Togged again...

A while back, I was blog tagged by Molly to write about what I'd be if I weren't myself. Fun assignment! I dutifully togged a couple of other folks, including Ova Girl. Ova Girl wrote a delightful response, and in the process, tagged me back. I have been completely and utterly remiss in answering, although I never forgot about it. Now that I'm just wasting away on bcp (actually, doing whatever the opposite of wasting is), and have nothing relevant to say, I figured I'd finally complete my assignment, which was to answer some questions about books:

1) Total number of books I’ve owned:

That’s a tough question. At the moment, I probably have around 100 in my house, coz it’s little and we don’t have that much space for bookshelves. Plus we’re eventually going to move into a bigger house, and books are heavy! Over my lifetime, I’d probably say around 500? I was such a nerd as a kid I actually used to spend my allowance to buy books, as well as taking them out of the library. As a youngster my favorite books were all the British series about kids at boarding school – Mallory Towers was one of them, I can’t remember the names of the others (if you know, please do remind me!). Also Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. What fun! After we moved to the US, my two fav series were the sweet valley high books, partly because they gave me a glimpse of the life of the cool kids I’d never be(en) privy to, and the Xanth series by Piers Anthony. Lots of magic and nifty stuff like that.

2)Last book I bought:

Harry Potter. But that’s boring. So I’ll tell you about the book previous to that – Don Quixote by Cervantes. Why, you ask? Well, I truly feel that my literary education was lacking. I went to an excellent high school which provided a much more college-like education than your typical secondary school, in the sense that there were only a few core classes one was required to take, then the remainder were electives. You had to take four years of English, three of math, three of science (or something like that), but there were a lot of different choices in each of those fields. So I chose classes like Shakespeare, Irish literature, Contemporary literature… where I read a lot of good books, but never the classics. No Charles Dickens, no Emily Bronte, none of the books that are referred to in so many different contexts. And I’ve regretted it ever since. A few months ago I came across the book “A Well Educated mind”. Exactly what I was looking for – a road map, teaching me first about the genesis of the contemporary novel and tracing its evolution, and second, how to really read a book to discover what the author is really trying to say, rather than just reading superficially for the story, which is my usual modus operandi. The first book recommended for this literary self-education was Don Quixote. I bought it on our trip to South Africa in Feb/Mar, finally finding it after looking in about ten different bookstores. Of course now I’m only on about pg. 50. But I do eventually intend to read it.

3)Last book I read:

Gunpowder Empire by Harry Turtledove. Quick read, amusing story, but not a work of art by any means.

4)5 books that mean a lot to me.

Mean a lot to me? I’m not quite sure how to take that. So I’ll just tell you about my all time favorites. Lord of the Rings. Tried to read it for the first time when I was twelve. Didn’t make it. Finally got through on my third try at fifteen, and have probably re-read the trilogy four or fives times since then. Ender’s Game (and the rest of the series, but EG is by far the best) by Orson Scott Card. Fantastic story. If you like sci-fi/fantasy and haven’t already read it, it’s a must. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. M had been after me to read it for a while, to try and explain some of his libertarian viewpoints to me, a bleeding heart liberal. Extremely thought provoking. That’s all I can come up with at the moment.

Despite my firm conviction from the time my e2 dropped precipitously through my negative HPTs, that there was no chance that I was pregnant after my IUI, it still hit me like a ton of bricks when that result was confirmed. Unfortunately, failure has been a common thread amongst IUIers over the past month, with similar ensuing devastation (okay, devastation may be going a bit too far). Even though we do our best not to get our hopes up, somehow it seems impossible not to. The everlasting resilence of the human spirit. Or something.

I realized mid last week that there were two reasons this failure hit me so hard. First, although I wasn't expecting to get pregnant right away, I had been imagining that at this point I'd have been trying for six months, which is the amount of time it takes regular folk fertile myrtyles your average crack whore to get pregnant, so it was pretty reasonable for me to expect to be at this point. Not counting on cysts or dim-witted doctors or mutant sperm or the natural cussedness of the universe, of course.

Second, I'd started giving up. Baby-making the regular way went out the window a long time ago, when my stupid body forgot how to ovulate. Step one down. No Clomid for me - stupid body doesn't know how to make estrogen. Step two out of the way. So now I'm on step three (gonadotropins), and after three failures here, people usually move on to IVF. So I'm at the end of that road. With three out of four steps down the tubes (yes, pun intended. Bad one, I know.) I was already giving up on success with IVF. And after IVF there was nothing, because M had said that he did not want to pursue any other options, such as surrogacy or adoption.

Once I realized that I was feeling so incredibly sad because I was envisioning a future without any child(ren) at all, I decided I should talk to M about it. He'd been really worried about me, and kept asking if there was anything he could do to make me feel better. So rather than continuing down the bleak road I was on, I told him what I was thinking. He still thinks I'm being way overly dramatic and that we still have a lot of options to try, but did say that he would be willing to consider other paths if ART doesn't work for us. Which gave me back the future I'd imagined.

So I'm still a bit sad from time to time, I hate that I'm back on bcp again (especially because I've gained three pounds in as many days although definitely not eating nearly enough food to do that), but overall I've regained a sense of hope for the future. We're going to try another IUI or two, then if those don't work, IVF in January when my insurance will cover it. (Notice I said if, not when the IUI's don't work... trying for a bit of optimism!)

Fuck

Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. FUCK! CD3 baseline u/s this morning. HUGE motherfucking cyst on my left ovary, 35x37mm. On BCP for the next four weeks (three weeks + one extra for vacation).

My sister is due 10/18. I really thought I'd be pregnant before she delivered. Fuck.

It's all over.....

Yeah, when you get a negative hpt 18dpi, you can be pretty much assured that you are not, in fact, pregnant. I think it does show that the pussaries are doing their job though!

The judicious use of pee sticks did help me keep hope in check, so I'm really alright at this point. Just wanna get on with our next try.

Thanks for all your hope and kind thoughts, very much appreciated.

Going nuts

Okay, now I'm 17 dpi (18 dpOvidrel, when CB showed last time) and no sign of the Bitch. However, P-stick this morning was the same lovely shade of stark white. And my temps have been steadily declining, from 98.4 this past weekend to 97.7 today. WTF???

The H-bitch is trying to come out again...

Get back in your hole, bitch!

And Hope was beaten into submission by the stark whiteness that was the space where a second line should be.

I needed to put her back in her place. It hurts less if you don't even let yourself dream.

12 dpi

After the IUI and my complete lack of symptoms, I was 99.99% convinced that this hadn't worked. And I was okay with that. I got my tears and my rage out on the day of the IUI. But then people said that 2ww symptoms don't mean anything, and the bitch hope started creeping out of her hole again. I think I'm going to POAS tomorrow (12dpi) just to put her back in her place.

Random musings

One thing I did find out when I saw the nurse on Tuesday was my e2 levels. 106 on day 7, 271 on day 10, 348 on day 11 (that's when they decided to drop the meds) and then 52 on day 13. I really don't understand why they decided to drop based on the 348. That doesn't seem high to me at all! I have an appointment with MY doc on 8/25, two days after CB should be in town, and I will definitely be asking her these questions before we start the next (and final IUI) cycle.

I have a wicked bad case of hamster head (yes, I did grow up in Mass.) I figured since I felt pretty much the same symptoms after both my previous IUIs (sore boobs, frequent pees, constipation), and I wasn't pg, that they were due to the hcg shot. So I was fully prepared to feel the same things this time, and to not even imagine I might be pg based on those unless they lasted longer than 12dpi.

Well, wouldn't you know, this time I feel nothing. NONE of those. So obviously it wasn't the hcg shot. Does that mean that both of the previous IUIs we did manage to conceive an embryo, but it just didn't implant? (Does that make me a murderer in the eyes of the Bush anti-abortionites? And if not, why is using an embryo for stem cell research murder?) What does THAT mean for the success of a possible future IVF? I supposed with our poor morphology (<4% normal), it could just be abnormalities that don't allow the embryo to live and that with IVF we could pick a good embryo that would manage to implant. Or not.

If you've had an hcg shot, have you felt pg symptoms?

I've also been reading The Beauty Myth, on the recommendation of a friend. I've only read a couple of chapters, and it's already making me think twice about people I see on TV etc. It's so ingrained that women have to be beautiful and attractive to look at in order to make what they say worthwhile, where with men looks really don't matter. There are some really ugly men out there who are high up in corporations, in the media, in sports - we totally take them seriously. Yet when there's a less than attractive woman, that's the first thing that we pay attention to. Not what she has to say, whether she's making a good point - it's all about 'wow, that's a hideous outfit' or 'my god, she's way too thin', 'would you look at the honker on her!', or, 'man, what did she do to her hair?'. I just think about how many times I've said that or thought that about a female, compared to how often the same thoughts have crossed my mind about a male, and it really makes me sick. It's so insidious and pervasive.

I skipped a few chapters and read the one entitled 'Hunger'. It talks about how a large percentage of women in our society basically live their lives in a state of semi-starvation. It mentions 1600 calories as a subsistence diet in poor countries where people can't afford more. Yet so many of the diet programs ask us to live on much less than that. When I lost weight last year I was eating 1500 calories a day, as well as 5-600 cal worth of exercise. No wonder I dropped 12 pounds in two weeks! I was totally starving myself. The book also talks about studies that have shown that that kind of semi-starvation can absolutely affect cognitive abilities. In other words, we're keeping ourselves down by starving our bodies and brains, to reach some 'ideal' weight. That's frightening. Yet it's also amazingly difficult to let go of the desire to attain that ideal.

And then I think about having a daughter, and how on earth to avoid putting those pressures on her?

Fallout

I had a really crappy day yesterday. Bookended by people telling me that I need to "just relax". HA! (Sorry, this is really long and rambly, I have lots of things to get off my chest).

Woke up, took my temperature. It was 97.7 on Monday, 97.5 yesterday. I.E. not up at all. ARGH! So I decided to go into the clinic and have them take my blood to check my progesterone level which they had done for me in my first cycle to find out if I ovulated or not. Doesn't help that I had a nasty dream where I was a medical miracle - the first person every to conceive inside her ovary, because my follicles didn't burst but somehow the sperm managed to get in there anyway.

I tried to call ahead to the clinic so they could have the forms ready for me when I arrived, but they never actually let you speak to a real person so I left a voice mail for the nurse, but just went in anyway. When I got there they were completely confused as to what to do. The receptionist said he would get the paperwork done for me, but then sat there at the desk for another fifteen minutes, doing heaven knows what, and ignoring me. Then the phlebotomist left. I tried to stop her, saying I needed to get my blood drawn, but Mr. Receptionist said I'd have to go to a different floor. okay. Tears start.

(I have never ever been this emotionally fragile in my whole life!)

After another ten minutes or so, the nurse calls me into the back. She starts telling me, "Oh, we don't need to draw blood until sixteen days after your IUI, if you haven't gotten your period". I try to explain to her that I want to know if I ovulated or not. She asks me what we would do if I haven't - answer is nothing. I just want to KNOW. More tears.

She was really sweet, gave me a hug, and took me into the back room to look at my records with me. She spent over half an hour talking to me, which honestly, was what I needed. That's something I've really missed - it would be really great to have a half hour appointment set up in the middle of the cycle just to talk about how things are going, and what the plans are. I hate being in the dark and not understanding what's being done and why. She told me that I need to just be a patient, and let the doctors be the doctors. She does have a point. BUT it's really hard to do that when I feel like the doctors fucked up. Then she segued into telling me that I really need to relax, and give this a chance to work. HAHAHAHAHA. She did mean it in the nicest possible way, but still.

And I also found out that MY doctor is on vacation. Which is why Dr. Business was making decisions about my treatment. I wish I had known that!

Mom and sis came over last night for dinner. More of Mom fussing over sis and basically ignoring me.

Then just before bed I was telling M about what had happened in the morning, and he too told me that I just need to relax. I know that it's really hard for him to see me so sad like this, and he keeps saying that he wants to help and that I should talk to him, but I just don't know what to say. I can't explain why I'm so upset. Except to you guys who understand all too well.

So I went to bed totally depressed, yet more tears.

I woke up this morning having had another dream - I was in the hospital, and delivered a beautiful baby girl. She was lying on my stomach, I was teaching her to feed, and telling her how much I loved her and that everything would be okay.

Maybe it will be. Maybe I do need to stop worrying so much.

IUI#3

Of the four doctors at the clinic I go to (well, if you include the resident, 'baby doc' it's five), I like Dr. Business the least. He's exactly that - all business. No friendly chit chat, just in and out. Literally and figuratively.

I'm pretty sure, based on the nurse saying after Thursday's scan "Dr. Business will look at your blood results and we'll call you back in the afternoon", that it was he who decided to drop my dosage.

So of course, he was the one doing my IUI yesterday. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. No joking around like with Dr. Handsome the last time, it felt very cold and impersonal. M managed to ask "Is it worth it to do another IUI tomorrow given that we just took the trigger shot last night" as he was on the way out the door - Dr. Business said no, as I had already started to ovulate. And that was that. Away he went. No discussion, no 'if it will make you feel better we can', nothing.

I burst into tears as soon as he left. I had such high hopes for this cycle, it really did seem to be going absolutely perfectly. And then to have him treat me like that, be so absolutely compassionate-less, just put the shit icing on the shit cake.

I know that it's still possible that this worked, but I am not holding my breath.

And I'm definitely going to ask to see my entire record before the next cycle because I want to know exactly what happened with this one, and why they made the decisions they did. One thing that I didn't pay much mind to when it happened was that at two of my ultrasounds, they asked me to confirm the meds I was taking - "Gonal-F, lupron" and one other thing. Both times I said "Um, no, I'm just taking Repronex". They said it was just a computer error. But that makes me wonder now - what exactly were they looking at when they decided to lower my dosage???

(Oh, and BTW - I was playing golf on Saturday when I took the call about my instructions for the night. I was on pace to shoot well under 100, which I have never done before (47 on the front nine). After I got the call I was so pissed off I totally fell apart and ended up shooting a 102. That'll teach me to use my cellphone on the golf course!!!)

Too good to be true.

I thought I was having a picture perfect, textbook cycle. And I was. Right up until they told me to decrease my dosage. Went in again this morning, and my follicles were pretty much the same size as they were on Thursday, as was my lining (up to 7mm today). Afternoon call said that I might already be ovulating because my estradiol had dropped (yeah, no shit dumbasses - what the hell do you think happens when you decrease the meds by 67%????). So I'm supposed to do the trigger shot tonight, and then go in for an IUI tomorrow (instead of the usual 36 hours, which would be Monday).

I am really really angry. With them AND with myself. I feel like I should have questioned what they were doing more - I've read too many stories of people's dosage being dropped and things getting fucked up.

Has anyone had their dosage dropped and NOT had a subsequent problem?

I think I'm going to demand an IUI on Monday as well. Hopefully cover more bases. But if everything has stalled (as it seems to have) and I don't end up with any mature eggs, it doesn't matter how much damn sperm is in there.

Fuck. And I will say that for Thalia too. And a big triple fuck you, universe, up yours, you scum sucking asswipe, for Megan.

It's always something.

Not bad news, per se. But always something to fret about.

Latest u/s showed three dominant follicles, 2 at 14mm and one at 12. Dr. Sweet said we'd probably trigger on Sat and IUI on Mon (looks like we're going to be just a few hours apart, T). I also found out that yesterday's e2 was 271.

Then this afternoon the nurse called and told me to drop my dose down to HALF a vial and that I should come in again on Sat. Of course I yet again forgot to ask about my e2. The nurse who normally calls me just tells me, this one who's covering for her on vacation needs to be asked. And I can never remember to do that!.

I don't know why they're dropping my dosage so much when they haven't done that for the previous cycles. And of course I forget to ask that as well. Why is it that when the nurse calls I'm so flipping nervous or something that I can't remember any of the very relevant questions that I want to ask? And then I call back and have to leave a message and they hardly ever get back to me until the next day. Anyone else with the same missing brain syndrome?

So instead of 1/2 vial, I did 2/3. Screw 'em.

Continued good news... (Please, let's keep it coming!)

Lining 6.5mm, two follicles on the right at 13mm, one 13mm and one 12mm on the left. I've never actually had follicles grow on the left side before, so I feel like that's a good sign. I forgot to ask what my e2 was, but it must have shot up quite a bit because they told me to drop my dose for tonight from 1.5 down to 1 vial, and come in for another u/s tomorrow morning. Which is going to be interesting because I will have to squeeze it in between ice hockey (6:30-7:30) and my acupuncture appointment at 8:30. I'm thinking I'm going to have to leave hockey early so I can shower and make the 7:45 u/s appointment. And I'll probably be late for the acupuncture.

They haven't said anything yet, but I'm guessing I'll trigger on Friday and do the IUI on Sunday. I was worried last cycle with 3-4 follicles about multiples (hahahahahaahaha. hahahahah. Oh, I do crack myself up!). No worries this time. Bring on the follies!

I really can't believe how quickly this is happening. Responding 'normally' to these drugs is such a nice change!

In which cycle #3 actually goes somewhere!!!

I'm almost in shock. Had my CD7 u/s today, after four nights of Repronex, and had three decent size (9,10,11mm) follicles. And my lining was at 5mm, which is way thicker than at this point in either of my previous two cycles. I was not getting my hopes up though, after the disappointment of my last cycle (taking twenty, yes, two-zero days to stim) after what I thought was a relatively good CD7 u/s.

But, got the call this afternoon to say that my e2 is already over 100! Woo-hoo!

So I really do think that it took me so long last cycle because of the lingering effects of the bcp. (Or maybe my head is on a little straighter this time?)

Again, don't want to get my hopes too far up, but this may mean we can even do our next IUI as early as this weekend instead of mid-August. *grin*

And cycle #3 begins. and other thoughts.

U/s this morning. Not fantastic, but not nearly as bad as my cancelled cycle (3 26-27mm cysts). One 16mm cyst on my right ovary + a couple of smaller ones, and a few on the left. Baby Doc (new kid, doing his residency at my clinic) had them draw blood to check my e2 level, and as that was not still high I got to start my injections again tonight. Woo-hoo!

I also had an intake appointment with an accupuncturist today. I figure it can't hurt, right? We went through a very long Q&A session, then she treated me for about half an hour. She also said she'd want to see me right before and right after my next IUI. I'm gonna keep hoping...

While I was waiting for her I was reading a woman's health book that was in the waiting room. There were a couple of sections on amenorrhea. Also food for thought. It mentioned that a lot of women with amenorrhea have deep seated fears of being female or looking too female, that can come from childhood traumas and repressed memories, as well as the body images that are portrayed by the media.

I've always thought that I'm not affected by the supermodels, actresses etc - you know, I'm too strong to be swayed by those images. I know who I am and what I want and I just like the way I look and feel when I'm thin. But one thing that's really stuck with me is I distinctly remember watching Star W@rs "@ttack of the Cl0nes", the battle scene at the end where Nata1ie P0rtman is up on top of the pole and thinking how incredible her abs looked and how much I wanted to look like that. So I lost 15 pounds and did look like that. For a little while anyway. But obviously I'm totally fooling myself that I'm not affected by the images of thin-ness in the media, and the much more child-like body type that is the ideal. I've been completely hating the way I look and feel recently, none of my pants fit anymore, I don't like what I see in the mirror... but I realize that really my body just looks more womanly and less like a teenage girl, and that is NOT a bad thing. I am NOT a teenage girl anymore, so why do I feel the need to look like one? I need to be okay with that. I have to suck it up, go out and buy some new clothes so I don't feel constricted, so that I don't look like my clothes don't fit, and that will probably help.

On the other issue, childhood memories, I was abused in my early teen years. Not seriously, I wasn't raped, but enough that I had intimacy issues for a long time, and it caused some serious strain with my college boyfriend.

This guy, a friend of a family friend, had recently lost his job and needed a place to stay for a little while. We were going back to South Africa to visit our family there over the Christmas holidays, so my parents asked him to house-sit for us. When we got back from our trip, he still didn't have a place to go, so my parents let him stay with us for a while until he got back on his feet. I think they just didn't feel right about kicking him out, they were definitely way too nice. He ended up living in our spare bedroom for over two years!

He was a real wierdo. He used to wear either a towel or a tee-shirt wrapped around his head pretty much all the time because he didn't like his hair. He never had a job, he would go around and look after various people's houses while they were away, but that was about it. He was totally into playing the lottery and doing all those stupid promotions that the radio stations ran. There was one that happened every year, the station would mail 'tickets' to people's houses, and if your number was called you won a prize. He would go to the post office and dig through the trash to collect as many as he could. We did actually win a video camera one year from him doing that. Still have a tape of me and my sis calling into the radio station to claim it.

I'm finding that I'm having a hard time getting to the point. My heart is pounding, my hands are clammy... I've told three people in my life about this. My college bf, M, and my sis, who went through parts of it with me. And I realize now that I haven't told any of them about all of it.

My parents trusted him with us. He would 'babysit' us - although we were old enough to be left alone to a point, I think they liked having an adult there. He would take us swimming, drive us other places... He would also give us back massages. He would have us put on leotards. I don't know how it happened, but after a while he would start not only rubbing us outside, but also going up inside the leotards, rubbing our buttocks and thighs.

Honestly, writing this down, I really can't believe that we thought that was okay. I read it now and I'm completely appalled at how incredibly inappropriate that was. Unfortunately, though, that wasn't the end of it.

I definitely remember not wanting to be around him, but for some reason that is completely unknown to me at this point, we didn't tell our parents. Maybe we just didn't see anything wrong with it?

He would talk to me about growing older and sex and marriage. He told me about how good it felt when you met someone special and were intimate with them. It's all kind of hazy, but I remember him talking about how you could use your tongue, and lick the person all over and how good that felt. I particularly hated being alone with him in the car - he wouldn't talk about that stuff when my sis was around because I was the older one, and she was too young for that kind of talk.

I was most frightened one time when he took me to another place he was house-sitting at (I think my parents had finally kicked him out at this point, but somehow he was still coming by the house and doing things with us). He wanted me to do an Indian 'coming of age' ceremony with him. Something that he had experienced out west when he was living on a reservation for a while, or something like that. It involved a 'special tea', peppermint patties (because of some chemical reaction with the tea), both of us stripping down to our underwear, and sitting on the floor meditating. I was absolutely terrified that he was going to rape me. I went through the motions, doing what he told me to do, drinking the fucking tea and nibbling on the peppermint patty, all the while trying to think of how I could get away if he tried to do something. The 'ceremony' also involved touching. I don't think he actually touched me 'down there', but definitely in the near vicinity. I was giggling, saying I was ticklish. He told me that I had to learn to get over that for when I had a boyfriend and he touched me there. It was, of course, much more of a nervous giggle - what the hell was I supposed to do? Eventually he realized how uncomfortable I was and asked me what was wrong and I told him that I was afraid he was going to try and have sex with me. He said of course not, this was all just part of the 'ceremony'.

After that, I never ever wanted to be alone with him again. I don't think I was but I don't remember how I managed it. And then finally he stopped coming around.

I've seen him a few times since then. I've always just avoided him - he still wears the fucking towel on his head so you can see him from a mile away and duck around the corner. Last time was probably ~10 years ago.

I know that he has house-sat for other people with kids, and I often wonder if they experienced the same things. Sometimes I feel guilty, like I should go to the police or something so that he can't do this to anyone else, but it was so long ago I don't know if they'd be able to do anything at this point.

I've still never told my mom. There's nothing that she could do about it now, and I think it would rip her heart out to know that this was going on and she and my dad didn't see it and kept exposing us to it over and over again. And I wonder now why we didn't say anything at the time? I realize now how completely wrong it all was, why could I not see it back then?

I know absolutely that it affected my relationship with my college bf. I managed to work through it with him, and I haven't had the same issues with M. But now I wonder if this is part of what's going on with me now - in some ways I shun my own femaleness because that's what the pervert was after. That plus the media - maybe there is a mind/body connection here, and although I like to think of myself as strong and able to get past all of this, subconciously I'm not okay.

Writing all this down I've remembered so many more things than what I have been telling myself happened. I had forgotten about him talking to me about how men and women can be together, the whole tongue thing, my giggling when he touched me and him telling me I'd need to get over that... Maybe I have repressed it all a lot more than I thought. Is recognizing it enough?

Australia, here we come?

I'm in a tizzy! M just got offered a position within his company that would involve a move to Australia for 2-3 years. It's a definite step up for him, the "international management" experience that will look great on his resume and definitely open up some doors later on. My job is 90% computer based, so I could totally work from there, and in fact my company does have a small sales office in Sydney so I'd even have a place to call 'work'.

We visited Australia for two weeks in '03, Sydney for a week and then Perth to visit some relatives I have there. Absolutely loved it, and we've always said since then that if we were to move anywhere, Oz would be it.

And then this comes along. Holy shit! I'd miss my new nephiece's (sex still unknown) first few years, but that's about the only reason I can think of not to go. I wouldn't want to move there forever because I'd miss my family too much, but 2-3 years I could definitely handle. I've been feeling really blah about our life here recently, this would definitely add some adventure!

I know some of you have moved to a different country, either for a limited amount of time or for good. Would you recommend it? If you could go back and make the decision again, would you still choose to move? What are some of the pitfalls we should think about before jumping in to this head first?

And it's official...

Beta = negative. And mere hours after my blood was drawn, CB started trying very hard to make her entrance. Ah well. Back on the horse again. Now I'm hoping that the extra week that the progesterone bought me means that any cysts I may have had will be gone. Please please please!

Psychosomatic symptoms?

Of course they were! 14dpi = BFN. On a FRED. I did go buy one yesterday.

Not even the most miniscule hint of a second line. I'm kicking myself now for not doing the HPT yesterday so I could go in for a beta this morning - I'm going to a charity dinner where a chef comes into your home to cook a meal for you tonight, with all the wine you can drink. Without a beta there's still a minute possibility that I am actually pg (a la Suz!), therefore can't enjoy the wines the chef has selected to go with the meal. Fuck.

I had a feeling, all my "symptoms" completely disappeared yesterday. No sore boobs, nothing. Given that I've never ovulated (certainly not since going off BCP), I don't know what's normal to feel and what's not normal. Do your boobs usually feel tender in the two weeks after you've ovulated when you're not taking meds? Is it the hcg shot? the progesterone?

Psychosomatic symptoms?

I've been having the 'to POAS or not to POAS' dilemma the last few days. I'm currently 12dpi so theoretically a + / - on a FRED should be reasonably accurate, but neither my sis nor another good friend think I should. I had a hard time convincing myself it was a bad idea yesterday until I checked the HPTs I have (you know the 3-pack from Costco I bought when I went off the pill 'cause I'd be needing them any day) and they're EPT which say they can be used starting the first day of your missed period - so I assume that's 14 or maybe even 15 dpo/i? So I couldn't use it until Saturday even if I wanted to (and I'm not about to go out and buy any more)! So that dilemma at least is solved.

Then, I was reading a blog last night where someone was making fun of a list of pregnancy symptoms (can't remember now where it was, will link if / when I find it again). Two of them that I hadn't heard before were having trouble sleeping / not sleeping well, and bleeding gums when you brush your teeth. So wouldn't you know it, I couldn't get to sleep until 2:15 last night when I finally got up, went downstairs and had a glass of milk. And, when I brushed my teeth this morning there was way more blood than I've ever seen before. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I think it's all totally psychosomatic. I knew about the sore boobs, therefore they're sore. As soon as I find out about these other ones, boom, I have them too! I think I want very much to be pregnant, so I'm convincing my body to exhibit all the symptoms as I learn about them. How's that for twisted?

hockey camp, part 2.

Camp was a blast. It was really great to hang out with the gals from my regular team, I learned a new trick when playing defense (put my stick between the opposing player's legs when they try to go around me) (boy, does that sound phallic!), worked on my puck handling skills which is where I need the most help, and tried very hard not to think about whether I am pg or not (10dpi today, and yes I'm getting more and more tempted to test but I'm trying to hold out 'til Saturday).

I did find the camp a bit frustrating at times - I really really hate when people can't follow directions. The coaches described a drill to us, whose details I will not bore you with, suffice it to say that it was fairly straightforward. The first five people to go did. not. get. it. And it was a drill with partners, so that pretty much screwed things up for everyone else. I don't understand why you wouldn't, if you weren't clear on what was going on, just go to the back of the line and watch other people? Then there was another drill where we were passing back and forth across the ice, and the number of people who didn't seem to be able to figure out how far ahead to put the pass in order for it to be somewhere in the realm of their partner was also mind boggling. We started at one end of the ice, and the woman I was skating with threw the pass, supposedly 'to' me, 3/4 way down the ice. I am not that fast - none of us is. I don't even think NHL players are! WTF?

But on that note, I can apparently be a real bitch when people don't perform to my (admittedly high) expectations. I just had my mid year review, which was pretty good, except that I was told that I come off as arrogant. I was asking M about it and he said "well, when you know you're right, and someone is questioning you, you can be nasty". Not just 'a little' nasty, but all the way there. I guess when your husband doesn't come to your defense on a work related issue you know you really do have a problem.

Gah. I hate all the politics and making nice that has to go on. If I'm right and I know it, why is it so wrong just to say so? Why do I have to sugar, hot fudge and marshmallow coat it before telling someone else that perhaps they're being illogical? (I guess my problem is that more often I think they're being a complete dimwit, and it shows.)