Going to see an RE next week

Here is a post from my journal today.  One odd thing that's going on is I have started using OPKs and they have grown fainter the last three days instead of stronger, and I should be having a surge by tomorrow.  Have no idea what this means.

3:03 PM

So after a day of phone calls and e-mails back and forth, finally tracked down this Dr. X at a clinic other than Kaiser (I guess because I’m not covered for fertility I can’t go there…who knows).  So set up an appointment at this X fertility place.  I think the lady on the phone didn’t like me so much after I asked how much it was going to cost for the initial consultation and when she told me $350 I gasped, “Good God!”  I am still wondering if it’s worth it – after all, he can’t tell me anything from the first consultation.  I asked the lady if I should wait until after my labs are run in two weeks and she said no, just come in.  So I have an appointment Tuesday.  I’m glad I can get in so soon – but at the same time, nervous because I am spending a hell of a lot of money probably just to be told “well, we need to run those Day 3 labs” (no shit).  If that’s the case, then this will be yet another instance of getting wrong information, going through with a whole paperwork extravaganza and another expense only to be told “we can’t tell you anything.”  Sounds like fun!

There was something oddly comforting about filling out all those forms, though, and being able to check “no” for just about everything.  I thought of all the women who have had to check “yes” to a bunch of physical problems, also having to write the amount of time they’ve been trying (I can honestly say “none”).  I also get a perverse kick about leaving all the “spouse” and sex part empty.  When they ask if you have pain after or during sex, I feel like writing, “ummm…what sex?”  The few times I’ve been asked in person about my “partner” I never feel funny or ashamed when I say, “Oh, I don’t have one,” I find myself saying it loud and proud, almost daring them to have a problem with that.  So far nobody has.

So at least I’ll have the results of my Friday ultrasound to bring the person.  They say the office visit can run about an hour, so maybe for once I can have a nice long chat and ask stuff I’m dying to know, such as: can birth control really jack you up this badly for this long or am I using it as an excuse?  Isn’t it possible to ovulate and have low progesterone – as in, women get pregnant with low progesterone, so how do we know my low progesterone means no ovulation?  What does my thin lining/light periods mean?  Should I take Clomid or something else to kick start ovulation if I am in fact not ovulating?  Is there anything you can tell me right now that I don’t have to wait for FSH levels to find out? And here’s your check.

I’m trying to justify the costs by telling myself I could easily spend that much in one shopping spree at Anthropologie.  But honestly that $350 is going to KILL ME right now.  If they tell me they can’t tell me anything until my Day 3 labs are run and I should come back in two weeks, I just might have to kill THEM.

"Ovulation" countdown

So I am now on “ovulation” countdown 4/2011.  I say “ovulation” now because apparently what’s happening to me is not actually ovulation but my body faking me out and pretending to ovulate.  So I had some signs yesterday (right on schedule) and have begun the fun pee-on-a-stick (or “POAS” as they call it in fertility land) daily ritual, waiting for that surge.  I hope I actually “ovulate” on Friday when I’m due to have my ultrasound.  Not because I think we’ll be able to try (this is extremely unlikely) but because I want to see what my lady parts look like when it’s pretending to ovulate, not a day later as with my last ultrasound.  I’m just curious.  And there is that little part of me that thinks this is my month, this is the month when the birth control and weird travel bugs will finally have worn off and I will for real ovulate.  But I don’t have my hopes up for that.

Lately I’ve been filling this waiting time by reading blogs.  I’ve never read blogs in my life before, but now I’m drawn to them for obvious reasons.  I think the thing I’m amazed by is just how many women are doing this – and having problems.  But I guess if you’re not having problems you’re not blogging; you’re busy being a happy Choice Mom, enjoying your easy pregnancy, not finding the need to vent online.  It’s kind of like my WTE app.  All the women on there are having problems conceiving and need to talk to other women having the same problems.  The ones who get and stay pregnant move on to the pregnancy boards.  So it may look like everyone has issues; but we’re not hearing from the women without issues.  I try to keep that in perspective.

I’m amazed by how similar our stories are, though.  I was all in a huff because the clinic wasn’t open Sundays and was giving me mixed messages about ovulating/not ovulating, contradicting blood tests, etc, and I haven’t even tried yet.  Turns out this is just the tip of the iceberg.  A common theme on these blogs is having to change clinics because they infuriate you, changing donors because they turn out to be no good, tests that say things that turn out to be untrue and/or irrelevant, health issues that need to be addressed first for months before being able to try (could have been me with the hypothyroid issue that turned out to be false), and then of course the many, many tries, sometimes followed by nothing, sometimes followed by a miscarriage.  Reading these blogs makes you wonder how anyone ever has a healthy baby.  And yet everyone I know has healthy babies. 

It makes me wonder about the handful of older women I know without children.  If we’ve talked about it, many say they made the choice and have no regrets.  And I believe them.  But I wonder if I’d tell people that ten, twenty years from now - would I admit I’d done all this?  Would I tell someone I didn’t know very well that I spent a year or two of my life in my late thirties/early forties desperately trying to have a baby on my own, bankrupting myself and driving myself to the brink of insanity, only to fail?  Would I?  Or would I just try to come off as a serene independent woman who never felt that motherly twinge, just so we can all be more comfortable?  I wonder.

Another common theme I’ve discovered on the “single and trying” blogs is the issue of control.  Most women admit they’re control freaks (I actually believe most people in the world are control freaks.  I’d say, like, 80%) and this whole issue of fertility drives them nuts because they have no control over it, and they’re not used to that, in this highly evolved world where most things are now wrested under control.  And I feel that, absolutely.  But I’m no stranger to that ugly feeling of being out of control, knowing there’s nothing you can do, and having to just sit around and wait, because that to me is exactly how dating was.  I just wanted a nice husband, but I had to wait around for some man to (slow zoom in on his entranced face) fall madly in love with me and decide I was “the one”….which never happened.  So this maddening, frustrating, “why can’t I do something to just force this to happen” feeling is VERY familiar to me.  It’s not a shock.  But it doesn’t exactly jibe with the whole “I’m taking charge of my fertility” empowerment feeling choosing to be a single mother should have.  Well, I guess it would be this way, if you didn’t have fertility problems.  And as I write this, I may actually not – I still may get pregnant in the next few months.  But I might not. 

One comforting thought I often tell myself is, “even if you were married all of this would still be happening.”  Being in a relationship sure doesn’t save you from infertility, it just drags another person into the mix.  If I were married and trying, I would not be as proactive because I’d be one of those people who would want it to “just happen” and wouldn’t want to get all clinical right away.  I also wouldn’t be as aware of the stats and would think I had years to work all of this out, which I now know is not true.  And at least I can endure the pain of future BFNs on my own.  I have to say I much prefer that to having a husband around waiting for that pregnancy test result, and then wanting to protect his feelings as well as deal with my own, and not wanting to make him feel like a failure but secretly wondering if the problem is in fact him and not me.  All of that stuff.  At least I can say “it’s definitely me” and get aggressive now before it’s too late. 

Another comforting thought I have is at least as a single woman I can actually do this.  I think often of my younger cousin and what an awesome dad he’d be, and how I know he just wants a nice family, but hasn’t met the right girl.  See, he has to find some woman to have a baby with.  And she could turn out to be a psycho, or could decide she’s “not in love anymore” and then he’s relegated to seeing his precious children every other weekend.  You have to admit, that’s pretty fucked up.  I on the other hand, because I have the right parts, *might* get to make my own biological children and not have some other person involved wrecking everything.  So as much as there are things about being a woman in this world that kind of blow, I have to admit this part is great.  Well, assuming you don’t have fertility problems.  Then it’s not so great.

Reviews of Choice Mom movies

For the record, I’ve only seen three, and all of these in the last couple of months as part of my “research”, knowing full well that none of these movies intended to really be about the journey to choice motherhood but more about relationships between men and women or women and other women.  However, here are my impressions and how they relate to how I’ve been feeling lately.

The Back-up Plan

The first one I saw was The Back-Up Plan which was probably the lamest and most infuriating, even though I watched it on an airplane fully expecting to be annoyed by it (and I was).  My number one complaint about rom-coms is the “meet cute” moment (the moment where the couple meets).  This moment almost always includes a slow zoom-in close-up of the man’s face as he instantly falls in love with the (invariably) bitchy female protagonist the first time he sees her.  Now, I don’t know about you, but I have never felt that way about anyone.  Well, except once in high school when I first saw this guy named Jude who had a guitar slung across his back and looked just like James Dean.  Can you blame me???

Anyway, I stupidly watched The Back-Up Plan with the idea I would get some helpful information out of it – that it would explore Jennifer Lopez’ character’s feelings about becoming a Choice Mom, follow her fertility treatments, or her feelings about pregnancy.  Nope.  The only truthful moment in this movie for me was when she’s having the IUI and looks at her toes and thinks, “I should have gotten a pedi for this.”  After that the entire movie is pretty much about this unbelievably hot guy with the politically correct career (I believe it was artisanal cheese maker) who chases her down and won’t be put off no matter how mean she is to him, or the fact that she’s carrying a stranger’s baby.  Sure, every guy chases us to the ends of the earth, right?  That’s why we’re here using donor sperm to have a baby.  For the last twelve years I haven’t even been able to get a guy to call me back after one coffee date.  Give me a break.

The Switch

Now I love Jason Bateman and somewhat enjoy watching Jennifer Anniston, so I actually liked the movie even though it did some things that annoyed me.  These things were the obligatory men-talking-to-other-men-about-relationships scenes which we all know never happen in real life (the sounding board in this movie being Jeff Goldblum, whose character exists only to tell Jason Bateman what an idiot he is.  I think I liked him better in the ‘I forgot my mantra” days).  Also the conception party concept – which I now know would be completely impossible in real life, with how down to the wire these things really are; imagine getting fifty people to your house for a party on a few hours’ notice?  I couldn’t even get my kitchen floor mopped in time for that, much less plan an insemination.  And then there’s the general premise of the whole movie – the idea that Bateman always has and always will love Anniston, but just can’t get around to telling her, even after she has a stranger’s baby, even after she moves away and then moves back (oh yes, and the description of this movie says she’s a 40 year old woman who decides to have a baby on her own.  So, let me get this straight – a 40 year old woman who magically has no fertility issues does a home insemination and hits it the first time with no problems?  Umm…hello?  Has this ever happened in the history of the world?  And then seven years go by and we’re supposed to believe Anniston is 47 years old.  What?).  So of course at the end of the movie he finally admits his feelings and they get together.  You’re going to tell me Anniston never wanted to punch his lights out for making her go through all this just to end up exactly as they would have a decade earlier, and now it’s too late to have more kids and his son didn’t know him the first seven years of his life?  I would have punched his lights out.

This movie had one amazingly truthful moment in it.  It’s during the “conception party” where Anniston goes off into a room to have a quiet moment and Bateman comes in to talk to her.  She says she knows she’s supposed to feel empowered and excited, but in reality she just feels sad.  If I ever get to have my moment of “trying”, I have to admit I may feel the same way.

The Kids Are All Right

I watched this movie last night and I have to say I really dug it.  It was intelligent (very few movies are) and thoughtful. 

One moment that was sort of shocking to me was when the son says to his half-sister that he thought the donor dad was kind of full of himself.  This thought is then echoed by the other mom, Annette Benning.  I’m so used to these douchey-30-something-motorcycle-driving-organic-eating-wine-loving- “I’m a doer”-type guys that I just assumed all guys are like that – aren’t all single 30-something guys just totally self-involved, smug, self-important pricks?  Every one I’ve ever met is.  And they’re not even going over the top to present this character negatively – he’s actually very human.  And yet I was surprised that he was criticized because to me he’s every guy.  Hmmm.

I loved that Annette Benning yells at him, “We need you like I need a dick in my ass!”  I loved that the kids didn’t really need him, especially the son.  I loved that he decides he does want to grow up and have a family of his own, and the co-worker he’s been banging says, “fuck you,” and walks out (I probably would have cried and thought, “why doesn’t he want all that with me?  Wahhh!”).  I loved that the kids brought such meaning into his life and made him re-evaluate himself.  I loved that Annette Benning says to him, “If you want a family so bad, make one yourself.”  That’s what I want to do, make a family.  Will I be able to?  We’ll see.  But definitely see this movie.  Of all the donor sperm-choice mom-relationship movies it’s by far the best.

Spring will be a little late this year

Been wracking my brain to come up with something fun, pithy, and entertaining to write about today, but I think it’s best to just be honest, because (hopefully) honesty is something you come to this blog for.  So here it is.  I feel like crap.

Again, nothing new has happened to make me feel this way.  No new information has come to light to suddenly knock me down.  I’ve just had a couple of scary thoughts that have really gotten into the core of my being and I can’t seem to shake them.  So here they are, in all their ugliness:

Read a fellow blogger who wrote about having a “Plan C” if this Plan B (single motherhood) doesn’t work out.  Her Plan C is to go back to school.  This is a good Plan C.  However, this is not an option for me.  For me really Plan C is adoption, but like most women struggling with fertility, even thinking about adoption right now makes me incredibly depressed, because it assumes I’ll fail at even this most basic function of having my own baby, after having failed in my other function, which is to find a mate.  So, I love you, adoption, I think you’re great and I’m so glad you exist, but I need to pretend you don’t right now.  I know you’ll understand.

For some reason I’ve had this thought a lot lately – if I weren’t doing this right now, what would I be doing?  Let’s say it’s spring of 2011 and for whatever reason I was not considering having a baby on my own, or having kids at all.  What would I be planning for myself?  What would I be looking forward to?  The answer to all this is such a big fat blank that it scares me.  One thing I know in life is everyone needs something to look forward to.  Whether it’s a vacation, Christmas, seeing an old friend, a trip to the beach, whatever – you need to have landmarks to base your hopes on.  And I hate to say it, but without a child in my life I kind of feel like I have nothing to look forward to.  I’m broke now (after losing a consulting job that at first was back on but is now back off) so I can’t travel anymore.  Ditto doing the many home repairs I still need (just discovered my porch is being eaten away by termites.  Wondering how much more damage they’ll do until I can afford to fix it) which historically has kept me busy (last spring was spent entirely with contractors at the house doing something nearly every day).  There are no more event planning opportunities – I can barely drag people out of their houses by their fingernails to get them to come to my one event that’s been going fourteen years; I have no intention of trying to get people to come out to some new thing (and I tried this last fall and lost a ton of money).  The band hardly ever plays locally anymore – after years of four to eight gigs a month, now we’re lucky if we play even once a month (which also means my income from the band, which used to be thousands, is now practically nonexistent).   So a lot of things have stopped, mellowed out, and folded in on themselves.  A lot of my former activities have dried up.  Which is much of the reason now is a great time to have a baby.  And yet.

I have no idea about a Plan C.  Oh, I’m sure if forced I could come up with something – we humans are adaptable that way.  I’d create some new business or come up with some new hobby or start working on the house myself or travel to do volunteer work or something.  I know this is a big wide world and there’s lots for single childless people to do.  But honestly, I’m exhausted.  I’ve spent decades entertaining myself and constantly having to come up with new activities to keep myself from being bored.  I’m sick of it. 

So one issue is the lack of a Plan C, and the other is a bit more disturbing to me, which is the unpleasant reality that even if I get my heart’s desire – a real, live, healthy baby – which at this moment seems so wonderful I can hardly stand it – this doesn’t take away the fact that no man ever chose me.  In fact, that child’s very existence proves the fact that hey, no one ever wanted to have a baby with me, so I “had to” take this route to motherhood.  It all seems so second rate.  I know this is a terrible thought, but I’m being honest.  Again, memories of my friend’s picture perfect wedding comes to mind – that’s what every woman wants; nobody wants this.  We’re just forced into it by circumstances.  Having to be a partner-less parent.  And I know marriages are no piece of cake, and I know parenting with a partner has its disadvantages.  But the simple fact that very few women go out and make this choice until they’ve had to tells me that this is nobody’s first choice.  It’s something we’re forced to do, at the last minute, after a lifetime of heartbreak and disappointment.  And right now I find that all incredibly depressing. 

So depressing that I am seriously considering getting into some therapy.  The only thing preventing me is the money.  If it were free I would do it in a second.  But I am completely broke at the moment until the event money starts coming in, which it won’t for about two more months, and hopefully by then I’ll at least be trying or treating something and be on some kind of path, which at the moment I’m not.  I will look into it, though.  I know I need it now because I’m finding I can no longer lift this veil of depression on my own, and with things going the way they’re going with all this fertility stuff, I really may need someone who’s paid to listen to me complain.  Or who can at least tell me to look at things in a different way, which I seemed able to about a week ago until all of this started crashing down on me.

This song showed up on my Ipod while shuffling through songs the other day and it seems to match my mood lately:

Spring will be a little late this year
A little late arriving, in my lonely world over here
For you have left me and where is our April love old
Yes you have left me and winter continues cold
As if to say that spring will be a little slow to start
A little slow reviving that music it made in my heart
Cause time heals all things, so I needn't cling to this fear
It's merely that spring will be a little late this year
Yes time heals all things so I needn't cling to this fear
It's merely that spring will be a little late this year

Blah blah blah ovaries blah blah blah uterus

Hello all - I've begun to even bore myself with all this fertility talk.  So instead of more wondering about what's going on in my nether regions, I thought I would share what I consider a totally amazing blog post by another choice mom.  This is SO how I hope to feel one day.  Have a look:

I Got My Period and No One Cares