First of all, my tastebuds are all fucked up again. (No, thank you, progesterone!) For days now all drinks coming out of my fridge have tasted funny – milk, water, pink lemonade. And those are our only three options in this house, so it’s making me a little bit cranky. I still don’t know if there’s some smell that’s permeating everything or if I’m just off – it might be a little of both, the milk tasted funny soon as I opened the carton. (But not funny-bad, just funny-off… milk does this to me every other month, it’s very irritating.) And don’t even get me started on the ice cubes, they make me want to gag.

I have a funny relationship with food. It’s very love/hate, very extremes. If I love something I want to eat a lot of it. But in the past that “love” column has been very, very small. There’s a reason I am 5’6″ and weighed only 105lbs soaking wet going into college. Food and me just weren’t best buds. (Okay, and the depression really hurt, too.) It was mostly processed crap, too, like most teenagers.

I also have many food rules. Like milk. Everyone knows my thing with milk. There are a lot of foods that I HAVE to eat with a glass of milk or I can’t eat it – among them chocolate and mushroom soup. I have been slowly trying to transition myself over to drinking water with all my meals, but there are just some things I can’t budge on. When I cut milk completely out of my diet I didn’t eat those foods at all.

I don’t like foods mixing. Everyone says “well it all ends up in the same place anyways.” Yes – but that’s not where my taste buds are, thanks. I like to taste each thing individually. I also like to eat just one thing at a time, again so I’m tasting one thing at a time. My perfect meal is when they bring it out in small courses, rather than having everything together on the plate. It makes me a little anxious, trying to decide what is most worth eating first, hot, and what will wait. Too much pressure.

My tastes are very, very sensitive. When someone says, “This has a little kick to it,” to me it means “will light my tongue on fire.” If someone says, “I can barely taste it,” it means it’s too much for me. I eat what other people call bland food. But to me it’s full of taste. Any more and it’s just too much. My husband, on the other hand, adds hot sauce to authentic southern jumbalaya. (I won’t get into the time he mixed his ketchup with hot sauce and didn’t tell me. That was just WRONG.)

Oh, and I have to have sufficient light to eat. And a table of some sort. Den oftentimes turns down the lights really low when we’re eating dinner in front of the TV and I freak out at him and tell him to turn it back on, I can’t SEE. At picnics I have been known to wander helplessly around with a full plate of food because there’s no place to sit. I can’t eat standing up. I just can’t.

As time goes on I find myself expanding, but not in the way I always thought I would. I figured it just wouldn’t be as important, that you eat with less discrimination, that my “issues” would fade – but that’s not the case at all for me. I still am very picky, but there are more foods that I would classify that I “love.” I discovered that I love cucumber, and mushrooms, and shrimp, and zucchini. Den and I like to eat out – and I definitely have become unhappy with the typical fast food junk. I love going out for a good meal – the kind with fresh ingredients, new tastes, small portions. I don’t go out to stuff myself, I go out to experience food in ways that I don’t know how to cook it. I want to walk away thinking, “Wow, that was amazing!” The best meal I ever had was a shared three-course meal that cost around $150, at the MGM in Las Vegas. It was beyond fantastic.

But even despite my apparently high-end tastes, I sit here and marvel at how good a tomato sandwich can taste with nothing more than some salt and miracle whip. Most of what I eat is so very simple, and yet I feel like I’m not missing out anything.

It is 11:30 at night and I sit here in silence and feel overwhelmed, dejected, alone. I want to be hopeful, but not sure if I should be. Does it help to be jaded? Does it hurt less to expect the worst?

You may think I’m talking about pregnancy, but I’m not.

I lay my head down on my desk and stare at the floor – the deeply pitted floor that so badly needs to be refinished, not sure I realized it was quite that bad – and sigh. I need to disconnect myself. I need to find my selfishness and let the rest go. I do what I can, but I feel everything so damn much. I have wished so many times before for a thicker skin, but I am what I am.

I am an idealist, through and through. I want the best for everyone. I want to believe in everyone. I want to find a middle ground and understand.

I want to see goodness in this world, and sometimes there’s just not enough of it.

I am angry at myself that I let others make me feel this way.

You know what’s really frustrating the hell out of me about the whole health care debate is that there seems to be such a large chunk of the politicans who seem unwilling to even sit down and try to figure out something that works. I mean, seriously now. I think even they, when push came to shove (if they weren’t grandstanding for an audience), would agree with the end goals: supporting those who need it, and making it cheaper for everyone. What they disagree with is what they think will get us there. And that’s fine. Discussion is very necessary and very healthy. This is a huge issue that needs to have the actual issues figured out.

So WHY THE FUCK are they still screaming about government run “death-panels” and “mandated abortions”? Did they even READ the bill? Do they know the difference between socialized health care and what’s in the plan? (Clue: it’s PRETTY DAMN BIG) I am sick of the scare tactics. And I am sick that people are actually falling for that crap. Obviously this is why the special interest groups and politicians are still doing it – some Americans are stupid enough that it actually works. It pays to be loud.

I want to see our politicians sitting down and saying, “Okay, here’s my concerns about this. Here’s what I think would work better.” The great thing about this country is our ability to elect our politicians, so that they will better serve the people in determining legislation and speaking for us. They have a very important job. So why are so many of them acting like fucking children?? Is it apparently a prerequisite to be elected that you have to be a douchebag? Obviously I am starting to understand why so many Americans are incredibly jaded about the government and politicians in general. THESE are the cream of the crop, elected to stand for us and make the most important decisions for us? Are you serious? I think my DOG could do a better job. And she pees in the corner when scared.

I loved the President’s speech. I did not like watching political commentary and the aftermath, though, because it just makes me so frustrated and angry – of course they focus on the fringe groups and extremists and it just upsets me. I intentionally do not watch, even though I would love to keep up with politics. If anyone has a less emotionally charged way of staying on top of current events, please let me know.

I don’t know if any other country is so fundamentally torn in half. I don’t know if it will ever come together as a whole, where most of its population is happy. It seems when you look back at the history, whichever party holds the Presidency, half of the country is pissed off and feels unrepresented. I admit, I fall into one of those halves. I still think sometimes about moving back to Canada in the [far] future. As much as I do love about this country, I am not really sure I really belong.

But then, maybe I do. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much.

A commenter posited a question of me – well, really it was more of an assumption, but I’ll take it as a question. It actually is an interesting one. I know what I would do, but what would you do?

If you had an option between paying out of pocket for infertility services or being put on a wait list to receive it for free, which would you choose? Would you pay to get in right away? Or would you wait? Would it matter how long the wait was? 3 months? 6? 12? Would it matter what treatments you were getting? IUI? IVF? (For simplification, let’s say that the wait list is just to get accepted into the treatment program – once you’re in you would get the same cycle treatments on the same timeline as if you paid.)

My Take: This is not what I think I would do, it is what I *did* do. After we lost Devin I wanted to start infertility treatments right away, as soon as possible. It is a horrible, twisted feeling to wait for something like this, not just when dealing with infertility but also after such a horrible loss, all I wanted was to be pregnant again. But we already knew we needed IVF. We could have taken out a home loan, I suppose. We could have put it all on our credit card. But instead I waited 6 months to get a job, and then 3 months for my insurance to kick in, at which point I was able to do an IVF cycle under my new insurance and pay only a couple hundred dollars in co-pays. If we just needed clomid or injects maybe I would have dug into our pockets a little out of desperation… but for us $15k IVF cycles are worth a few months to get for free.

I really feel like I’ve been losing it the last few days. I’ve been getting progressively better about seeing babies at work, to the point where most days I don’t really think twice about it, but today it made me want to cry. I’m so close, and yet so far away. No one and nothing can assure me how this cycle will turn out, and I feel as far away from getting pregnant now as I did 3 years ago. Add to it the thoughts about how Devin should be laughing and smiling and I had to turn away briefly to regroup. My heart aches.

The progesterone is giving me a run for my money. I have all of the symptoms: hunger, gagging, bloating, aching, odd tastes and cravings. I still can’t even fit into my regular work pants, I walk around with the top unbuttoned all day. And these were pants that were loose on me a few weeks ago, before stims. Of course I know damn well all of it is still the progesterone – even if I am pregnant, I wouldn’t be having any signs of it yet. On one hand all these things remind me of what I could have in a few short days…. but on the other hand it’s a painful tweak to be constantly reminded.

My emotions are very rough around the edges, and I am slowly fraying inwards. Everything I see and hear and feel and do just feels raw. Joy makes me jealous; pain makes me scared; anger makes me disillusioned. I have been struggling to keep my head above water here, to take a step back and let it go, but I just really can’t right now. Progesterone and estrogen tipping my hormones while anxiety strings me tight waiting for my beta. I am far too empathic right now, picking up and feeding off of every emotion I run into.

I need to hermit for a little while, to give myself some breathing room. I am taking a break for a few days, putting the computer down, getting away. Den and I need to re-connect with each other, and I need to re-balance myself. I’ll be back, hopefully when I’m on the other side of this.

I’ll leave you with this.

The Thing Is

To love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
More fit for gills than lungs;
When grief weights you like your own flesh
Only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, how can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

Ellen Bass

Our vacation was just absolutely lovely and very very needed.

When we got there I bought this:

And just before we left I got this:

I’m pregnant! Hoping beyond hope that this one is healthy.

[4w0d]

I’ll start at the beginning – though it can be hard to figure out when one story ends and another begins. You could say this started with my emotional breakdowns, or maybe that it really started with retrieval and transfer… or maybe before even that. But no. This particular story starts on Saturday morning when I woke up to blood.

It was totally unexpected, and I nearly jumped up when I saw blood all over the toilet paper. My heart pounded. And I had to go to work. I’ve only had bleeding happen during an IVF cycle 2ww twice before – once I was pregnant (with Devin), once I got my period a couple days before my beta. And at the first glance of blood this time I had no idea what to expect. I spent the 4 hours at work obsessively going to the bathroom to check for more – there was nothing. I started feeling a tiny bit hopeful. If it stopped maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe this was a sign. But of course I’m doing prometrium 3 times a day, and of course I can feel it leak back out all day long. It made me a paranoid wreck.

Saturday with the bleeding came the bloating. I had bloating after retrieval, but it was finally starting to go back down to normal. Saturday I felt like a balloon once again. Work pants were unbuttoned. Food made it ten times worse. The bleeding stopped – the bloating did not. (But that did not deter me from eating a large amount of very yummy seafood this weekend! I just dealt with looking and feeling huge.)

Our weekend getaway could not have been planned for any better time. I really wanted it to be this weekend, right before my beta – to take my mind of everything and just get me away so I wouldn’t sit and obsess for days. It worked. We went to Rockport on the North Shore of MA, stayed at a little B&B within walking distance of the town. It couldn’t have been any more perfect. We had very little planned and mostly spent our time walking around town, shopping and taking pictures everywhere I went. (Den joked that he was just an accessory – his job was to guide me out of the streets when a car was coming.) One day we came across a kayak rental place and decided, sure, let’s go kayaking! So we went with a tour guide and had a wonderful 2 hours, floating on the water. I practically grew up in my dad’s boat, and some of my most favorite, comforting memories were of curling up in the bow as the boat gently rocked over the waves, up and down.

We asked people where the best places to eat were, then went there. We ate shrimp, lobster, scallops, and the best damn clam chowder I’ve ever had. Then we’d walk back to our B&B (me moaning that Den would have to carry me, I ate tooo muuuuch) and watch the History channel or read. We drove to Gloucester to see Hammond Castle only to discover it was closed – so instead we walked along the Gloucester shore and I snapped more pictures. We’re definitely going back to Rockport in the future, so the things we missed this time we will just do later.

Our first day there, Sunday morning when we first walked down to the town shops, one of the first stores we walked into was a baby store. Everything was far too expensive ($18 for a HAT?! $45 for a sleeper!?!?), but I still walked around touching things, awwing over them. I felt hopeful. Maybe next May. It was on both of our minds.

The next store we went into was a jewelry shop. I said, “Oooo,” and wandered in just to look. I admired all the pretty things, and then started looking at pendants. “That’s pretty,” I’d say, and the woman would take it out. I didn’t really intend to buy anything, but Den said, “If you want it, get it.” She pulled out a twisted chain that I loved. I ended up picking a simple, elegant pendant in a wavy shape with light blue stones in it – for Devin. I don’t have much jewelry in blue. It wasn’t stupid expensive, but more than my usual $5 department store necklaces, and Den just smiled and said I deserve it.

Our next store was a gift shop. We picked out a couple of things, a magnet (I get one whenever I go on vacation), a shot glass, a funny dog magnet for the back of my car (“My name is NO NO BAD DOG, what’s yours?”)…. and the “hope” charm. I saw it and knew, yes, that was what I wanted! Hope. That’s what this weekend was about. Hope for this cycle, hope for the future, hope for my own sense of well-being. I wore it all weekend.

Two days later the blood had not returned and my hope was growing. I felt like this was it. This is exactly what happened with my pregnancy with Devin (though that time I thought it was all over). I was actually getting nervous that I was setting myself up for a huge fall. I almost wanted to just not test at all, put off the beta, and live in suspended belief for a while. My weekend of hope was so lovely, so uplifting, that I didn’t want it to crash down around me. I didn’t want to go back.

I decided not to test first thing Tuesday morning, but to wait until after breakfast, until we were getting ready to go. By that point the nerves had really set in. I picked up the box of tests and scowled at it. I no longer look at them gleefully. More often than not they are the harbringer of grief. But I had made up my mind and once I start obsessive over test results it’s better to just do it and deal with the consequences.

I sat on the toilet, holding it as it developed. For a second or there was nothing at all, and then there was a faint line – on the left, before the control line was coming in. Another few seconds and both lines were filling in, clear as day. Just like that, my answer. Every second that elapsed gave them starker relief against the white background.

I walked out of the bathroom and said, “Pregnant!” and gave it to Den. I cried a little in giddy little giggles as he hugged me tight. I reached over and picked up Sheepie to include him in the family celebration. There were no words, just happiness. Our drive home was spent singing loudly and sharing grins, my fingers tap-tapping on my blackberry as I messaged my friends.

To compare… this is my test from today, 14dpr:

And this is the test from IVF#2, when I was pregnant with Devin, at 14dpr:

This eases my fears of another ectopic. I just feel very good about this one, I felt it right from Saturday. That’s not to say I’m not scared – I’m plenty scared of all the various things that can go wrong – but I feel good about it, and that’s not something I could have said about the pregnancy-turned-ectopic. I fully expect my beta tomorrow to be over 200, maybe 300; Devin’s was 192 at 14dpr, and this beta will be one day later. My second beta will be on friday, then they’ll schedule my ultrasound will be in two weeks.

Seeing the heartbeat is going to be the big hurdle for me right now. As hopeful and content as I may feel, I’m not really going to believe it until I see that everything’s okay with my own eyes.

I’m trying something new this time…. I’m going to try to fill this out every week. I may have to tweak it as I go along.

How far along? 4 weeks

Total weight gain/loss: 130.2 (+0)

Maternity clothes? Don’t have any out yet, but sure as hell wish I did – can’t fit into any of my pants because of the bloating.

Stretch marks? No new ones.

Sleep: Should be pretty good now!

Best moment this week: Getting that positive test!

Movement: n/a

Food cravings: Nothing in particular.

Belly Button in or out? In.

What I miss: I’m already missing cold ham sandwiches.

What I am looking forward to: Seeing the beta numbers!

Weekly Wisdom: Vacations are a great distraction and a much needed break from reality.

Milestones: BFP!

Symptoms: Achy boobs. They’re all tingly – not quite painful, but not quite not either. The spotting 3 days ago. Some achy ovaries, which are still probably from the stims. And the terrible bloat, oh my. (Note that the picture does not show most of the bloat, because I took it first thing in the morning before food!)

[4w1d]

I want to say thank you all so much for all of your congratulations and joy and celebration. I get giddy every time I read my comments – and wow, I am stunned at how many of you have dropped in just to share in the joy! Thank you!!

::

Today I was sitting at work rubbing at my lower abdomen, which was aching yet again, when suddenly the light bulb went off: this isn’t my ovaries aching, it’s more of a random, sharp, pulling kind of pain. It’s got to be round ligament pains. It didn’t occur to me because I never really had round ligament pains with Devin (even in my third tri). This is very unfamiliar to me. I’m not concerned about an ectopic, because it switches sides, and I have no tube on my right side (the high beta also supports the idea that this is not an ectopic). It’s just a little uncomfortable, I have to move a little more slowly at work and be careful when I do things like shuffle my chair forward or sneeze. It’s definitely a reminder that something is going on, and I can’t complain about that!

::

The nurses still hadn’t called me by 2:30pm today. I had started my day feeling blissful, moved on to impatient, and then started getting jittery. Work was very slow, which gave me even more time to stare at my phone and check that for sure there were no new messages. I gave them a call and left them a message at 2:30… you know, just in case they’d forgotten about me or something. It’s usually not that late when they call.

Around 3pm I saw the call come in (my phone was on silent at work) and I jumped up to run into to the back and take it. It was the nurse. She was practically giddy. “I have some good newwwssss for yooouuuuu!” she sing-songed. Beta was 248, a very, very nice number, right where we want it. She said she and the other nurse were so so happy for me and were practically dancing around the office when they got the lab results.

I go back in friday for another blood draw to see the numbers go up, and then they’ll schedule my ultrasound!

I immediately called Den, who was also sitting by his phone all day, waiting for the news. He sounded faintly panicked when he picked up, but I was so outwardly happy that I didn’t even bother playing coy. I told him the number, repeated it twice, and then he just kept saying, “Okay,” and letting out a big breath. He was so scared that I was going to call him crying. He’s still trying to let it sink in that everything is good so far. We’ve both just had too much bad news in our past.

::

To be perfectly honest, I think I’d like to just fast forward through the entire first trimester. I want to start showing, I want to start feeling movement, I want to get some ultrasounds that show me an actual baby in there, and to be able to check in with a doppler. Right now it all just feels too make-believe still.

I am definitely running through the gamut of emotions, though in an almost detached, reserved kind of way. There is definitely a lot of joy and happiness, but it is a lot more muted than when I got pregnant with Devin. There are worries, of course, but not in that overwhelming panic-filled way of my ectopic. I’m quite relieved that I am not freaking out, because after the last pregnancy-turned-disaster I didn’t know what to expect. But this time I feel much more confident, much more “right.” I’m still very aware of everything that can go wrong – that’s the hard part. This is a wonderful, wonderful achievement, something to celebrate about. But it is still just the first step. We’ve gotten the BFP and good first beta… next up is the second beta and then the ultrasound. It’s just one step at a time.. and hopefully each step will let it sink in a little bit more. It is my turn, goddamnit. This one’s going to stick.