Stuck

This is my 100th post. I imagined this to be a magical milestone in my blogging career . . . but I've got nothing. No pearls of wisdom. Nothing funny to say. No BFP or BFN. Not even a picture.

I'm stuck.

I decided if I don't bleed by this Friday, I will test. If not, we're taking a break. I will start P90X again, we will save the last round of clomid for another day. I need to give my ovaries, and my heart, a rest. Also, we're going to a wedding on 11/6 and if I am in the throws of another round of clomid I will most likely start a trashy brawl with some of the family members that will be there. As it is, I may start a fight anyway. I have yet to gain back my "filter" this month. Trust that if I end up with a black eye, I will post pictures. And not to worry - I won't ruin anyone's big day. I'll take it outside to the parking lot :-)

Remember the new job I get to start soon? Well, when they said they had to push the date back to November, the really meant December. 6th, to be exact. I have 30 work days left until I can escape this headset and cubicle. I have a little countdown going on to motivate me to keep going. I'm not going to lie - it's tough having to wait. Even with a date set for my departure, it feels like I'm never getting out! Just another lesson in patience. I feel like I am taking a senior level course in patience lately. I wish I could just graduate with a master's in it already.

The anniversary of my brother's death is hurtling towards me like an Armageddon-esque asteroid. I keep meaning to say something about him here, but I start to write and then end up with nothing usable. I think part of it is that I want to honor him by writing some amazing and poetic piece. . . but I am not really that great with words. I end up with a sentence or two about how my initial grief has turned into unrelenting regret and then I get all emo - like and weepy and who wants that? I thought this would be easier the further away the whole ordeal gets. It is not. I feel like I miss him even more.

So, in summary: I am stuck waiting for a decision to be made for me - will it be P90X or baby? I may or may not beat people up at a wedding in two weeks. I miss my brother. You've spent 100 moments with my mindless blurbs. I am grateful. <-------- Not sarcasm (I know I need to include a disclaimer when I am being sincere).

Wannabe

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week, and since I am pretending that there is nothing wrong, I had no idea. Until I read this post, and this one, and was mentioned in this one as a wannabe mommy blogger. It's ironic, that all of this NIAW business would come out today, because today's temp made Fertility Frenemy an indian giver and took away my cross hairs. Bitch.

I was this close to thinking maybe it was all in my head and that I had miraculously ovulated on my own. Denial is not just a river in Egypt my friends.

I thought about joining in on the project that Mrs. S addressed in her post. I read through the questions that were posted and thought about how I would answer them. Then I became all weepy and whiny at my desk and decided against joining in this go around. I know that this week will come around again. Maybe the next time it does, I will be on the other side and will have the words to offer strength or comfort to someone still stuck on this side of "what if". For now, I just don't know what to say. I'm still trying to process exactly where we are on the "infertility scale". Will we need more than a few rounds of Clomid? Will we need marriage counseling as a result of the stress of TTC? Will I ever be satisfied with what we have? Will I be able to keep my composure as the crazy girl I work with complains about being knocked up by her loser baby daddy? I don't have the answers and I HATE it. In an effort to not annoy the pants off of the people that read about my life, I try not to piss and moan too much about it, but it's there - always right under the surface of every sarcastic comment I make :-)
The journey so far has not been fruitless. I've learned alot, and met many "wannabes" in the same spot we are. I've been more sensitive with my words, because I know how much a harmless comment can cut to the core. I've formed close bonds with people I would have not known as well otherwise.
Many of my teenage years were spent looking for a group to belong to - a place where I fit in. While I wish that we belonged to a group that dealt with happier things, part of me is grateful for the opportunity to bond with any group. It's like I'm finally super cool! And I have cool friends! (not counting you Ronnie, you were always cooler than me anyway)
This is kind of rambling and not going anywhere. I guess the bottom line is that IF sucks, mostly because of the uncertainty of it all, but the little community I've found here is pretty awesome. Please know that if you need someone to listen, I can always be reached at jenny72982@gmail.com, and I'm a pretty good listener - since I get paid to do it all day long :-)

A Confession

There's a topic I have been avoiding on here lately.
At my pre-op appointment for the hysteroscopy, Dr. Foreign Accent asked us when we wanted to start in on IUI. He was all ready to get this show on the road.
We were not.
It's not that we aren't ready to be pregnant and have children - we're more than ready, it's something Mr. Joe and I have been discussing alot lately.
I think the problem is that are not ready to admit defeat. Right now, I have all these theories about how fixing my heart shaped box (making my ute triangle and normal shaped) is going to improve our chances of naturally conceiving, despite the fact that Dr. Foreign Accent says that one has nothing to do with the other. I am still convinced that this can happen without having to involve a third party, even though I invited that third party in the first place. That maybe now that I'll have a lining all the way around my ute that it will magically rebalance my hormones and I'll have normal cycles again.
Dr. FA was pretty surprised when we told him we just wanted to try Clomid for now. In fact, he flat out said he didn't think it would work, but he wrote out an Rx anyway and handed it to me, saying "Good luck . . ." in his thick Argentinian accent.
I filled it the next day, and have been staring at the bottle for weeks. I can't bring myself to take it. Why? I don't know. I think if I take it and it doesn't work, then I will have to admit that there is no magical fix. That there is something wrong with me. With Mr. Joe. With us.
Instead, I have been charting. I'm on CD20, 4DPO according to Fertility Frenemy, but who knows if this will work this time. Maybe, maybe not.
I find myself falling into the same tired excuses - maybe it's not our time, maybe it's because we were too early or too late in getting it on, maybe I DO need to relax! Maybe it's because we don't have mood lighting and candles in our bedroom! Maybe we need to do it upside down!
All of this makes me depressed. Sad that one more thing is not going my way. Then the sadness brings on memories of my brother, and the fact that I hate my job, and Mr. Joe has been busting his ass at his job and isn't getting the recognition he deserves, and that yet ANOTHER person on my team at work is knocked up, bringing it to a grand total of 3 people I know getting KU in a month's time. Then I become envious and bitter and I turn into someone I don't like. I used to be happy(ish) with what I had. I hate where we live, but I was happy with owning a home. My dog was my baby. I was content. Now, I turn into a bitter frostybox beeotch at work because everyone has babies on the brain. I get aggrivated when I see Facebook status about bringing awareness to cancer (BTW, WHO THE FUCK DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT CANCER, OR KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS IT, OR LOST SOMEONE TO IT? HOW IS POSTING THAT ON YOUR FACEBOOK PAGE GOING TO HELP?? see? complete frostybox). I sob on the way home from work because life is so unfair that crazy people can have babies and assholes survive cancer and people that are awful and mean get ahead and POOR MRS. JOE wah wah wah. I make myself sick over the person I become when I let it take over.
So I avoid the topic altogether. I focus on McFatty Mondays. Most of the people I comment on are mommy bloggers, which can sometimes be hard, but I like them. I feel better when they encourage me on MM. I pretend to not be thinking about TTC constantly - but it's there, right on my sleeve.
So, in case you've been wondering, that's why I haven't mentioned it.

Overheard at work today . . .

Thank goodness it is 4:13 and I leave in 15 minutes . . .
Did I tell you about the preggos on my team at work? EVERYONE here is knocked up - except yours truly, of course - and it seems as though everyone knows that I am baby crazy. One of the girls here is nuts (actually nutso, just got out of the nut house) and was talking about how she doesn't want a boy. Do you know what she will do if she has a boy? She will "just give it to me." As in she ACTUALLY SAID: "I'll just give it to Jenny." (Oh hey thats my name I don't care anymore - thats how mad I am grrrrrr)

HILARIOUS.

Gardening - Help!

I need ideas for our yard this year. It's looking pretty sad. The woman that lived here before us was a little eccentric and the majority of our first and second spring here was spent "taming" the jungle she left behind. I like this tree, but I don't know what it is or what to do with it . . . Are you supposed to trim the branches or just let it grow all willy-nilly?Maybe I'll post more pictures of my horrible looking yard tomorrow and ask for more advice. I'm very needy like that. In TTC news, we have decided to hold off on taking Clomid this cycle. Because of the hysteroscopy, I have no idea what cycle day I am on and I just didn't feel like this cycle was "it". Does that make sense? Probably not. We just felt that our timing this month isn't right and we want to wait another cycle. I'm trying to be patient, and now that I have had the hysteroscopy and physically have a script for Clomid in my hands, I don't feel as much pressure as I did when people were telling me to "just relax" and "not worry about it". So stay tuned for more boring posts about my boring life :-)

I'm a rebel

No McFatty Monday today. Not because I gained or anything, there just hasn't been a change this week and I haven't really been focusing on weight loss. I'm still stalking the McFatties that I normally comment on though. At least SOMEONE can focus on weight loss.
Remember the "wet" burrito though? At least I didn't gain. Thank God for small favors.

Instead!!! I will tell you about my weekend!!!

Friday night I worked at the movies until 11 and then drove to the Super Walmart to stand in line for New Moon. Don't judge me.

Saturday, we went to a wedding. The priest talked about finding everyday things erotic. Those were his exact words. It made us all a little . . .uncomfortable. I tried really hard not to cry, but since my brother became ill, I have a really hard time in church. It's as though all of my thoughts turn to Mike. Then I have to try really hard not to cry and I end up looking like a GLASS CASE OF EMOTION ala Anchorman. Awesome.

I debated with myself about drinking. Could I be knocked up? Did we have sex in time? I CAN'T REMEMBER!!! I didn't really want to jeopardize it if I am KU, so I just sipped champagne for the toast. I probably wouldn't have drank anyway, since I drove, so it wasn't that big of a deal. The food was delicious, the cake was AMAZING. Mint chocolate chip cake. Ingenious!

I locked my keys in my car and had to call AAA to open my door. Mr. Joe was not pleased.

Sunday, we went to Marshall's to pick up Mr. Joe's check. We ate at D'Angelo's. I felt barfy, and immediately thought it was because we must have made a baby. Then the nausea went away and I told myself I was overreacting.

Today, I am at work and one of the girls that had a nervous breakdown has let slip that she is pregnant. Her baby daddy already has a daughter, who he owes ALOT of child support on. We are all sad that she is with this loser again. We hope that he ends up leaving her because she would be much better off without him. I know it sounds awful, but it's the truth. It's also why I am not green with envy right now.

That's all I have for today. I know it was super exciting stuff. You're welcome!

Stop the presses.

Look!

That link is my chart on Fertility Frenemy. Note the crosshairs. Does this mean I actually ovulated? I am still a little shocked. I was all prepared to write a post about how I went out with my sister in law to a Mexican restaurant and ordered a "Wet Burrito" (trust me it looked good on paper). I guess I am still posting about it right now. Here's a picture of my beefy, wet burrito (I wonder what google searches will turn up from this post):

And Just to get a true feel for the sheer volume of beefy, wet burritoness, here is one with my SIL:

I apologize if it's tiny. I am not a profesh blogger by any means. Despite the strange name, the burrito was delicious. I'm still a little concerned about where the "wet" part comes in though. The rest of it is sitting in my locker at work for lunch. There was no way I could finish all of that thing in one sitting! We needed to leave room for desert:

Please remind me, when I piss and moan on Monday about how I gained 10 pounds, that I ate FRIED ICE CREAM that was on FIRE on Thursday. Thank you.

And since I am all about the pictures today, here is a look at the "national holiday" that is March Madness in the Joe residence:

My house smells like college dorm today because Mr. Joe and is band of goons wanted to play upstairs in my nice house instead of downstairs in the man cave yesterday. There was a problem though, because the biggest of our two televisions is in the man cave (downstairs). What to do? Mr. Joe decided that he would put our very large, expensive piece of electric entertainment OUTSIDE ON OUR PATIO TABLE. There are few things in this world that we own that are of any worth, friends. One of the those things is this TV. Another is our reputation as normal, middle class citizens. I'm pretty sure the latter is damaged beyond repair in our neighborhood now. Sigh. The umbrella really accentuates the trashiness, don't you think?

Anyway . . . I ovulated. Sadly, I can't remember what exact day Mr. Joe and I got it on. We are very busy people, but I'm fairly certain it was this past weekend. So there's a goodish chance we had some sort of timing right? Maybe the cramping in my uterus is a baby Joe.

Or I will actually discover why they call it a "wet" burrito. Pray for me on both accounts, please.

Happy Friday!!

The same page - and the one with a bible quote

Mr. Joe and I had a long talk last night and we are finally on the same page. These talks tend to happen when we're on the drive home from his mother's house. The majority of his family lives about an hour away, and since Mr. Joe has no where to go we're together, we usually end up discussing important matters. Or arguing about whether he pronounces certain words correctly. One time, we fought the entire way about whether on not the phrase "play it by ear" was really "play it by year". His example for arguing the latter was:
Mrs. Joe: "Mr. Joe, can we go to Disney World for the millionth time this summer?"
Mr. Joe: " I don't know, let's play it by year."
I know that makes no sense, hence the argument. But I digress.

The discussion started when we heard a commercial for a urologist on the radio (I wish I could find it online and play it for you here, it was probably the dumbest advertisement I have ever heard in my entire life. It involved a crazy urologist giving vasectomies to a basketball player and a cheerleader during a basketball game, and the cheerleader ends up being a transvestite - hence the vasectomy - and it's "so quick and painless" that the basketball player didn't notice it. Really, really dumb). Mr. Joe was wondering how a guy finds his way into that area of medicine because he "couldn't imagine staring at wieners all day". Yes, he actually said 'wieners'. We are so mature. While we were both laughing about this weirdo urologist guy, I quietly slipped in that Dr. Foreign Accent wants him to see one. <>

He was pretty somber when he said, "ABSOLUTELY NOT".

It's not that he isn't supportive, or as anxious to have children, in fact as soon as the words left his lips, he was apologizing for sounding so caustic. He's just not as willing as I am to have people all up in his business. I completely understand that. We did an SA once, and that's as far as he is willing to go at this point in the game. We already confirmed that the only thing off on his SA was the motility, and even then it wasn't that low. The problem is definitely me at this point. From this, we have decided upon a TTC Action Plan:

Step one - I will have the hysteroscopy and hopefully live through it (I will have to post all of the various disaster scenarios that I have come up with in my head)
Step two - Find a way to regulate my cycles with medication so we can pinpoint when I ovulate
Step three - do the deed at those times

If after several cycles of this not succeeding, we will reevaluate where we are and if we are ready to try a more invasive route. It doesn't look like much, but it feels really good to have a set plan in place for the next couple of months. I think we both felt like TTC was getting away from us, like a crazy runaway train. I think we're more in control of the train now and I can already feel less tension between us.

Basically, what this boils down to for us is patience and faith. I have faith that we will have children. We all know the bible verses that promise us prosperity and purpose (specifically, Jeremiah 29:11 where those same words are basically used). I believe that. The patience part is not really as easy to come by. This is just going to be a really hard lesson in patience I think. I know at the end, all of this indecision and uncertainty is going to make it all worth it, but I really, really, really want to get to the "worth it" part already! How do you wait for something to happen when you don't know when (or how, but I'm not focusing on that) it's happening?

Way back in the beginning of my obsession with babies and blogging, I found a blog of a waiting adoptive mom (who has since had a successful open adoption with her son AND birthed a "surprise" baby boy). The majority of blogs I found had all of the "standard" waiting mother bible verses and other various quotes, but this woman had a verse I had never heard before:

Habakkuk 2:3
"But these things I plan won't happen right away. Slowly, steadily, surely, the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, do not despair, for these things will surely come to pass. Just be patient! They will not be overdue a single day!"

My first thought was, "What the heck is a Habakkuk?" I still need to google that one. Now, I read this passage everyday. I repeat it to myself as I listen to the trolls who call in and complain to me at work. I know it by heart. It was no accident that I stumbled upon these words and the blogs that I read. All of this is comforting to me because I know that eventually, the patience I'm supposed to learn will come.

I just wish it would come right now.

Oh hey, it's me again . . .

I need to get this out so I can fall asleep tonight. This is going to be all over the place:
I am terrified of having surgery. I have never had any kind of surgery before, not even for my wisdom teeth (but that is coming soon after) and I am SUPER NERVOUS. I can only imagine the awkward joking that will take place the day of. What I am most freaked out about is that something will go wrong and I will be permanently, irreversibly infertile. What if that is the reason that I have found my way to all of the adoption blogs I read? Will this be God's way of showing me that I am not meant to get pregnant? I don't know what I would do if I couldn't have a baby "the old fashioned way". I don't think I have the patience or the sanity left to try another way. Of course, I could be overreacting and everything will be fine.
Say that everything IS fine. Dr. Foreign Accent thinks that after the hysteroscopy on the 1st, the next thing to do is an IUI. Why can't we try with clomid first? I'm pretty sure that Mr. Joe is not too keen on providing another sample. I confirmed with the RE that the only thing "off" about the SA we had done was the motility. Nothing else, and even that was just a little low. It was definitely not as bad as Dr. H made it out to be. I feel like if I was to tell Dr. Foreign Accent that we wanted to try Clomid first, that he would question how badly we want this. TRUST ME FRIENDS: WE WANT THIS. I want to be on the same page with Mr. Joe, and I know that he really doesn't want to give a "sample" at their office. He's pretty much the exact opposite of me, really shy and quiet and not comfortable having to do things like that. Not that I'm pleased as punch to get in the stirrups, but it's easier for me to do it than it is for him. I worry that if we were to share that with the RE, that they wouldn't take us seriously. I hate feeling like that. I hate watching Mr. Joe's degenerate cousins have babies without having to consult anyone, and then feeling like I have to be granted permission to have a child because it won't happen "by mistake". I think this may also be why I am worried about having to have a family through adoption. Talk about granting permission. You ACTUALLY have to be granted permission, and pay lots of money, and be picked by someone. I know how that game goes. I took gym class. I was always picked last.
AND NOW A CONFESSION: I am still hoping that things will happen "naturally" and I think I am going to hold off on the bcp for a week or so. Maybe I will O on day 14. Today is day 11 and I think I might try for it still, since the heart shape isn't as severe as they thought (I know there is an actual medical term for what I have, but I can't think of it right now). It can't hurt right? I just want one chance. JUST ONE.
I'm sorry for this post. If you've read this far thanks for listening. I feel a little better now and I think I can sleep.

Calling all infertiles . . .

So today was super exciting.

For those of you just joining us, when we last left off, our heroine (not the bad kind kids) was on her way to an appointment with an RE to determine why she was not knocked up. Unbeknownst to her, the evil Dr. H had sent her to a teaching hospital type place to have this done . . .

First of all, it took me 5 - 10 minutes to find the place, and it wasn't until I was lost that I realized that I had NO IDEA what the name of my doctor was. I was forced to ask people for directions to the fertility center, which was super awkward for me. Lesson learned friends: WRITE DOWN THE NAME OF YOUR DOCTOR or you will be forced to share your business with even MORE strangers.

When I finally found the place and made it back the exam room, I was just about ready to puke from all the nerves. I was sweatier than a whore in church. The nurse noticed this and tried her best to be nice and make me feel better, and by the end of our brief conversation, I did feel a little better. The throwups had left, and I was a little less sweaty. I was maybe even a little excited to see my ute and finally get this show on the road. As I sat with the sheet around my waist (they're so fancy there! No paper crap for me to rip while attempting to put it on!), waiting for my new nurse friend to return with the doctor, I almost laughed at myself for being so nervous. Oh, was I fooled friends!

That nurse was a tricky bitch. I had been lulled into a false sense of security. Not because I was waiting for a long time, mind you. She came right back with the doctor as promised. She also brought about 4 friends. FOUR. PLUS the doctor. All of them waiting for my lady parts to put on a show. EEEEEK!!! I did what I do when I get into any awkward situation:

I brought the jokes. AND I COULD. NOT. STOP.

"It's a full house tonight! It's like we're in a telephone booth! Can everyone see my uterus? Who's going next??" All the while in my head, I'm screaming at myself to STOP WITH THE JOKES. I sound like Kathy Griffin! ENOUGH ALREADY!

The jokes stopped when Dr. Foreign Accent started pointing to my lady parts on the screen. Apparently, they were putting on enough of a show that I didn't have to continue with my one -liners to captivate the audience. After alot of pointing and moving the wand around, Dr. Foreign Accent finally turned to me and said, "Has anyone ever mentioned to you that you have a heart shape for a uterus?"

Now, when the hell would my doctor had the time to do that? I'm sure there was no time for her to share this with me over the hundreds many times that I went to see her.

Bottom line is this: He thinks I have PCOS (which is what I have suspected for a little while now) and that I may have a heart shaped uterus. There is a more medical term for this, but I don't remember it and "heart shaped" just sounds so . . .pretty. He also thinks that Mr. Joe and I will not get knocked up on our own, and that we should start right with IUI. First, I have to have an HSG to confirm that I am indeed, deformed. I have the Quasimodo of uteruses (uteri?). I am going for this on Friday. So any infertiles out there that have had this done: should I be worried about the HSG? Is it painful? I have been doing lots of googling, but I would really like to hear from anyone who has actually done this.

I have decided I am not going to worry about the IUI stuff or any infertility crap until after this HSG business. I am really nervous and barfy over it because this is totally uncharted territory for me. There is one thing I am CERTAIN of though.

I do NOT have enough jokes to get me through an HSG.

Because I NEED to share my life with the internets:

This came in to the movies the other day and I was using my super sneaky skills to take a picture with my phone because it's proof of the crazy people that I have to deal with at the movie theater:

That man is wearing cat ears and skinny jeans, and he was about 50 years old.

Tomorrow I have my appointment with an RE. I am super barfy over this!! Wish me luck.

CD1

You know what happens when AF is missing for 99 days?

You forget to carry the necessary items for dealing with her. While you're at work.

To be honest, when I started spotting yesterday, I thought it was my ute playing tricks on me. I had "spotted" once or twice over the last 99 days or so, but nothing else would be there the next time I took a trip to the bathroom, so I assumed (and what does assuming do kids?) that it would be the same this time as well. Oh my, was I wrong.

It started when I arrived home to an empty house last night. Mr. Joe was working his second job at Marshall's (pronounced Mar- SHALL's as in "SHALL we dance?" Makes it sound fancy), and I was by myself and super hungry. I made a box of Rice-a-Roni and ate it. The whole thing. Immediately feeling horrified with myself for being so gluttonous, I ate some BBQ chips.

I know that makes no sense, I was RAVENOUS and crazy. It made sense in my fat kid head.

After my pig-out, I decided to watch Joannie Rochette's short program skate from the other night. Do you know who I'm talking about? She's the Canadian figure skater whose mother died suddenly on Sunday. I began to sob before she even started to skate. I had to stop this madness! To get out of this funk, I decided against the episode of 16 and Pregnant I had saved and watched Mantracker instead. Mantracker is a sort or game show where this guy, "The Mantracker", hunts down a team of two people each week. The team has to make it a couple of miles through the Canadian wilderness to a finish line in two days. It's a little lame, but Mr. Joe and I like it. In this particular episode, a brother and sister team had to make it through some stupid mountain range or something. I was UGLY CRYING at that point.

Let me catch you up on somethings at this point: My oldest brother passed away on 10/31/2009. He had cancer, and was 46 years old. I haven't really said much about it here because it is still way too raw to discuss. One day I will share more about him, but for now I just need you to know this one thing. . .

We never planned to go backpacking through the woods while some crazy Canadian man (on a horse!) chased after us. NOT ONCE did we ever discuss it. For some reason though, I was BESIDE MYSELF with sadness over the fact that we could never be on Mantracker together. In the middle of my ugly cry, I got a text message from Mr. Joe asking if I was hungry and if I wanted him to stop for food on the way home. I confessed that I didn't need any more food that night since I consumed a whole box of garlic and chicken flavored rice all by my lonesome, and asked if maybe he could bring me home some Diet Coke. I managed to calm myself down enough to look somewhat collected when he came home, but when he was without my diet coke, I started all over again.

You would think after all of that, I would have figured out that I was actually going to bleed. Poor Mr. Joe! He had no idea what the hell happened to me.

The question I have now is - what should I do? The fact that I have finally started my period on my own makes me wonder what the next step should be. Do you think I should chart and see if I O on my own this time? Or should I chart and take clomid (against Dr. H's orders)? Should I still go to my RE appointment on Wednesday? Personally, I think that I should at least have one cycle charted before I go to an RE. Don't they expect that of you anyway? What would you do?
AND ALSO: Is there anyone lurking out there that could maybe follow me so I can have an even 10 followers?

The Next Step

Finally heard from Dr. H . . . and she seems to think I need to be shuffled off to the fertility clinic. I haven't seen the actual results of the SA, but she says that they were "on the low side". I made her read them to me over the phone, but she was reading them off really fast and I became sick of asking her to repeat herself. Basically, there is normally 2 -5 mL of "sample", we only had 1mL. However, normal range for number of swimmers per mL is 20 million, and we had 40 million. And they were all great shape - but they weren't swimming as well because its thicker than normal. I don't know how "off" it is exactly, but listening to the numbers, it didn't sound that far below normal. Some numbers were better than normal.

Dr. H seems to think its time to try IVF. Like, she actually said, "There's things they can do, like invitro fertilization to make sure that you get a fertilized egg in there." It was at this point in our phone conversation that I saw stars.

Let's review, shall we?

Mrs. Joe: Not really charting, but definitely not ovulating, as today is CD98 (NINETY EIGHT FRIENDS) and I have peed on every last thing I could to determine my KU status. Additionally, I may or may not have a family history of fertility "issues", depending on who you ask. I am clearly not functioning properly, yet I have been given no medication thus far to correct these issues.

Mr. Joe: Has swimmers - lots of them, they can swim straight, but some can't make it through. Also, he hates the invasiveness of this "infertility" garbage (where as I, Queen of TMI, do not).

Don't you think we could just try Clomid ONE TIME before calling in the fertility big guns? I realize I do not have a medical degree. What I do have a degree in though, is internet research. And by 'internet research", I mean TTC blog stalking. If you have a TTC blog, specifically an IF/TTC blog, I most likely have read it, analyzed it, and googled the things I didn't understand (oh the abbreviations! They're like a secret language!!). The usual course of action is:

Clomid and charting for a cycle or 4
IUI and then . . .
IVF

I realize I may be overreacting here, but I have never really charted or used a fertility monitor, or ANYTHING like that in the past. I just wasn't getting my period. I feel like we didn't really get a chance to conceive without a whole big song and dance. The RE's office called me this morning and I have an appointment next Wednesday, but I don't know if I'm going to go through with it yet. It don't want to be laughed out of there. I guess we shall see.

*ETA: I started spotting today. Secretly, I was hoping to get to CD100 because I'm a weirdo like that and it's a nice round number. Maybe I will chart tomorrow and O on my own this cycle!

TTC news of the day

In TTC news:
I was supposed to hear back from Dr. H on Saturday to discuss the results of the SA. I waited and waited and waited allll day. We were working on our kitchen remodel and I obsessively checked my phone every 5 minutes to see if I was getting a call. As is the case whenever I am waiting for Dr. H to call, I left my phone in the car by accident and before I could run out and retrieve it, she called. She called at 4:55 on a Saturday. Who does that? Of course, she doesn't leave any info in her voicemail and just says that she'll call back on Monday. I was already freaking out because my mother and I had an interesting discussion at WalMart earlier in the day, so this just threw me over the edge. I was a Nervous Nancy the rest of the night.

That earlier discussion we had was about my mothers TTC woes.
For background:I have four siblings. Two of them are 20 years older than me and are from my father's previous marriage to a crazy lady. Yes, I know it's not nice to refer to my brother's mother as a crazy lady, but trust me friends - she has more than a touch of the Crazy. The other 2, my sister and brother, are from my mother and father. My parents are in their 60s. My youngest sibling is 20. We always joke that he was an accident, because who is able to just have a baby at 42?
So, that being said, my mother and I were strolling through WalMart on Saturday, stalling for time because we were sick of watching my father and Mr. Joe hang cabinets. back in the day, I used to love going through the baby section, and look at all of the cute baby things that they have. I would always drag my mother through, because she is more willing to look with me than Mr. Joe is. Nowadays, I'm so impatient that it just frustrates me to wander through. I haven't really told anyone about our hangups yet, so when my mom started heading in that direction I followed after her biting my tongue the whole way.
"You know," she started, "I really want you to have a girl first. You should start having babies soon if you want them to be spoiled before I retire. Maybe you should just have twins to get it over with in one shot!" I cringed - at the rate we're going, I'm going to be retired before we have kids. Enough was enough. I "outed" myself (what is with all this drama? I outed myself? I am such a queen lol).



Turns out friends, IT TOOK FOUR YEARS TO CONCEIVE ME. My mother was on clomid 4EVA to get to me, and my sister was a product of clomid + injections!!!



Oh, hello, pertinent information, nice to see you here. You're a little late.



"Mom!" I asked, "Why did you not TELL me this?? Why did you not share this important information in my formative early years??"



"I thought I was just old and that's why I couldn't get knocked up."



She was 31 people. I am 27. Do you think 4 years is a big difference? Tell me that I am overreacting here and there's no need to freak out. I may or may not be freaking out a little right now. EEEEEEEk!



Hold on now, you may be saying. What about your 20 year old brother? Surely he must have been an IVF baby if there was work put into you and your sister? I said the same thing, friends! Apparently, not though. At 43, my mother was able to conceive naturally, without so much as an OPK to predict when to try. Weird huh?

Add "SA" to the list of things I never want to again

Step one: Check!
Thankfully, I did not get into a car accident on the way to the clinic this morning - which is miraculous in itself because believe me folks, there was AMPLE opportunity. AMPLE.

Do you ever type something and then it looks really weird, but you don't change it because your brain is screaming at you that THAT IS THE WORD YOU WERE LOOKING FOR!!??

Anyway - AMPLE opportunity. It is very snowy in my neck o' the woods and the taxes I am paying must be going to something other than snow removal. I personally hope that "something" is bringing a Sonic to these parts, but that's just me.

It was definitely a hectic morning, what with collecting "the goods", and then discovering that the paper bag I had to transport "the goods" in had been eaten by my dog (thanks a lot Harry), and then having to figure out a way of keeping "the goods" warm using "body heat only" while not getting into a car accident. I was already feeling frazzled because you only have 60 minutes to get there before they deem "the goods" expired, so I grabbed the closest thing I could find transport it - I ended up wrapping the container in aluminum foil and shoving it in between my boobs to keep it warm.

Hey! You know what's really itchy?? Answer: carrying something wrapped in foil between your boobs.

I finally made it to the hospital with "the goods", all hot and itchy, hiding in my boobs. Of course, I couldn't find the place I was looking for, so the kind people at the info desk handed me a huge white card with DIRECTIONS TO THE INFERTILITY CLINIC written on both sides in big letters. You know, just in case anyone at the hospital was curious about why I was there. And why I looked so itchy.
Secretly, I was pretty impressed with my hide - the - goods - in - my - boobs idea. I'm pretty well endowed and I was happy that I could put that to good use. It would have looked even more weird if I had to hide it in my pants. I'm sure people would have been even MORE curious about why I was visiting the IF clinic in that case. I thought hiding it there was a great idea - until the andrologist asked me where "the goods" were and I realized where I would have to reach into my coat to produce it. Awkward! Luckily, she also thought it was a genius idea, and I didn't die of embarrassment.
I have never felt such relief. I'm really glad this part is over! Now we will just wait for the results to come back as normal (because I'm the problem here people) and then we will move on to step two: inviting AF over after her 80 day hiatus.
Stay tuned friends (hey 5 followers!) - I'm sure it gets even more rivoting from here!

Step one and a plan

I called the clinic for the SA today and scheduled a drop off for next Friday at 8AM. I am not very pleased with the time and date, but the only way to drop off "the goods" in the time allotted and at the proper body temp, we would have to do it in the morning, and the only morning appointment I could do would be next Friday. Far away, but gives me time to plan how I will manage to pull this off without freaking out. I am pretty convinced that I will trip and fall or get into a car accident and have to explain why I have "the goods" on my person. Awkward . . .
Onto the plan we have decided on:
We will wait for the SA results to come back in, and once we make sure that Mr. Joe is fine (which he is) I will start the progesterone, assuming I don't get AF before then (which I won't). I'll take that for 10 days, then wait for AF and start Clomid. . .
Magically, I will ovulate and Mr. Joe and I will get it on at the right time for once. I will be a patient girl and not test obsessively until it is time, at which point I will discover that I am knocked up. There will be some kind of clever way that I will tell Mr. Joe, and he will have an amazing reaction which will reaffirm the reason I am in love with him. I will make an adorable pregnant lady, the kind that is all baby, and no extra flub anywhere. In fact, all of my body fat will migrate to the baby, thus creating the cutest tubbiest baby ever. I will be envied by skinny Kari at work and will finally know what its like to walk without my thighs rubbing together. Mr. Joe and I will annoy everyone by withholding Baby Joe's sex and name until after he is born. After 9 peaceful and glorious months, I will go into labor and have the quickest and most painless natural child birth ever. Baby Joe, being the chubbiest, most beautiful baby on earth, will be hailed as a picture of perfect health. Mr. Joe and I will win some kind of baby-making award for spawning Baby Joe. The prize will be one million dollars. I won't have to go back to being a phone monkey in the call center anymore!
. . . At least that's the plan I have in my head. If we follow this, we should be ready to be knocked up in March. I'm okay with that I think. We might have a baby by Christmas! At least that's our hope, but we know how screwy I am so I'll be crossing my fingers!

Back from my appointment:

I am mildly pleased with the results of my "consultation" with my doctor. We are still not sure why I am not ovulating, and she doesn't seem to be concerned with that. She suggested sending Mr. Joe for an SA before we do anything else though, and this frustrates me BECAUSE I AM DEFINITLEY THE PROBLEM. I explained that because we know I'm not ovulating, I don't think my hubby will be willing to do SA until after I am able to ovulate. He's not the most gregarious of people and bringing a sample into an office would be approximately 5 million miles outside of his comfort zone. Especially since we're pretty sure its not him. She spouted off something about how if we are infertile we have to be prepared to be poked and prodded and basically lose all dignity if we want to persue infertility treatments.
REALLY? I HAD NO IDEA. (insert eyeroll here)
Anyway, on top of the SA order, she told me to take the progesterone and then added Clomid to the mix, but told me to wait until after the SA results get back. She also gave me a bunch of 80's style brochures about planning for a pregnancy and how to handle infertility. Ironically the picture of the couple on the IF brochure is all happy and smiley and looking like they are definitley NOT contemplating the idea that they may be infertile. SIGH.
I went home feeling extremely uneasy about broaching the SA subject with Mr. Joe, but as it turns out, he is completely on board! I had to agree to a few things, of course, but all in all he agreed with Dr. H that we should rule him out now instead of putting me through anything "unnecessary" (am I the only one who here who is accepting of the fact that IT'S ME. I'M THE PROBLEM. Anyone?). After we get the results of that back, I will take the progesterone and then Clomid and then we'll get it on and BOOM! we'll be preggers. Right?
Hope so.
So that's where we are now. I have to figure out the logistics of the SA and then we'll be on our way!

I mean business.

Sorta. I called my Dr.'s office today, and after starting my rehearsed griping and being put on hold about 5 times, I finally got it out that I NEED SOME FREAKIN HELP HERE LADY!! Receptionist (who is overworked and underpaid, imho) was in agreement with me that something sounds off and that I should hold off on taking more progesterone until after I talk with my Dr. She even included in the note that I think taking the progesterone is masking the actual problem and that something may be wrong! Her note may look something like this:
Dear Dr. H:
Please call Mrs. Joe back. She is a hypochondriac and is babbling on about wanting to conceive a child before Mr. Joe's friends do. I think she may be a psychopath. You'd better hurry.
She made me an appt for this Friday and said that she would have her call me back . . .but that was at 11 and its 4 now. I doubt she will call. That's okay though we'll have plenty to discuss on Friday!!

To pee or not to pee?

I love getting mail. One of the coolest things about owning your own home is that all the mails that come to your house are for you! Yesterday was a glorious day because I recieved a special package I had been waiting for from one of the sweet bloggers that I read. She sent me 10 (TEN!!) tests that she was selling, since she is patiently waiting for a miracle daughter from Russia and no longer has a need to pee on such things.
I however, have a deep and aching need to pee on as many tests as my grubby hands can get on.
This is a serious problem friends. Back in the beginning of last year, when we were "just seeing what would happen" if Mr. Joe and I weren't "careful", being late and seeing negative tests were no big deal. I would chalk the negatives up to bad timing and move on. Life was fine, I wasn't obessing and negative tests were just a sign that this time wasn't our time. Until THE CHANGE.
I can almost pinpoint the time THE CHANGE took place. We were at Disney, and I was surrounded by BABIES! and CHILDREN! and my head was swimming with all the super cute things I was seeing. Now, Disney World has always been a special place for me. My family vacationed there every year while I was growing up (which was prolly why my siblings and I had no college savings plan whatsoever, but who needs education?) and the memories I have from those vacations are some of my happiest. Seeing those young families reminded me of the time, and made my heart ache for babies to share my obsession love with.
That ache quickly moved south to my empty uterus. At first, it was a dull ache, only making itself know every now and then. Two of Mr. Joe's cousins became pregnant and the ache became more prevalent. I wanted to be the first to have a great grandbaby for Nama! Nevermind that neither of them were married. Mr. Joe and I can do this! Let's get going! I attempted to chart. I acted as sexy as I could around the times that I thought I was ovulating. Negative tests were frustrating.
Then my brother died. I had been due for AF the week that he passed, and the possiblity of carrying life inside me was sustaining me while I tried to hold my parents together. I remember sobbing in the hotel bathroom two weeks later (while in FL for his service) as I felt two losses: the first being my big brother, my personal comedian and confidant; the second, the baby that never was. I desperately wanted to give my family some happy news after all the sadness that came with my brother's illness and passing. I wanted to know that life could go on. The ache became ever-present and deep. Peeing on those tests became an obession and a source of great sadness.
Here I am tonight, with 10 fresh tests sitting in front of me. They want me to pee on them. They are calling to me. I have to pee badly. I have been holding it the entire time I have been writing this post, trying to decide what to do.
Tonight, I am 30 days late. I don't know if I ovulated because I think you need a PhD to properly read those OPK strips, but if I did at the time that I thought I had a positive, then there is a good chance that I might get a plus sign. I know I told myself I wouldn't test until the 29th. The end of the month. The make-it-or-break-it date for my ute to either bleed or incubate a babyJoe. I have never been a patient girl and my part of me is screaming inside, "PEE ON ONE FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD LADY!!! (that might actually be my bladder screaming at me. I am on the verge of peeing my pants while I make a decision)" The other part of me is terrified that it will be negative again and I will be one negative test closer to marching down to my Dr.'s and demanding that she confirm my ability to have a baby. I don't know how I will handle the answer. If I am this neurotic about ttc now, how will I be if I have a definite IF diagnosis????
ETA: Y'all knew I would POAS right?? Well I did, and whatdyaknow, it's a BFN. WTF?? FML! AND VARIOUS OTHER ABBREVS! I think I'll just sleep on the LazyBoy tonight to avoid waking Mr. Joe as I cry myself to sleep. I miss my brother. I can't become pregnant. I hate this.