Still Rippin'

Ripping our CD collection to put on our iPods is almost a full time job. And just when I feel like I've made some headway... Two trips to Half Price Books equals fourteen new CDs.

We also have decided to rip some of our audiobooks for our upcoming vacation. We're developing quite a collection that we usually save for long roadtrips. First up: Lisey's Story by Stephen King. Neither the Hubster or I have read the book so we decided it was perfect for our upcoming vacation. The wonderful thing about Stephen King's audiobooks is that they're unabridged. The only audiobooks that I am willing to buy that are abridged are Bill Bryson's stuff, because some of it doesn't come unabridged and he's just so damn entertaining.

We leave tomorrow for two nights/three days at our friends' lake house and then return home for a frenzy of laundry and repacking to leave the next pre-dawn morning for the Outer Banks. So, a blogging hiatus of sorts is about to commence. Back in August!

Whew!

The rollercoaster ride is over. I started bleeding full force this morning, so I called my doctor's office to see if he'd let me do another Clomid cycle right away. They finally called me back and said they were calling in my prescriptions. Yay!

One positive thing about this is that it pushed the current cycle back a week, so I won't be ovulating while we're in the Outer Banks with my my entire cadre of in-laws. That was going to have been fun, trying to conceive while living in a house with eight other adults and four children.

If this cycle works (and I'm praying that it does -- big talk for an atheist!), I'd have a due date of the end of April (depending on when I actually ovulate). That would be perfect, since I'm just about out of days to take at work. If we move to more advanced treatments and end up conceiving later, I'm not sure how that will work out regarding maternity leave and childcare. I hate the thought of putting a tiny baby into daycare. We were able to wait until the Monkey was six months before he had to go to daycare. I know my other-in-law would probably be willing to come stay with us again for a while, but I'd like that to be no more than a month, not the three months she did last time. (I'm not even sure we could convince her to stay that long again, anyway.)

One final note: The 16DPO beta was 9.1.

Spot has arrived.

Woof woof.

What's a Girl Gotta Do To Have a Miscarriage Around Here?

Eighteen days past ovulation. Still not spotting. Still getting negatives on tests. Still no call from the doctor.

Saturday Night Freak Show

I had a little breakdown earlier tonight and just had to get out of the house and be alone. Where to go on a Saturday night when you're alone and broke and it's already 8:00?

Why, Half Price Books, of course.

Who's at Half Price Books at 9:00 on a Saturday Night? (Other than me, obviously). Guys in their twenties who still live with their moms and shop with them at Half Price Books on a Saturday night. Weird, bearded older men who wander around with cups of coffee and stare at women, but don't really seem to be shopping for books. Gaunt, stiffly-dressed older men who scour the clearance books in the back and make a list (about what?) on a little piece of paper. Well-dressed women who don't look like they've had their hair styled (or even brushed) in months. Sheltered teenage girls who consult their mothers on every purchase they're considering making.

Where do I fit into this Freak Show? I was excited to find a CD of the West Side Story Soundtrack in the clearance section for $2.00. And I listened to it on the drive home. 'Nuff said.

Now With All of the Nausea But None of the Baby!

I didn't hear from the doctor last night and I'm not sure if I'll hear from him over the weekend. I doubt it. It looks like I have to wait until Monday for the official word and to discuss what's going to happen.

I took another Dollar Store test this morning and it was negative. Seriously stark white. Whatever HCG there was in my system has obviously dropped below a level detectable by home tests (so below about 25).

I'm still not spotting or anything. I haven't taken any more progesterone (since the tube I used on Thursday after talking to the doctor and getting the positive tests). The really crummy part of all this is I feel like shit. I'm exhausted, my breasts are really sore, I'm crampy and nauseated. This situation hasn't even progressed enough to be considered hell; I'm in purgatory.

No News Is Not Good New In This Case

I'm really not feeling optimistic, because I took another two HPTs this morning (another Dollar Store one and a cheapie strip from early-pregnancy-tests.com). They weren't any darker (maybe even lighter?). With the Monkey, I got a positive test at 12DPO and the tests got darker every day. It just seems that by 16DPO, if this one was going to stick, it'd be progressing more. That first beta was on Monday and it's Friday now, so if it was doubling I'd think I'd show pretty dark on HPTs by now, since most of them detect anything over 25.

They didn't draw my blood for my second beta until a little after 11 a.m., so who knows if I'll hear back today. When I got home this afternoon, I took another FRER and an old-style (two-piece) Clear Blue Easy digital (one that was left from the two-pack from when I got pg with the Monkey, and it expired after this month anyway). The line on the FRER came up within the time but was definitely lighter than last night and the digital said "Not Pregnant" (I've read that the old style are sensitive to 50). If this pregnancy was progressing the way it should, my hCG level should be around at least 250.

I'm wondering what my doctor's going to make me do now. I was supposed to start my third round of Clomid, but until I bleed, I'm in limbo. I really hope he doesn't make me take a break, because I only have two more chances to conceive to have a spring baby. I really was hoping we'd have a workable due date. If I don't get pregnant within the next two or three cycles, we'll have to take a few months break (maybe even as much as six) because we won't be able to afford maternity leave that doesn't use part of the summer.

I really, really want to get on with this. I wish the doctor would call so we could discuss the plan. I wish I would start bleeding so I could move onto the next cycle.

Okay, I May Have (Inadvertently) Lied A Little Bit...

I'd like to type the F word about ten times in a row right now.

Okay, I will.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. (Yes, I know that was only seven, but it just seemed right)

On Monday, 12 Days Past Ovulation, I went in for my beta hCG, but of course I Peed On A Stick* (POAS) first. Big Fat Negative.

So the next day (13DPO), I POAS again, still BFN, and stopped my progesterone. I waited for my doctor to call so we could talk about going on to my third (and final) round of Clomid. That day I didn't hear from the doc.

14DPO: POAS again, BFN. (Well, I'd been getting wicked evaporation lines on everything for days, but they were showing up way after the time, like an hour later, so I ignored them). Still didn't hear from my doctor's office. AF hasn't shown either.

15 DPO (today): POAS; BFN again. So I called my doctor's office and spoke to the nurse about getting a refill for Clomid and the other stuff I'm on. Lied and told her it was CD1 (Where the hell is AF anyway? I thought). She said she'd check with the doc or the PA and call it in this afternoon. (Still getting those evaps on everything, but not until after the ten minute limit).

At 6:30 tonight, my doctor called. Asked if I was bleeding heavily. I told him no, I just assumed AF would start today, because I feel crampy (true), but that I'm not bleeding at all. He said my 12DPO beta was 11. He considers 10 pregnant, but told me that 11 isn't good (duh) and wants me to come in for a repeat beta tomorrow morning. (He said, "Don't celebrate yet. We need to see what your numbers do and if you'll miscarry." Blunt guy, I know, but his direct honesty is one of the things I like about him).

Of course, I run and POAS (Dollar Store, First Response Early Result and Answer) and all come up faintly + within the time limit.

WTF?!

I didn't tell my doctor that I stopped progesterone, but I did run and take some after all of this.

Of course, I checked Betabase and by their reports, it's not completely dismal. But it's not good enough to be called even mildly "okay," either. Come on, a beta hCG of 11 at 12 DPO? It's got to be a chemical pregnancy. I refuse to get my hopes up.

*(Well, I actually PIAC (pee in a cup) and dip the stick, but it doesn't have the cute, recognizable message board acronym).

What's a Girl Gotta Do To Get Knocked Up Around Here?

Fuck. Two down, one to go. After a slew of negative home pregnancy tests, I went in yesterday for my beta and progesterone check. This morning I stopped my progesterone and just have to wait to my period to start before I call my doctor for my third (and last!) cycle of Clomid.

My favorite part of the whole experience yesterday was my longer-than-usual wait to get my blood drawn. I always bring a book, so it wasn't the actual wait that made me want to scream. No, it was that less than five minutes after I sat down on a couch in the incredibly large waiting room, a couple came in and sat on the couch right across from me, in my own private little living room-style grouping of furniture. I didn't pay them any attention at all until I overheard the woman tell the man that she thought they should do cord-blood banking. Then I looked up to see that she was holding a pamphlet she had fished out of the plastic goodie-bag given by my OB-GYN to newly-pregnant women. Yay! In a waiting room that has no less than four little "living rooms," a pregnant woman had wandered into mine! And she wanted to discuss her pregnancy and impending baby with her partner endlessly.

I tried not to obsess about it, tried to force myself not to surreptitiously focus on them, but I couldn't concentrate on my book any more. I tried to convince myself that it must be their first baby, this all seemed so fresh and exciting to them. My new philosophy is that everyone* is entitled to a first baby.

It still made me want to scream.

I read about Infertility's Common Thread the other day. I like the idea of the bracelet, an identifying symbol for women who've suffered from infertility. I know that when I was pregnant, I wanted people to know it was hard won, not because that I felt it was a badge of honor (well, okay, maybe a little...) but because I didn't want other infertile women to fell I'd betrayed them. I mean, I was them. It's shallow, but if I knew that the woman that had sat across from me had struggled to conceive, I wouldn't have been so bitter. I could have felt a bit of solidarity, I think. Instead of my usual "why is it so fucking easy for everyone else?" (Get it? Fucking easy? Ha.)

So, I'm going to make my bracelet. And I'm going to wear it and explain to people what it means (well, okay, if they ask).

*Well, almost everyone. You know, crack whore and Republicans and the like are excluded.

Slaid Cleaves

The Hubster and I went to see Slaid Cleaves last night. It was by far the most fun I've had in a long time.

It was a casual sort of show at the local Club which attracts those indie artists and D-list musicians that I like so much. I've been there countless times, so I felt pretty good assuring The Hubster that it wouldn't be too crowded, that we didn't need to get tickets ahead of time or get there too early to get a table. I didn't think that that he'd be that big a draw in this area.

Boy was I wrong.

The place was jammed when we got there a half hour before show time (and only a half hour after the doors opened). We ended up standing. The crowd was a very diverse group, by age and appearance, but everyone was looking like they were anticipating a good show. No one looked like they were unfamiliar with Cleaves and had just wandered in to check him out.

Cleaves and his band were fantastic. First of all, I just love his voice. He started his set with some of his own choices, like "Flowered Dresses," but soon played only requests from the audience. He played "Breakfast in Hell," after commenting that they have a policy that they'll only play it if it's requested by three different people who all use the correct song title (I wonder what people call it? Maybe Sandy Gray?).

When "Lydia" was requested immediately after, he asked the crowd, "Do you all really want to hear two workplace disaster songs back to back?" (I was the girl who yelled "Yes!" at the top of her lungs from the back).

One song that they performed that I'd never heard and that doesn't appear anywhere on his discography was "He's Six." It was written by Cleaves' bassist Ivan Brown:

He's wild... He's six
He... pokes things with sticks.

I want a copy of it! But the link to it on the FAQ on Cleaves' site is broken.

iPod Nation

The Hubster and I have given in and joined the iPod cult. I gave him a black one for Father's Day and he gave me a white one as an early birthday gift (so I can take it on vacation with me).

My main motivation for getting an iPod was so that I could stop carrying my giant CD books around in my car. Together they hold about 450 CDs. You do the math. (No, YOU do the math!) 450 CDs x an average of $15 per CD = $6,750. Recently I've begin living in fear that my car would be broken into and my CDs stolen. Some of the stuff I have in there can't be replaced; it's weird, indie, out of print or bootleg stuff I've gotten from the oddest collection of sources (begging, borrowing and stealing).

So, it has taken weeks to rip our combined CD collection to MP3s on our hard drive. In fact, I'm still ripping CDs. The repetitive mouse-related movement of my right arm is aggravating my tendinitis. Yuck.

And I just spent hours, days really, getting my iPod ready to go. Importing the music into iTunes, making playlists, importing movies and photos. (Again, I'm not really done. I'm actually still tweaking all this).I have a little vent to make here. The iTunes store will match your CDs with album cover art, but this is far from an error-free process. What fucking idiot enters this stuff, that no one double checks?!

There are frequent errors. Most are simple misspellings or transcription errors where the title iTunes labels an album with isn't the same as the actual CD. And therefore, it won't match up to display on your iPod (unless you change yours to be wrong, too). Here are a few such errors:

• Randy Travis, Greates Hits, Vol. 2 (Really? His "Greates" hits? I don't have that one...)
  
• Refreshments, Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy (No “The” before Refreshments? Well, it is sort of small on the cover.)
• X, More Fun in the World (The album is actually called More Fun the New World.)

It hasn't convinced me of what people are always trying to: that Apple is the most brilliant of companies. Someone needs to smack that cute kid in the Mac commercials.

TWWaiting

Ah, the dreaded Two Week Wait; the fourteen days between ovulation and either a positive pregnancy test or the start of a new cycle .

Thanks to Prochieve (progesterone), I can experience many symptoms that could be construed as pregnancy symptoms, but are probably just side effects of the medicine. Tender, swollen, breasts. Nausea. Elevated basal body temperatures. Drowsiness. Delayed onset of my next period.

It's a good time. Um, yeah.

Was It All Worth It? (Tune in in three weeks and find out)

There's a lot going on that has made this a rough year, but I think the Clomid might push me over the edge.

I don't remember any emotional symptoms during the Clomid cycle when I conceived Monkeyboy. I don't think I felt emotional during the last cycle I just did. But last week, while on my days 3 -7 of Clomid, I was laid low by depression like I haven't been in six or seven years. So much so that The Hubster casually mentioned an article he just saw that said anti-depressants are okay to take while pregnant. Subtle. Very subtle.

I finished the Clomid two days ago and I'm now on my third day of estrogen. While I no longer feel like climbing into bed and never getting out, I'm bloated and crampy and still pretty irritated by life in general.

Add to this the stress of thinking this may all be for nothing.

Holy Hot Flashes, Batman!

Another giftie from Clomid this time around. I'll be glad when I move onto the next medication in the cycle.

I'm also not sleeping well, but I don't know if this is because of the meds or my depression.

Why I Like Mountain Biking Gloves Better Than Gardening Gloves

Because they have a little patch of terry cloth to wipe your sweaty forehead with.

Most. Boring. Summer. Ever.

After starting the summer self-medicating with caffeine and sugar, I've moved onto tequila. Hmmm. That sounds bad. It's not that bad. I'm not talking about shots or anything.

I'm just freakin' bored. I'm either really busy running around with a lot of stuff to do (none of which has really been all that entertaining) or else I'm sitting at home doing nothing. Well, not really nothing, but you know... nothin'. Nothing of interest, nothing to report...

I've been hanging out with the Monkey a lot -- obviously, as that sort of is my j-o-b in the summer. He's fun (most of the time). He's learning to talk so that's neat. He has a vocabulary of about fifty words, if you count animal sounds (he knows about fifteen of those). Sign language adds about ten or fifteen more words to his communication arsenal. But for the most part, he's not exactly intellectually stimulating company. The days when he's not at daycare and we hang out at home consist mostly of me reading a book while he swims in his baby pool (he's a daredevil with the little pool slide that's attached) or plays ball by himself. I think he finds me sort of boring, too, because on the days when I do drop him off at daycare, his face shows undisguised glee when he sees the other kids. Playing with kids your own age has to beat hanging out with your mom no matter what your age, I guess.

I'm not really that big of a slacker. I'm back to (trying to) garden, here where I have to try to fight off the encroaching woods and the plant-eating critters. It's overwhelming, though, which is why I haven't done much green-thumb-wise since we moved out here. I used to be able to do nerdy garden-girl things like tell you the Latin names for certain flowers and plants, so maybe I'll get into it again. If the deer don't get everything. I'm still running and working out, most days.

I'm not really that big of a slacker. I'm back to (trying to) garden, here where I have to try to fight off the encroaching woods and the plant-eating critters. It's overwhelming, though, because of the size of our property, the woods and everything, which is why I haven't done much green-thumb-wise since we moved out here. I used to be able to do nerdy garden-girl things like tell you the Latin names for certain flowers and plants, so maybe I'll get into it again. If the deer don't get everything. I'm still running and working out, most days. Sometimes the Monkeyboy and I take a little hike in the woods. Still haven't gotten him into the bike trailer, other than the inaugural journey, though. Probably because it's a lot of work for a minimum payoff.

Frieda and I were going to go see Antigone Rising next weekend, but as usual, she's broke so that's out. And we were going to go see Will Hoge tonight, but she's blowing me off for Bible Study (no comment). Slaid Cleaves is coming in July, but it so happens that a baby shower is scheduled for the same night. (What kind of asshole schedules a Friday night baby shower? My friend J-, that's who.) So, Frieda and I are on the fence as to whether we go to the shower or just send a gift but blow off the actual event and go have some fun. I bet Frieda bails on me again. Honestly, the next fun-ish thing on the horizon is vacation at the end of July, but I'm being reserved about that. It will either be a lot of fun, very relaxing, or will suck in a big way. I'm just going to have to wait and see.

So I've been reading. A lot. And playing on the internet. A lot. And watching more than my usual dose of TV. And banging my head repeatedly against the wall. Oh, wait... no I haven't. It just sometimes feels like I have been.

Firefly

I needed a change from my usual Northern Exposure episodes that I watch while I run on the treadmill, so I asked The Hubster to put Joss Whedon's single-season (canceled) TV show Firefly into his Netflix queue.

I'm addicted.

There's just something about the worlds created by Joss that draw me in. I was a late-comer to Buffy, maybe starting to watch around season three, but became a die hard fan almost immediately. Angel, of course, I jumped on as soon as it started, already being invested in Buffy as I was. I admit I did abandon Angel after a few seasons, but like so many others, returned once Buffy was canceled. (Actually, I returned before Buffy was canceled, because I wanted to watch all the cross-over episodes of the last season). I have stayed faithful to both through their current re-run schedules.

Firefly has drawn me in from the first episode. I love the snappy dialogue (although I have to watch it with the sub-titles on so I can catch it all over the drone of the treadmill).

It's bittersweet that there's only one season. On the one hand, there's no false promise of "more" and then a shocking and disappointing cancellation. But then, there's just no promise of more at all.

You know what Tom Petty says...

The waiting is the hardest part.

I started Clomid cycle #2. I hate TTC because everything about it is so slow. The whole month is an excruciating wait.

One Down, Two To Go

I had a fun conversation with my doctor today. In addition to discussing my not being pregnant, he told me that he'll only do three cycles of Clomid (so, two more) before he refers me to someone else. Which I can't afford.

I also am never going to be an award winning blogger, because I can't even remember to focus on the important details of the conversation in order to record them later, either for internet-posterity or my own personal medical file. For instance, after I hung up, I realized that he had told me what my day 26 progesterone was, but I can't remember what he said. It was fifty-something. That's all I can remember. I do know he said that meant it was ovulatory, and whereas I know that most docs like to see a 7dpo progesterone of at least 10 unmedicated and at least 20 medicated, what effect does the fact that I am taking supplemental progesterone have on this level? I would assume it would raise my blood progesterone level (otherwise it wouldn't seem to be doing its job). So, assuming that, does my blood progesterone level really tell us anything?

Big Freakin' Negative

I have a prescription for bloodwork to be done today to have my progesterone checked and a quantitative HCG done. Because I wanted to know the results of the pregnancy test before the doctor's office calls me (I'm not a fan of surprises), I took a home test this morning. I'm twelve days past ovulation. It was as white at the proverbial driven snow.

So now I'll be on to month two of Clomid, that is, once the doctor's office calls me and my period starts. I'm of two minds about this. Part of me is fine with it, because February would have been a little too early in the school year to have a baby (if I'm trying to plan it). I'd much rather have a baby in March, April or May. But part of me is stressed because Clomid didn't work (well, it may have "worked," but it didn't get me pregnant) and all the implications this has for future cycles. It would have been nice to have been done with all this TTC stuff and all the stress and obsessing that comes with it. I have three more shots this summer to achieve a Spring baby (and even trying during my September cycle means I'll have an EDD of mid-June which isn't too bad).

So I'm fine that it didn't work in terms of scheduling, but worried that since it didn't work this time, it might not work at all.