I Can Only Stay For A Minute

Hi Everyone...

Feeling terribly guilty about my lack of blogging and for the fact that I even basically stopped reading all blogs. It's this damn CFA program. Level II is SO much freaking harder than Level I was, and the test is in about a month and a half. Every waking minute I'm studying. I'm studying on the subway (the "T", here in Boston), I'm studying during meals, I'm studying at work, I'm actually studying while I type this. If I pass, I basically get 6 months off before I have to study for Level III, so things should free up after that.

Oh wait, except for that whole "having another baby" thing.

M's pregancy is in it's 17th week. Can you believe that? And guess what it has? A JOHNSON. And based on the ultrasound, the thing is HUGE.

We're having a boy! We're calling him Tob for now (TOB = That Other Baby). Buggins doesn't even know yet (waiting for results of amnio before we spill it).

I promise I'll check in again when I cram the contents of all these books into my brain, and then barf it all back up into a 6 hour exam on June 7th.

Until then - take care -

Houston, We Have A Heartbeat

Baby Smarshy is looking good, for someone the size of a grain of rice. And it's little heart is pumping at about 120 beats per minute.

Dr. Google informs me that based on this, our chances of miscarriage have dropped precipitously. I love it when the good Dr tells me things I LIKE. More often he's telling me things that make me want to soil myself.

It occured to me yesterday that I've been afraid of this little baby. I haven't made any sort of emotional connection to it, and that's primarily because I simply saw it as something that could potentially cause me and my wife tremendous sadness and grief.

But now that there's a heartbeat, well...that changes it. Maybe I'll get attached to it just a little. It could still destroy me, though, so I have to be careful. But I guess all kids can do that. Buggins can still destroy me with a glance. Take last night for example. She was VERY upset at the prospect of going upstairs and getting ready for bed. We all went upstairs, and I started helping her get ready. She looked at me and screamed "Get out of my room! I just want Mommy".

I gave her a hurt look, then turned silently and went downstairs(and continued watching the republican debate - why is it that the crazy guy, Ron Paul, was the only one making sense? I stand a better chance of being elected President than him, though.)

Anyway, a few minutes went by, and I heard the little patter of footed PJs coming down stairs. There was Buggins, with tears and snot all over her face. We looked at eachother for a minute, and then she said "Daddy, I'm sorry. I love you". I smiled and gave her a big hug, and she ran back upstairs and I heard her exclaim "Mommy...I said it!!".

Where was I? Oh yes. Heartbeat. So everything looks good. She's at 6 weeks, and everything appears as it should. We go back for an ultrasound at 8 weeks.

I've started studying for the CFA Level II exam, which is in June, so I don't know that I'll be posting as often as I'd like...but I'll try. Certainly if anything interesting happens, I'll mention it.

Go Pats -

What a Long, Strange Trip

Whut up Playas

So I got this very nice comment from Monica saying that she had read my entire my blog from beginning to present. That's a veritable crapload of reading. Like 180 posts, some of them quite long and boring. I mean, you have to really want to punish yourself to do a thing like that. What, you couldn't find anyone to perform waterboarding on you that night?

But as I thought about it, I wondered what it would be like to start at the beginning, in Sept 2006, and read some of the drivel I have spewed out over the months and years.

So I did it. This past weekend. Just after my waterboarding appointment.

The first thing that struck me was that many of the people who commented on my blog back then are the same people still with me today. You folks have really been with me for a long time...I mean, besides my wife, some of you are the longest female relationships I've ever had. It must be because we're holding off on the sex. I'm telling you though, I can't hold off forever.

The next thing I noticed was how many people I missed, who seem to have disappeared. Jenny from the IF Block, which block did you move to?

The thing that really struck me, though, is the anti-climactic way that this process unfolds. I mean, if you were to read over the course of 2 years all about how my wife and I were dreaming of having a baby, and read all the details of our failed IVF cycles, and about the tears and fights along the way, and about the unbearable grief of infertility and how it was tearing us apart, you'd certainly expect there to be some kind of big party at the end, when we found out she's pregnant. I mean, all that grief led to this, and now we finally have gotten what we want, so there should be a big celebration, right?

Well, no. All that happens is that the grief turns into fear. So we spent 2 years grieving the fact that we couldn't make more children, and now we'll spend 9 months living in fear that it will somehow be taken away from us.

At what point can we really celebrate? Perhaps we can finally celebrate when the baby is born, but we'll be too f'ing tired to celebrate. The first time, with the Buggins, we celebrated as we held up a dripping wet pee stick. But we're WAY to jaded and beaten down to be that stupid now.

Anyway, thank to all of you for hanging out with me over the years. Your company is appreciated.

Something Is Still In There

Hello Good People.

I don't really have much to say today, but it occurred to me that in a previous post I had mentioned that M was having another blood test on Thursday to see how she was getting along. Then it occurred to me that if I didn't provide some sort of update about it, some of you may draw the conclusion that something untoward was afoot.

Nothing untoward is afoot. HGC was in the thousands. Whatever was going on in there is still going on in there. Ultrasound on Wednesday!

Have a good weekend one and all -

I AM THE SMARTEST MAN ALIVE

Remember that little test I took a couple months ago?

January 2008

6048870
SmarshyBoy
Level 1: Pass

The table below illustrates your subject matter strengths and weaknesses. The three columns on the right are marked with asterisks to indicate your performance on each question or topic area.

Multiple Choice Q# Topic Max Pts <=50% 51%-70% >70%
- Alternative Assets 12 - - *
- Derivatives 12 - - *
- Economics 24 - - *
- Equity Analysis 24 - - *
- Ethical & Professional Stnds. 36 - - *
- Financial Statement Analysis 68 - - *
- Fixed Income Analysis 24 - * -
- General Portfolio Management 12 - - *
- Quantitative Analysis 28 - - *

BRING ON LEVEL II BABY, I AIN'T DONE WITH YOU YET

Not bad for a former actor with an undergraduate degree in film, eh?

Still Holding My Breath

I must start by telling you all how touched I am by your comments and responses. It's an amazing thing to receive well wishes - 60 of them - from people who don't know me and yet who know me so very well. We've been through alot, you and me...years of struggle, and lots of ups and downs. And while I'm by no means considering myself off this rollercoaster, I'm grateful to be currently on an "up" swing.

We are tiptoeing around my house. We aren't even DISCUSSING it. I think if this results in an actual baby, we'll have to name it Voldemort, since we already seem to be treating it as "He/She Who Shall Not Be Named".

It seems odd to talk about it even now. I mean, how do we know there's even anything going on in there? My wife's boobs don't hurt. She feels no symptoms at all. All we know is that she had two blood tests last week, and there was a growing amount of HCG in there. But how do we know it's STILL in there? These are things that drive me mad. I wish there was some sort of light, like a bulb on the side of her head. If that bulb starts flashing, or God forbid goes out, then we know we're in deep shit. As long as the light stays on, all is good.

There is another blood test on Thursday, which I suppose will answer at least ONE question: Is she still pregnant.

Our reactions to this have surprised me alot. When you work, and work, and work for something, and pursuing it truly consumes you and infiltrates every facet of your life, I guess it can be quite a shock to entertain the notion that you might be free of it.

Infertility has defined us for so long. Socially, it has kept us in a tiny box. We have been unwilling to see friends, since they seem to be able to pop out babies like human pez dispensers. It has hurt the buggins, since we are reluctant to go to birthday parties where the other mothers shows off their giant bellies and ask M why in the world she only has 1 child. (Don't worry, we have NEVER excluded Buggins from bday parties for this reason...we just bitch about it alot before and after). It has filled us with a deep seeded anger and bitterness that I worry about sometimes.

On Sunday night I lay awake wondering if M would now, or ever, be able to forgive all those other people for having an easy time making children. I suspect not.

I also lay awake last night worried about something I never thought I'd worry about. I love the Buggins so much. I mean, I love her with a white hot intensity that, if you could somehow harness it, it could power the Earth for a thousand years. I am truly worried that I have spent all my love on buggins, and that I'll have none left for any others.

That's stupid, I know. Especially given the struggle that we've had and how long we've worked to get here. And, my God, we're still so early in the process that I am tempting fate by even CONTEMPLATING a live birth. But still, you contemplate it. You just do.

Anyway, I've afraid there's no way to tie this post all together in a bow. It's a bit of a ramble. Hey, not every post can be a sonnet. What are ya gonna do.

The Post I Have Waited A Long Time To Write

I have wanted to write this post for 2 very, very, long years. I have thought about it almost every day. I've wondered how I would write it, what I would say, what clever little witticisms I would include. I wondered how you would all react. I dreamed about how it would feel to type the words onto the screen.

It's ironic then, that the way in which I will do it is to simply blurt it out:

My wife is pregnant.

Just reading that line makes me feel like I'm in some sort of dream, or that I'm just pretending. But it's true, she's 4 weeks pregnant.

Maybe I should back up a bit.

We planned to do our 4th IVF cycle in December. We had all the drugs, and were awaiting day 1 to make the call and start the process. Then, we found out that M's Dr. was going to be on vacation over the holidays, and would not be able to do the retrieval or transfer. We could have still gone ahead with the cycle, but it would have been done with whatever Dr. was on call or on duty that day at the clinic. So we decided to cancel December's cycle. It wasn't an easy decision, particularly because our insurance had approved another cycle but that approval expired on 12/31/07. So by cancelling we'd have to re-submit an application to insurance, which is always a treacherous can of worms to open. Nevertheless, it was important to M that any cycle be done with her doctor, not some stranger. So we cancelled.

We enjoyed the holidays. No shots to worry about, no doctor appointments, nothing. We sang carols with the buggins and enjoyed ourselves. After Christmas, we asked the clinic to re-submit a request for insurance coverage for 2 more cycles. Honestly, we had no idea how many cycles we had left with insurance, if any. We just crossed our fingers.

In early January, we got a letter from our insurance company, stating that we were approved for 2 more cycles. However, it said, (in big BOLD type) we may already be over our lifetime cap for fertility insurance, and if so, they would not cover the costs.

That scared the crap out of us. I mean, as many of you (unfortunately) know, a cycle is like $20k. I know we're incredibly lucky to live in a state where it is covered by insurance, but to suddenly face the reality that this coverage might be over is a scary, scary thing.

We decided to pay attention to the part of the letter that said "You're approved" and ignore the portion of the letter that began with the word "However,...." I figured, if it works, and we get a baby, AND a giant bill, I'll deal with it then. At least they can't take the baby back. And if it doesn't work, well, then, we'd be totally and completely fucked.

So we waited for day 1 to come, so that we would make the call and start down the road. This insurance situation made us VERY nervous, but the prospect of never having another baby made us insane with grief.

This past Monday, I got home from work a little early, and M wasn't expecting me yet. I walked into the house to find her sitting on the couch in tears. She said her period had started, albeit very lightly, and while she wasn't surprised or sad about that, she was just terrified about having to do another cycle that might fail. I felt the same way. As I sat on the couch with her, I remember feeling as though I had no hope left in me. These cycles are nothing more than a series of inconvenient doctor visits and shots I have to give my wife, but we don't GET anything in the end. We just do all this work, and then stop. Then do it again 2 months later, then stop. I have to admit, sitting there with her on the couch that night, I cried too.

M made the call to the doctor and got up early the next morning to get her day 2 blood taken at the clinic. To her surprise, her period had kind of stopped. It had never fully kicked in, actually. It was just kind of faint. She went to the doctor anyway, and mentioned this. The nurse told her they would run a beta HCG test just to rule it out.

I, of course, knew none of this. I got up early and went to work on Tuesday. All I knew was that we had had a very sad night, and that she was at the Doctor starting up the next cycle. The next thing I know, M is calling me at work to tell me that her beta HCG number is 57. That blood? It was implantation spotting.

I was shocked, but not elated. I attributed ZERO probability that this was viable, and all I knew was that this cycle was going to be cancelled as we watched the HCG go from 57 to 40 to 25 to 5 as my wife disintegrated into a shell of her former self. Again. But I kept my fingers crossed anyway.

She went back to the Dr for her second blood test yesterday. The number was 208. It had a doubling time of 25 hours. That's not just ok, that's actually great.

She is pregnant.

I could type that all day.

3 failed IVFs. 3 Failed IUIs. 2 failed monitored cycles. 1 chemical pregnancy. Over 100 doctor visits. Dozens of injections. Thousands of tears.

In the end, we did it ourselves. Facing what looked like the end of our ability to receive fertility treatments, we dodged a massive bullet.

Yes, there are lots of risks. I'm not saying that we're going to have another baby in 9 months. But right now, as I type this, she is pregnant. There is no known reason for us to believe that anything is going to go wrong, except for the fact that we have too much knowledge and experience in these matters. If we were one of those people who hadn't been tortured by secondary infertility, we'd probably be crib shopping right now.

I've never really been very religious, but this experience has awakened some spiritual part of me. When you think about it, there's really no other explanation other than this: It's a miracle.

So, although I am fully aware of all the terrible things that can happen to take this gift away from us, I am smiling in a very, very big way.