Spoiler: Not Pregnant (But Still Awesome)

I’ve made myself scarce in the blogosphere these past few days because I’ve been enjoying my time with Mr. MLACS…and because I need(ed) a break from IF/RPL “scene”. In hopes of surprising Mr. MLACS in our (fabulous) hotel room Friday morning, I took a FRER at 10dpo. Stark white. I cried to my hubs, who folded me in his arms and said “it will happen”. Which is nice but we haven’t even begun to discuss a timeline or a budget for how to proceed–we need to consult the RE first–but I’ll find it more comforting if I had any idea when or how “it will happen”. And I decided to quit my progesterone & halve my prednisone–the logic being that the sooner AF comes the more possible it may be for us to ttc naturally this cycle (since Mr. MLACS is home an extra day for Myrtle’s wedding–thanks Myrtle, we’ll be leaving the reception SUPER early for some hotel action!) It was a bit chilly, but we walked to a cafe a few blocks from the hotel and had a delicious (gluten-free) brunch. Then we went back to the hotel and took a nap (Mr. MLACS wasn’t feeling well) and when we woke up we rallied and went for a walk around a local park and toured a historical museum. We returned to the hotel and got ready for dinner, then went to the fondue restaurant where we had our second date. It’s gone downhill–but I appreciated that they had gluten-free bread/brownies/pound cake for my dipping pleasure.

I was appalled that someone brought an infant to a fancy restaurant where each table has hot burners built into it for the purpose of cooking raw meat–whyyyyy would you subject this poor baby to the noise and smells and perils of raw meat? And the child was wailing it’s disapproval, and the parents did NOTHING but talk louder. Nevermind that it was ruining date night for the rest of us who are paying $100 per person for the privilege to cook our dinner at our tables (sounds frivolous huh?)  So I had the hostess move us away from them before I publicly shamed them and snatched their baby. Our waitress neglected us and apologized saying she had a dozen 13 year olds there for a birthday party. Seriously? What kind of bourgeoisie parents throw this kind of party for a 13 year old?!

 

Mr. MLACS and I had lots of opportunities to talk about what will and won’t do when we are parents. This came up constantly during our “city adventure”. And I’m just so, so, SO READY to actually BE a parent. There are all kinds of knuckleheads out there screwing up their kids–I’m not just talking about drug addicted and/or impoverished households–I’m talking about the working parents who are lazy and expect their child care providers and teachers (and television and iPads) to do ALL their parenting for them (manners, sleep schedules, potty training, etc.), OR, those uber intellectual trend-setting homeschool or charter school parents (the ones that don’t vaccinate) who allow their children to “do their own thing”–which is code for these kids are undisciplined and have been conditioned to think they the center of the universe and are entitled to do whatever they please whenever they please–or pitch a fit when that just isn’t possible.

 

Yeah, there are SO many a**hole parents out there. I would just like my opportunity to be one of them.

 

I took another test Saturday morning at 11dpo. BFN. On our way out of town we stopped at a famous cupcakery to grab a special cupcake for my sister (and for Mr. MLACS–I did not benefit because they don’t make gluten-free, grumble grumble). I was happy because we stopped at Trader Joe’s…I’ve read that fermented foods are good for fertility so we tossed some Kefir in the cart…I haven’t tried it yet. While I did not score a gourmet cupcake I at least made out with some organic chocolate. We ate lunch on our way out of town, came home, and took naps (Kitty too, one big happy family). Kitty was happy to welcome us home, although I’d had a (super cute) girlfriend come by to love on him and give him tuna treats so he wouldn’t feel ‘abandoned’. Usually when I’m away, I hire a ‘cat nanny’ come over every day to spend time with him and make sure he’s well cared for. I worry about him constantly. I haven’t been to the bathroom alone in 5 years. Haven’t I demonstrated my parental capabilities? I’m pretty sure I could love as human as much as I love this cat.

 

Since we went to bed early Saturday, we woke up early-ish on Sunday. I took a FRER and BFN at 12dpo. My body is so FICKLE though–I’ve been having cramps for days, which never happens until I’m actually starting my period–and usually I’ll start within 48 hours of quitting progesterone. So, I still have the nagging hope that maybe my pack of FRER’s were sub-par and…I just want to bash my head against a brick wall. Mr. MLACS got up before me and Kitty–this gave us room to sprawl. When I got up, I decided we should go to church…we are having trouble finding a church we both like and are comfortable in. I wasn’t sure Mr. MLACS would ever consent to go to church with me, but he has been going since Christmas and it’s SO wonderful. We sit hand-in-hand…I love that he sings along to all the songs…and we talk about the sermon afterwards. It feels great to be there with him. The congregation of the one I used to love to go to is dwindling since a new “mega church” came to town and ‘lured’ away all of the affluent people. I still like my old church but they are obviously desperate for money (you can see it in attendance and in the emphasis in the sermons). We actually attended the new “mega church”, but it was very crowded and I didn’t really connect with the music or the pastor. Plus it was just so “see and be seen” and I’m sure they encourage this sort of social climbing and elitism in order to hype the church and retain the support of the affluent people. Not my scene. So I’m not sure where we’ll try next. Mr. MLACS had to do some work from home, so we came home after church so he could knock that out. Then we “jumped” his truck (battery was dead since it hadn’t been driven in 2 weeks) and took a joyride–it was sunny outside and I only wish Mr. MLACS had felt well enough (has a cold) to go for a trail walk or a bike ride, but I’m sure we’ll do these things when he’s feeling better. I made some delish gluten-free brownies and we ate them a’la mode while we got caught up on ‘The Walking Dead’ and then watched the season finale (we DVR this show and ‘Vikings’ and watch them when Mr. MLACS is home). We have had some ‘sexy time’ (so much the better since I quite the progesterone suppositories). We feel very connected and I just keep telling him “I’m SO glad you’re home babe, we (me and Kitty) missed you!”

 

Even though I don’t have my human baby yet, I feel extra grateful for what I do have–this life I have with Mr. MLACS and Kitty is beyond my imagination and I love our little family. My heart beats for them. *tears roll down my cheeks as I think of how dear they are to me*

 

I haven’t worked out in a few days and I’ve eaten my fair share, so I’ll be glad to get back to it this week. Also, I’m getting my hair done on Tuesday! That always perks me up. Honestly, I’ll be glad to be off the hormones again this cycle–they are the devil. And maybe, all this interference is hurting me more than helping (how can I not suspect? we had 2 natural pregnancies and now nothing after 6 medicated cycles + 2 natural cycles–I’m observing the would-be due date of my second miscarriage on April 12th).

 

But you can bet your sweet a**es that I’ll be calling Dr. Angel in the morning to see what his take is on this situation. And it would be stellar if AF would hurry up so I have a prayer of ttc’ing naturally while Mr. MLACS is home this cycle. As it stands, if AF shows tomorrow and I ovulate on CD14, then I would ovulate the day after Mr. MLACS takes off. However, I *naturally* ovulate circa CD16, so if my body decides to have a “throw back” to unmedicated cycles, then I would ovulate maybe 3 days after Mr. MLACS leaves, and then that is still in the “realm of possibility” but far less likely to be successful. *Sigh* C’mon body, lets DO THIS.

 

XOXO,

MLACS

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Drugs, Muffin Tops, TWW’s

Oh, hi there! Has it already been a week since IUI #4?!

I hardly noticed.

Now that is a damn lie. Because I have not been able to put this TWW out of my mind. Not for a nanosecond.

I generally feel better than I did when I wrote my last post, but I’ve had my moments of bitter tears. I think, perhaps, the worst of that ‘episode’ is behind me. And thank you kindly for offering your support and camaraderie–I really needed that. Like, I mean it.

I’m just super annoyed. I ooze Endometrin (progesterone supp) 24/7. I’m lethargic (thanks to the progesterone) and I’ve been struggling not to drink caffeine to combat my lethargy (I was drinking a lot of caffeine during my ‘break’). I’m freakin’ bloated and only a week ago I was the “skinniest” I’ve been in awhile (like, I could stretch and make my stomach look flat)–but now I’m ‘fluffy’ in my midsection and ‘puffy’ in the face due to the combo of progesterone and prednisone (ok and I cannot stop eating). And I’m preemptively pissed at the thought that this is pointless. So I’ve been trying to simmer down about that. I dunno why the side effects didn’t piss me off bother me the last few months, but now I’m really annoyed. Like a scorned woman who has been ‘played’ too many times.

I can’t even talk about symptoms. I have them. Duh. Because I took an HCG shot and then pumped a bunch of progesterone in my body to make myself “pretend pregnant”. So when people ask me “Do you think it worked?!” I’m like, how the hell would I know? I’ve felt pregnant during ALL of my 6 medicated cycles. And nada.

I’ve been trying not to let my family drama affect me, but it’s hard since I have to go to the house to pick up/drop off Grandma every day for her radiation treatment. Grandma has done well, but she’s reeeally tired now. But just 5 more treatments to go! We will both be relieved.

Mr. MLACS is flying home Thursday and will be in Thursday night! I’m stoked. I’m going to the city to have dinner with my good girlfriend at as tapas restaurant in a trendy part of town–I’m glad they have a ‘mocktail’ menu. Then I’ll pick Mr. MLACS up from the airport and we’ll stay in a hotel. Then, Friday we will wake up and spend the day in the city! I hope the weather is nice. And Friday night we’re going to dinner at the restaurant where he took me for our second date (it’s a fondue restaurant!) We cannot wait to see each other. And yes, he is sorry he was a jerk on the day of my IUI.

And eventually, this stupid TWW will end. And then I have no idea, because I haven’t seen the RE and I have no plans with Dr. Angel and Mr. MLACS has no more ‘spermcicles’. Totally renegade at this point. We will most likely skip April and then go full-tilt in May with the RE. That will suck, because April 12th is my due date for miscarriage #2, and April 20th is our wedding anniversary. Anyways…I wish you all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns! And all that happy sh*t.

XOXO,
MLACS

Whatevs

So ladies, it’s been quite a week…

Last Friday I went in for a follicle scan and I had 3 potential follicles on my left ovary–13.5, 10, and 8.5. This was CD11. I was feeling slightly optimistic at this finding, although I’m always irritated that my right ovary is not a “team player”. Whatevs.

Obviously (from my last post) I was not obsessed with this cycle and I drank with abandon on Saturday–I was blowing off steam, and it was cool, but it was not awesome. I paid dearly for it. Whatevs.

I was supposed to see Doc Angel for another scan on Sunday, with the idea-in-mind that we would trigger on Monday (CD14) and do a double insemination Tuesday (CD15). Well, I was sick…I called and left a voicemail and he never called me back (I didn’t mind given that I felt like I’d been hit by a train). So there was no scan. Whatevs.

Monday morning I set my alarm and paged Dr. Angel early (7am), with the goal of being scanned, and depending on the scan, doing the trigger shot. He apologized because he was tied up with pregnant women problems on Sunday, and he was going to be in surgery all day on Monday. So he said just to go in at 9am and have the nurse give me the shot (without a scan) and he would call me later and have me come in for a scan. So that’s what I did. And then the (other) receptionist called the (crappy) RE clinic that has Mr. MLAC’s frozen sperm, and she made appointments for me to pick up sperm at 9am and 3:45pm on Tuesday–with express instructions to give me 2 vials each time (since we had 4 vials total). I noticed that she likes St*rbucks, and she was nice to me last week when I really needed someone to be nice to me, so I made a mental note to bring her a St*rbucks gift card. Whatevs.

I decided to go to spin class, knowing that (as per my life) the doc would call during my spin class, and there was nowhere to put my phone on my bike. Sure enough, he called about 5 minutes before I got out of spin class, but luckily I called him back and caught him–he told me to come on over to the office. So, I did. And I was disappointed to see that of my 3 follicles, only one was still there and it only measured 17.5. And then there was a cyst-y looking follicle that had a line running through it (doc called it a wall, so it was one follicle divided into two parts by a wall…interesting). My ears kind of drooped. Also, I made an appointment with the “good” RE office (the one I interviewed at)…they couldn’t see me until May 1st! Doc Angel said he should have some pull with them to get me in sooner, and I surely hope so–I’m anxious. Whatevs.

Tuesday I woke up…anxious. I got myself together to go pick up the “spawn” for the first insemination…on the way I had major road rage–this sort of anxiety and anger happens to me EVERY time I take the HCG trigger shot…I took the box of “spawn” and ran out the door, but once I got to the car I glanced at the paper they handed me–it said there’s only 13 million motile, and I thought “Surely this is just for one vial…but why would they only give me one vial when they were told TWO vials, twice!” Cuz normally, Mr. MLACS has 55 million at 100% motility in a single vial of his fresh sperm. And frozen sperm dies quickly too. My heart began to race. I parked and went into Doc Angel’s office, and bypassed a woman at the window to hand (regular) receptionist my box of “spawn”. She wreaked of cigarette smoke. She was very heavy but her pants were falling down and her buttcrack was showing. Very ghetto. And guess what she told the receptionist she was there for?! A pregnancy test, of course! It struck me like a ton of bricks, and I felt very indignant, and an uncharacteristic thought crossed my mind–“It’s really not fair“. And I felt panicked, wishing they’d room me and inseminate already before what little sperm I had lost it’s stamina. I was trying to hold back tears that I knew were coming, so I ran to the bathroom. And my chest heaved and a silent sob escaped, along with big tears rolling down my face. I was alarmed at my lack of self control–which just made me feel worse. “You’ve GOT to get a hold of yourself” I thought. So I dried my eyes and looked in the mirror–my face was red and my eyes betrayed me that I had been crying. Dammit. I realized then that I have reached a whole new level of infertility, a place I never thought I’d be–this is the sort of breakdown that other bloggers blog about, not me…I’m not like that…

The truth is I wasn’t “like that”…but I am now. This is becoming has become a huge burden that I can’t ignore. I can no longer deny my feelings. I’m in a lot of pain.

There’s no “Whatevs” at the end of that sentence.

There was another doctor using the ‘dildocam’, so I didn’t have a scan before the first insemination–so I wasn’t sure if the follicle had released yet or not. All I could do was hope that it would be released before the second insemination in the afternoon. I went home and tried to rest but I was upset. I called Mr. MLACS and launched into a speech about how the frozen sperm is crap and these hormones are making me insane and I really need him to change his schedule so we can ttc naturally because I just can’t keep doing this to my body and after one maybe two more IUI’s it will be IVF or nothing for me…and he got pissed and blurted out “NO! I’m not changing my schedule! This is your problem! And if we have to do IVF then YOU have to get a job and pay for it”. And then he hung up on me. I felt myself shattering into a thousand pieces. “How dare he say that? What am I even doing this for?” But this is what he does–if I call him upset like that, instead of calming me down he will get mad at me and sh*t all over me. He texted me that I was just mad at other people and taking it out on him. I said to him that I’m upset in general and wasn’t even mad at him–but what he said was f*cked up and I told him I wouldn’t talk to him without an apology. I told him I would never ever ever have said that to him. And last I checked, it takes TWO people to have a baby.

He called me and we had a tense conversation, where he told me he put plenty of money in the account (his way of trying to be nice). But you know, the damage has been done. And while he did apologize later for being a jerk, we haven’t discussed the fact that I have not forgiven him for saying “This is YOUR problem”. That sh*t hurt. So bad. And it still hurts, even though he is trying to move his schedule.

I went and hastily picked up the second batch of “spawn”–12 million motile. Not what I’d hoped.

The nurse called me back and asked how I was doing and in a whisper I said “You don’t want to know”. She was kind and took me to the room…where there was an ultrasound of what appeared to be a 12 week fetus on the big screen…

I felt like I was in the f*ing twilight zone–I literally felt light headed. I thought about telling the doc and nurse, but just didn’t have the energy to “sound the alarm” about it. Plus, I needed to cry some more before they came in. So I just grabbed some tissues and tried to sob so no one could hear my wimpers in the next room. I felt sorry for myself. I felt alone. The Doc did a scan and saw that the follicle had not released yet–that was another disappointment. He did the insemination, and I spent another 30 minutes alone, tipped upside-down with my feet in stirrups, Kleenex in-hand…crying in the dark. I think I felt my Mom with me, trying to comfort me. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

I have to say, that this is the first time I’ve left Dr. Angel’s office feeling truly defeated. And then there’s all these bloggers that do visualizations and meditations and think good and happy thoughts…and I was struggling just to stop thinking all these bad thoughts. I was thoroughly depressed. “I shouldn’t feel this way”, I thought, “Make it stop!” And, I cried all the way home–in between being very angry at traffic.

Yeah…this is a sad, pathetic story. But it’s the truth, so, if you’re looking for “suzy sunshine” all the time you won’t find her here. No apologies either.

I’m so tired of this rollercoaster. SO tired. I’m mad, sad, bitter, jaded, salty, sour, angry, indignant, irritated, ambivalent…all these negative feelings. I’m going through a tough spot, but I refuse to believe that it’s permanent.

Like I said before, the hangover from this weekend, combined with the fight with my dad, combined with the HCG trigger shot, plus I’m taking prednisone (which amps your stress hormone, cortisol), plus the progesterone suppositories, plus dealing with Grandma’s treatment, plus the fact that Mr. MLACS is not here…I think these are all factors right now. I mean, plus I am prone to anxiety/depression.

As of the last couple of days, I’ve begun to resent the things I’ve been going through with ttc’ing. The time. The money. The drugs and their nasty side effects–emotional turmoil (which leads to fights with DH), the toll on my body (the bloat), the nastiness of the suppositories. I’m so over it. I’ve been agonizing over whether or not to continue spin classes because they are moderate-high intensity…why should I be afraid that a spin class will hurt implantation? Normal people don’t worry about this crap. But then I think, “But I’m taking all these drugs and I’ve been through so much, I wouldn’t want to ruin it by taking spin class”. But I don’t want to give up my hard-won stamina that I gained by abstaining during the tww. There’s no winning.

It’s so hard because I hope this IUI worked. But I don’t believe it did. I can’t imagine that it will.

I give the f*ck up. I’m still taking the drugs (even though I feel like there’s no point) but I’m going to spin class. This is all too much and I’m ready to give it up to God. I just wish I felt like it’s all going to be ok.

Hey, sorry if this is heavy. Not looking for pity here. Just need to be honest. Just need to sit here and cry and let it out. I know at least some of you will understand.

 

Chaos

Hey ladies, I’ve been thinking of you and trying to keep up with your blogs, but things have been bananas recently. I’m drained. Do you mind if I do bullet points? Thanks, I need a break.

1. I was flipping out before the bridal shower, trying to make everything all “Martha Stewart” perfect throughout the apartment, on top of planning the most charming bridal shower I could muster. I dun good. The champagne punch (with fresh mint leaves, served in mason jars) was delicious. The tapas platter (with gluten-free crackers and several types of olives and cheese) was attractive. The gourmet pizzas (with homemade crust–2 regular, 1 gluten-free) turned out beautifully (well, save for the cheese running over in the oven from the margherita pizza, thus causing smoke and setting off the smoke alarms). The gluten-free cupcakes with homemade chocolate frosting were adorable and scrumptious. The ladies complimented my house quite a bit, saying it “looks like a hotel” (I’ll take that as a compliment) and it’s “really beautiful”. Everybody loved the shower décor. And the games were fun. I will say, that Myrtle was appreciative and helpful (she helped me get the finishing touches done before everyone arrived). But of course, she did say some asinine stuff, for example, she was talking about her proposal–her fiancé proposed on a rooftop of a building downtown, with a large bunch of white roses, but that wasn’t what she’d hoped for–but she said “At least he didn’t propose to me in a restaurant, I would’ve kicked him in the nuts! I didn’t want to be one of those people!” Well, my friends, I am one of “those people” that was proposed to in a restaurant, and honestly, Mr. MLACS went to a lot of trouble to surprise me and make it special, so who cares where it was?! I would’ve been pleased if he’d done it in a port-o-potty. So she’s an ass for saying that, especially since I’ve called her on that before when she had told me her engagement story and taken an attitude about restaurants–I mean, when I put my foot in my mouth, I usually feel ashamed and don’t repeat the mistake, but Myrtle is nothing if not a ‘repeat offender’. I could’ve embarrassed her by saying something in front of everybody at the shower, but I didn’t–I waited until I was half-assed drunk later on that night when somebody else called her on her snotty attitude. I’ll get to the part about me being drunk, but first, here’s the pics I took of the bridal shower (as promised). They don’t do it justice, but you get the idea (hopefully).

2. After everyone from the bridal shower left, I sat down for a few minutes and then got up to go to the baby shower (that I talked about before–she’s a semi-infertile, having ttc’d for 18 months with no intervention, but then she got pregnant from “just relaxing” on vacation in Mexico, so…that’s annoying). I got to the bar (yes, the rooftop of a local bar–it was a beautiful day) and saw a bunch of my friends that I used to par-tay with back in the day–we were a real bunch of derelict mf*ers (ravers, skateboarders, hippies, potheads, etc.) but most of us have gone on to have real jobs, spouses, and families…but when we get together… So my friend Kat is the loudest one of the bunch, and had left her man and her kids at home, so I buddied up with her…and started drinkin’. I was also trying to shake off the stress of the bridal shower–I was wound tighter than a 10 year clock. By the end of the shower I had 3 pints of cider beer and probly 2 cigarettes. And then, I had to make a decision: stay downtown for a rare night with my (extremely fun) old buddies, or go to dinner with the bridal shower…I chose to ‘do the right thing’ and leave my buddies to go to the dinner. I live in a college town full of hot girls, and I’d been admiring their (lack of) clothing (like, I felt like I should put money in their G-strings for showing that much skin)…but I looked faaabulous in a black pencil skirt, white tank top, black short leather jacket, and leopard print loafers, and a sassy ponytail with great make-up…and as I sauntered away from the bar, one of those cute little college girls “Oh you GO mama, I love that look, WORK IT!” And honey, I sure did.

3. I went to dinner with the bridal shower (said nothing of the baby shower because Myrtle would be miffed that she wasn’t invited) and first thing I did was grab a glass of wine. And when they asked what I wanted for dinner, I said “more wine” (but I did eat a bun-less philly sandwich). And I ended up having 3 glasses of wine (restaurant pours, which are less than half the size I pour for myself at home). And then we decided we would go downtown to the bars, and my apartment was just across the street, so I did the responsible thing and took my car home, and caught a ride with the rest of them. I was feelin’ pretty goooood.

4. We went to a new bar, a “public house” (oh-so-hipster-cool) and I had another cider beer. And another cigarette. I ran into Kat there.

5. We went to our favorite dive bar, where I had another cider beer.

6. We went to a hipster music joint that was hosting a hipster band, and I paid $12 to get in the door, and fought my way through a sea of hipster beards to get to the damn bar, where I ordered yet another cider beer. And then another. And another. And I think I smoked a cigarette in there somewhere, and tried to fix up one of the bridesmaids with a nice guy I know (Myrtle stuck her nose in it and made it awkward–typical). And there was a shot of jack (ick). And definitely another cider beer…

7. And after the music show ended, we hobbled back to the dive bar, where I realized I was drunk and wanted to go home, so I called a cab.

8. I was wobbly, but I made it in the house, changed into my pj’s, fed the cat, took my medicine, and put a glass of water by my bed–thinking, naively, that I would feel crappy the next day but I wasn’t that drunk…

Oh but ladies, I woke up circa 7:45am Sunday morning and I felt like death. My head was pounding and my stomach ached, and so many other feelings that I can’t put into words except to say “death”. I drank some water…and thought about it…and went and “prayed to the porcelain gods” (I had to force myself but it didn’t take much). And I still didn’t feel better. And I wished like hell that Mr. MLACS was there with me, as he is good-natured about taking care of me when I par-tay with the ladies occasionally (he’s usually the sober driver and he’s happy to pay for drinks for his own entertainment as well as ours). But I was utterly alone. And long story short, I’m glad I have 2 toilets, because I had my head in one and my ass on the other all morning long. Torture. Like “somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery”. But finally, by 1:30pm I had sufficiently purged the alcohol from my body and left my liver to clean up the rest of the mess. I felt like such an idiot. A miserable idiot. Finally by 3pm I coaxed myself out of bed to go and get some 7up to calm my stomach (I mean, cuz I didn’t feel like calling anybody to bring me anything, except my sister, who–as usual–ignores my calls and texts unless she wants something from me).

I then went to see my dad and grandma, since I hadn’t seen him in weeks owing to the fact that he’s been thick-as-thieves with his stupid girlfriend and I refuse to be around the two of them anymore (so many reasons). He, however, thinks I’m punishing him and he started a BIGASS fight while I was at the house, and I don’t know if I will ever forgive him. He is an ass and I don’t know why I even gave him the opportunity to hurt me like this (again). Why did I move home?! Anyways, this did not help my hangover depression-funk. It drained whatever strength I had left. And Mr. MLACS was the only person I wanted, and he is so far away.

Monday was insane, as I had to wake up early and page Dr. Angel to see about getting what we needed done that day. And I had to take Grandma to her radiation appointment–which was depressing, because this one terminal patient that had the same kind of Lobular breast cancer my Mom had sat there and told me her tragic story and I had to use emotional energy I didn’t have to try to have a bright conversation with her and speak about my Mom’s treatment…it hurts to remember and I had to pretend like it didn’t, because she has a daughter my age and I wanted to show her how well I’ve dealt with my mother’s passing so she might not feel so bad about her own daughter’s impending grief. I don’t regret that conversation, because God put her in my path, but it was draining. Then I cleaned the house, did laundry, went to spinning class, went to see doc Angel, and came home to make dinner for myself, by myself. At least it was a sunny day outside, which lifted my spirits. And I was glad to be busy. But I didn’t have the energy to blog.

Today was a very tough day and I’m gonna tell y’all about it, but in a different post. I don’t want to come across as seeking pity of having self-pity, but here’s what: I’ve been investing myself in other people A LOT lately, and I’m feeling emotionally drained and not cared for by my friends and family the way I am caring for them. I’m “being there” for a lot of people, and I don’t want to chase people around to “be there” for me. My husband is gone. And I’m feeling stressed and alone. I’m missing my Mom, so, so much right now. I feel physically as strong as I’ve felt in a long time, but emotionally drained and weak. I could use some TLC. And that’s the truth.

But y’all know I’m tough. I am. And grateful for the things that I have (including my current UC remission). And I’m hopeful for the future. But getting my Grandma through treatment, getting myself through infertility and loss (will it EVER end?!), missing my husband when he’s gone, missing my dear departed mother, and being disappointed by my (broken) family…it’s a lot right now and it’s getting to me. To be continued…

Cawffee Tawlk

I’m actually in a pretty good mood, but I feel kind of whacky. I dropped Mr. MLACS off at the airport in the city today, and hit up World Market and Trader Joe’s to finish shopping for food and props for “Myrtle’s” bridal shower that I am throwing this weekend. For all the b*tching and moaning I did about her and her wedding these past few months, you would wonder why I would even bother…but I am loyal and I said I would give her a nice bridal shower and I’m pretty pleased with myself. With a little a lot of help from Mr. MLACS yesterday, I managed to get the apartment decorated yesterday–this is a HUGE relief and I LOVE how it turned out. I’ve been agonizing over the décor because Myrtle nit-picks everything (ex: “All you need is a large piece of original artwork for that wall and it will look good”…gee thanks) and she is the perfect hipster because she is of the belief: “I’m cool and I know everything about anything that matters” and as such she will pick apart anything (ex: Myrtle said, “I like my bridal salon better because the dresses are more affordable and there’s a bigger selection”–she didn’t have the budget for the boutique where I bought my dress so she had to make a snide remark and act like she’s too cool to go to a pricey and popular bridal salon. WTF dude. Why’s it gotta be like that?) Oh, and my apartment is brand new and when I told her about it she was like “Oh that’s nice but you know it’s not my style”. Cuz she only likes older homes with “character”. Pfffft. I could go on (and on and on) with examples of her insulting remarks, but you get the point.

So anyways, regardless of what she says, I know my apartment looks Pinterest-worthy and she’ll have a hard time finding things to pick on. Mission accomplished.

I’m also excited to take out all my beautiful PB dishes that I got for my wedding! I’m breaking out my culinary prowess too (because naturally, ‘Myrtle’ is a “farm-to-table” type of food snob). The menu will include gluten-free table crackers, a tapas platter (kalamata olives, green olives, sun dried tomatoes, feta cheese, and Italian truffle cheese). And homemade pizza crust (one margherita with: fresh mozzarella & mixture of mini heirloom tomatoes + fresh basil + olive oil + balsamic AND another one with: pear, goat cheese, candied walnuts, and topped with arugula tossed in olive oil + pear vinegar). And gluten-free mini cupcakes with homemade frosting. Plus, pink champagne punch that I’m serving in mason jars. Boo-ya!

And I have a Keurig with all sorts of flavors of coffees and a bunch of gourmet David’s teas and pretty diffuser cups. I made shabby-chic little goodie bags for the ladies. I bought coordinating cloth napkins and will roll the silverware and tie it with hipster-ish twine. The main colors of this shindig are varying shades of turquoise and pink, and theme is sort of ‘shabby chic’ with a twist (brighter colors), with mason jars as a focal point. Did I tell you guys that Mr. MLACS surprised me with a beautiful orchid plant this weekend?! Well he did, and it goes perfectly with my “theme” so waaaay to go Mr. MLACS! 

Yes, yes, I suppose I will have to post pics since I’m hyping this thing up. Did I mention that even my mini cupcake wrappers go with the theme? Well they do. BUT it’s not “matchy matchy”, so everything looks ‘organic’ and not ‘contrived’. Gawd, please tell me if I start sounding like an a**hole with my “organic and not contrived” bullsh*t. Sorry bout that.

I’m trying to make this appear effortless, even though I’ve chewed my nails to oblivion and wandered around several stores and websites before I could make any decisions about food or decorations. But I’m feeling relieved because I’ve got just a few odds-n-ends to take care of, but otherwise I’m satisfied and feeling prepared. The bridal shower is this Saturday. I’ll most definitely let you know how it turns out (and post pictures, although I will probly leave it up for a day or two and then get paranoid and make it ‘password protected’, which y’all can always email me for the password if that’s the case: mylifeasacasestudy@hotmail.com).

Directly after the bridal shower I have a baby shower to attend, which I’m actually kind of stoked about because 1. This friend tried for 18 months, 2. She and her husband are cool as hell and having their shower at a pub, 3. I get to see a big group of friends that I never see, 4. Myrtle would try to invite herself if I told her, but I’m not going to mention it, and it makes me feel good that Myrtle would like to be important to these people, but she’s not. But I am. And I won’t flaunt it to her, but I will enjoy it. I also got them the cutest gift bag. Here’s a pic of the ‘hipster-ish’ giftbag (for an edgy couple) bonus, that’s my cat in the background:

Yes that’s my boy Kitty photobombing my shot of the gift bag

As for my ttc efforts, I took the Letrozole and now I’m feeling bloated but not as bad as I would normally feel–thanks to working out. I’m hoping the bloat will subside now that I’m done with the drugs (ha, doubtful). I was partying pretty hard with the caffeine over my “break” and I loathe having to cut back again. I need to talk to Doc Angel and set up a scan to see what my follicles are doing. Also, I had pink/brown discharge from ovulation last cycle, then had AF for a few days, and now pink/brown discharge again for a few days–this is unorthodox and I wonder what the indication is. But luckily, I don’t have time to obsess over anything right now. I’m also taking Grandma to radiation every day for the next couple of weeks (except not on weekends).

This is insignificant, but we also switched Kitty from Iams food to Blue Buffalo food this past week–I’ve fed him the Iams since he was a baby (nearly 5 years now) because I thought it was “the good stuff”. But now that I’m gluten-free (and since Kitty is spoiled and turns his nose up at his dry food and whines for soft food) and because I would be happy if he outlived me because I cannot live without Kitty…we (Me + Mr. MLACS, who pretends not to care about Kitty but he adores him) decided it was time to “upgrade” to the Blue Buffalo food. Kitty loves it. I feel like a responsible parent. We are also talking about getting a dog. I’ve never had a dog but Mr. MLACS is somewhat of a “dog whisperer” and is dying to have a dog again–he wants a chocolate lab. I think I’d rather have a springer spaniel, but what do I know? And Kitty is my baby anyway, so it’s really Mr. MLACS’s decision. Anybody who knows anything about this stuff, feel free to tell me all about it. We are ready to expand our family–furry or bald, whichever comes first.

XOXO,

MLACS

 

 

 

Queen of Drama

So, I’d like to thank the ladies that commented on my last “OhEmGee” post–I didn’t respond cuz I didn’t know what to say except “Thanks”.

Maybe I should apologize, because all that lamentation over AF starting several days early and my thyroid being beyond f*’d up…well…

I called Doc Angel’s office Every. Day. This. Week. Cuz he told me to call on Monday when I spoke to him last week, saying that he would talk to the RE and then we could discuss it. And the poor guy was trying to take 3 days off to go somewhere with his kids last weekend–hope it was fun. Cuz obviously, this week was NO fun for him at all. It seems he was inundated with deliveries and pregnant women problems, because otherwise I think I would’ve gotten the phone call I was so desperately searching for. So I get that he is an OBGYN, not an RE, and he is in the business of pregnant women, with infertile women being a special project on the side.

Well this week, when I started my menses early and had NO idea what was going on with my body…thinking my thyroid is defunct…but hoping if it wasn’t that maybe I could go forth and try another IUI…I was completely and utterly NOT OK with being a “special project on the side”. I wanted to know what my TSH was, like, NOW. So that I could know if ttc was even a possibility, or if I was going to need another adjustment of Synthroid in order to make April a possibility. And I wanted to let him know that it’s no big deal if he hadn’t spoken to the RE to get a protocol for Gonal-F, because it is too late to even order the Gonal-F so if anything it would just be Letrozole. And usually (lately) the doc will call me after hours–I know he doesn’t get paid for that. So I even told the ‘regular’ receptionist, “Hey, I will gladly make an appointment to see him”, but she would not even allow me to make an appointment! I was also asking for a lab slip to have my TSH checked, which I asked for on CD1, and CD2, and finally on CD3 after calling again that morning and not getting called back, I just showed up at the office–because I was losing my mind and could not move on with my day until I got this damn blood drawn–plus I was freaking out because I knew I wouldn’t get the results back until CD4, and had wanted to start drugs on CD3 (but not without confirmation that my TSH was in-range). While I was picking up my lab slip, I said to the receptionist, “I’m CD3, so…” and it just fell on completely deaf ears, she looked at me like I’m nuts and goes “Uh huh he will call you when he can”…she probly figures the doc is overwhelmed by needy pregnant women and doesn’t need a needy infertile breathing down his neck, so I can just leave my f*ing message and he can call back at his convenience. And as luck would have it, it seems there was never a convenient time for the doc this week. So I was quite frustrated. I mean, like, maniacally frustrated.

Like, I kept picking up the phone to dial the number of the RE to have a consult to move on with a cycle in April, because when I interviewed there they said “We do a lot of hand holding here” and that’s what I wanted this week–I’m freaked out and I wanted my “hand held”. I wanted to speak to someone that understood the panic and desperation behind the words “I’m CD1, and pending my TSH results I want to start another cycle…for which I have NO protocol and NO drugs”. I mean, I felt so helpless. And yet, guilty for ‘pushing my agenda’ with my good-natured and philanthropic OBGYN’s office. It’s a struggle of “I’m doing my part, which is pissing everybody off, and I still can’t accomplish my goal” and everything just felt so…futile. But, I just didn’t want to go behind doc Angel’s back and call the RE, after he had said he would speak with him. I really just wanted to do this cycle with Dr. Angel. And I’m certainly glad that I didn’t make that call to the RE in my desperate state of insanity, because…

I called yesterday (CD4) to ask for my TSH results, feeling defeated, and I pretty much expected ‘regular’ receptionist to say, again, “He’ll call you…” and then I expected that he wouldn’t call me and that I would end up 1. Not knowing my TSH, and 2. Not doing a cycle in March because I had no protocol and no drugs. BUT…

Instead, Dr. Angel’s ‘other’ receptionist answered, and took mercy on my weary soul. She allowed me to give her my laundry list of requests and explanations, which included 1. My TSH results 2. Pending those, a prescription of 5mg Letrozole 3. Let Doc Angel know that it’s totally kosher if he hasn’t spoken to the RE to get a fancy drug protocol–totally a moot point at the moment 4. I am CD4, so…

So she looked for my lab results in the computer, but said the nurse would have to call the lab for them. Cool. And she said she’d speak to the nurse and Doc Angel about the Letrozole. And then…she called me back! She actually called me! And informed me that my TSH is…are you ready for this…PERFECT (1.07)! And the doc agreed to call in a script for Letrozole 5mg. And she said Dr. Angel will call me back. I could have kissed her. I will most definitely find some way to express my gratitude.

So, what this amounts to is: I am Queen of Drama. I am not proud of this. I agonized over my TSH and whether or not to ttc this month and whether or not to call the RE and whether or not Doc Angel had forsaken me…and in the end, everything is fine and I wasted an exorbitant amount of time and energy worrying and obsessing.

Also, since I had ‘announced’ that I’m ‘on a break’ I considered not blogging about this cycle, because I always wonder in the back of my head if maybe it’s bad ju-ju to blog about the cycles, you know, kind of how some cultures think it steals a piece of your soul to have your picture taken by a camera…maybe blogging about ttc steals a piece of your BFP? F*ck I dunno. But then I thought “But what if it actually worked?” I mean, don’t we all kind of despise bloggers that lament BFN after BFN and then suddenly announce they’re 12 weeks pregnant–after we’ve been following their journey for so long? I hate that sh*t. So, I will continue to be transparent about my cycles. And, break is officially over. I want my f*cking baby already.

XOXO,

MLACS