Last chance babydance

Well, this is it. Cycle day 23 and no ovulation yet. Hubbs is going on a two-week trip for work tomorrow so unless eggie drops in the next few days, today's army of spermies will not be victorious. But then again, I may not ovulate for still another two weeks, and we won't miss the window of opportunity after all. Who knows! Bahahahaha [maniacal laugh].

Copy Kitty

Stole these from MommyOdyssey. Who doesn't love to talk about themselves?

1. Age: 26.
2. Blog Title Inspiration: I love pussy? I love law?
3. Chore You Hate: Scrubbing the bathtub. I am a small person. It is a large tub.
4. Day at the Beach or Cozy Rainy Day? My propensity to burn after 5 minutes in the sun (even with SPF 60) makes beach days a pain. Coincidentally, my city has 350 rainy days a year or something, so not much choice.
5. Essential Start Your Day Item: Roll left - BBT thermometer. Roll right - check Blackberry.
6. Favorite Color: Is "sparkly" a colour? Just kidding. I'll content myself with Tiffanys teal. Teehee.

1. Gold or Silver? Quoting directly from MommyOddyssey: "Silver. Definitely. Even my engagement ring and wedding ring are in white gold. Don’t know why, but I associate gold with guidos. Just don’t like it."
2. Height: 5’5″ on a good day. 
3. Instruments You Play: Learning to play the piano right now! It's been about a year and I'm marginally better than a 6 year old.
4. Job Title: Lawyer.
5. Kids: 2 miscarriages.
6. Live: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, North America, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth, Solar Galaxy, Milky Way.
7. Mom’s Name: Don't be talkin' bout my mamma.
8. Book Currently on Your Nightstand: The Writings of Ghandi... buried underneath a bunch of trashy magazines.
9. Nickname: None that I wish to promote.
10. Overnight Hospital Stays? Nevah!
11. Pet Peeve: People who smoke in parks, especially if I'm jogging by.
12. Quote from a Movie: "The question isn't what are we going to do. The question is what aren't we going to do." - Ferris Bueller
13. Right or Left Handed? Right handed in writing, left handed in sports. Weird, I know.
14. Siblings: Brother.
15. Time You Wake Up? Physically up at 7am, mentally alert after noon.
16. Underwear: Lululemon thongs.
17. Vegetable You Dislike: NONE. All vegetables are delicious. Especially delicious are onions, beets, cucumbers, mushrooms, and broccoli. Unfortunately for my parents, I only came to this realization at the age of 20.
18. What Makes You Run Late: Being unable to locate one of the three essential items - keys, wallet, phone. I run through this checklist any time I'm leaving any place. Have lost my stuff so many times...
19. Yummy Food You Make: I am no gourmet chef, but my grilled cheese sandwich is famous. In my university residence days, I had hungry students lined up out the door for one.
20. Zoo, Favorite Animal: Any member of the feline species, but particularly ones with spots. I am considering this for my next Halloween costume. What do you think?

And now it's YOUR turn!

Sobering Moment

I just found out that my former boss was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Apparently she's been off work for months getting treatment and the prognosis is not good.

She has 3 kids under 5.

When I really wanted to fuel my self-pity I would think about her super fertile powers and how unfair it was. Well, this gives "unfair" a whole new meaning.

And now, let us pause for a moment and be thankful for all that we have. Amen.

Having a Tom Cruise Moment

My employer has a stupid online "wellness" program that contains self-assessments tutorials on a variety of topics from nutrition, to addiction problems, to work-life balance. I never bother with this BS because it's generally a waste of time and an insult to my intelligence. However, in a recent monthly spam email they sent out, there was a link to a "depression self-assessment".

[Clue #1 that you are depressed - you click on stupid self-assessment quizzes.]

So in this assessment they list a bunch of propositions and you are supposed to rate how frequently you experienced them (from "almost never" to "every day"):

• I had trouble keeping my mind on what I was doing
• I felt hopeless about the future
• I felt fearful
• I talked less than usual
• I had crying spells
• I could not get "going"
• I felt that I was not as good as other people

Clue #2 you are depressed - you fail every single question on a depression self-assessment.

What's incredible is that I tend to sugar coat things and pretend like things don't bother me, so the fact that I immediately admitted to all of these is further evidence of a problem.

Clue #3 you are depressed - your response to failing a depression self-assessment is not staunch denial, but only further sadness and feelings of inadequacy.

So what does all of this have to do with Tom Cruise? Well, we all remember his "depression is not a disease" scandal, and how he criticized anyone who relied on medication to treat it. I don't agree with his conclusion that chemical imbalances don't exist, but I do wonder whether the feelings I am having are truly something that requires drug intervention.

My own personal preference has always been to leave drugs as a last resort, and fortunately I have rarely had to resort to them. At the same time, the prevalence of chemical therapy for depression has created an environment where people have little patience for those who are taking their time dealing with sadness the old fashioned (i.e. slow) way.

I am tired of pushing sadness down for the sake of other people. This has been a problem lately as I have chosen not to attend some social functions. I don't feel like putting on a happy face, especially on my day off when I should be doing things I want to do rather than things I have to do. The response is always "oh, come on, you'll have a good time once you get there" or "don't be such a boring no-fun loser". It's like being sad is no longer an acceptable state for anyone to be in for any period of time. Ok, fine, you can't be down in the dumps forever, but why can't you take your time to properly let out the sadness?

I realize that I'm stepping into controversial territory by saying all of this, but that's just how I feel, so eat me.

Wow. Just wow.

There are few things in this world I love as much as getting things in the mail. Possibly cats, diamonds, and pistachio ice cream... but I digress. Getting stuff in the mail is so exciting because it means: a) someone acknowledges your existence, b) they spent money on you (even if it is only the postage amount), and c) you don't know what's in there so it's a fun surprise.

However, today I think my love of getting mail took a serious hit when I received a letter from the Women's Hospital asking me what kind of room I would like to have for my impending delivery of a child in a few weeks. This is of course in reference to the baby I lost in miscarriage #1. The one where I attended the emergency room at THAT SAME hospital over 6 months ago, where they told me there was no heartbeat and it was a lost cause. THE SAME hospital where I subsequently attended a follow-up ultrasound to confirm that my uterus was completely empty. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Needless to say some poor receptionist is going to get an ear full today.

Shallow thoughts of the week, episode 2

This week's selection:

1. To the senior partner I've been working for the past few days: I can see you've got hair plugs. They look obvious/awful/comical. In your attempt to look younger you have completely embarrassed yourself and lost my respect.

2. To the man in the elevator who started whistling at a baby as if she was a dog while her mother stood there trapped in horror: you should be sterilized.

3. If it rains one more day, I swear to god I'm going to shave my head. This frizz is wearing me down. Also, could the sun kindly return so that people stop poking me with their umbrellas. Seriously, people, did your mother not teach you that the "keep right" rule applies to pedestrians when umbrellas are out?

4. Must. Have. The iPhone 4.

Back to the middle of nowhere... aka CD 14

The title says it all, but I am in a whiny mood today so I will elaborate. Cycle Day 14 is the middle of something for most people. It is an exciting time of peeing on OPK's and doing it like rabbits. It is typically the beginning of the "two-week wait" which culminates in peeing on more sticks and experiencing phantom pregnancy symptoms. For most people CD 14 is special.

For me, CD 14 is no different than CD 13, or 12, or 11. In fact, it might as well be CD 1, because I probably won't drop an egg for at least another two weeks - if I'm lucky. My last cycle was around 70 days, and only ended thanks to the wonders of Provera.

In some ways, I am not overly upset about this because I know it's not a question of IF but merely WHEN. On the other hand, it's plain annoying - like picking the slowest grocery store check-out and watching all the other lines move fast. There is also the concern that such long cycles are the reason for my miscarriages (i.e. over-ripe eggies). This latter issue is the main reason I am contemplating trying Clomid even though I don't necessarily need it to get pregnant.

Regardless of whether it takes 14, 24, 34, or 44 days, I need to get knocked up this cycle because if I don't I will be epically depressed on baby #1's original due date of April 8. Come on eggie!!!

Living without contingencies

con·tin·gen·cy  (kn-tnjn-s)

n. pl. con·tin·gen·cies

1.

a. An event that may occur but that is not likely or intended; a possibility.

b. A possibility that must be prepared for; a future emergency.

2. The condition of being dependent on chance; uncertainty.

3. Something incidental to something else.

For the last year I have been living life with contingencies.

"I plan to do X, but I might not be able to because I'll be knocked up by then".
"I would like to do X, but I probably shouldn't because it might interfere with getting knocked up."
"I better do X right away, because I might not have the chance later when we have a baby."

Living like this is exhausting, inconvenient and ultimately disappointing. Enough is enough. Henceforth, I will not make contingent plans, but rather do as I like and when it pleases me. If pregnancy enters the equation (by the grace of ceiling cat), we'll deal with it then. My first act under this new policy will be to get back into a consistent workout routine. I signed up for a bootcamp at work which begins March 1. In the meantime, I will  start dragging my ass out to yoga and do some running on the weekends. Huzzah!

Eff you, Hollywood

Shows that I have attempted to watch recently, that have surprised me with miscarriage storylines:

Rescue Me - who would have guessed that abrasive comedian Denis Leary would have written a miscarriage storyline? Of course, he doesn't go half way on anything. The character then proceeds to stuff her face with food and get a fat belly so that the father doesn't suspect anything is wrong.

The Tudors - Ann Bolyen has 2 miscarriages, is unable to deliver a male heir to King Henry VIII, and is promptly beheaded. Thanks assholes, I really appreciated the images of a second trimester loss.

Big Love - I thought I could rely on this show to deliver (pardon the pun) a series of happy uneventful births, and yet they had to throw in a miscarriage. And for Amanda Seyfried's character OF ALL PEOPLE. If you can't trust polygamists, who can you trust?

Grey's Anatomy - I saw the miscarriage episode and haven't watched the show since. My PVR is filling up and I'm pretty sure I'm just going to delete all subsequent episodes as I've heard there is currently another pregnancy storyline.

My intimate time with the space probe

With the arrival of dear AF, I was finally able to get my CD3 bloodwork done. I also had an ultrasound appointment this week (which I had scheduled several weeks ago). Hubbs offer to drive me to the ultrasound appointment to keep me company, although he said it freaked him out to think about the "space probe" they would insert into my hoo-ha.

While I got space probed by a fem-bot nurse, he waited in the reception area where a video of 3D baby ultrasounds played in a loop on a big screen TV and happy pregnant couples walked by.

Many have said this before and I agree - there should be separate waiting areas for those who are with child and those who are with fail. Also, while we're on the subject, why do I have to go to this special ultrasound office for this stuff? If you're a vagina doctor, you should have the appropriate vagina probing equipment in your office. It's like a car mechanic who doesn't have a hydraulic car jack. Who would put up with that?

The stupid thing about this outsourcing of diagnostic methods is that I now have to wait for my next OB appointment to find out what the tests revealed, which is in a friggin' month. In the meantime, I've been told to keep trying to get pregnant, but what's the point if I just end up miscarrying again because the doctor wasn't able to give me the appropriate treatment in time?

Two steps forward, one step back.

And the Blog Oscar goes to...

I'd like to thank my friends and family, my manager, the rest of the cast and crew, and my cosmetic dentist. I couldn't have done this without you!

That's right, I am the recipient of a blog award! HUGE thanks to Jenny for nominating me. The rules say I'm to aknowledge the person that awarded me, post seven random things about myself and then to pass the award on to 15 other bloggers (and of course to let the awardees know I have done so).  Sooooo... here we go:

Seven random things about me:


1. If I weren't a lawyer, I would be a welder. I can work with oxy-acetylene, stick, TIG and MIG torches.

2. I speak 4 languages fluently, but can only read/write in 2 of them.

3. I didn't have armpit hair until I was 24.

4. I have watched Days of Our Lives every day for the last 14 years (thank you PVR).

5. I hate travelling, going to museums, and suntanning, but do it anyway because apparently I'm supposed to.

6. My cat has his own Facebook profile.

7. I like to eat whole onions raw. Amazingly, this has not led to divorce... yet.

And the awards go to:

1. A little blog about the big infertility
2. A class of angels
3. It will happen when you stop trying
4. Xavier and Alice Anne
5. Delinquent eggs
6. A half-baked life
7. Look at the birds
8. The southern belle baby
9. A garden for butterflies
10. MommyOdyssey
11. Adventures in infertility land
12. And shades of grey
13. Epic fail
14. Our journey to get our dream
15. Wanna be momma

Thanks to all of these ladies for making me feel slightly less alone in the world. 

When to wear your nicest knickers

In the real world, ladies wear their sexiest, most delicate panties in the hopes of seducing a hunky guy into a night of passion. In the infertile world, the act of sexual intercourse is a forgone conclusion. If an infertile myrtle is sporting her pink lace thong, it is most likely an attempt to coax/tease/dare her period into making an appearance. Similar techniques may include going swimming, making a bikini wax appointment, or wearing white pants (though, ironically, never after Labour Day). It's all about Murphy's law - if you set yourself up for a possible inconvenience, that inconvenience will inevitably find you.

You may be aware of Murphy's law, and you may understand how it functions, but you are a fool if you think you can outsmart it. Case in point: after finishing my prescribed course of Provera to bring on a period, I began wearing my finest underwear in the hopes of speeding up the process. After all, my husband would be returning home from a long business trip in a week and it would be lovely to get most of the bloody mess over with by the time he arrived. But a week went by and still nothing.

By the time I was driving to the airport to pick him up I had resigned myself to the belief that aunt flow would never come and I would require further medical intervention. At least I would be free to fornicate. Absence had made our hearts grow fonder (if you know what I'm sayiiiiin') but by the time we got home it was midnight and we decided to go straight to bed and get busy in the morning. Well you know what happened in the morning. I have my husband back but the crimson tide is upon us. Murphy's law. Lesson learned.