Speedy Delivery

We picked up two vials from the bank this morning and just dropped them off at our clinic.

Jendeis: Swim fast, boys!

John Dear: Run silent; run deep.

We're Doing This Again

And, we're on to the Georges Cinq episode of As the Inseminations Turn.  Just got the surge today, so I'll be going in tomorrow and Wednesday for 5.1 and 5.2.  Way to fit in another chance before 2009 ends, body!

Since all of the hullaballoo of the past few weeks, see below, I forgot to call in for vials to be shipped from the cryobank to our RE's office.  Oops.  We're going to have to pick those up tomorrow morning and bring them with us.  Pray that whatever saints and angels control traffic in the DC area are smiling down on us tomorrow, as we'll have to completely cross the city in order to do this.

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In other news, my office was painted last week while I was sick (the being sick was incidental, it would've been painted if I was not sick too).  The walls are now a lovely shade of blah, much better than the dismal light blah that used to be on the walls (complete with scuffs, scratches and giant holes in the plaster).  In honor of my new office, I've completely changed the layout.

This is how my office originally looked:

The above picture doesn't really convey how cramped I was in my section of the room.  The new new way gives me a lot more space and gives me more space for piles.

This is how my office looks now:

Cool, huh?

The only thing that is really taking some getting used to is that my computer is in a new spot (sort of).  It used to be on my Desk, right next to the Phone Desk.  Now, it is on the Table with Piles of Paper right next to the Phone Desk.  It's nice to have more room, but now, when someone walks into my office, they can see what's on my screen.  I will have to be much more "subterfugeous" about my blog reading now.  Yeah, right.

I'm home and I'm sick

Just a bad cold, but it just sucks to be sick.  It all started with a sore throat on Monday and just progressed from there.

We drove up to NJ on Sunday and my uncle's funeral was on Monday.  It was a graveside service and I thought it was really moving.  The rabbi did a good job to keep it meaningful, but didn't prolong things in the 30°F cold.

We then went to my aunt & uncle's house for shiva (part of the Jewish mourning ritual).  For those who do not have experience with this, it would remind you of a wake -- lots of people, lots of talking, lots of food.

JD and I drove back home on Tuesday morning, so that he could make his follow-up appointment with the pain clinic.  I futilely attempted sleep in the waiting room.  Really, all I accomplished was to watch court shows.

Hopefully, I'll be more exciting tomorrow.

I'm on the left

Necessities

A Perfect Storm

I'm not referring to the possible 20 inches we're in the midst of receiving.  Instead, I'm talking about the fact that I've been hit with the illness and death of many loved ones.

My uncle died this morning.  We thought it would take much longer, but his numbers had been steadily decreasing and he went into multiple organ failure earlier this week.  He lived a long, fruitful life -- he got to see his own children grow up, marry and have their own children.
JD and I will try to drive up tomorrow in order to attend my uncle's funeral on Monday. I just feel like I'll be better off having my own car there.


My dad is devastated.  I did not have a close relationship with my uncle, but my heart aches for my father.  The infection in my father's leg seems to be lessening, although it is by no means gone.  My mother says that his leg looks 50% better than what they originally dealt with at the ER.

My Fairy Godmother (my therapist of many years who I'm quite close to) told me last night that she likely has liver cancer.  We will find out after the new year if this is certain and what can be done about it.  I have dreaded losing her for a long time.  I don't want to face this.  She has had such a profound affect on my life and I don't want to lose her.  The good thing is that we will have time to say goodbye.

The Irony Is Not Lost On Me

Tonight, I spent an hour in line at the post office for two stamps for two letters that had to be posted today.

I came home and checked my mail to discover a brochure advertising the ability to have stamps delivered to your door.

Yeah.  The irony is not lost on me.
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Yesterday, I was at the TOOTPU Cookie Exchange -- a gathering of a bunch of the DC-area IF bloggers to gossip, eat, drink and make merry.  I was the only one of us without kids or pregnant.

The irony is not lost on me.
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When a group of people get together, they start discussing what they have in common.  Well, everyone at the party but me, has their kids in common.  There was lots of talking of babies and Christmas and playgroups and the like.  (Probably only a couple minutes, I was in a bad emotional place so my perception is likely not accurate).  I completely lost my cool and started crying in the middle of our party.  I'm ashamed and embarassed.  I know that none of the girls judge me for it, but I judge me for it.

The irony is not lost on me.
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My uncle is possibly dying.  My father developed an infection in his leg due to his travelling to visit my uncle in the hospital and is now in and out of the hospital himself.

The irony is not lost on me.
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I've had enough irony for awhile.  I'm feeling sorry for myself and going to try to snap out of it soon.

Fullness, Resolve and Hot Air Balloons

We stood in our new house and knew that this was the home we would raise our family in. The stars had finally aligned and the time was finally right to add a little one to our family. We were, at long last, both ready. And, this house felt right. It even had the most perfect little nursery. In fact, from the moment we laid eyes on that room, we knew that it was meant to be our baby's room. It wouldn't be long until that cozy, beautiful, joyous room was filled with the cries and laughter of baby.

Month after month, the room lost more and more of its beauty, its joy, the coziness that a baby would have brought. Instead, it slowly became cold, empty and taunting. We stopped calling it "the nursery" and referred to it as "the purple room." We decided that it might be less painful if it were less empty, so we started storing some things that that might otherwise have found their way to the attic. That made it less empty, but nothing more. It still silently taunted us.
On the day that we got the toughest news of our journey so far, I decided that it was time to take a stand. I could no longer take the silent taunting. There was that voice from somewhere in my head, that the nursery seemed to symbolize, that said we wouldn't be parents and this would never be a nursery. It was time to find a symbol of my own. I would, in my own quieter way, stand on the rooftops and proclaim to the Heavens that this would still, one day, someday soon, be a nursery.

My next act required nothing less than the effort of climbing to the rooftop...a trip to the children's department at Ikea....to buy a crib mobile. There were many things about this that seemed crazy. How weird it is to buy a crib mobile for a room without a baby, much less a crib.

And yet, this symbolic act, on this toughest day, was so powerful for me. I chocked back tears as I walked through the cribs, stuffed animals, changing tables and high chairs. But, I got all the way to the checkout line and then all the way home without tears, without a breakdown. It was all so raw, in the wake of our first bad news, that I had yet to be able to cry. I had yet to mourn the loss of our chance at a natural conception.

I got home and was grateful to find that I had the house to myself. I paused at the door to the nursery, mobile in hand, and took a shielding breath. I didn't bother doing anything special to hang it. Why did it matter where it hung if there was no crib to hang it over? I found a random nail the old owner's had left in the wall and hung in there.

As soon as it was hung, I fell in a heap on the floor and cried. For the first time, I cried about the emptiness, the stillness, the left-behind feeling, the loss of "conception by romantic evening," and, mostly, the unknown. I sobbed. And then, when I had cried all I could cry, there was nothing left but resolve. I said, aloud to this empty room--to the baby that will someday, somehow call it home--that we would not give up until our baby, from whatever path was necessary, found its way here.



The nursery still serves as a halfway point to the attic, rather than a haven for baby. It is still absent the sounds of babies' laughter or tears. But, it taunts me less than before. Mot days, it's less of a cruel reminder and more of a source of determination. Most days, I smile at the dreams my mobile represents, rather than cry at the empty room. This lone baby item, my hot air balloon crib mobile, is a silent reminder of what will be. In many ways, that room is filled will our hopes and dreams and everything we want for our family.

As it turns out, our nursery isn't quite as empty as it once seemed.
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This post is brought to you by Geohde's Great Cross-Pollination. Can you guess the author? You can find my Cross-Pollination post for today at Lin's blog, Our Someday Family.

Bless the Brown Cows of the Desert That Give Us Hot Chocolate Milk

I had a Venti (read: horse trough) Hot Chocolate with Whipped Cream from Starbucks.


It was the best fucking hot chocolate that ever was.


Amen.
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No ill effects from that part of Un-detox (Retox?) Day #1, but then I ate cheese and it was like the Yokohama Bullet Train.(*)(**) So, I'll be continuing the good decision made a year ago to only partake of cheese in rare circumstances.


For lunch, I had chicken and mashed potatoes and creamed spinach (I heart Boston Market). The mashed potatoes were OK, but the creamed spinach was an explosion of love and joy that I haven't experienced since the last episode of Glee.


I'm planning to refrain from dairy the rest of the day, though, so that I can sort of act like I was un-detoxing with moderation whatever that is.
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*Is there a bullet train to/from Yokohama?


**Please excuse my nastiness. I was born in a barn -- New Jersey.(***)


***Again, please excuse my insulting demeanor. I'm sure New Jersey is fine, really. No, really. They've got Bon Jovi doing their ad campaign, it can't be all bad.(****)


****Does my state even have an ad campaign? I mean, my real state, not the Shmomonwealth of Shmurshminia. I'm going with the absolutely no-evidence-basis, uneducated guess answer of: No - my state doesn't have an ad campaign. We don't need one. People know how awesome we are without Bon Jovi or Arnold. We have our own state cake! We have many malling options. Goldie Hawn is from here. Plus, our most well-known state song is about our lottery.(*****) Deal with it, people. You wish your state was that awesome. "It could be." If you lived here.


*****Five bucks says that Mel and Lindsay are currently humming our song.
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Um, I think the sugar (or the manic chapter of the depressive episode, take your pick) kicked in somewhere around Bon Jovi.

Negative Again

My nurse called at 10:45 to let me know that this cycle was another bust. I'm glad that she called so early in the day.

I asked her if we could skip the Prometrium next time around, seeing as how I was not on it during my first cycle (which was a positive till it was a negative) and ever since I've been on the Prometrium (three cycles), I've gotten straight negatives.

She responded positively and said that it was no problem to shake things up a bit and that after I got a positive, we could get a progesterone level and add in the Prometrium then, if I needed that support.

So that's what we'll be doing the next time around.

This blows.