Saturday, April 23, 2005
Off-center
It's 5:38 am and I'm wide awake. Why, you ask? Well, let me tell you.
You know, for the past two months, I've done everything I can to keep my calm. Praying/meditating daily, eating healthy, exercising, drinking tons of water, not allowing myself to get worked up about anything. I was so calm and peaceful. Dawg gave me gift certificates for massages at the Ritz. We cleared our calendar for the entire month of April. We were in a good place. I was centered. We were ready to begin.
But then, just when I was about to start my IVF cycle, I discovered I'd ruined 1200 euros worth of Gonal-F pens.
And then, the morning of my appointment my period started, unexpectedly.
And then I developed a cyst on my right ovary and was told that the IVF cycle would be delayed.
And then I realized Nonna's visit would now intersect with the IVF cycle.
And then my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.
And then I turned 36.
And then I learned I the cyst on my right ovary was gone but a small one had developed on my left ovary and that the cycle would be further delayed.
And then I learned that my hormones were out of control and the cycle had to be cancelled altogether.
And then my mother had surgery.
And then the owner of the house we want wouldn't meet our price, holding out for 4,000 euros higher than the limit we'd set as our highest.
And then I learned that our disposible income isn't nearly what I thought it was, and learned that not only have we not saved any money in the last year (except for 401k), but we have been spending WAY beyond our monthly income (e.g., dipping into Dawg's savings) almost every month.
And then I realized that it will be very difficult for us to take out a loan for renovations on the house as we spend most of our disposible income on rent.
And then I realized that, as I had said all along, we really should have taken advantage of my insurance that covered IVF. We could be pregnant right now and not have spent a dime of our own money for it.
And then I was SCREAMINGLY FURIOUS with Dawg for being so stubborn and stupid and irresponsible about money.
And then I was mad at myself for not concerning myself with how much we were spending each month vs. how much we earned.
And then I realized that if we ever want to own any house, we're going to have to leave our beautiful but seriously expensive apartment, and tighten our belts for awhile.
And then I was very sad because I thought we would not be able to buy this wonderful house that feels so right to us.
And then we decided to buy the house without taking out a loan and hold off on most of the renovations because while there's always an opportunity to make/save money for a house, there's not always an opportunity to buy an 18th century house with a big garden and stone wall in a medieval village in Burgundy that you love. (Plus, even if we found a house like this again, it is highly unlikely that we could find a native English-speaking family experienced in restoring old French country homes that live 3 minutes away from our house and are willing to supervise its restoration. The presence and ability of this family is incalculable.)
And then I realized that it will be virtually impossible for me to go to Rome with Nonna as we'd planned because I don't know what day my period will start, and I have to remain in Paris so that I can get a blood draw on the first day.
And then I began to worry about the size of Dawg's bonus next month because it will determine how tight our budget will be for the next year.
And now, I begin stims next week.
Somebody help me.
You know, for the past two months, I've done everything I can to keep my calm. Praying/meditating daily, eating healthy, exercising, drinking tons of water, not allowing myself to get worked up about anything. I was so calm and peaceful. Dawg gave me gift certificates for massages at the Ritz. We cleared our calendar for the entire month of April. We were in a good place. I was centered. We were ready to begin.
But then, just when I was about to start my IVF cycle, I discovered I'd ruined 1200 euros worth of Gonal-F pens.
And then, the morning of my appointment my period started, unexpectedly.
And then I developed a cyst on my right ovary and was told that the IVF cycle would be delayed.
And then I realized Nonna's visit would now intersect with the IVF cycle.
And then my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.
And then I turned 36.
And then I learned I the cyst on my right ovary was gone but a small one had developed on my left ovary and that the cycle would be further delayed.
And then I learned that my hormones were out of control and the cycle had to be cancelled altogether.
And then my mother had surgery.
And then the owner of the house we want wouldn't meet our price, holding out for 4,000 euros higher than the limit we'd set as our highest.
And then I learned that our disposible income isn't nearly what I thought it was, and learned that not only have we not saved any money in the last year (except for 401k), but we have been spending WAY beyond our monthly income (e.g., dipping into Dawg's savings) almost every month.
And then I realized that it will be very difficult for us to take out a loan for renovations on the house as we spend most of our disposible income on rent.
And then I realized that, as I had said all along, we really should have taken advantage of my insurance that covered IVF. We could be pregnant right now and not have spent a dime of our own money for it.
And then I was SCREAMINGLY FURIOUS with Dawg for being so stubborn and stupid and irresponsible about money.
And then I was mad at myself for not concerning myself with how much we were spending each month vs. how much we earned.
And then I realized that if we ever want to own any house, we're going to have to leave our beautiful but seriously expensive apartment, and tighten our belts for awhile.
And then I was very sad because I thought we would not be able to buy this wonderful house that feels so right to us.
And then we decided to buy the house without taking out a loan and hold off on most of the renovations because while there's always an opportunity to make/save money for a house, there's not always an opportunity to buy an 18th century house with a big garden and stone wall in a medieval village in Burgundy that you love. (Plus, even if we found a house like this again, it is highly unlikely that we could find a native English-speaking family experienced in restoring old French country homes that live 3 minutes away from our house and are willing to supervise its restoration. The presence and ability of this family is incalculable.)
And then I realized that it will be virtually impossible for me to go to Rome with Nonna as we'd planned because I don't know what day my period will start, and I have to remain in Paris so that I can get a blood draw on the first day.
And then I began to worry about the size of Dawg's bonus next month because it will determine how tight our budget will be for the next year.
And now, I begin stims next week.
Somebody help me.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Zero Steps Forward, Two Steps Back
So my IVF cycle is a bust before it even got started. For some reason, my body is producing hormones that were supposed to be suppressed. So, I have to take an injection of hcg and wait for my period, then start all over again.
Can I just say -- FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
It's already so hard -- and I haven't even started. I have always known that many, many things can go wrong during the IVF cycle and it could be stopped at any time...but it never occurred to me that I wouldn't even make it to stims.
So now, I have to wait for my period to come, then get the D-whatever shot, wait 12 more days, make sure I don't have a cyst, and then, maybe, start stims sometime in May. Before Nonna's visit? After Nonna's visit?? Who knows.
I am so tired of this. It's like Chinese Water Torture -- driving me mad by drop by drop. I know that couples have endured this and worse and still ended up with a healthy baby (or two), and that gives me heart. But this is not fun. And it's so unfair. But, whatever.
I feel defiant. Against whom I don't know. But I feel like screaming: YOU. WILL. NOT. BREAK. ME.
I'm getting my baby. That's all there is to it.
Can I just say -- FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
It's already so hard -- and I haven't even started. I have always known that many, many things can go wrong during the IVF cycle and it could be stopped at any time...but it never occurred to me that I wouldn't even make it to stims.
So now, I have to wait for my period to come, then get the D-whatever shot, wait 12 more days, make sure I don't have a cyst, and then, maybe, start stims sometime in May. Before Nonna's visit? After Nonna's visit?? Who knows.
I am so tired of this. It's like Chinese Water Torture -- driving me mad by drop by drop. I know that couples have endured this and worse and still ended up with a healthy baby (or two), and that gives me heart. But this is not fun. And it's so unfair. But, whatever.
I feel defiant. Against whom I don't know. But I feel like screaming: YOU. WILL. NOT. BREAK. ME.
I'm getting my baby. That's all there is to it.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Pope John Paul II
Today was the funeral of Pope John Paul II - the most amazing, beautiful, powerful thing I've ever seen. All nationalities, all nations, all ages -- over 2 million people -- came to say good-bye to this good man. I don't know who planned it (the Cardinals? The Pope himself?) but whoever did, did it right. It was a Mass of the people of the world. Young people did the liturgical readings in their native languages. Representatives of about 20 countries in their native dress brought the Host to the table. His body was carried on the shoulders of 12 men in a simple ceder box and sat alone throughout the 3 hour ceremony. Every ritual was performed with the highest degree of solemnity and love and honor. In the end, as his body was being carried back inside St. Peter's Basilica for the last time, the crowd just cheered his name over and over. And I could not stop weeping for this man of God who took on this heavy duty for so, so long.
I am not Catholic though I have attended Catholic church since I was 18. Because I was not raised as a Catholic, I never really "got" the Pope. I understood the role of the Pope in a historical and political sense (neither of which really leaves a very good impression of Popes), but never in a spiritual sense. And as for John Paul II, I mostly recognized him as a hard-line conservative who refused to modernize the Catholic church and who dropped the ball in managing the series of pedophilia scandals that rocked the Catholic church in the U.S. I also recognized that he was consistent in his views (unlike certain American presidents that I could mention) and valued all life, from a 8-celled blastocyte in the womb, to the dirtiest, nastiest killer on death row. And he believed in reaching out to the poor, not making them fight for themselves. But in the final days of his life, I finally understood who he was: he was a man of God who led the church exactly as he thought that Jesus would. The Pope is a stand-in for Jesus. A stand-in for God. Our Holy Father on earth. Now I see.
Before Easter, there was much debate on whether the Pope would be well enough to give the traditional Easter blessing from his window at St. Peter's Basilica. Most people seemed to be betting against it, but on Easter Sunday (two weeks ago, now) he was there in his window. A microphone was placed in front of him and he bent it towards him to speak -- but when he tried, no words came out of his mouth. It was absolutely heart-wrenching to see him open and close his mouth without making a sound. Finally, he gave up and made the sign of the cross to the crowd. The crowd burst into cheers and applause and many wept -- both for his pronounced fraility and for his unyielding commitment to God and his flock. The message was clear to all: he would continue to serve God and his people until his body defeated him.
That's when I got it. At the very last minute, I understood the Catholic love of the Pope. We should all be stand-ins for Jesus, but this Pope had to strength and fortitude to do it.
Six days later, he died.
I cried for this man I had only just begun to understand, but I was also happy for him. His earthly duties and suffering are over. He had truly lived his life in accordance with Jesus's principles, he looked forward with joy to the passing of his life, he died in his own bed at a ripe old age and was he surrounded -- in body and spirit -- by those who loved him. Who could ask for more?
John Paul II, thank you for sharing your wonderful love, strength, determination and faith. Your job here is finally done. Rest well.
I am not Catholic though I have attended Catholic church since I was 18. Because I was not raised as a Catholic, I never really "got" the Pope. I understood the role of the Pope in a historical and political sense (neither of which really leaves a very good impression of Popes), but never in a spiritual sense. And as for John Paul II, I mostly recognized him as a hard-line conservative who refused to modernize the Catholic church and who dropped the ball in managing the series of pedophilia scandals that rocked the Catholic church in the U.S. I also recognized that he was consistent in his views (unlike certain American presidents that I could mention) and valued all life, from a 8-celled blastocyte in the womb, to the dirtiest, nastiest killer on death row. And he believed in reaching out to the poor, not making them fight for themselves. But in the final days of his life, I finally understood who he was: he was a man of God who led the church exactly as he thought that Jesus would. The Pope is a stand-in for Jesus. A stand-in for God. Our Holy Father on earth. Now I see.
Before Easter, there was much debate on whether the Pope would be well enough to give the traditional Easter blessing from his window at St. Peter's Basilica. Most people seemed to be betting against it, but on Easter Sunday (two weeks ago, now) he was there in his window. A microphone was placed in front of him and he bent it towards him to speak -- but when he tried, no words came out of his mouth. It was absolutely heart-wrenching to see him open and close his mouth without making a sound. Finally, he gave up and made the sign of the cross to the crowd. The crowd burst into cheers and applause and many wept -- both for his pronounced fraility and for his unyielding commitment to God and his flock. The message was clear to all: he would continue to serve God and his people until his body defeated him.
That's when I got it. At the very last minute, I understood the Catholic love of the Pope. We should all be stand-ins for Jesus, but this Pope had to strength and fortitude to do it.
Six days later, he died.
I cried for this man I had only just begun to understand, but I was also happy for him. His earthly duties and suffering are over. He had truly lived his life in accordance with Jesus's principles, he looked forward with joy to the passing of his life, he died in his own bed at a ripe old age and was he surrounded -- in body and spirit -- by those who loved him. Who could ask for more?
John Paul II, thank you for sharing your wonderful love, strength, determination and faith. Your job here is finally done. Rest well.
Monday, April 04, 2005
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
March was a great month. I was relaxed, saw each Climaston pill as a step forward, relieved to know that soon the mystery of IVF would be over -- and really not even thinking that much about IVF. I knew that I'd start thinking about it on April 1st, when Dr. Twinkle would tell me when to begin my hormone injections. The closer it got to April 1st, the harder I'd find myself praying to retain the calm that I'd felt all through March.
Then on March 30, I realized that the 1300 euros worth of Gonal-F that I had bought in February were ruined. I should have put in them in the refrigerator after 28 days - but I was so not thinking about IVF, that I forgot. Yes, I should have probably kept them in the fridge all along, but the dial on our refrigerator sometimes moves to "freeze" without us noticing and I was worried that the hormones (which must not freeze) would be ruined if I kept them in there for a month and a half. Managed to ruin them anyway.
O the tears that were shed! The sobbing and the avowals of self-hatred! Even though our insurance had paid for the Gonal-F, I was stricken by the enormous waste of money and at my own carelessness. Dawg was a gem and told me that we should count ourselves lucky: we can buy fresh medicine and it will not affect our lives in anyway. And then, we learned some good news: Dawg's insurance reimburses Gonal-F prescriptions. They don't pay for IVF, but we are covered for fertility prescriptions. That made me feel a little better.
So, my foundation was shook a little, but I recovered. I thought: come on, girl. If you fall to pieces over this minor disaster, how in the world are you ever going to make it through an IVF cycle? I pulled myself together, ordered more medicine and looked forward to my appointment on April 1st.
The morning of April 1st, I had a familiar feeling in my uterus. Cramps. I was spotting. Bleeding. What was this about? Dr. T said I could expect some spotting but I thought that he meant when the Climaston was finished - i.e., when I have expected my next period. That would have been 11 days ago. I forced myself to be calm - only a few hours until my appointment and then I'd get some answers. Not a big deal.
So, I go to the appointment, and Dr. T tells me that spotting at this stage is normal. I am relieved and hop up on the table and put my feet in the stirrups like a lamb. He puts in the dildo cam, starts having a look around and - uh oh! - he sees a cyst on my right ovary. Sorry, but we can't start IVF. Maybe in another two weeks - we'll see.
Am devastated. For many reasons. All that hype, all that waiting for April 1st and now, I have to collect my cool and wait even longer. If the cyst doesn't go away by next Tuesday, there could be an even longer wait after that. And, on top of all that, the spotting has turned into a full-blown period. I can't understand how I'll be able to start an IVF cycle in that case. Won't my ovaries start acting on their own again?
But equally upsetting is that my best friend Nonna is coming for her first visit to Paris at the end of April and all this may interfer with her visit. We had planned this trip around my IVF cycle, assuming that not only would hormone injections, retrieval and transfer would be over by then, but also the two-week waiting period would be over. If I was pregnant - hooray! We'd celebrate together. If I was not, she'd be there to cheer me up. It was the perfect arrangement. Now, with a two-week delay, we might have finished retrieval and transfer by the time she arrives, and the two weeks she's staying here, will be the dreaded two-week wait, wherein I can't drink or be too active. This would scenario be not-great, but okay. What would really really suck is if her arrival coincides with retrieval and transfer itself. I don't want to play hostess to anyone, not even beloved Nonna, during that time. I don't want to think about anyone except me (and possibly Dawg). I don't want to worry that Nonna's not having fun, or that she feels obligated to wait on me, or that Dawg feels obligated to entertain her. If this is the case, I don't want her to come.
But at the same time, she's a doctor and always has an ridiculously busy schedule, and this is the first time in 4 years that she has time to come out here and we've both been looking forward to it so much for months. I don't want her not to come.
I don't know what to do. I'm fighting to hold onto my calm, but it's hard.
Then on March 30, I realized that the 1300 euros worth of Gonal-F that I had bought in February were ruined. I should have put in them in the refrigerator after 28 days - but I was so not thinking about IVF, that I forgot. Yes, I should have probably kept them in the fridge all along, but the dial on our refrigerator sometimes moves to "freeze" without us noticing and I was worried that the hormones (which must not freeze) would be ruined if I kept them in there for a month and a half. Managed to ruin them anyway.
O the tears that were shed! The sobbing and the avowals of self-hatred! Even though our insurance had paid for the Gonal-F, I was stricken by the enormous waste of money and at my own carelessness. Dawg was a gem and told me that we should count ourselves lucky: we can buy fresh medicine and it will not affect our lives in anyway. And then, we learned some good news: Dawg's insurance reimburses Gonal-F prescriptions. They don't pay for IVF, but we are covered for fertility prescriptions. That made me feel a little better.
So, my foundation was shook a little, but I recovered. I thought: come on, girl. If you fall to pieces over this minor disaster, how in the world are you ever going to make it through an IVF cycle? I pulled myself together, ordered more medicine and looked forward to my appointment on April 1st.
The morning of April 1st, I had a familiar feeling in my uterus. Cramps. I was spotting. Bleeding. What was this about? Dr. T said I could expect some spotting but I thought that he meant when the Climaston was finished - i.e., when I have expected my next period. That would have been 11 days ago. I forced myself to be calm - only a few hours until my appointment and then I'd get some answers. Not a big deal.
So, I go to the appointment, and Dr. T tells me that spotting at this stage is normal. I am relieved and hop up on the table and put my feet in the stirrups like a lamb. He puts in the dildo cam, starts having a look around and - uh oh! - he sees a cyst on my right ovary. Sorry, but we can't start IVF. Maybe in another two weeks - we'll see.
Am devastated. For many reasons. All that hype, all that waiting for April 1st and now, I have to collect my cool and wait even longer. If the cyst doesn't go away by next Tuesday, there could be an even longer wait after that. And, on top of all that, the spotting has turned into a full-blown period. I can't understand how I'll be able to start an IVF cycle in that case. Won't my ovaries start acting on their own again?
But equally upsetting is that my best friend Nonna is coming for her first visit to Paris at the end of April and all this may interfer with her visit. We had planned this trip around my IVF cycle, assuming that not only would hormone injections, retrieval and transfer would be over by then, but also the two-week waiting period would be over. If I was pregnant - hooray! We'd celebrate together. If I was not, she'd be there to cheer me up. It was the perfect arrangement. Now, with a two-week delay, we might have finished retrieval and transfer by the time she arrives, and the two weeks she's staying here, will be the dreaded two-week wait, wherein I can't drink or be too active. This would scenario be not-great, but okay. What would really really suck is if her arrival coincides with retrieval and transfer itself. I don't want to play hostess to anyone, not even beloved Nonna, during that time. I don't want to think about anyone except me (and possibly Dawg). I don't want to worry that Nonna's not having fun, or that she feels obligated to wait on me, or that Dawg feels obligated to entertain her. If this is the case, I don't want her to come.
But at the same time, she's a doctor and always has an ridiculously busy schedule, and this is the first time in 4 years that she has time to come out here and we've both been looking forward to it so much for months. I don't want her not to come.
I don't know what to do. I'm fighting to hold onto my calm, but it's hard.
