Mother's Day and Beyond...

The Kids in the Hall were funny as hell. I really needed that. I love going in to San Francisco. Before my Europe trips earlier this year, I worried that after seeing Dublin, Paris, and London, that I wouldn't be as impressed with the city by the Bay. And while all of those places were fantastic, San Francisco is magic for me. As we left the War Memorial Opera House the fog was rolling in and obscuring the lights from the skyscrapers... the air was moist and salty and cool.... it was lovely. I eagerly await Blogher.

We got back to my house at about midnight. I was surprised to find J waiting up on the couch (he usually doesn't on the occasions I go out). He greeted me with "Happy Mothers' Day!" I looked up and there were two large framed pictures, both of Pookey. One had three various cheeky shots of her matted side by side, and the other was an over sized print of her gazing down at a pink daisy, about to pick its petals.

It was fairly shocking. Pleasant! But shocking. When I had left for the city earlier in the day, he took Daisy into another Bay City and had her pictures done. I'm so flattered that he undertook such a feet for me. Usually, trying to get Daisy to smile at the photographer's is a gargantuan task. Mostly, she tries to run away, or throws an angry fit on the floor.

It was brought to my attention, however, that children grow and mature, and apparently this has happened to my little girl. She is now at the age where Daddy can bribe her. "Smile pretty and I'll take you on the carousel," worked like a charm, I'm told.

It was my 3rd Mothers' Day post Pookey. What a difference.

I hope it was a gentle day for all of you. For those who spent it with children in their arms; I am happy for you and rejoice in our blessings.

To all of you awaiting the children in your dreams, I offer you my hugs and prayers. It sucks, and I remember that pain very very well. It's not fair, and there's nothing that can change the injustice of it all. Even with my little girl in my arms, I know that this IF racket is insanely UNFAIR. I rail at the heavens with you, my friends.

It's funny how much secondary infertility can feel like the original version. It's radically different in one very big way, but the pain... the bitterness... the paranoia... the anxiety... it all has a very familiar tone.

I'm terrified of getting my blood drawn at the end of the month. I'm terrified that my FSH will stay high,or even be higher. I'm analyzing my body, knowing that right now I should be ovulating, but am not feeling any ovulation pains that I experienced so often before having Pookey. And I'm terrified... that my body has quit on me. That I'm done.
I really don't want to be done.
Really.

I keep repeating to myself; do what *can* be done, and let go of the rest. There are many things I cannot change, but I know I need to focus on what I'm able to accomplish.

I CAN breathe deeply.
I CAN take my wheatgrass.
I CAN slug down my mud drinks.
I CAN exercise and take care of myself.

And I can accept that some things may not come to me in the way I want them to come. But they will come. I have to believe that last part, or I think I truly will lose it. They will come.

There is more to say. Counsels with our bishop, work headaches, Pookey's latest milestones. But getting enough sleep is one thing I *can* do.
So I'm off to do it.

Alternate Universe

Today, as I was standing over our kitchen sink, mixing my "yin" formula into an ounce of tepid water (my acupuncture assures me that even though it tastes like an elixir of dirt and used coffee grounds, it's the better tasting of the two formulas I will be taking. MmmMmm, bring on the luteal phase!), I momentarily lapsed into a world where my FSH level came back perfectly normal last week.

I thought to myself: Why did I not know how EASY it was then? Really, the only question with our donor inseminations was time. How many cycles would it take? Sure, I had moments where I doubted that I would ever get pregnant, but deep down inside I knew that given time and patience, our child would come.

I thought about how excited I would be if my bloods were clear. I would be just a few weeks away from cycling. I really did think it would be easier this time. Maybe I'd even just need that one cycle. And who knows? In the future, we may want another... a third. Don't most people have that option? As long as everything looked good for me, it wouldn't be that difficult once we made the decision to go ahead.

I stood there with my ounce of mud-water and I just let myself wallow. Just for then. And maybe it sounds crazy, but it was kind of nice... thinking about how easy it would have been.

The cat rubbed against my ankle and I realized I'd be late if I didn't leave the house soon.
I slugged down my herbs and left the house.

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Thank God for friends, huh?
BFF Kat (have I talked about Kat lately?) is taking me out on Saturday. We're going to see The Kids in the Hall- a Canadian Sketch Comedy Troupe who had a cult-following with their show of the same name (why isn't it in reruns anymore, Comedy Central Channel? Why???). I've loved them since I was about 13.

An excerpt from their sketch, "Daddy Drank:"

"All right now, son, I want you to get a good night's rest. And remember, I could murder you while you sleep. It's easy, son, all you have to do is be quiet and willing to do it. And son, I am willing to do it. And, I've got quiet shoes. Good night, son. Sleep well."

Get! Out!*

*said like Elaine Bennet from Seinfeld, not like the evil voices in Amnityville Horror.

This is my 300th post.

This blog has seen me through a lot.

• Azoospermia: J's diagnosis. The first real sucker punch delivered by infertility, and boy howdy was it a big one. When I first arrived on the scene, I was saddened to find a real lack of bloggers using donor sperm as an infertility treatment, although I'm happy to say that's not the case anymore.
• Donor Therapy Anxiety: It was so good to know that other people had "been there." And those who hadn't- well, you were still there, still kind and understanding.
• Treatment Freak-outs: Every time an appointment went wrong, every time a medication made me wacky, I blogged. When I was scared of the shots, I blogged. When I was scared it wouldn't work, I blogged.
• Failed Cycles: What else can I say? They sucked. Blogging helped them to suck less.
• The Successful Cycle: What else can I say? It rocked. Blogging helped it rock more.
• Pregnancy: I whined liked a two year old (and I have first hand experience of two year old style whining), but I loved every stinkin' minute of it. I was worried that I would scare away readers, but I am so very glad I chronicled that time. Pregnant bloggers, listen up! Who knows what will happen in this crazy world- you may never get to do it again (aren't I a ray of sunshine?); record these brief moments in your life! They will be precious to you down the road.
• The Birth of My Daughter: My Michaelangelo Moment. How many times have I reread that post and cried with fresh tears of gratitude? A lot. A LOT.
• Maternity Leave/Colic/Daycare/Mommy Guilt/And the Sheer Joy of Motherhood: Oh the Early Days of Pookey.
• My Job: My readers know that if I'm comtemplating a job move, it must be spring.
• My Students: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly... they're why I don't wipe down tables for a living.
• My Husband: J is more often a good man than not. The posts prove that. ;)
• My Family: My crazy mother, my in-laws, and long lost siblings...what would I be without my family? Saner, I think.

If you're worried that I'm shutting the old girl down, fret no more. The Blog shall persist, but under a different name. BabyQuest hurts too much. And I don't want my whole life to be about that anymore. I did that once and the depression nearly swallowed me up. J has begged me not to do it again.

So welcome to, "So Blessed I Could Scream."
I am blessed. So insanely, disproportionally blessed. I could shout out my gratitude to the heavens.

But sometimes I could also shout other things.

Does that make sense?

After-Shock

At first, I was going to title this "Aftermath," because I do feel like I've just been through a natural disaster or an act of terrorism, and let's face it, I really hate math, -but then I thought that this whole situation has been like an earthquake. Yesterday... it was like I was walking down Market St. in San Francisco, window shopping, maybe buying a gardenia for my hair... and suddenly there was this email- this tremendous upheaval, terrifying, powerful, devastating... I felt skyscrapers shake and bridges collapse and debris fall around me.

After-shock refers to every minute since then.

Talking with NP GN was the first big one... almost as horrible as the quake itself. She confirmed that she will re-test my FSH next month. It is not very probable that this is a lab error (rumble), and the chance of it being a fluke is also small (tremor). I'm coming to terms with that. She said that the number indicated poor egg quality (shake), and if the number repeats next month that the likelihood of achieving pregnancy is poor (quake). She will also do an ultrasound to check the activity of my ovaries, as this can sometimes help assess ovarian function better than FSH.

If the number next month is substantially lower, we will progress in a fairly normal fashion. If the number remains high (it actually hurts to write that), then NP GN says that we can still proceed with treatment, do a "couple" of dIUI cycles, and "see how [I] respond." She was very vague about the future, very gentle about the statistics... but at the same time, I think she was trying to be realistic and not pump me up with false hope.

She also gave me the donor egg speech (crash), which made me openly weep. I don't know why. It's something that we'll never do. Ka.iser's program would run 20K, which is less than a lot of DE programs, but it's 20K for one shot at a pregnancy. No. If it comes to that, adoption will be our route.

I'll be honest and frank here. Adoption scares me. I've always been open to it, but it scares the life out of me. To think that someone must "approve" of us, select us over others... I just don't have a lot of confidence in that. I'm also scared of the major intrusion into our personal private lives. I'm also scared of fostering/adopting a child that will be taken away from me. I don't think I could handle that.

Many of my friends (mostly cyber at this point- I'm still too raw to tell many 3D people) tell me that I can weather this.. that I am strong. But here's the thing: I'm not. I swear to you, I'm NOT. I've watched many of you suffer losses and go through illnesses, and I know -I mean, I *know* that I'm not capable of doing that and coming out on the other side OK. Right now, I don't FEEL like rebuilding San Francisco bigger and better than before. Right now I feel like someone should shovel me to the bay along with the rest of the rubble.

Right now I'm numb... this is after-the-shock... but soon I'll deal with the pain and the panic that I can feel inside me, but can't quite connect to fully. I guess I'll push on for now, but it feels different. It feels like I'll never hope again. All the things I do now are to help me know that I did everything I could to get out of this OK. If that means wheatgrass tablets, fine. Acupuncture? Sigh. I don't know where we'll get the money, but I'll try and find a way.

For now, I'd just like the earth to remain still.

This Is Not Happening

I got my CD 3 bloodwork back.

My FSH is 15.1.

I can't seem to catch my breath or swallow right, and there are 17 freshmen reading To Kill a Mockingbird behind me right now, so I don't think hysterical sobbing is the right response.

There has to be a mistake. There *has* to. My FSH when I got pregnant with Daisy was 4.4. That was three years ago. Dear God, I'm only 30. My mother was having babies at 37.

I can't get a hold of J on his work phone. I called NP Goodnews! and reached a nurse who looked at my results and tried to comfort me by saying she was sure that the RE will want to re-test. Somewhere in her speech I heard; "10 is usually our cut-off for treatment." I'm to wait for her call.

I still can't belive it. This can't be happening. I can't be done before I started.

What am I going to do?

First Blood

The steeds are chomping at their bits, the pilgrims and soldiers are prepared, and the banners are unfurled. The Second Crusade begins today after school, when I get my preliminary blood work done. I'm still slightly worried about my hormone levels; my cycles are still slightly off- last month's cycle was 26 days; the month before that was 30. I guess they average out, at any rate. ;)

And just because it's me, there are complications. Remember my abscessed tooth? Wait a tic, did I not TELL you about the abscessed tooth??? Lawdy. I'll try to give you the short version. Oh hell, we all know I don't do short versions. Here's as short as I can do:

-A root canal I had done about 4 years ago abscessed.
-My jaw swelled magnificently (Think Chyna from the WWF) and the pain was worse than anything.
-Ever.
-My regular dentist wouldn't touch it with a 10ft. pole and referred me to an endodontist... who was out of the office for the next five days.
-I was given vi.co.din for the pain, antibiotics for the infection, and told to hold on until the endodontist was back.
-Less than 24 hours later I was crying over my computer at 3am, trying to find numbers for emergency dentists who could see me on the weekend.
-I called my regular dentist (who does come in on weekends, ironically- so I knew he'd get the message the next morning), and told him he was about to lose a patient, since there was no way I was waiting 24 hours, let alone 4 more days to see his guy.
-He called me bright and early the next morning to tell me that he had made a personal call to the endodontist who was going to open his office especially for me.
-I had the re-root canal (the pain of the abscess was far worse than the pain of the procedure).
-I was put on even stronger antibiotics.

It is that last item that complicates the event of "First Blood." I finished the antibiotics more than a week ago, but for the entire time I've been on them (and ever since), I've had... diarrhea. Yeah, I know, I know. I didn't want to type it and you didn't want to read it, but instead of coming up with a euphemism that isn't as icky as the word *diarrhea,* I've just decided to cut the crap (*as it were), and speak simply.

Don't worry, it won't last long. I just don't have the energy to dance around the subject at hand right now.

Back to the problems:
Antibiotics can cause diarrhea, in case you didn't know. The medicine not only kills all the nasty bacteria that's making you sick, it also wipes out the *good* bacteria that keeps your digestive system working the way it should. In the absence of that... dia- Well, you know.

Still, the warning sheet of my antibiotic prescription gave me pause. It noted that sometimes the drug not only killed the "goodies" (as the children in "The Others" would say), it also promoted the growth of a certain parasite. One that gives you severe (watch out; I'm going to say it again) diarrhea. And major cramping. And (I can't believe I'm going to write this) *unusual* discharge. And leakage.

Sometimes this happens right away. Sometimes it takes even months for the symptoms to show. Well, it didn't take months with me. In the last 24 hours, I've had some very strange (and unpleasant) bathroom experiences. Ones that I would prefer NOT continue into cycling. No. Thank you.

So I'm still going to get my blood drawn after school today. Hell, the noble cause must be forwarded, right? But I'm also going in to see my GCP. Hopefully a little yogurt and some probiotics and I'll be right as rain.

Updates (on hormone levels and DIARRHEA -heehee, had to say it one last time) soon.

New Plans

When the amazing and ingenious Stirrup Queen herself offer her help to get me to Blogher, I graciously accepted. Mel posted my latest quest on Lost & Found (my favorite site for many months now), and also suggested that I look into getting a "bloghership." Essentially, if you volunteer to work at the Blogher convention, they will pay for your registration. I know! Awesome, right?

I emailed the coordinator, and this morning was offered the very last bloghership: audio recorder. My job will be to record sessions of the conference and upload them to the Blogher website so folks around the world can take part in the fun. Sounds good, yes? Only one hang up:

I don't have a digital voice recorder.

BUT
I looked them up online, and I could get a reliable model for about $150. That's significantly less than the $350 I would need for conference registration. So I took a deep breath, a leap of faith, and sent the coordinator an email accepting the bloghership. I figure I'm a third of the way there with donations received already, and hopefully, with the further kindness of my bloggy friends, and the unexpected offer of a small honorarium at the end of the month (more on this in a minute), I could raise the funds.

So the donate button still works, if you're wondering. ;)

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About that honorarium.
Last year, I was offered a spot in The Big Read, which is a three-day event where teachers, professors, and other academics read and score thousands of essays written by prospective freshmen in the California University system. I had a blast; which sounds funny I'm sure. Outside of my nerdy English teacher friends, people give me their sympathies when I explain my Big Read duties. Seriously though, it's great professional development for me, they feed you like crazy, and they reimburse for gas mileage (it's an hour drive to Berkeley each way for me). The honorarium is a few hundred dollars after taxes.

I had been praying that they would offer me another position this year. With cycling looming large, and J's decline in work hours, we could use the money. It poses a bit of problem this year, however. The first day of The Big Read falls on a busy date. I'm supposed to inaugurate our new theatre that night with a performance from my drama class. I believe that I could do both, but it will be a bit tricky. The performance isn't until 8pm, so I should have plenty of time to get back to town in time, but I won't be at school that day. Last year I simply used a sick day, this year... I'm not sure. But I think I can work it out.

Weighing more heavily on my mind is The Quest for Mythical Baby. If I have two 28-day cycles in a row (a feat not unusual for me pre-Pookey, but nearly unheard of post-Pookey) Cycle Day 3 falls on the first day of The Big Read. CD 3 is usually when I see NP Goodnews! to launch my cycle. Now, there are a lot of "if's" that complicate the situation: IF I have regular cycles... IF I can only see NP Goodnews on CD 3 (I seem to remember her seeing me on CD 2 before.. I think..)... IF we can even afford to launch a June cycle... IF J agrees to start that month...

That last IF might be the real deciding factor. I've told you before that he was jockeying for a late June/early July start, where as I wanted the month earlier. After finding out about the honorarium, and the theatre performance, I had made up my mind to tell J that I was willing to hold off and do a later start in order to help our family finances and (thereby) his sanity.

He listened carefully, and then with a thoughtful look on his face, told me, "Well, I don't know... We could probably still start in May if you wanted to. It might still work out..."
And just like that, my heart is set on making it work. God bless my husband for knowing what's important.

(Before you get all oh-isn't-he-the-best-husband-ever! on me, you should know that he still threatens to shut the whole operation down when he's stressed or irritated with me. He also tells me that I'm not allowed to have a second child until I can "control" the first... Pookey is being quite "two" lately, and J chalks it up to my abominable discipline skills. With a two year old. Yeah.)