King of the Dipshits Award

Hello my friends and welcome to 2011.  

The Year of the Take Home Baby.

I am back on my feet.  I feel like my normal self.  This is as close to laid back as I will ever get and I like it a lot.

If I didn't know I was taking the medication, I would think it was all me.  I would credit myself for: Putting Things in Perspective, Staying in The Moment, and Appreciating Life as It Is.  Fact is, the new meds are much better and work just as they are supposed to work.

We have a lot to catch up on.  I won a contest.  I want to brag about it.  Is that okay?

I am a reader of Mommy Wants Vodka.  The author Aunt Becky has a lot of signature sayings, my personal favorite being "SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH".  She has emblazoned it on to quality apparel to spread the message.

Aunt Becky was interviewed over at Mompetition.  The interview is celebrated with a giveaway contest and Aunt Becky shared one of her SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH shirts.

Here is the contest:  Tell us why you would wear this shirt, or, who you would give it to and why.

Meet my brother, Andy.









Let me set the mood.  I love my brother.  He is the baby of the family and he is everyone's favorite.  It isn't fair and it isn't right, but if you met him you would agree and toss in your vote for him as Family Favorite.  You think this would make a sister bitter, but it does not.  This is the power of his charm. 

I went to see a concert this fall with my brother.  I took a whole day off of work.  Rode the train into the city to his place.  It felt great to be back in the city I lived in for so many years.  I was a suburban mom in the city with a hall pass.  It was great.

Andy and I sat outside at his local having a couple beers.  He isn't much of a talker, but when he and I are in the right place at the right time, we can talk for hours.  And my brother really says things.  Things that matter.  This was one of those times.

When it was my turn to talk, I broke the news to him about not being able to have children on my own anymore.  I told my brother I needed to use donor eggs.  I had a lot of explaining to do.  What happened in the last canceled retrieval.  How did it compare to the first canceled retrieval.  What is a donor.  What is a recipient.  How do you pick a donor.  What was she like.  The medication.  The cost.

As you can imagine, we talked a long time.  I had a nice little buzz from the beer and the conversation.  He was understanding it and he was interested.

When I finished, he kept his head down for a bit.  He looked away, then looked back at me and said "You want a baby that bad?"

Shut your whore mouth.

Happy New Year my friends.

I am so lucky to have you. 

The yin and the yang

Yin

Who is going to get all this work, shopping and cooking done cause it isn't me.  Bleh.  I have an astronomical amount of work to do right now.

Can I get an amen from my sisters?

I feel a little under it all.  I don't have much to say.  It certainly isn't interesting.  Do you really want to see a list of all the crap I haven't even started yet?  Nay.

Yang

All that complaining you just read?  That isn't me.  I went to see Dr. Crazy Meds yesterday and switched to a new prescription.  Stay tuned for a much more enjoyable Roccie.

I am not in a place where I can really write, but I can show you just the girl who can.  Please step over to my friend Rosie's house.  She sent me the spirit of Christmas in a box.

The essence of friendship in a manila envelope.

Hope hanging on a tree.

Rosie you are one in a million and I love you.

Thank you for everything.

If you want to know what I look like, you can see me in the red ornament.

I feel like a Led Zeppelin album cover.

Hell, yeah.

Redefining Advanced Maternal Age

Big drum roll, I am 40 now.

It is a milestone birthday. I believe I am obligated to stop, take inventory and assess my life at a nice round number like this. Eek.

You get a lot of hassle from anyone who is not 40. It is hard to find a sympathetic ear.

If you are younger than 40, you think "age is just a number". If you are older than 40, you think I am bitching about being "old". Only my buddies from high school get it, old farts that they are.

It has been tough timing. I am souped up on my new medication. Not a big fan. It makes me queasy and I have a really hard time sleeping. Really hard, like flip the pillow for the cold side and end up performing previously mentioned life analysis. Every night. Several times a night.

I had to travel for work just after my birthday. Just me - no coworkers. Lame. I miss Toddlerina so badly I cannot see straight. Get me home. I wanted to participate in the conference, but I was disconnected.

Hrumpf. I head into the psychaitrist next week. Hopefully we can sort this out. I feel better but I cannot say I feel good. Now I know I am depressed. I have the world going for me but I want more. And less. And different.

Here is another thought. What if in my honesty I give a bad rap for recipents of donor eggs? What if I scare off potential donors? What if they read this and think recipients are unstable?

Crap. I really don't think I am unstable, but I am not myself. Hard to explain.

A couple housekeeping issues:

If you could not get the video due to my poor imbedding skills, please click the following link. It cracks me up just thinking about it.

Mompetition

I would al so like to formally introduce and thank my friend Lady Pumpkin of Planting a Pumpkin Patch.

She is the Pumpkin I so fondly celebrated in my last post. I thought I was being clever in the way I talked about her, figuring everyone knew her. If you don't, drop by and get to know her. She is a nutter and takes good care of me. You would be lucky to have her on your side as well.

Best wishes on your POAS Pumpkin.... you will POAS, I assume???

Who doesn't love Pumpkin, that is what I want to know

I spent my weekend curled up around a box of cookies.

Thankfully, The Cookies of Love from Pumpkin arrived chez Roccie as I started my Crazy Meds.  The cookies were so good, I ate them in a matter of days (okay, I ate them in just one day) before yuck tummy kicked in.

So, I got this going for me: Crazy Meds kill the appetite.

Not in a fun sort of yessiriamgoingtostayupallnightandparty, but more of a what-if-i-just-barf-and-get-it-over kind of way.

Transfer planned for January 19. 

By then I will be A Thin Mint: impervious to the pain of a failed FET.

Talent.  There are some talented mother fuckers out there.

Thank you Pumpkin.

Can you hear that???

...or "How I Knew I Was Slipping.  Again."

by Roccie of Roccie Road

I believed in my last post.  I thought I had it.  

I couldn't hold on to it.  What a fucking fraud.

Yesterday I had what is probably called a break down.  I left the office and sort of lost track of time.

Rocco staged an intervention and suggested I ask my RE about anti-depressants.  I sent my RE an email that night and was surprised by her response.  She was waiting for me when I went in for my baseline appointment today.  We talked for quite some time.

I called my old psychiatrist (what, everyone doesn't have one on speed dial?).  Her assistant said she couldn't see me until mid December.  I hung up but then got a call from the doctor herself.  She pulled my file and it must be ugly as she agreed to do our consult over the phone.

She doesn't have all of her ALI facts in order in my opinion, but she easily summed up the state of my head.  Meds followed.

Cuckoo.  Cuckoo.

I had some reservations about the meds, but today after the fourth (what) person at work asked me if I was doing ok, I figured it was probably a good idea.  One of them was my boss and I cried.  Dammit.

I lost a job last time I was depressed.  Ok, so I lost two.  In a row.

My career has never recovered.  Sometimes it gets to me.

Once upon a time, I had a self perceived Very Important Career where I made Great Money.  Those days are gone.  I now sit in a cube and work for a paycheck to cover my ART expenses.

In other news, I had a blood draw to test for autoimmune issues.  If this next cycle fails, we will do a lap.

50-50% chance of success with a DE FET.

The BFN - Stop taking credit for it

My RE called to personally deliver the news today.  

There was something about the way she delivered the news that I already knew.  It made me breakdown and cry all over again.

"I am so very sorry."

It meant a lot to me that she made the call herself.  Over the years, we have become quite close for a patient/physician relationship.  I think in different circumstances we would be friends.  Or maybe we are.

I went to see my acupuncturist.  As usual, she filled the role as my thera-puncturist.  I was crying and it was picking up speed. It was all tumbling out of my mouth - what I should have done and what I did wrong.

She told me to stop taking credit for it. 


Stop taking credit for the failure.


If this had been successful, I would have handed the success away.  

Who am I to take responsibility for it's failure?

If I were pregnant, it certainly wouldn't have been me to make it happen.  I have a team.  A little bit of God, some of the other gods, and a whole lot of luck.  It requires many things to fall into the right place at the right time.  

If I cannot make it happen, I cannot make it fail.

This has to be her finest work.  I left that place with my cares under her table.  I cried hard during the treatment, but it was a release.

I am ready to go back at it.  Bring on the bitch Aunt Flo and someone get me a pack of BCP.

Your comments were my lifeline.  I don't need to tell you what they mean, do I?  

I am humbled that so many women with so many personal worries and shit shows took the time out to help me tend to mine.
 

I’m out

I am not pregnant anymore.

I had one leftover test.  I took it on Monday morning for kicks.  Deep down, I had some concern at the rate the lines were darkening, but I had no idea what to expect.  I have never tracked it.  I pushed it off as typical useless worry. 

Mostly I took this test for kicks.

Monday’s line was about half of what I saw on Sunday.

Today’s was negative.

I think this is likely due to a chromosomal abnormality.  I don’t think it is a sign that all of my embryos have a problem.  Right?  I am my donor’s fifth cycle.  Two cycles resulted in pregnancies from fresh and two cycles resulted in pregnancies from frozen.

Perhaps I should take some comfort in the fact that it implanted.   I have seen my body carry a sucessful pregnancy.  I know I have some good strengths, but right now it is a horrible let down.

All of a sudden, it all came rushing back.  I feel like I have been telling everyone who struggles with the set backs “I get it”.  I believe I did get it.  I had some big setbacks myself with the miscarriage and the 2 cancelled retrievals.  The transition to donor eggs was a more than a set back.

My pain is fresh again.  I feel like I owe you all a deep apology.  I really do get it, but it is worse than I remember.

It all comes back to me: yes, you know you will pick yourself up and try again.  But fuck.  I am tired.  I feel like I get up a little slower.

I get that feeling I have been here before.  Do I really have anything new to say?