Better Be Home Soon

Done. Retrieved 8 darling little eggies currently being isci’d in the lab. It’s like a pre-arranged marriage. Normally it’s sperm meets egg, sperm loses egg, another sperm comes along. loses egg then the next sperm – whooo-eee. Cue “the way to make me feel”. Or “Fever” or “Close to you”. This one’s it – the sperm of sperm and he just dives right in – egg and sperm fertilize and Ka-Paw…everything changes.

In this case it’s more like unsuspecting egg is sitting at the bottom of a slide. ( not really knowing it’s a slide). And along comes this apha male – best swimmer, most agile, makes all the other sperm jealous and the other eggs swoon sperm – whoosh- right down the slide – into our egg and Ka-Paw…everything changes. Sure, they didn’t get to have the whole “What’s your sign, come here often” discussion. But arranged marriages have been working for thousands of years around the world. Right?

And if it takes my egg as long to find a sperm as it took DH and I to find each other, we could be at this a long long time.

Tonight I am recovering from my own (not terrible) physical discomfort of the retrieval. But what’s more embarrassing, is the emotional discomfort of having my little team tucked away where I can’t have any role in the outcome. Where the heat could be to low – I’m cold all the time- or where the lights could be too bright or too dim.

What if the tech watching them doesn’t know that whenever the person who carried them around got a little nervous about this process she played Graceland – and maybe a little Paul Simon in there would make them want to grow bigger and stronger.

I just want my little fellers back home where they belong. I am surprise by the overwhelming feeling of love and need to protect them I feel – when they are so small, I would even be able to see them.

Oh – and I got an awesome honest scrap award – and my first ‘honest’ utterance is I don’t know how to get it into my post. Help?

Things I hope I remember if I ever have a baby…

The temperature is warming up. And I forgot that warmer weather means the return of life to my neighbourhood. This includes the baby brigade. We live in a pretty yuppie neighbourhood – great if you have a baby. Not so great if you want one and can’t seem to have one. Of course, when we moved here, we figured we’d fit right in in no time. Apparently not. I had conveniently forgotten  – over the long very cold winter – about the babyrotti that roam the streets in the hood.

Long story short – they’re out in full force. Now those with bumps last year are pushing strollers and a bumper crop of new expectants are strolling around flaunting their fertile selves.

Apparently I have grown colder as time wears on – or this Lupron is turning me into a mega-bit.ch because these were my observations today. Don’t hate me because I’m miserable.

1. We’re in a Sta.rbu.cks so the drink everyone is holding is very hot. Maybe a toddler shouldn’t be dancing right now.

2. Maybe people under 3 feet shouldn’t be crossing behind a car with reverse lights on when mom and dad are trying to get child 2 out of the car.

3. It is cute when children stand in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s not cute when 2 parents with giant empty stoller stand in the middle of the side walk to reflect on the cuteness.

4. Strangers don’t always love to see your kids try and try to open a door by themselves when they are all lined up to exit said door.

5. Fertile people don’t rule the freakin’ world.

Ok, there, I said it.

The best club I never wanted to join

So I’ve had some traffic to ye ole blog here, and some lovely comments from people who genuinely get how I feel. And I’m starting to find my way to other stories/other lives that are similarly complicated/heart-breaking/inspiring/full of a love yet to be realized and I don’t feel so alone anymore.

Remember that blind melon video? No Rain. With the bee girl? No, it’s on youtube…here, let me help. Just give me a sec.

Ok, I’m back – not sure if I’m allowed to do this but check it out.

So that Bee girl in the video. That was me. Wandering around in my infertile outfit. Feeling out of place and emotionally out of touch. Feeling a bit lost even in a room full of people who love me.

Until I found all the other bee people. The other women who also feel lost. Sure, some feel despair. And some feel hope. And some feel jilted. And some feel like it’s just a matter of time. And I think all of us feel all these things and more at some point or another.

If there was an internet version of being really drunk outside a bar at 2 am with a bunch of people who barely know you but totally “get you” and cause you to throw your arms around them and yell out “I love you guys”. This is kind of it. I know I don’t know you. I haven’t had the time to read all your stories from start to now. There are oodles of women here on the interweb, infertiles, Bee People I haven’t had the pleasure to get to know…yet.

I wish with all get out that none of us were part of this club. I wish it had no members at all. But I do admit that for a long time I felt like the only member. And now I know I am not alone. There are other Bee people. Good Bee People

I am really glad I found you.

And then I cried at work…

Ok – so here’s a rather personal story that is adding to my up-and-down mood. This is kind of disjointed. My apologies.

So my Dad died in 2000. A heartbreaking turn of events that wasn’t unexpected but devastating just the same. He got Hep-C from a blood transfusion in the early 90’s and eventually it killed him. Very sad. Very frustrating. And it made me very angry.

To add insult to injury, due to the date of his transfusion, he was ineligible for the major compensation packages that were offered to other folks. Until now. So after 8 years, he’s (well, my sister and I have) finally received the go-ahead for compensation for the gross oversight on the part of the Red Cross that resulted in his death (and the death of thousands more).

What does this have to do with IVF?  Well, today said cheque arrived – exactly one week before we’re due to pay for IVF #1. So after all this time, my Dad has provided for me once again. He was a single parent of two girls – an unusual position to have found himself in during the seventies. He took me to Mother/Daughter banquets, Mother’s Day Teas, took me to get my first ‘brassiere (I don’t even know how to spell brassiere)…and by took me I mean delivered me into the arms of the busty, glasses on a string around her neck sales woman at Sears, handed her his credit card, stuttered a bit and went off to find a coffee. When I was thinking about it the other day, I realized I never needed anything while he was around. I had a roof over my head, a car to drive when I needed it, clothes, food, an education, cool stuff I wanted more than I needed.

But starting a family. That’s a need I feel in my very core. It’s more than a want. And figuring out how to make it work moneywise was hard, but we had a plan. Little sacrifice here. Cut back there.

We’ve been waiting for this to be finalized for 8 years. Could have come any time. But the cheque has come now. In my time of need. And I am grateful for the timing. And I am thankful that the folks responsible have stepped up and taken responsibility.

But dammit – it’s also made me angry all over again. I miss him. Still. He’s the best Grandpa a kid never had.

He was Santa Claus and Superman in one. And has swooped in to rescue me and my husband (who he never had the pleasure to meet) again. Eight and a half years after we said good-bye for good.

I’m not a big one for signs. But if there was ever a moment to say ‘it’s a sign’ – this is it!

Thanks Dad. For everything. For every day I had the pleasure of your faith in me. Cross your fingers for us ok? I hope I’ll have the opportunity to be half the parent you were.

I miss you. Still. Every day. Especially today.

Something sad about friends you pay for…

So I was sitting at Sta.r.bu.cks this morning doing some work and a woman and her little girl came in and sat in my chair cluster. Now, I’m sure they have their moments – the little girl looked about 2. But from where I was sitting, they were buddies. They had private jokes. They had games and dance moves and they were having a grand old time. And despite usual urge to send angry at the universe eye daggers at them, they made me smile.

Until I came to the realization that I was only going to have a buddy like that once I had paid thousands, potentially tens of thousands of dollars. And an emotional price too high to name. Now maybe she did too. That I will never know. But I’m irked today that almost everyone I know paid for the bottle of wine, maybe the dinner. Heck – maybe there was lube. And that’s it. They didn’t pay the emotional toll…one ticket to the infertility rollercoaster – that’ll be 2 or more years of your life, part of your relationship with your husband, your relationship with all your pregnant friends, some of your self worth. Oh, and a big chunk of your sex life please.

I am not a fan of roller coasters. And I am not saying I care about the money more than I care about finally adding to our family. I am thrilled to have the opportunity to take this next step in our journey to become parents.

I’m just grieving having missed out on an experience that is just about happiness. Just about two people becoming three. Sure, once baby comes, most couples experience a bit of money trouble, relationship trouble, some loss of self for Mom, some loss of sex for both of them. But until the stork comes – it’s happy, happy, happy.

Not everybody has to pay for a ticket to happy. And I would like to be those people. Dammit.

Ready to hit play.

One of the things I find most discouraging about being infertile is how it’s like someone has hit the pause button on my life. Do I want to go on vacation? Hmmm, well I’d love to but…I could be cycling. Could be (please let me be) pregnant. Could be mourning a lost cycle. Might need tests. So no to vacation. How about a new job? Well, I might be interested except – Try a new sport? Well I’d hate to spend the money then find I couldn’t…

It’s like everything that moves me forward, personally or professionally is on hiatus. Maybe I’m too cautious. Or maybe I haven’t quite grasped that I should just live my life and see what happens. It’s so frustrating. See, if we were expecting, all the concessions would seem totally worth it. No drinking. No taking up something new and potentially harmful, mat leave’s coming – no need to change work.

Instead I feel like I’m living month to month. And every month it feels like it’s ok because it’s all going to change and then it will be ok. And then it doesn’t change. And then 3 months, a year, two years have gone by, month to month and nothing has changed.

I realized at the last party I went to that I’m boring to talk to. I used to be interesting – trying new things, returning from grand adventures, running marathons and meeting the man of my dreams.  Now – don’t want to talk about babies, family, no babies or anything that might lead to talk of babies and the like. Haven’t done anything or been anywhere due to constraints around making babies the new fashioned way. Have been consumed by my laser focus on finally having a positive cycle – I’ve keep my eyes on the prize with unwavering tenacity. At great cost.

Cost to the tune of having lost just about everything that used to make me – well, me. I’m not sure which is making me sadder today- the fact that we haven’t been able to conceive up to this point and find ourselves at IVF’s door. Or that I’ve lost just about everything I used to love in the process.

-running, ulitmate frisbee, exploring, ice skating, roller blading, snowboarding – (wouldn’t want to be too active…)hanging out with my friends (with kids), hanging out with my friends (about to have kids), hanging out with my friends (trying to have kids), hanging out with my friends (who might be thinking about trying to have kids), having too many drinks on a random night for no good reason, going to work events to catch up with past colleagues (for all the reasons above in the friend categories), shooting the shizz about the future with my husband.

I had a good life. And I loved it. And I miss it. And yes – I want a baby more than I want that life. But I’m not sure how much longer I can stand having no baby and no life. I don’t like feeling frozen in place. On pause.