5K?

So there I was, stomping to Iggy Pop on the stairmaster this morning, thinking about Will and his towel-covered elliptical, reminding myself of chicklet's encouragement, trying to figure out why the heck nutmeg96 was in my dream last night and more importantly, why was she soothing me like a baby (for the record, it worked), and maybe, just maybe I was feeling a little sorry for myself.

I was trying to battle down a headache I woke up with and I chose stairmaster over elliptical this morning because I can actually feel heat rising off me and I wasn't up for generating much more. Yes, folks, you see, without the watchful care of BCPs, all the joys of menopause come hang out with me. I was stomping away, thinking about my body, Isa and Jovi, contemplating a blog post but wondering what it could be about besides woe is me...

And this guy (older gentleman) walks up and stands next to my machine. I pull out my earplugs and look at him kind of quizzically and he says,

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to interrupt your personal space. But you work so hard here. And I think you should go out and celebrate it."

And then he hands me not one, but 2 flyers for upcoming 5K fun runs/walks. One on May 2. One May 16.

"Think about it. At least 30% of the folks actually walk. It's not so much for the race, it's more for in here" And he points to his head.

And the paranoid me is thinking OMG was I just crying just then?? OMG does he know about us?? Did somebody tell him??? OMG Do I look like that much of a basket case??

And somehow I managed to say, "Thank you! Thanks very much." And take it for the compliment I think it was meant as.

So now I'm thinking, well, shit, I was just wondering if my tibia was sufficiently healed and talking with M. about getting back outside to run again...but could I do 5K?? Sure, it's not that far and I could always shift down to a walk. It isn't really a race, well it wouldn't be for the likes of me. But could I?

Kind of feels like now or never. Since a true flow never came this month, I'm waiting for lab slips to get faxed over to me. Bloodwork comes next. After that, another hysteroscopy and then I am sure a request for another BCP-assisted cycle, and that would bring us up until around the end of May, at least, before we think about an FET.

So I'm thinking about it. But mostly thinking, well, why the hell not?

Ball of Frustration

I try. I really, REALLY try not to get down on my body. to hate on it. to show it anything but love. Sure, it's lumpy in places I wish it weren't and has been through a few ups and downs, but it's all I got. And I try to remember that. And I KNOW getting angry at it isn't going to change/fix/resolve/make things any better. But dammit. WTF? I mean really. WTF?

• 11 days after stopping estrogen and provera. Still no deluge. Where is the period to end all periods? Where is this flood of built up (healthy) uterine lining that will wash away all that was yucky and let us start anew? Huh? Where. Are. You?
  

This is so damn puzzling. My body has an excellent track record with drugs. Um, er, yes. I just said that. What I mean is, you give it something meant to cause a reaction and it responds. Without fail. So why the obstinance now? And before you get all excited and speculate: No. I am not pregnant. How do I know? Because I peed on a damn stick last night. Not because we were hoping for a miracle birth, more like I wanted to enjoy my glass of wine without guilt. Remember: surgical clamps do not ovulate.

• After 2 1/2 weeks of some steady gym intake, what is my weight? Exactly the same as when I started. Are my clothes fitting better? Um, no. But do I feel better about myself? Sure. But I would feel far better if I had something, anything tangible to show for my early mornings and sweat. And I do sweat. I am not one of those gals who takes a book along to read while on the treadmill. My thought is, if you can see straight, you're not working hard enough. Insult to injury: I do believe I am still sporting a post-birth body that seems reluctant to leave. As in, were my hips always that wide? My ass that flat?? Well shit.

Beyond frustrated this morning and M. can sense it and is trying his best to lighten my mood. I KNOW that this doesn't help. Won't help me get through my day. But if I don't address it, it will only get worse. I skipped the gym this morning but I'm working from home today so thinking I will take an extended break this afternoon. My goal is to find some moments to meditate this morning as well - but I don't do terribly well with sitting still.

So, the plan is: I am waiting until 14 fulls days past the last day of provera. If still no flow, we'll do some blood work to check all hormone levels. If it magically appears, we schedule a follow up hysteroscopy to check out the ute., have one more cycle with the help of bcps and then schedule a FET.

I understand that we have nothing but time. That its not a race. That any chances of dodging "advanced maternal age" are now out the window. I just wince at the thought that my body is worse off now than when we started. That the things we had going for us in the beginning cannot be relied upon now. I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

And I cannot believe I am now one of those people obsessed with bodily functions and fluids. (laughing at all poo jokes totally does not count).

What? No Shot?

Are you sure?

Do you mean it?

Do you really mean I don't have to contort myself into unnatural positions propped on pillows to poke my own butt tonight since hubby is at work?

That is frigging awesome.

Calliope said that the first night sans shot is divine. She's right.

So what am I doing with all this free time? Well, first I stuck my saran wrap back in the kitchen where it belongs. how nice to use it for wrapping cheese and other leftovers instead of the numbing cream on my *ss.

Now, I'm having my own private, pregnancy-craving dictated tailgate by myself on my living room floor. Honeycrisp apples (have you had these yet? They are the bomb!), cheddar cheese, and a huge bowl of cold sauerkraut. Oh hells yes. Fight on State!

At halftime, I'll sift through my free goodies bag I got from Motherhood.

You bet. I went there. Technically, I can still fit into most of my clothes. Most of the time, it's less than flattering. But the main impetus for the mall trip was my annual conference that's coming up in the end of October. I know that by then, me being able to wear all of my suits and business attire will be but a memory. I also know that this is probably the last work-free weekend I can count on between now and then. Things get intense. In other words, it was now or never.

The last time I waited until the last minute to pick up a few new things for conference, I ended up dashing to Ann Taylor Loft and pretty much purchasing anything I laid eyes on, threw it in the car and figured I'd figure it out when I got there. Of course, I ended up wearing and keeping 2 items and returning all the rest. I'm not willing to gamble like that with a figure that I am assuming will be less than easy to grab-n-go for.

So, my MIL graciously agreed to meet me at the mall and help me suss out some duds that would be suitable for work. Can I say we both started giggling uncontrollably at the sight of me and the "fake belly" they have in the dressing rooms to make sure the clothes will fit into the next few months? Wow. What a visual.

My Girl Wants To Ea-at All The Time....

I hope I've drilled the Eddie Murphy/Rick James song into your consciousness. I shouldn't be the only one to suffer with that stuck in my head.

Mean. I know. Sorry.

But honestly, I am eating like a fiend. Girl, I am hungry! Every time I turn around I am walking to the kitchen to see what else I can stuff in my face.

Despite this, I've dropped several pounds since pre-transfer. You could make a mention the high calorie count of high quality beer and suggest that I am enjoying some weight loss due to my weeks of teatotalling.

Or you could just keep that to yourself.

Let's be serious for a minute. Could this be a good sign? I hate speculating, but you really can't help it, can you? There will be no peeing. We went through that before. We won't be doing it again. So, we'll be good eager little wanna be parents and wait for the beta. But don't worry, we'll still over-analyze every feeling and non-feeling for signs of meaning. Relevance. Significance.

Gah.

In the meantime, I am going to see if I have any tomatoes left. I needs me a mid-afternoon snack.

Lemme Tell You What's Going On

Because I just found out.

Sorry for the delay. Nurse is on vacation (fair enough) so there's been a little phone tag between me and the clinic. I am connected with a new cool nurse for the interim and she's done her best to get me up to date on findings and next steps.

Biopsy came back clean = yay

BUT my endometrium wasn't "in phase," meaning, it should have appeared to be in the 23-25th day of my cycle. It was lounging around 18th or 19th. Slacker.

So, we are gearing up for BRAND SPANKIN' NEW FET CYCLE starting with lupron injections on the 23rd. We've got a NEW and IMPROVED protocol which consists of double doses of PIO and oh I can't bear the anticipation progesterone suppositories.

Eww.

None of this is surprising. I was kind of guessing that was where it was all headed - towards the ickiness that some of you have described oh so graphically (which, frankly, I appreciate). But hey, the good news is, nothing was found that feels insurmountable. We are back on the baby-making train again. We are starting something new, doing things a little different. And I have been working like a MF to get my Qi (chi) and my mind right and ready for babyness.

Now if only my acupuncturist would call me back....

Stripe Check 1-2-1-2

"Is this thing on?"

That's me tapping the mike to announce to the world that my lining measure a big ole 10.1 this morning.

That's higher than the baseline of 8. Higher than the 7.5 I measured last time.

My nurse chalks it up to the addition of estrogen patches. Sure. I'm also not so quietly thanking my new acupuncturist, a new attitude and a new commitment to visualizing success.

I laughed when I saw this cushion at Ikea this morning (an obligatory stop after a good visit to the clinic) because it is a pretty decent replica of another one of my favorite images that I've been conjuring lately.

It does look a bit reproductive, doesn't it? Is it just me? It's probably me.

I get a stitch on Monday. FET is scheduled for Thursday.

As in, only 6 more days.

Can it be? One year blogging for me.

Is it really my one year blogoversary?

Yep. 365 days ago, I posted my first post, optimistically titled, "Coming Soon."

Since then, there have been 2 canceled cycles (lack of donor response), 1 BFN and a lot of anticipation. Our first FET (frozen embryo transfer) is well underway, complete with extra estrogen patches and acupuncture pokes.

Since I started acupuncture treatments this week, my dreams have amped up in vividness and frequency. Yes! Even more vivid than this one. More realistic than this one here.

So I've decided to take advantage of my overactive mind and try some visualization throughout the days leading up to transfer. Here's the visual I had of myself on the elliptical this morning, once again, trying to get in shape for the rigors I am hoping pregnancy will put my body through:


Ok. That's not nearly as cool as the image in my mind, but you get the idea, right? That's me with super-strong muscles and fortitude,protecting the sunshine and energy (an environment absolutely conducive to life, don't you think?) of my thickening womb.

And yes, my sneakers are purple.

I said no, no, no.....

Not to going to rehab, but to an endometrial biopsy. Here's how it went down:

Nurse called last week, I thought to start scheduling our next cycle. She was actually calling to relay the advice of a new doctor who has apparently joined the practice. This doctor decided that what we really needed was to do a mock cycle and then an endometrial biopsy to see whether or not I needed to add any additional progesterone to our routine. That means, go through an entire cycle, including weeks of PIO injections, ending not in a transfer, but in this new doc taking a swab of my uterine lining. Based on the results of those weeks of hormones, headaches, shots and that swab we would either: a.) know that the protocol was just fine and start a new cycle or b.) add a little more progesterone to it.

I hung up with nurse, slightly stunned. Thinking first of all, "Who the F*ck is Dr. ____ and what does he/she know about me?" Second thought was, "Yes, my lining was slightly under 8 this time around but THEY CHOSE not to increase my estrace. It was less than 8 the first cancelled cycle and we upped the estrace, which seemed the do the trick. It was less than 8 the second cancelled cycle because I was only on estrace for a few days before the first stripe test...."

The more I thought about things, the angrier I got. I turned to hubby for some reason and rational thought. Perhaps I was overreacting or still upset from the BFN. His anger and indignity only added to mine. He broke it down like this: If an endometrial biopsy was what they wanted to do, they had 2 cancelled cycles which they could have continued to that end, AND the several months we were sitting around doing nothing while we were waiting for our donor to be available. Now, they want to waste our time, money, emotions? Now??

I felt slightly better knowing we were on the same page. From my perspective, I simply couldn't imagine going through the stress of a cycle knowing it was a mock one. Shooting up is hard for me as it is. Would I really go forward with that day after day knowing that all I had to look forward to was a cotton swab up my noonie? It would be different if I or they suspected some serious abnormality. It would be different if increasing estrace hadn't already been proven to work. It would be different if we only had 1 or 2 embies left. It would be different if we had a few thousand dollars to throw around on meds and medical tests that serve our clinic's purposes and stats more so than ours. It would be different if Dr. ___ was the person who had taken us through the process up to this point. It would be different if there weren't ample time and opportunity to address this perceived issues without the pain of additional and fake cycle.

But none of this is the case.

So, confident that hubby had my back, I called nurse the next morning. And we talked about all of this. And much more. We talked about how bothered we were that of the 4 people present for our transfer, we knew none of them (nurse had CPR training and had already told us she couldn't be present). We talked about how upset we were that this new and unknown person (Dr. ___) seemed to be calling the shots on our cycles. We talked about how it felt when we felt the (well-respected and university-affiliated) clinic was more interested in keeping their stats above the national average than they were with us as patients. It was a long and hard conversation.

And it was so worth it.

She totally understood and sympathized and made it seem like she, too, was bothered by the message she had to relay. She explained that the clinic was expanding and that a number of doctors had joined the team, hence Dr. ___, hence the unknown faces between my legs at transfer. She explained who the new docs were and which aspects of the clinic they would be in charge of. We told her that we considered her our lifeline and the one real and human point of contact there. We didn't know what we would do without her. Long pause. She said, "then I am going to keep your file. I'm supposed to turn it over to another nurse now that you are doing FET but I won't and I am going to use this conversation as my justification."

And we told her we were so grateful for that. She has been with us since the day I called almost a year ago and set up an appointment for a consult. She was the one that hugged me when I cried during the needle training. She was the one that held my hand when I got my stitch put in before the first transfer. She was the one that had to call and tell me about the BFN. To go through this without her would be rough.

So, it's day 5 of lupron. So far, so good. I need to get back in the habit of good breakfasts and healthy days. But we are looking forward to our first FET, scheduled tentatively for early March, with nurse by our side.

Same as It Ever Was?

Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I haven't had much to say. Since we received the BFN, my daily routine feels like it did a year ago, before the whole maybe baby adventure. No shots, no forgetting to take my pills, no hesitation before I eat something. No denial of caffeine or alcohol. One could almost be lulled into thinking it never happened. One could think that I am exactly the same today as I was February 3, 2007, 2006, 2005...

But I'm not.

What's changed? Gosh, well, for at least a few days, my womb had the pleasure of hosting some little guys with potential. I know they were in there. I saw them as they were being placed. And having that responsibility, that honor, that joy, that feeling that I might be creating something, if only for a few days, is an experience I thought that I would never, never have. And I did. If things fell to sh*t right now and we decided to not try again, to leave this dream behind, I would have no hesitation saying that the exploration, the process was all worth it. I was pregnant, if only for a few days.

That's what I would say today.

Catch me at another time and I might rue the day that I ever started to question my childfree life. It wasn't/isn't so bad, is it?

No. It's not. And I bet I could keep living it and be ok.

But that's not something I want to explore just yet.

It's CD4. We are patiently awaiting cycle instructions from Nurse, who will call us after the docs have their weekly pow wow and decide what to do with us and our remaining embies.

Stay tuned for Maybe Baby, take 2.

Ain't I a Woman?

Just because it is now a physical possibility to conceive using someone else's eggs doesn't mean the mind is so willing to make that jump.

If you haven't read Kami at Are We There Yet, I strongly recommend you check out her latest post and the comments that come with it.

I have been struggling with the N.G.E. (not good enough) vibe for a while. Even before the idea of trying to have a baby popped into our minds. Crazy how reading more feminist literature and trying to get more in tune with my female side has resulted in more feelings of inadequacy than I ever experienced in my misogynist Henry Miller-reading- I-don't-hang-out-with-girls- knee-jerk-anti-feminist- reactionary days of college. Funny how so many of our new feminist writers begin their tomes based in our wombs, in our eggs, in our ovaries. From here, everything begins. True, to a point, but what happens when those things, those things that by their very essence, make us female, aren't working? Aren't there? Aren't responding to our female brains?

Does that make us less female? Am I less of a woman? Are you?

Trying to Stay on Track

I think I said yes to one too many orders of cheesy fried goodness this week.

Hubby and I eat well at home but we tend towards the tastiness and convenience of all things fried when we go out. This week, it seems we were out almost every night - a plate of nachos while commiserating with an out of town co-worker about how crazy our boss is, mozzarella sticks with hubby's mom playing trivia on Thursday, some Irish nachos while waiting for the games to come on....

My gosh, and I am wondering why my pace on the elliptical is not what it was a few months ago?

I have to keep reminding myself that just because nothing is happening right now, doesn't mean something won't be happening soon. [We are waiting for our donor to have her period, then we'll start working out a schedule, which I think could find itself prolonged due to holidays and work schedules.] I owe it to myself to be as ready as possible when the phone call comes, the medications begin and it is too late to start stressing about being 10 lbs. over the normal BMI range. This post at Wifethereof and this recent article served as gentle reminders.

And I am not the only one trying to shed those final pounds. Jade is starting Jenny Craig for the same reason.

I've been toying with the idea of doing the South Beach Diet again - it really helped hubby and I jump start our fitness frenzy back in the spring. But then I worry that I would be doing myself a disservice by eliminating so many whole grains and fruits that seem so necessary to get the right fix of folic acid for pre-natal health. Sure, I'll start taking the pre-natal horse pills (aka vitamins) again soon but I'm just not convinced they're as effective as simply eating right in the first place.

With that in mind, hubby and I spent our Saturday morning running the trifecta - a shopping trip which took us to Wegmans, Giant AND CostCo. My fridge is filled with fruits and veggies. My pantry stocked with beans and grains. I made this yesterday afternoon and it was fantastic. Today, I hope to spend an hour or so in the kitchen prepping some pots of ready-made snacks and lunches so that I have no reason to reach for a handful of dark chocolate chips when I need an energy fix.

By my watch, I still have a month or so to get myself in shape before daily doses of lupron and estrace begin and I start using that as my excuse for my elliptical laziness. Wish me luck.

Gosh, I never thought of it like THAT

Here’s a fun game to play with your partner – let’s try to pick out all of the things that thankfully won’t be acquired by your maybe baby since you won’t be using your eggs. For me, the obvious is my Hodgkin's Disease, which hasn't proven to be hereditary but then again there's no proof that its not.

But it seems that those traits also include:

• My crooked nose
• My bad temper
• My bizarre body shape which includes a lack of a waist that no amount of exercise seems to affect
• My snaggletooth

Hey! Isn’t this interesting and fun??

Fun for, like, a minute.

The Sound of Music

I was going to write a post today about how different being on lupron this time around has been - it hasn't made me loopy or stupid, no headaches, blurred vision, no mood swings.....

Then I plugged my mp3 player into the radio as I made dinner. Switched it to shuffle.

And every single song had me flying high or on the verge of tears - like high-school-lost-crush- drowning-in-my-own-self-pity-but-loving-it tears. Every house anthem had me ready to rave. (Bring on the strobe lights!) And every Afghan Whigs song made me want to go in search of a creepy yet hot stranger to go make out with and regret later. It was like I had a surge of being-nineteen-ness into my body. It was awesome.

Hormones are great.

And honestly, a whole new life experience for me. I haven't produced my own since age 13. How early is that menopause? But that's exactly what it was: Ovaries shut down and/or gone missing. No estrogen for you! I know hubby is looking forward to the doses of estrace which will begin in about a week. Apparently, my body temperature actually normalizes when I have some estrogen in me. Otherwise, I'm nicknamed the "heat miser."

So, to recap, day 6 of lupron. Waiting patiently for ms. donor to flow. I'll be getting bloodwork in a few days and then begin estrace. In the meantime, I'll chuckle for a few more days as I take my birth control pill along with my pre-natal vitamin. Is that funny to anyone else?

Or just me?

Hormones are great.

Great News!

It's official: I'm an auntie!

Hubby's sister gave birth to a healthy little girl just about an hour ago. She is 3 weeks early but initial reports say all is well. Yay!

While she hasn't shared many details with us, I know her journey towards this moment hasn't been easy either. Her medical history is just about as thick as mine and includes things like rods in her back which couldn't have made a natural delivery sans epidural too fun. But: mom is well. Baby is well. And we are taking some much relieved grandparents out to lunch today.

Hopefully their vision will be blurred by tears of joy and they won't have to look at the mess that is me. Hubby took me to the emergency room around 4 am Wednesday night because I felt like someone was slicing my left eyeball open. Yeah, I know. Graphic. Sorry.

Diagnosis: a corneal abrasion most likely caused by something getting caught underneath my contact lens. Since I have been spending the last few weeks digging through dusty bins and cleaning out my parents' shed and basement, that explanation made sense to me. The ER sent me home with a tube of some goopy goo to stick in my eye every 3-4 hours and a little bottle of Vicodin to ease the pain.

Hubby tells me I am a sight for sore eyes. Or a sight of sore eyes. One of the two.

Really? Are You Sure???

Read this today as I was digging into the french vanilla ice cream I made a few days ago:

Full-fat dairy foods like ice cream may help you get pregnant, a study from the Harvard School of Public Health in Boston finds. A fat-soluble compound in dairy may up your odds of conceiving.

-Self Magazine, July 2007

Well, hell. Who am I to argue with Harvard?

.....

I couldn't find anything on the HSPH website that directly linked to the study but I did find this BBC article which also found the report dubious. You can read the study here, but its not free.

Still, my ice cream was delicious.

Say What?

In one part of my life (the one that pays the bills) my days are filled with acronyms.

I work in the field of mental retardation (some prefer to say intellectual or developmental disabilities) and more recently, autism. In my notes and scribbles, these words usually shrink to MR/DD and ASD.

Add to that ICF/MR, ISP, IPP, SIS+, CH, SD, SC, 4300s, 6500s, CMS, HHS, 2380s, DPW, ODP.... the list of nonsensical letter combined to somehow make sense to somebody is unending.

Say what?

That's what self-advocates (people with disabilities who represent themselves and their community at policy workgroups and committees) have started to say. "You're not speaking my language." They say. "You are creating a dialect that purposefully excludes me and that's not fair."

"Nothing about me without me." They demand.

That's fair. And to be honest, I don't think my brain can retain any more anyway.

That is why I sometimes have trouble reading other blogs, particularly those surrounding issues of infertility and parenthood. I don't know the language. I don't know the code. I think it took me a few days to figure out what IVF meant. Oh yeah. Duh. I get it now.

I'm a newbie to all of this. I have never NOT known that I am infertile. It was stated matter-of-factly before my boobs even finished growing. Sure, I had moments of hope and delusions that maybe if i just stop taking my pills, my period would magically arrive and my body will have healed itself back to normalcy, but for the most part, this whole possibility of pregnancy is a very, very new thing to me.

I am fairly certain that my cycle will be in sync with a lot of other cool female bloggers out there. But I haven't responded to some queries, because I'm not sure. Coincidentally, my cycle also corresponds with yet another life changing event - my parents selling their house and moving to another state. It would be exciting and happy if it weren't for financial reasons. We can talk about that saga later.

I'll be posting my schedule later today.

Yawn

Weekend was sunny and fabulous. More on that later.

I'm delaying that post because it's all I can do to keep my eyes open right now. It's day 10 of Lupron and I think I am experiencing some extreme fatigue. Made it to the gym this morning, but barely. Did some light weight training hoping it would wake me up. No such luck. Stumbled home and back to sleep until hubby gently woke me in time to get ready for my morning meetings.

It's 3 pm and at least three times today, I found myself stumbling again, but on words. I was chatting with a co-working and for the life of me could not remember the word that means that time of day that someone is supposed to be at work, oh right, shifts. We're not talking rocket science here. I suddenly cannot remember words that are part of my daily vocabulary. And that is a HUGE problem when my job is all about communicating. With words.

I hope this goes away.

Figures

Doesn't it just figure. Just days after the "now don't take any meds without asking, especially antihistamines" talk with Nurse, my nose starts running like a faucet, my face swells and my teeth ache. Sinus infection? Great.

I've spent the day walking around with a roll of TP in hand, pieces of it shoved up my nostrils like some hideous face tampons because seriously, its that bad. The minute I stop blowing, drips of snot litter my path. Gross. I know.

I know I can take advil or tylenol or aleve, but I can't remember which one. I have an email into Nurse. In the meantime, any advice?

Update: a steaming hot shower helps. Definitely helps.

Needles and Pins

It arrived today. Just like they said it would.

A big box of meds. And needles. Lots of needles.

Oy.

Have I mentioned my unhealthy fear of needles? Have we talked about that? I know poor hubby is sick of hearing about it.

I cried at our training yesterday afternoon. Not because anyone was doing anything cruel or unusual to me, I was just wigging out at the prospect of daily injections for the next four months. four months! And that's if everything goes well.

What's the problem? You're wondering. It's just a little prick and then it's done. And think of the potentially wonderful result!

Yes, yes. You are 100% correct. But that doesn't change the fact that the times in my life when I have been in the most pain, in the worst way, can all be attributed to needles. Blown veins. Bone marrow aspirations. Chemo sessions gone bad. Multiple attempts to insert IVs only to hit nerves and then watch as they try again. All of this shit that I have managed not to even think about over the last 20 years comes flooding back at the sight of those fucking bags of needles.

I know my girl Rae knows what I'm talking about.

My pal S, who somehow always says the right things to soothe me and get me thinking straight, said this to me a while back during one of my first needle freak outs: She reminded me that all of those other times were imposed upon me. I had no choice. It was someone else inflicting their cures and treatments on me.

This time, it's all me. It is my choice. My decision. And that in itself should be empowering.

It is. Kind of.

We invited our pal H to dinner last night. Ok, we called her up and forced her to meet us downtown so we could ask her a huge favor. H, you see, just graduated nursing school, is getting ready to pass her boards and is almost a fully qualified nurse. She also lives across the street from us. Both hubby and I knew we would feel better if she were willing and able to walk us through our first couple of big shots (not the Lupron. Don't think all of this is over the Lupron. Its the big "P" that has me shaking.)

This also meant that we had to expand our little circle of folks in the know. Which we feel a little better about now that things are actually happening. Out of the theoretical, into the logistical.

She was completed unsurprised when we told her we were trying to have a maybe baby (which surprised me). She was honored and thrilled at the idea of being asked to shoot me in the ass. She loves this kind of stuff. She, like S, did a lot to allay my fears. I can tell she and hubby are already planning a progesterone poking regiment.

We are also planning to spend some time together this weekend celebrating the great things that are happening in our lives. New career for H. New love interest for our mutual pal C. And possibly, maybe, you know what for us. Good times, man. Good times.

Validation

So then, I am not the only one who was duped by the "mild cramping" line.

"Mild cramping my *ss."