestions -- my husband is very, very amused and in favor.

It's gorgeous here today, a little chilly at 50 degrees but full, cloudless sun and a beautiful spring day for gardening. Or sitting in the yard looking at the garden, nursing coffee until the decent hour to switch to beer. I have to finish "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" today, and there's a big stack of other books, a few New Yorkers, two days worth of newspaper, a full ipod. I also have yet to make any good (writing) progress on the book. This is the first weekend in about a month that I have no obligations and I am very happy about doing nothing much.

Infertility is the dark spot in my eye, my speck, my almost imperceivable defect. It is so hard to admit that you are untreatably infertile.  We've started looking for single family homes. We are currently occupying both floors of our two flat, which is gorgeous but gives us two kitchens, two living rooms, two dining rooms, etc. instead of nice big bedrooms. Real estate is silly expensive on the north shore. I'm in a weird limbo of wanting a house with several bedrooms but not sure that they will ever be needed or used. And of course it's one of the first questions a realtor will ask: how many of you are there? How many will be living in the house? How large is your family? Any children? Maybe I should print up some business cards to give to them before they ask:

Mr. and Mrs. Scarlet
Infertile, please don't ask
Weird Cat People

Just what is the decent hour to begin drinking?

-Mary Scarlet
Listening to Fall Out Boy and a little ashamed about that

p.s. this bitch totally honked her horn at me yesterday as I was crossing AT THE CROSSWALK on my speedy bike. Some drivers just hate bikers. Please don't be that driver. If you are driving, all you have to do is move your stupid foot from one pedal to the other and then push. Petroleum products do the rest! Bikers have to stop all the way, then downshift, then balance while they wait for your ugly ass car to pass, then use nothing other than an inadequate but fibrous breakfast to power the bike back up and across the street before you impatient assholes try to run us down again. I still drive sometimes when I read blogs too late in the morning and have to rush to work, and I am not a militant bike person (yet) but really, it's not my fault that you are paying an additional $.003 in gas now to wait the 2 seconds at the FOUR WAY STOP while I cross.  Plus you look like a jerk talking on your cell phone while you drive. Stupidhead jerk. And I did stop all the way and yell "asshole" when she did it. If I'd had anything in my hands at the time, I would have thrown it at her, even if it would have overbalanced me and made me fall down. Then I could have filed an accident report against her.

Growth

The three hydrangeas I planted last fall have survived, and are throwing out shoots. I am so happy to see them, they are my garden friends, I say hello each time I pass.

The bulbs in the pots out front are being assaulted by the neighborhood squirrels. Yesterday 5 were uprooted with small nibbles out of them, and today another 2, one completely chewed down and another missing entirely. Fuckers. You know how I feel about the varmints.

I was very very close to an encore public humiliation yesterday. There I was, hair spritzed, camera out, scissors in hand, and I decided to do a quick web search before I cut myself some nice sideswept bangs. I would have posted the pictures even if I mangled it, but I chickened out at the last minute.  Sorry. I'll make it up to you. Future humiliations cannot be far off.

Adoption seminar this weekend. I'm nervous. My husband and I have spoken very little about it. I'll let you know how it goes. Oh shit, wait, it's only freaking Tuesday.

I had steak, frites, chocolate mousse, and delicious wine at a wonderful bistro with my faboo SIL this evening. Starting to feel a bit more human again.

Wall climbing geeks really annoy me. Sorry to all the wall climbers out there, but the crowd at my club chaps my hide, and they're impossible to avoid due to the placement of the equipment.

Oh my god is this a boring post.

-Mary
listening to Portishead, "Wandering Stars"

Oh oh oh! I forgot! Did you see that The Electric Company is now out on DVD?!!? How exciting is this?!

Slippy bong ticka bong

You know how you have those days when you can't quite get your emotional temperature? and you sort of skip along like a rock on water, little slippy slaps followed by small leaps up that feel like they could be happiness? And then another jolt and another until you realize, yeah, I'm not feeling so great. And then you feel like your forehead is banging against the wall with every jolt down.

I spent most of the day rug shopping with a friend, fighting mid weekend traffic in the most congested yuppified part of Chicago. I stopped counting the expensive strollers and babies and pregnant stomachs pretty early on.  My friend bought me a great diner lunch, and for the first time ever in my life I did the accidental toilet paper streamer hanging from the underwear up and over the pants waistband and down the butt. And guess what? I didn't discover it until I was all the way back home an hour later. Strangely, I am not at all embarassed, I think it's hilarious. I am looking back and sharing the amusement of the waitress, the restaurant patrons, the doorman, the parking attendant, the Starbucks patrons and staff, and anyone else who may have caught sight of me parading my toilet paper butt around town on a beautiful spring afternoon.

But then I got home, which was empty and still, and started thinking again about the family member who is at that critical point in his life where he has to cut loose to make a big step, and is doubting himself for the first time that I can remember. And seeming less happy, which really surprises me and makes me sad. You know those happy, funny kids you knew in high school who you met a few years later and had turned into dour, unhappy adults? I don't want that to happen. And there's our situation. And I'm about 1/2 way through catching up on my blog reading and I just read the resolution to Julia's situation. And there are a lot more blogs to read and I'm afraid now. That light skipping feeling is definitely slipping away.  Low ceilings looming.