The good news: 3 alchoholic bevereges (and one large meal) later, I’m still not sick. Hmmm, is this progress? My body is finally getting accustomed to alchohol just in time to get pregnant again? That wouldn’t surprize me at all.

The bad news: Well, there is no bad news. I’m drunk, yay! …. And really need some sleep. Preferably lots of it.

Here’s the part I can’t understand: Why do miracles happen to everyone else, but not us? I know that’s not a fair representation, but it feels like it some days. Most days. This whole journey has been one big clusterfuck, and the little things that went right are pretty much overshadowed by the things that went very wrong. If I were a religious person I would really be screwed up, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this.

I just don’t understand why we have to fight so hard, with so many setbacks, for something that comes so easy to most. I thought I’d put in my time, you know? I thought we’d struggled and succeeded. And then we lost Devin. And still I thought, well maybe next time we’ll get a free pass, we’ll get pregnant on our own, be one of those stories. But no. Not for us.

I have lost more weight. I don’t make a regular habit of it anymore, since I don’t expect the number to change, but the other morning I stepped on the scale… and nearly fell off as the digital display flashed 134 at me. Umm… whoa. The last time I weighed as low as 135 was the beginning of February 2006 (less than two months later I had passed 140, and it never went back down). I still think 135 is more than I ought to be if I were “fit” – but I’m not, and I’m pretty damn psyched to be here.

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I don’t think I’m going to do the allergy shots. I’d probably do them, if nothing else were at stake, but I keep thinking about the pregnancy. Is right before I get pregnant a good time to start that sort of thing? Do I really want to be trying to fit more weekly appointments into my already jam-packed schedule? Plus from the sounds of it anti-allergy medication is safe during pregnancy, and between that and modifying my environment I’m doing fine. I will say that the one thing that really makes me want to do the shots is the knowledge that if I decide to do them at a later time – say a year or two from now – I’d have to do that horrific allergy test again… and that is not something I want to do.

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Two days left of my birth control pills. I am so nervous about all of this. If my period takes too long to come we’ll miss the clinic’s cut-off start date. If my period come too early insurance might not be approved yet. I’m trying not to think too hard about it, and I’ve been staring at the calendars for IVF#1 and IVF#2… both times my period took 5 days to show. So that’s what I am banking on. This timeline is making me emotionally nauseated. I have spotted on and off this cycle on the pill and every time it happens I start panicking thinking that AF is coming and everything’s going to hell. (I am VERY careful to not miss or be late with any pills. Yes, my body has done that in the past – though not with an IVF cycle. It’s sensitive to the hormones.)

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I have been getting hellacious foot cramps lately. I’m pretty sure it’s because of the heels I’m wearing to work, so I’m taking care to rotate shoes – some flats, some short heels, sometimes my cute big heels that look so great). My feet do not hurt during the day at all – I even spend most of my day sitting. But after I get home, kick off my shoes, eat dinner and curl up on the couch or in bed, that’s when it hits me. This evening Den was rubbing my foot trying to get it to loosen up and I was whimpering in pain like I was doing during labor. It HURT. A hot water foot bath seems to be the only thing that really gets it to really go away at that point – I can get them to ease up by standing and flexing and rubbing and pressing, but as soon as I let up it hits again. Not so fun.

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One very unpleasant side-effect of cycling in the winter (that I was not really prepared for): icing my stomach for shots? EFFING COLD. We keep our house at 65 to start with, and my blood runs cold anyways. So for the few minutes I spend sitting with my shirt lifted, ice pack pressed to my belly, my teeth are chattering. I’m starting to think just doing it without the ice would be better.

I think I need to start taking an iron suppliment. I know last time I was told that my iron levels were low at the start of pregnancy, and I bet they’re low again. I wonder if that’s part of the reason I’m always so damn cold.

On my way to work I called the insurance coordinator to let her know that the doctor’s office said the referral was in. And she said… she just checked, it was! She was submitting the pre-authorization right away. So it’s done. One week to spare. I’m so mixed about it. I want to be relieved, because it’s done and a week is enough time (I think)… but there’s that part of me that says a week is NOT enough time and we’re screwed. This is going to be a crap weekend, isn’t it.

I did manage to shelve most of it while I was at work, and did a respectable job of it, but by the time I got home I was exhausted both physically and emotionally, and this led to a nice big meltdown. The sobbing into a pillow kind of meltdown. Triggered because… something horrible happened? Bad news? Huge looming deadlines? No. My husband ate the leftovers. I was planning to eat them for dinner, and I came home and found that he had eaten them first. I lasted about two hours. Made myself some food, watched some TV, did my injection and daily pill-popping… and then I completely. Melted. Down.

Den at first attempted to comfort me, thinking something aweful must have happened to a friend or something. But then, then somewhere between “Ate my dinner!” and “STILL didn’t *hiccup* fold the *sob* LAUNDRY!!” he kind of lost me and ended up standing there very perplexed.

It all boils down to me being tired and very stressed out. Shortly after throwing out all those complaints at my husband it became pretty obvious to me, too. I feel very emotional – maybe the birth control pills are adding to the mix. It’s hard to sort out.

But the one odd thing that occurred to me after the fact was that this emotional breakdown today never, at any point, hit on the “my baby is dead” sorrow. It simply wasn’t a part of it. For 8 and a half months, every time I get upset – about anything – it ended with me sobbing with grief. Today was… just a meltdown. Frustration. Exhaustion. But no grief.

Time moves forward.

Doctor’s office says referral was put through this morning. Now I wait until 11:30 when the clinic checks to see if it’s there. Fingers crossed…

The insurance coordinator called today to let me know that the referral was NOT in the system as of this morning. So I called the PCP’s office to make sure they got it and submitted it. They got my message, and planned to do it “sometime tomorrow.” Okay, I placed the call on Tuesday… you’re going to get it done on Thursday. THAT IS NOT 24 HOURS (like your message promises). I attempted to impress upon this (twit) that it is very very important that it be done immediately. She just kept saying, “Sure! Tomorrow!” OMFG I wanted to shake her. I think I got her to agree to do it tomorrow morning, after me attempting to explain the urgency of the situation (she totally did not get it), but I will be calling tomorrow morning to make sure. If it’s not done I may be taking a leave of absence from work to drive down to the doctor’s office and yell at someone. I am SO frustrated. Another day delayed.

I have explained everything to the insurance coordinator (who tried putting the pre-auth on file with insurance so it’d be ready when the referral came through, but it was sent back so she needs to wait). She’s very sweet and very understanding.

If this gets filed tomorrow (which it had better be, or I am going to have a complete FIT) it gives a week, Thursday to Thursday, so I can order the meds Thursday and have them arrive Friday. A week. This is still doable. I’m not ready to throw my hands in the air yet… but I’m really freaking out. I am angry because I am scared.

But the lupron did arrive as promised, so I had my first injection tonight. It was almost anti-climactic. I remember my first IVF cycle, when I read the instructions five times, wrote notes, studied diagrams, had to draw up the medicine three times before I got it right. This time it was bam-bam-bam, done. My fingers are practiced at needles. And, as before, I barely felt it. The lupron is easy.

So I am just following the plan until things either work out or fall apart. I won’t know for another week, basically. It’s a matter of holding my breath and waiting. And possibly calling to yell at some receptionist… we shall see.

Deep breaths. I somehow have to concentrate through work tomorrow. And I have a feeling this is only the tip of the iceburg on that matter.

I am on pins and needles today… not really bad, but I am feeling a bit twitchy. My insurance kicks in today. I called yesterday to speak with the insurance coordinator, couldn’t get through. I got patched through to someone whose name I didn’t recognize, I left a message but didn’t hear back. So this morning I called and asked to speak to the person I spoke with two weeks ago. I left a message on her voicemail, and am now waiting to hear back. Without them having my insurance information they cannot start the pre-approval process, and that needs to get done today to have it done by next week so they can order my stims. We’re on a very tight timeline here, and I am getting very nervous by my inability to hear back from anyone!

I also just left a message for the nurses. Thing is, if the pre-approval process is started today, we won’t hear back for a couple days at most, and I need to start lupron… thursday. Hmmm. So that needs to be ordered now. We’ll pay out of pocket for that, no problem… just make sure I have it.

I do have left over lupron and follistim from last time, but surprize surprize those things have expiration dates. Bugger!! I would have donated them, had I realized I wouldn’t be able to use them later. I am quite annoyed about that.

So I wait. Nervously.

Update: Spoke to nurse (but not insurance coordinator) – I need a 4-day overlap of lupron and BCP which means I need to start lupron tomorrow.

And I thought scheduling IVF last time was difficult…. working around three jobs, new insurance, a tight timeline and IVF is going to land me in a padded round room…

Update2: Spoke to insurance coordinator! Gave her all the relevent information. But… need referral from my PCP in order to star the pre-approval process. Called PCP and left a message on the “referral line” giving them all the necessary information (I hope). Their message says they will get all referrals taken care of within 24 hours. I sure hope it’s faster than that. Insurance coordinator said that referrals usually take 7-10 days. Yikes. So at this stage I hope that the PCP’s office gets that in today, so that the insurance coordinator can submit the pre-approval tomorrow morning, and then I will call and tell my new insurance that I really really need this done soon as possible so please can they speed things up?

Aggghhhhhh.

Update3: Lupron is ordered through Village Pharmacy and will be here tomorrow. So at least that’s taken care of. It’s not nearly as cheap as I was hoping for, but whatever, now is not the time to quibble. She did say we may be able to get that charge taken care of by insurance once the approval comes through, but no guarantee on that one. All I can say is, thank goodness my mom has an IVF fund started!

I have no interest in Christmas. It is not too surprizing, given the situation this year, but it feels very strange to me. I love Christmas. I forced my husband into setting up a tree every year, decorating, playing Christmas music for weeks.

I’m not feeling anti-Christmas. Sights and sounds and thoughts do not cause a negative reaction. I simply have no reaction. Just silence where there once was joy. “Oh… that. Right, I forgot.” I have not started shopping, I have not started list-making, I have not started… well, anything. When Den mentioned the money we’ll need to buy gifts for everyone, as usual, my response was along the lines of, “Oh. Do we need to do that this year?” I just don’t care. I’d be totally okay with skipping a year.

I really don’t know how I’m going to react to the holidays at this point. I have forewarned my husband that I may want to leave early or not even attend. I think I’ll be fine, but there really are no promises… just look how I reacted to my neice’s baptism, and I totally didn’t expect that. I’m keeping my options (and doors) open.

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The big deal with this kind of grief is how suddenly it hits you, how your entire life gets turned upside down, all your plans destroyed, all your promises broken. No wonder it takes a long time to grieve, to come to some kind of acceptance that this is how things are.

I think it’s getting a little easier for me the last couple weeks. Slowly this is becoming my real life, slowly I’ve stopped thinking so much about what I should be doing, what I should be living. Devin is my angel baby, my stillborn son. At first that thought cut like knives through my heart. The thought turned over in my head like curdled milk – knowing it was real but desperately denying it. I spent 8 months thinking of Devin as my son that I would get to raise, picturing how I would take him home, how we would get through the sleepless nights, how I would wear him in a sling and get him to laugh and capture his smiles on camera. Then in one moment that all got taken away. Not just the him who was inside me, but the him who was in our future. It leaves a gaping hole, a huge dissonance.

In time that pothole fills with other things, though. It’s still a hole, but it’s filled with sand instead of left gaping. It comes a lot easier to my mind now, thinking about Devin as he is now and forever will be. He has a tree we planted, a grave, a box of memory items. Now when we talk about Devin in our future we talk about taking photos with the tree, of keeping sheep stuffies in our house, of bringing our children to visit the grave. In time there is acceptance, instead of screaming rejection. It is not a happy acceptance, but it does bring some sort of peace.

More and more now I am able to look forward to our new future. Another child. With IVF in motion it becomes much more likely that I will be pregnant in the next 4 months. Suddenly that doesn’t seem so far away. Once in a while I find myself clicking on something baby-related – not because of Devin, but because I’m thinking about next time. I am hopeful.

I do not think I will be completely paranoid and unable to enjoy myself next pregnancy. I just can’t see it of myself, not after everything I’ve struggled through and everything I know about myself. It will never be the same as last time, no. But I still see much joy.

I will get my chance to bring home a baby from the hospital. I will not stop until I do.

— Emily Dickinson

Today has not been a good day for allergies. Not only did I spend several hours at the cat sanctuary, but my time there was spent crawling under desks unplugging cables and fiddling with the dusty, fur-laden pieces of equipment that are inevitable when you start mucking with computers.

I think I’ve also come to the conclusion that mascara makes it worse. I dismissed the notion at first, since it didn’t seem logical, but my eyes are most definitely itchier on the days that I wear mascara (the days that I work at the bank). I figured it out: the mascara traps the dust and stray little fur wisps. Several times a day I get stinging eyes, and by the time I drive home they’re quite watery. There’s an obvious solution to this one, but I kind of like wearing makeup to work. Anyone have any solutions here?

I have not been able to talk to the nurse (at the midwives) about what I can/should do about allergy treatment… I don’t know if I should start the shots now, with me going thorugh IVF, or what kind of medication is okay during pregnancy, or what. I’m totally out of my depths here, I did not have to deal with allergies last time.

On the good side of things, my adjusted very-minimal-dairy diet has helped me to lose a couple more pounds. I’m now at 136, 4 pounds below my pre-IVF weight (I gained 2-4 during IVF, before getting pregnant). I can definitely notice a difference. My face looks a lot less round, a lot more angular like it was in college. My pants are having a hard time staying up, though that’s mostly due to my shrinking butt.

The belly is still there, though. I’m not really doing anything to get rid of the belly, so I’m not complaining, just observing. I actually find it quite amazing that it got as big as it did, and now it’s just a little pooched out, with no external signs that I was ever pregnant. I mean, if someone didn’t know I had a baby you could never tell from my body. I have no stretch marks, no wrinkly skin… just that very very faint linea nigra that I can still see. The last physical mark that he really was in there.

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I’m exhausted, and yet having a hard time sleeping. Part of the reason I always got my best sleep during the week on my days off when hubby was at work was because I had nothing to get up for, no set alarm, no planned agenda except of my own fancy. And because of that I was able to surrender to sleep peacefully and happily, to wrap it around me and sink deep down into it. I treasured my sleep.

But now I have things to do. Now I have to get up at precisely 6:30am. First I startle myself awake every hour, worried that I slept through my alarm, check the clock, sigh in relief, and then try to go back to sleep. But I can’t, because once I’m awake shit keeps running through my head. Don’t forget to call the doctor. Did you ever return that message? Shit, I have to bring the camera tomorrow. I think my car needs gas, too. Did I pay that bill?? I had better figure out what bills are due before payday. Better ask Den if we’ll need dogfood, I’ll be passing the store tomorrow… All. Fucking. Night. Long. At some point last night I really wanted to just drill a hole in the side of my head to tip it all out into a bucket. I was SO frustrated.

And of course being tired is probably rippling into my work activities, causing some errors and stressing me out more because I screwed up. Something more to run through my head and fret about at 4am, I suppose.

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Tomorrow is Sunday. It’s my day to wash the bedsheets, wash and my work clothes, vacuum and dust the house (especially around the bed), and hopefully read some books. I really like Sundays.