The Smarshy Files

Anyone Out There?

2011-01-13T11:10:00.001-05:00

Is anyone reading this? I miss writing this blog.

Where's My Chi and How Do I Know If Its Broken

2007-01-08T11:09:00.000-05:00

M is going through a bit of a, um... change.

In order to appreciate the magnitude of this change, you need to know certain things about my wife.

1) She is very high strung. Seriously. She's like a spring that has been squished together and pushed down so much that if there's any kind of slip, it's boooiIIING an explosion of force. The best example I have of this is when she gets woken up. When many people are woken up nicely, say by their nice husband whispering their name and gently caressing their hair, they softly emerge from sleep and flutter open their eyes, making the transition from sleep to awake smooth and seamless. That's not how M rolls. No matter how gentle, how soft, or how sweetly I try to coax her from dreamland, she wakes up in much the same way that I imagine she would if I were to wake her up by poking her repeatedly with a red-hot branding iron.

2) She doesn't spend alot of time pondering the universe, or the human condition. She is very smart, don't get me wrong. She's just very practical. What's the use of contemplating the future of mankind and existentialism when there is so much laundry to do and the Buggins has done a crapper that is making the wallpaper peel?

3) Ever since she married me, she has been plagued with crappy health. I mean, most people in real life find it simply unbelievable and decide she must be making it up. Which she's not. Let's just review 2006 alone:

February 2006: Diagnosed with Idiopathic Larygotracheal Stenosis, or unexplained scar tissue buildup in her throat. The opening of her trachea was the size of a drinking straw. What causes such a thing, you ask? Good question. That's what "Idiopathic" means. It means no one fucking knows.

March: Undergoes tracheal resectioning surgery, essentially dismantles and rebuilds her trachea. 2 days intensive care, 7 days in hospital, another week with her chin tied to her chest by a string (!). Also can't speak for 3 weeks, or lift anything heavier than a glass of water. Try that. With a 1 year old.

May: She started having these terrible attacks of pain in her chest and stomach, like heartburn but 100 times worse. She looked like she was in more pain than when she was in labor. Run to the emergency room, they tell her it's heartburn and give her something (it doesn't work). Next night, back to emergency room. Scans, x-rays, MRIs, etc. They come back and say "Not sure what the attacks are, but we DID find some gallstones, and that MAY cause them, so we'll just go ahead and take that out". Gallbladder surgery ensues.

July / August: IUI to IVF Conversion. NEGATIVE.

August - I start blogging :)

August: We first notice Buggins' favorite game with her dolls is called "Going to doctor". Also, any time we get ready to put Buggins in the car to run errands, or go to the playground, she says "Going to doctor?" This makes my wife cry.

Sept / October: Painful attacks continue, about 1 every 14 days. Scariest things I ever saw. I wonder more than once if her life is in danger. M strips out all fat from diet, and eats next to nothing for fear of further attacks. Within 3 months, she loses over 15 pounds. (as an aside: She looks f'ing HOT)

Nov / December: IVF #2. Chemical positive. Miscarriage hits on Christmas Day. So painful she was curled up in a ball on the couch weeping right through New Years. And that was ON PAIN KILLERS.

January 2007 (I know, I said 2006 review but it's only one week of 2007) M has consultation with a Gastroenterologist, who examines her and then tells her these painful attacks are most likely reactions to STRESS. Dr. recommends (but will not prescribe) anti-anxiety medication.

So, that does it for our year in review. Ahh. Good times.

Now, I have enough experience with M to know that she has to discover something for HERSELF in order to believe it. I can tell her "30 R.ock" is one of the funniest shows ever, but she won't believe it and will not watch it. Not until she stumbles upon it on her own while perusing the contents of our T.ivo will she see the light. Then she will tell me about this new show she discovered called 3o R0ck.

I have said probably 50 times in the last 3 months "Hey M, you know alot of my blogging ladies (as you are all affectionately known) are having good experiences with acupuncture. Maybe you want to consider giving that a whirl?" And depending on her mood, I have gotten one of the following replies:
1) Oh, sure, sounds good, maybe I'll get a facial too, and my nails done, and I'll go for a 50 mile run, and maybe have lunch with friends. Is it ok if I leave the baby at home all day by herself?"
2) I don't need some wacko sticking needles in me, I already have one wacko sticking Folli.stim in me;
And then there's the tried and true:
3) Go Fuck Yourself. (I get this one fairly frequently)

Now, I'll get to the "change" that I have noticed in her. I don't know exactly when, or how this happened, but she stumbled upon a book called "Inconceivable" (which I'm sure many of you have already read) and she devoured it. It was like some kind of light bulb went off in her head. Then she read more, and found a book called "The Cure for Infertility" which is all about acupuncture and "Chi" and various other eastern medical things. She reads this stuff non-stop now. And when she's not reading, she's talking about it. I think it's safe to say these books have changed her life as much as any book possible could.

I believe in eastern medicine, even though I know nothing about it. To be more precise, I believe that western medicine is seriously flawed, so I give the benefit of the doubt to any alternative. They've been doing eastern medicine for thousands of years, and we've been doing IVF for , what, about 30 years? Hmmnnnn....

To put it mildly, M is very excited, more excited than I've seen her in years. Really. She is taking real interest in this, and she is seeing an acupuncturist and Dr. of Chinese medicine next week. She is determined to get her body "right" and to rid herself of all the illness, negativity, drugs, and stress that have built up in her body in the last few years. She's talking about taking MANY months off before cycling again, in order to accomplish this "cleansing". She says she is Taking Her Body Back.

I'm happy that she's so happy, and that she has such a worthwhile goal, and I am truly interested in where these journey will lead her. But I know that things are different now, and I'm not quite sure when we might be cycling again. If Ever.

Just so that I can keep up with her, can anybody tell me what my "chi" is? M tells me I need to work on it.

Oh Camera, I Barely Knew Ye

2007-01-07T18:55:00.000-05:00

It all started out so well. Such a nice Sunday.

"It's so warm for January, isn't it?"

"Maybe we should take Buggins to the playground today?"

(Buggins starts jumping up and down screaming 'yes, yes')

"Great idea, let's bring the camera, maybe get some good shots"

We all get our coats on, I grab the camera, and we head out of the house towards the car in the driveway. I place the camera on the roof of the car so that I can hoist buggins into her car seat. She's all buckled in, I run around and get in the drivers seat, and we're off, singing about how wonderful playgrounds are and how much we adore global warming.

Then something occurs to me.

"You got the camera off the roof, right?"

"What? No. What the fuck was the camera doing on the roof?"

"Oh shit"

I pull a u-turn and head back towards home, while the Buggins screams "No! No! Playground!"

No worries, I say. I'm sure it slid off the roof near our driveway. It's probably on the side of the road. Gosh. I hope it's not too badly scratched up.

As we approached our street, (not our driveway, our STREET, which means the little bugger held on for a while) I see a shiny object in the middle of the fairly busy road. As we get closer, it starts to look more and more familiar.

It was my beloved camera. In the following condition:

I had about 50 great pictures in there that I never got to move to my computer. Who knows, one of them may have won a Pulitzer. Probably the one of Buggins sticking NuhNight's tail in her nose.

I bought a new camera. A fancy little 8 megapixel S.ony. But it's not the same.

Anyway, rest in peace, little camera. Sorry about that whole "roof" thing.

My Theory

2007-01-04T08:35:00.000-05:00

about my dream is really no better than any of your theories...in fact, some of yours made much more sense than mine. Particularly Jenny's theory that the dream means I just need to take a big dump.

When I first woke from the dream, I lay in bed and came up with this theory: That my dream represented my sub-conscious wondering if, were it possible, I would be able to do a better job than M at this whole "trying to make a baby thing". I mean, I'm doing my part, by jacking off into a cup. The rest, really, is up to her. Now I've NEVER wondered this consciously, but perhaps my subconscious wonders if I'd be able to do better than she's doing.

Well, the fact that in the dream the pregnancy had to be aborted answered the question. No, I wouldn't be able to do better. Even if I figured out a way to miraculously become pregnant, I'd still be subject to all the various uncertainties and risks that come at us between implantation and birth of our baby. So I've decided: I'll leave the getting pregnant stuff to M. I'll stick to rubbing one out in a Dixie cup.

-----

So, in an effort to feel productive, we've decided to try naturally for a few months while we await the results of our blood tests (we're both anxious to see if that Brazilian prostitute I had unprotected sex with left me with a going away present) and the insurance process. We bought a fancy little ovulation test and M pees on it in the morning. So far, nothing resembling a surge. This will more than likely never amount ot anything, but hey, at least I'm finally getting laid.

OK, while I was writing this post, Thalia the brilliant consulting magnate just came up with a theory that blows mine out of the water. You win, Thalia.

Calling Dr. Freud

2007-01-03T12:58:00.000-05:00

I had this dream the other night. I was sitting on an examination table in a doctor's office, wearing one of those sporty little robes that doesn't close down the back. The doctor was sitting in a chair in front of me. He asked me what I was doing there, and I explained that I was having stomach pains resulting from severe constipation. (Not really true, I'll have you know, but it was in the dream). He examined me for a few moments and then said those 2 words so seldom said to a 35 year old male:

"You're pregnant".

Well, imagine my surprise. I told him how odd that was, given that we'd been trying for so long to get my WIFE pregnant, and now here I am, the pregnant one. (I recognize that even if we hadn't been trying to get my wife pregnant, it would STILL be odd that I was pregnant, but again, it's a dream).

But the doctor went on to explain that the pregnancy would have to be aborted. I don't really remember why, I just remember him saying it had to be aborted right away. I was not very upset by this, but rather just frustrated that we couldn't transfer it to M's uterus and that it would be wasted.

That's all I remember.

OK, I'm calling all armchair dream analysts - give it your best shot. I have a theory developing in my own mind, which I'll share after I see your thoughts. I'm interested in seeing if anyone comes up with the same theory as me.

The WORST Part of a New Year

2007-01-02T08:05:00.000-05:00

is that the social security withholding resets and my paycheck is a couple hundred bucks smaller until I blow past the point at which I've reached the limit. That's always a kick in the pants.

Happy new year everyone!

I had a nice long break from work, as well as a nice long break from blogging. I would check in on many of you periodically, and I found that most of you took time off from posting as well. So welcome back.

We had a nice holiday. The Buggins had a great "Christrem" (that's how she pronounces it, not sure what is up with that). We opened presents from Santa in the morning and went to a fancy brunch in the city in the afternoon. We usually bring a little portable DVD player with us when we go to nice restaurants, so that when she's done with her grilled cheese she can watch a little W.iggles and we can enjoy ourselves (we always keep it on mute, she never seems to mind). Of course, on Christmas the damn thing broke so she had a conniption in the restaurant and we had to flee before dessert.

We went to NYC for a few days between Xmas and New years, which alternated between somewhat fun and extremely frustrating. I bought a new sport coat though, so I have that going for me.

M had to keep getting her blood drawn to monitor the HCG levels until they were below 6. The numbers went like this: 74, 73, 55, 11, 5. Last draw was on Saturday morning, when I actually had some blood drawn too. I guess my blood tests were about to expire and the insurance company wants to make sure I don't have any dreaded diseases before they pay to help me procreate.

Her period / miscarriage (was it a miscarriage?) was extremely painful. She was hopped up on per.cocet for most of it. Good times. We need to re-submit our case to insurance for another cycle, and we're not sure how long that will take. I'm sure we will not be surprised by how FAST they are.

OK, so I should probably see why my voice mail light is on and get ready for my 8:30 meeting.

Happy Holidays

2006-12-22T16:45:00.000-05:00

God Bless Us.

Every One.

Hello? Testing... (tap tap...) Is This Thing On?

2006-12-21T08:04:00.000-05:00

Whew...So THAT sucked.

I've basically been in a coma since Monday night, and not for the reason you think. Around 4am that night, I woke up and I was sick. I mean, SICK. Not barfing, or anything like that. But I just knew I was coming down with something BIG. I got up anyway and went to work. By the time I strolled in, I was shivering, coughing, and about to pass out. I walked in late to a meeting and everyone stopped and looked at me as if I had another head growing out of my chest. I was promptly told to go home, which I did.

I seriously don't remember anything after that. I don't remember driving home, I don't remember drinking the N.yquil and climbing into bed. I only know I sent my boss an e-mail from my black.berry telling him I wouldn't be in yesterday because I saw it this morning in my "sent" folder. Yesterday was the first time I've ever called in sick since I've been at this job, which is 5 years. I've left early due to illness, but I've always at least tried to go in.

So of course this left M to deal with her chemical pregnancy loss by herself. We only got the news on Monday, so we only had about 8 hours to deal with it together before I was down for the count. She is doing surprisingly well.

She went back to the clinic for a blood test on Wed morning to make sure the levels were falling (they are, beta:55) and to have a post-mortem with CityDoc. I would have loved to have been there, but I was thrashing around in a nightmarish state brought on by crazy-making meds in a pool of sweat, snot, and dirty tissues. M had to bring the Buggins, too, which is just terrible for so many reasons. She tried to get her into the hospital day care but they were not open yet. So M brought the mini DVD player and "E.lmo's Christmas" and the Buggins sat there like such a good little girl while her mommy and CityDoc discussed the ramifications of a botched pregnancy.

Since I wasn't there, I can't really speak to the meeting, but here are some quotes I got my wife:
"I wish all my 38 year old patients responded like you"
"From a clinical point of view, a chemical pregnancy is MUCH better than a negative"
"You obviously have no implantation issues"
"My guess is there were genetic abnormalities in the eggs, because everything else was perfect"

So, M felt better after speaking with him. She is still terribly sad about the failure of this cycle, but somewhat hopeful about future cycles. We need to take some time off. After a chemical pregnancy, they want us to take a full cycle off anyway, and then if we started a fresh cycle right away we'd have to cancel our trip to St. Thomas in March, which neither of us are keen to do. So we'll start a fresh cycle in March, she'll be on the bcp's on our trip, and we'll dive in full force around the time that Serenity's bulbs are poking up.

While sad, this time off will allow us to focus on the Buggins. We need to. The poor little bug has been listening to this for too long. On the day we got the news, when M was crying hysterically into my shoulder, Buggins was standing there saying "Mama, W'as Wong? W'as Wong?" She's only 2 for Pete's sake. She deserves so much more than this. It's not fair to her.

Because I was so sick, M and the Buggins got out of the house yesterday and M took Buggins to the day care associated with my work because she loves it there so much. She needed to have a fun day, and M needed a day to be by herself and sort everything out. So M spent the day in Boston, walking, shopping, getting various things done (eyebrows I think) and it was very healing for her. What was especially healing for her was that she stumbled upon a Mul.berry Bag that was 40% off. I only know of this bag because she makes me search for it when I'm in London. I don't know what's so special about it. It's a bag. But she has wanted it for a long time, and she called me yesterday from the store, jarring me out of my ny.quil coma, and took advantage of my condition to ask if she could have it for Christmas. I probably thought at the time that she was asking me if I had ever wanted to pitch for the Boston Red Sox, to which of course I answered "Yes". So, that was an expensive phone call. But man, did it make her happy. Money well spent.

So we're doing ok. We're going to NYC on the 26th to see my dad for a couple days. And we are going to have a fun, merry, Buggins-centric Christmas. It's going to be complete with Santa, and presents, and carols, and friends, and parties, and very few thoughts about chromosomally abnormal embryos. Just like the olden days.

I lied before. I said I didn't remember anything about the 2 days I was in bed. Not true. I have blogger set up to send my comments to my black.berry, which I kept next to my bed. Every now and then I would reach up with my snotty fingers and grab the device, and read through all your caring, touching comments. I read every single one (So did M) and they really made us feel good. This is a tremendous community. It cannot be adequately described in words. Thank you all for your nice thoughts. And most of all, CONGRATS to the many, many people who defied the crappy odds and got pregnant this month!

We're Done.

2006-12-18T17:54:00.000-05:00

The beta fell. It was 74, now it's 73.

I think we all know what this means. I'm sure someone has heard of some story of some couple whose HCG level stayed the same for a while and then grew, but it's less likely than winning the lottery. This cycle is done for. M is due to get her most painful period ever on Christmas day.

M fell apart when she got the phone call. They told her to stay on the progesterone for a few days just in case, she told them to forget it. They said she had to come back on Wed for another blod test, and she told them to forget it. The nurse had to explain the risk of ectopic, and that she absolutely had to be monitored. M couldn't speak any more and told the nurse to call me instead.

My poor wife. She was so nervous signing in to the clinic this morning that she couldn't remember our home phone number or her cell number. Her hands were shaking so much that she couldn't write her name on the log. She's such a stress case. IVF plays directly to all of her weaknesses, and none of her strengths. It's not fair.

We had planned for every contingency. We knew, from past experience, that she should not be alone when she gets the news. And that we should never be at the mercy of one of these phone calls again. We would always control the information ourselves, and we'd always know BEFORE the call. And I would always be next to her.

Well, we were naive. We never considered this outcome. We took the pee test together, it was positive. She had the beta on a Saturday so that I would be with her the whole day. We did everything right. But the god damned HCG was too low, and it all came down to ANOTHER call, on a MONDAY, when I HAD to be at work. It was like our last BFN all over again. I had to rush home to peel my wife up off the ground.

And it's not like we can just sit at home wallowing in our misery or decide to get dressed up and go out for dinner or get drunk. We have the Buggins, who at 2 doesn't give a rats ass about IVF. She wants to play, and sing, and dance. There is no time to feel bad for ourselves, we have to put on a happy face. When I arrived home, all the Buggins wanted to do was play ring around the rosy, and M was in a ball on the couch. At times like this, having a child already can make it even harder. And yet, at the same time, so much easier.

We think we might be done. M has made about 50 proclamations today, in a futile effort to feel in control. We'll see how many of them stick. But as of right now, we might be deciding to be a one child family. Which we know, despite this terrible pain, makes us very lucky.

I'm sorry for making many of you sad with this news. I am thankful for your comments and messages of hope and understanding. We are not doing well today, by any stretch. But I think we'll be OK soon.

Not Good News **Updated - I moved to Beta!

2006-12-16T14:23:00.000-05:00

The beta number is very low - only 74. At this point, they're looking for a number in the hundreds. Not good.

Our celebration might have been a bit premature. The clinic gives us a 50/50 chance.

This is the worst possible kind of news, because it drags the process out. If the number falls by Monday, M goes off the drugs and awaits her period. If the number grows at all, she stays on the meds and basically waits for a possible miscarriage.

M is very upset. Feels as though the holidays are ruined, and is dreading an AF that will be terribly painful.

I know that with the buggins, since she was natural, we never knew her numbers. Maybe they were low. Maybe this is normal for M. Maybe this baby will be fine.

Maybe not.

That's the shit of it. We are no less uncertain about this pregnancy, and this uncertainly could very well last 2 days, or even weeks or months.

Trying to keep my chin up today but it feels like a very dark day. If anyone knows of a low beta pregnancy that ended well, I'd love to hear about it.

Next beta Monday.

***

By the way, you may have noticed that I finally came over and joined Blogger Beta. This is primarily due to 2 reasons:

1) I'm fairly certain that the folks at Blogger are responsible for our shitty HCG test. I think they figured that if I won't go to their beta, they'll go to MY beta and screw it all up. OK, blogger, that was a low blow, but I got to give you props. You accomplished what you wanted. Here I am. Now fix M's HCG level and put it back to where it was SUPPOSED to be, you pieces of shit.

2) They no longer allowed me to comment on your blogs. The bitches. I gots to give my love to the pixies. I gots to.

By the way, if you were once on my blogroll and have fallen off, fret not. I plan to increase the size of my roll (hee hee hee) but it is being complicated by the fact that a) i have no idea what the F I'm doing and b) I'm so exhausted from such an emotional day that I can no longer see the screen but for some reason I refuse to go to bed even though my poor wife has been asleep for hours and I should just go up there and lie next to her but I feel like I need to see if this day can be salvaged before it goes in the history books. Judging by the last run-on sentence, it's not looking good for me.

HPT Results

2006-12-15T18:54:00.000-05:00

TWO LINES!!!!!!!!

Yes, thank you, thank you. Thanks. Thank you very much. Please sit down. Yes. Thank you. Thanks. Really, please sit. Thank you. Thanks.

Now, before you all start high-fiving me, I should tell you: The line is faint. I mean faint. So faint, in fact, that after M peed on it, we looked at it for a while, and there was no line. We hugged eachother, and we each tried to comfort the other.

Then I went back and looked about 1 minute later. There was a little line.

It was a little darker a few minutes later, but still very faint. And it has stayed very faint. With the buggins, the line showed up in like 5 seconds and was the darkest pink I've ever seen. So we think we've reached some sort of pregnancy, but there is a very good chance it's only chemical. But that, in itself, is better than nothing.

Beta tomorrow - will post results - I really appreciate all your comments and well wishes. More than I could ever say.

Update With No Update

2006-12-15T13:35:00.000-05:00

I'm back from a trip. I am WAY too tall to fly coach. I need to speak to someone about that.

I'll comment to each person's blog separately, but let me just say how happy I am that so many bloggers have gotten knocked up this cycle. I feel like most of my blogroll tested positive this month.

M is taking a HPT tonight, she's decided. Yes, she has changed her mind several times about this topic, and I wouldn't be surprised if she changed it again in the next few hours. But as it stands now, I'm buying a test on the way home from work and she's pissing on it.

Commenting on other people's great news can be hard when one's own news is terrible, so let me reiterate now, before I know if it's a BFN or a BFP, that I am TRULY thrilled for all of you. If I don't say that as much as I should after the test, it's only because we're hurting.

I'll update tonight with the HPT results.

** For some reason Blogger will not let me comment on any blogs. Either I'm on some sort of double secret blogger probation, or I am so stupid that I am failing the word test like 15,000 times in a row. Either way, no comments.

8dp5dt. Did I say Thursday?

2006-12-11T15:31:00.000-05:00

I meant Saturday.

M is pushing the POAS date further and further out. At this rate, she'll be ready to take the pee test the day after the kid is born. Or the day after her period starts, whichever is sooner.

She says she is SURE it is negative. Big cramping going on. Not like little cramping. Like lying in bed knees up going "ooooooohhhhhhhh" kind of cramping. That can't be good.

I would love to feel hopeful, but since I can't actually feel anything MYSELF, and since I depend on M for all my input, and she's feeling negative, well, not sure where that leaves me. Believe me, I'd love to hijack some of her piss and throw it on a stick and be done with this 2 week nonsense. If I wasn't SURE it would result in a negative, I'd piss on the damn thing MYSELF.

That gives me an idea. The "hot water treatment". Ever heard of it? I used to do it to my brother when he slept. What you do is: when a person is asleep, you dip their hand (or fingers) in warm water. It triggers a relaxation impulse in the person, and they relax their bladder. Immature hilarity ensues as they pee all over themselves in their sleep. 99.9% of the time the person wakes up first and then beats the shit out of you. But the .1% of the time it works is so sweet - it's worth it. I might try it on M tonight with a little cup and a pee stick. And a catchers mask. And mace.

In a normal cycle, M would be getting her period tomorrow. So the clinic isn't really waiting THAT long to test. It just feels long. We are going to do a home preg test AFTER the beta. Yes, you read that right. AFTER. We are going to come into the city, give blood, then go home and she'll piss on the stick. That way, we can control the information. Why not do it before the blood draw that morning, you ask? Good question. Because if it's a negative on the HPT, I will NEVER be able to get her in the car to go get her beta test. She would do the same thing the Buggins does when I try to take her somewhere she doesn't want to go: she would exercise that miraculous ability to turn her bones to jello and slump down on the ground so that it's impossible to be picked up. We call it the "jelly girl" move. Buggins is a pro.

Traveling again tomorrow, Wed, and Thursday. Prob won't be posting. Try to exist without me.

Be careful out there. (Hill Street Blues)

We Chickened Out

2006-12-10T09:41:00.000-05:00

Didn't do it.

Last night M decided that testing today was still too early. Who am I to argue with that.

Sorry if any of you are let down; we're not going to know until Thursday night.

A WHOLE WEEK of anxiety and obsession! What fun.

Thanks for checking in -

5dp5dt

2006-12-08T14:27:00.000-05:00

My stomach is in freakin knots. M is so calm during the 2ww. I feel like I'm going to barf.

By this Sunday it will be almost certain that the HCG from the trigger shot will be gone. That's our biggest worry - a false positive or an early miscarriage that we may not have known about had we not tested early (happened once before). Sunday will be 13 days since the trigger, and a rule of thumb says it takes 10 days for HCG shots to leave your body.

So M says she'll pee on a stick on Sunday morning. That way, we'll have all day Sunday to deal with it together, and then Monday morning we have an appt at the social worker who can help us deal with a negative.

Sunday morning. Today is Friday. That's just 2 days. This morning I thought we'd be testing in a week, and I was fine with that, because it seemed like a short wait. Now Sunday seems like it's a month away.

This is probably the last post before we know if the cycle worked. I'm usually such an optimistic person, but I have a terrible feeling about this. It's not that I'm worried it's negative, it's that I'm DREADING the negative that I'm already sure of. Dreading the tears. And the screams. And the thrashing around M will do as she frantically searches for some sort of control over a situation she can not control. She will want to make important decisions within minutes of the news. She will scream proclamations. She will be so angry. So, so angry. God, I'm dreading it.

But maybe Saturday will be nice?

Anyway, thanks for all your support this cycle, it has meant a tremendous amount to both of us. I'll see you back here on the other side of the pee test.

Good weekend everyone -

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Pee Sticks

2006-12-07T14:26:00.000-05:00

I'm back from my very quick trip to jolly old London towne. So quick, in fact, that it technically qualified as a "jaunt". What do I find upon my return? Spark and Lola have run off and gotten themselves pregnant like a coupla floozies. Congrats, ladies.

M and I, however, are avoiding HPTs like they were polonium-210. First of all, we still think it's too early for us, our beta isn't until the 16th. But also, it's quite obvious now that our chances are much less than they were before. I mean, Spark, Lola AND M can't possible ALL get pregnant the same month. Some couple has to break the cycle. Well, clearly that couple has to be us. So we'd rather not find out until we have to.

Oh - so a highlight of my trip to London was the hour I spent in a little coffee shop with the lovely and talented Thalia. She had nicely offered to have coffee with me when I was in town, and I'm sure she thought (hoped, even) that I would never actually take her up on it. But of course I did, because I'm on a mission to meet all of you. So far, I have met Serenity, Lola, and now Thalia. Anyone else want to meet? Just say the word. I'll be in San Francisco next Tue & Wed, then in NYC on Thurs. Open call.

Anyway, I very much enjoyed meeting Thalia. She clearly is a very smart, sophisticated and kind woman who has spent her life indentifying her goals and then achieving them. How difficult this IF curse must be to someone like that. I mean, it's no picnic for anyone, but I would think it must be particularly rough for someone who has spent her life executing on her plans and taking control. IF is like one giant bitch-slap.

We talked about her husband, my wife, our extended families, our careers, and our common struggles. I was working on very little sleep so I'm sure I said a handful of stupid things. But whatever, it happened in a different country so it's like it wasn't real anyway. The one question I wanted to ask but forgot: What in the name of all that is holy is a "clotted cream"? And why would someone eat it?

Thalia is sporting a couple embryos presently and could benefit from your kind words and thoughts.

M's plan is to do an HPT the night before beta, just so that we can control the news ourselves rather than have someone call us with potentially (and statistically speaking, probably) devistating news. So that's another full week. As of now, nary a symptom in sight.

Buggins said "Merry Christmas Daddy" on the phone today. That was a first.

What Is An "Adult"?

2006-12-04T13:17:00.000-05:00

And when will I feel like one?

This post has been brewing for some time, and I don't think it's at all ready. But I have nothing to write about today and I'm out the next couple of days so I figured I'd see if I can try to express this feeling I have. If I can't, I'll just save it as a draft, not publish it, and you knuckleheads will be none the wiser, right?

So basically, it's like this: I still feel like a kid. I realize that I'm not unique in this regard; most people still feel like kids inside. But I REALLY feel like a kid. And I'm clearly not. One glance at my driver's license dispels that notion - I am 35 years old. My dad had FOUR kids at my age. He was definitely an adult. He had cocktail parties with monogrammed barware and people would come over with ties on and drink scotch and say important things. I mean, I do that too...I go to parties with a tie on sometimes, and I love scotch, and I think I may once have said something important. But the difference is...I don't know what the difference is. But there is one. It's like THEY were REALLY adults. I'm just ACTING like an adult.

There are other things I do that make me think I'm not really an adult:

I still always want the window seat on an airplane and I spend the ENTIRE flight with my forehead glued to the glass. I have noticed that NO OTHER PERSON on the flight does this. It's not as if its my first flight, for pete's sake. I've flown all over the world, for years and years. Still, every single flight, eyes staring out the window.
When I sit at my desk, I almost always sit with my right foot tucked under my left butt cheek. I'm sitting on my foot. Even when I'm wearing a suit, like right now, I'm sitting like a 5th grader. Can that be normal? I don't see anyone else sitting that way.
When I hear a news story about a "35 year old man" or a "38 year old woman" I always think that they are kind of old. But I don't think of MYSELF like that at all.
Even though I have more money than either of my parents, I still always hope there is a check in my birthday card or x-mas card.
If I were ever on a plane that got hijacked, or in a bank that got robbed, I still expect that they'd let ME go free, because for God's sake, I'm just a kid.
I feel like if I ever broke the law and got busted, I'd get sent to juvie instead of big person prison. Yeah, I know I'm wrong there. And I'd be popular in prison. Seriously.

There are easily 100 more things just like that I could list. Does anyone know what I'm talking about here? I still kind of feel like I haven't expressed it properly. At what age do you actually stop feeling young? I seriously feel EXACTLY like I felt when I was in my 20's. I'm into different things, but that's only because I can afford them now. And having a kid didn't make me feel older, that's for sure. I mean for F*cks sake, I'm playing with Leg.os every day now. And I get INTO it, too. At first I just handed her the pieces and she would place them, but now it's like "Buggins, give me that, it should go like this" and then next thing I know she is off doing something else and I'm STILL playing with the f'ing leg.os.

Anyway, that's my post for the day. Sorry it's not altogether thoughtful or well constructed or coherent. But what do you want? For Christ's sake, I'm just a kid.

0dp5dt

2006-12-03T13:44:00.000-05:00

M is lying on the couch, all valium-ed up with a belly full of blastocysts.

The good news is that of the two than went in, one was VERY good, and the other was good. We wanted to make sure they didn't put any bad ones in, because last night we watched The Omen and we saw what can happen when you get a bad one.

The "not good" news is that the other 7 didn't quite made it to blast. There probably won't be anything to freeze, which is a huge disappointment for us. I suspect, were it not for the valium, M would be having a cow right about now.

They are going to continue to monitor them, and if they reach blast then they'll freeze them. But they think it's unlikely. I DID think things were going a little TOO well.

This cycle has been different than past cycles. Not nearly as much stress, NO fights, no crying. M was a great sport throughout all of it. That is due in large part to stripping away from M all the things that really drive her crazy (dealing with the nurses, dealing with the insurance people, dealing with the medicine.) So I took over all of that this time. And it made a HUGE difference. Yesterday we barely thought about the transfer today. We went to bed last night almost as if it were any other night.

I woke up around 4am wracked with butterflies in my stomach, but I wasn't sure why. But my stomach was in knots. I lay there for almost an hour pondering what was bothering me, and then it hit me: Twins. I am terrified of twins. We have NO support system, no family, friends who have their own problems, a small house in an expensive town and my wife has a very low tolerance for stress. Twins would destroy us.

Before long, I realized M was lying awake too, and we started talking. Turns out she was lying there worrying about twins too. If we were childless, it wouldn't be an issue. But we have a 2 year old. After a long discussion we decided it would probably be best to transfer only one blast, to eliminate the twin risk. But that was when we thought we'd have a whole litter to freeze.

So M went in at 11:15, and I waited outside with the Buggins. The doctor said to M: "You should transfer two" and M said "OK." Well, so much for our discussion.

We are now officially in the 2 week wait. I think it may pass more quickly than others, at least for me, because starting Tuesday I'll be in London for work and then San Fran and then NYC. So I'll be keeping myself busy. And getting lots of sleep in giant king size hotel beds. Love that.

Thanks for all your well wishes!

Blast Off! (Now with Updates!)

2006-12-01T10:26:00.000-05:00

Updates below with blast info...

First of all, I've never been so eager to create a new post and push the previous one off the front page. Phew...

OK, so we're going to blast. 5 day transfer. We were not able to get the details of our embryo quality (which frustrated me) but the nurse said that we had "at least 6 embryos that were at either 6,7,or 8 cells". Because she didn't have the info in front of her, she said she will call back today with more info. Grrr.

UPDATE: Actually, they called me this afternoon and gave me the info I was looking for. It turns out, ALL NINE embies are 7 or 8 cells, and it looks like they ALL might make it to blast. Hard to believe. We may have a real shot at making some frosties!)

But...that's great news. The little suckers are doing well! And we may have some left over for the big chill.

Sunday is the day. Wish us luck. I really appreciate all the well wishes.

Also, about the previous topic, I just want to say that I appreciate all the thoughtful comments, even the ones I don't agree with. We had a constructive and open exchange of ideas, which is why I do this in the first place. I have no hard feelings, and I hope no one else does. I always want people to feel free to be totally honest and open with me.

On to sunnier topics. Like the weather. It may hit 70 degrees here in Boston today. On December 1st. Global warming anyone?

My Final Thoughts on Kids At Clinics

2006-11-30T08:02:00.000-05:00

OK, so I'd like to add my final thoughts to this obviously heated and controversial topic, and then I'd like to never discuss it again. I've been wondering how best to express my points, and I've decided to just list them.

People with kids in the clinic (waiting room or hallway) don't want their kids in there any more than you do. Perhaps more. It's no place for kids. Some people (many in fact) have NO CHOICE.
The idea that you would cancel a cycle due to a lack of child care is STUPID. If we did that, our doctor would laugh at us and then tell us we obviously weren't serious about the process and would probably refuse to treat us any more.
My child is not hurting you. The other children in the waiting room are not hurting you. Infertility is hurting you. For that, I am sorry. I wish there was something I could do for you, but there isn't. There is something I can do for our own infertility, though, and that's to undergo treatment. Which we are going to do, even if we have to bring our kid.
Don't blame mothers for having to bring their kids. Secondary Infertility is just that. Infertility. Kids are part of the process. Clinics are NOT just for infertile people with no kids. It's for all infertiles, primary and secondary. If you have to blame someone, blame the clinics for not having a separate "family" waiting room. Believe me, we'd love that.
It's not my responsibility to make you comfortable in the waiting room. It's my responsibility to make my wife comfortable, and to take care of my family and make sure everyone is safe and well cared for. If that impedes on your comfort, then I do regret that. But again, not my problem. How you cope with things is YOUR problem.
My wife and I have been in BOTH camps. We have been the sad childless infertiles sitting in the waiting room, hurting inside and wishing we were pregnant. I've given mothers and their kids dirty looks. I'm also now the guy who sometimes (literally only 3 times) has had to bring his kid to the clinic. I have the benefit of wearing BOTH pairs of shoes. You have still only been in one. To gain comfort with this, you will have to come to terms with the fact that there are some things you just do not understand, because you have not been there. When you have a baby, and no childcare, or your sitter has called in sick at the last minute, and you have a belly full of follicles you've been working on for 6 weeks with daily shots, BCP, Lupron, etc, believe me, you're not canceling your f'ing cycle. You're bringing your kid.
Finally, let me tell you about my neighbor...actually, she's the person we bought our house from. Only recently did we find out that she struggled with infertility for years. And she went through some pretty hard core treatments...surgeries, a strict diet of Lu.pron and Follist.im...you get the picture. Anyway, after almost 4 years of this she finally gave birth to a baby girl this past June and when we talked to her about this she said "Seeing kids in the waiting room used to upset me, but I fought hard for this kid and there is NO way when I start the fight for my second that I'm leaving my little pride and joy with some stranger who I'm paying $20 an hour just so I can pop in for a 10 minute blood draw and ultra sound...NO WAY!!"

That is all I have to say on this matter.

Fertilization Results

2006-11-29T14:45:00.000-05:00

Got the call:

Of the 12 eggs:

11 were mature

9 fertilized

We need to call them Friday morning, and they'll tell us whether it's a 3 day or a 5 day transfer. If it's a 3 day, then 10am on Friday. I hope we make it to blast.

I'm happy with the results! Friday seems like a loooong ways away.

Monogram THIS

2006-11-29T09:08:00.000-05:00

While we await our fertilization report, I thought I would share a story that encapsulates the frustration I have with my father (and, I think, the frustration he has with me).

He called me last night (we were already in bed).

Dad: If I were going to give you something for Christmas and it was monogrammed, what order should I put the initials? (First of all, this man is smart. Prep school, Princeton, retired senior executive of a major corporation. He can't figure this out himself?)
Me: Well, Dad. That depends.
Dad: Why? Depends on what?
Me: Well, some things are traditionally monogrammed with the wife's initials. Sheets, towels etc. Some things are monogrammed with the husbands initials, like barware. By the way, I gave M monogrammed high thread count sheets for our anniversary, so stay away from that please.
Dad: Jesus. Well, I can't tell you what it is, but it's not especially feminine. And it's for both of you.
Me: Ok. I'd say its safe to go with M's initials.
Dad: Ok, in what order?
Me: Well, that depends.
Dad. Oh for christ's sake.
Me: Well, do you want to do it right, or wrong? If you really want to go down this road, you may as well do it right.
Dad: I'm not sure I want to go down this road.
Me: Are the initials all the same size, like block lettering? If they are, the initials go in order, like ABC. Or were you thinking rounded initials, kind of old school?
Dad: I don't fucking know!
Me: Well, its a decision you need to make! if you want them old school, the last initial is in the middle, and is the largest letter. First initial in front, middle initial last. OR, some people do it jointly, with last name in middle, and then one first name in front, and the other first name last. Of course, in different situations you would have her first initial first, and my first initial last, and in other situations, the reverse is true.
Dad: I think I'll get you a card
Me: Works for me.
Click.

Now I'll grant you, I was clearly the more obnoxious person in that exchange. On purpose. My dad does not exercise patience or a great deal of thought when doing things. He is into instant gratification. GOD FORBID he should have to RESEARCH something. If he got me something monogrammed, it would be some beautiful, expensive thing with the WRONG initials on it because he didn't take the time to do it right. THEN, because it's monogrammed, we would end up not being able to return it. We'd keep it for a year, and then M would secretly throw it out. Happens every f'ing year.

Ah, the holidays.

Smarshy's Twelve

2006-11-28T12:32:00.000-05:00

ER was this morning. They got 12 eggs, which are being ICSI'd with my boys this afternoon.

It's funny, ICSI is the only part of this whole process that I kind of have a problem with. I feel like as long as egg and sperm can come together at the meet-n-greet at the Petri Dish Cafe, then at least the "magic moment" isn't manipulated. It's the ultimate "survival of the fittest". But now, they can just inject any old sperm into the egg. Maybe that sperm wouldn't have had a chance the normal way? Maybe he's super dumb, or lazy, or will grow up to be an ultra religious right winger. Or maybe...he'll like country music? I can't bear the thought.

By the way, what is it with Asian porn? In every one of those "collection" rooms I've been to, they're full of Asian porn. Not American porn with Asian girls, but Asian porn with Asian writing on the box. (And perhaps Asian dialogue, but I wouldn't know. And if I DID know, I wouldn't admit that anyway) I mean, I think some Asian women are very beautiful too, but c'mon...WTF? Is it some kind of IVF male obsession that I'm missing?

Anyway, ICSI happening tonight. As long as we can transfer a couple and still have at least 1 cycle of frosties left over, we'll feel very good.

M is feeling great, bounced right back from anesthesia and was shopping in the fancy hospital gift shop within 30 minutes. Buggins was at a new day care affiliated with the hospital. Number of babies in the waiting room today: three.

I'll update tomorrow with fert rates. Wish my boys luck!

Trigger Happy

2006-11-26T18:02:00.000-05:00

Tonight's the night baby. One giant intra-muscular shot in the ass delivered by yours truly.

Final E2: 2364

At least this time the HCG shot is at a reasonable time, 10pm. Last time, it was at 2:30am and I spent the first half on the night awake for fear I'd sleep through the alarm and the second half awake wondering if I had stuck the needle in the right place.

Retrieval set for Tuesday morning, transfer 5 days later. We're doing ICSI or ICBM or CSI Miami or whatever it's called.

Another interesting day at the clinic. I met Lola, and this time she came up and said hi. She was in for her retrieval, so it was nice of her to spend a few minutes chatting with me and M when she obviously had a few things on her mind. I met her husband, too. Let me tell you, there are not many people who can make me feel short. I'm 6 foot 5 inches tall. Mr. Lola makes me feel short. Both Lola and her husband are awesome. Super friendly and nice to talk to. Buggins was there, and she was being shy and anti-social, but they were very nice to her.

Speaking of The Buggins, she made a MAJOR waiting room faux pas. You see, I was with Buggins in the hallway outside the waiting room, and M was in a chair in the waiting room, waiting for her turn to be poked and prodded. Buggins knew exactly where M was sitting, and would periodically escape my clutches and go running into the waiting room yelling for her mommy. I would run in behind her, scoop her up, and bring her back to the hallway. Multiple times.

Well, after a while, M was called in for her ultra-sound, and a woman sat in M's vacant seat. This woman happened to have similar hair, similar build, and the same coat at M. At one point, Buggins got away from me and ran back in the waiting room, and my one quick glance at M's old chair and I knew exactly what was going to happen.

Buggins ran up to this woman, who was alone and reading a magazine, grabbed her leg and yelled "HI MAMA!!"

Time seemed to slow down right then. The room went deathly silent (Oh, except for Lola's laugh...) I looked into the young ladies eyes, which had widened as if to say "No way did that just happen to me. No way did a little girl just run up to me out of nowhere and call me Mommy as I sit in the waiting room of an infertility clinic". Yes. Her eyes said all that.

I apologized to the woman and explained that Buggin's mom had been sitting in that seat before her. She smiled and we bolted out of there. A few minutes later, I noticed that she had switched seats, possible to avoid a repeat of that fiasco.

I hope that girl saw that as a sign from heaven that she would one day be someone's momma. Or at least I hope she thought Buggins was cute in her little snowman sweater.

A Stimulating Thanksgiving

2006-11-24T16:22:00.000-05:00

First of all, Blogger is pushing Beta like it's crack. They are getting more and more creative about finding ways to trick me into switching. Hear this, Blogger! I ain't switching! Not gonna do it! Finish getting all the bugs out with all the other suckas and then I'll come by when you take the "beta" out of the name. It wasn't the pioneers who had the best life, blogger. It was the pioneers who ended up with arrows in their backs. The guys who had it made were the guys who waited for the roads to be built by all the suckers. Then they just drive on through.

Phew. I went on about that a bit longer than I intended and much longer than was appropriate.

M and I had to stick around here for the holidays, because she had to get an ultrasound. My 3 siblings, their spouses, and all 10 of their kids got together at my sister's house in upstate NY, but we obviously could not make it. Explaining that one to them was not easy and I think some feelings got hurt. But hey, our feelings are hurt by IF, so it's all good.

The RE's office on T'Giving morning was more action-packed than I was prepared for. We brought The Buggins with us, since we had the first appt, 8am, and we really thought we'd be the only people there because of the holiday. Not so.

Something about that place makes the Buggins misbehave, I don't get it. Seriously, she is the most even-tempered, well behaved little girl, until she gets to our clinic. Then all bets are off. (Remember, that's where she bit M's finger).

Apparently, I was "spotted" by a REAL LIFE blogging buddy, Lola. We had both figured out that we probably used the same clinic, and our timing is pretty much the same, but since she has never posted a picture or even described herself, I had no idea what to look for. (She did mention once that she likes wearing 4 inch heels, but I'm on the lookout for ladies like that all the time anyway, so the RE waiting room would be no different.) Lola - had you worn those, I'd remember you perfectly.

Anyway, she saw me, and what's even better is that she saw the Buggins have a freaking BREAKDOWN when M was called in and Buggins could not follow her. We normally don't bring buggins in the waiting room, in fact I normally don't go to these appointments at all, but we made an exception that day. I scooped up the Buggins and calmed her down by promising her things I had no intention of ever providing (a whole car made out of chocolate? Forget it).

Unfortunately, despite recognizing me, Lola did not introduce herself because she was unsure whether I would welcome it. Let me clear that up right now: If any of you ever see me in real life, no matter what I'm doing, please stop me and introduce yourself. I will ALWAYS be happy you did. I can not think of an instance where I would be unhappy you did, unless you went on to mug me or something. Or spit on me. Because if I see you, and I know it's you, I don't care if you're on the phone. I'm coming up to you. And we're talking.

So after Buggins calmed down, I brought her back inside the waiting room and went to the far, far corner and sat down. After a few moments of quiet, I thought perhaps Buggins was going to make it easy on me.

That's right about when she started lifting up her shirt, showing all that God gave her, and yelling "Daddy eat it!!". Daaaadddyyyy, EAT IT!"(Lola - did you catch that little show??). Buggins was referring to her Bee Boo, which is an innocent little game we play in the privacy of our own home. Perfectly innocent, I assure you.

Well, it didn't look so innocent to the lady sitting across from us. She totally looked at me as if I was some kind of sicko. I guess a little girl flashing her stomach and yelling for her Daddy to "EAT IT" is a bit of a red flag.

M's follicles all look good, not too many, not too few. It looks like we'll trigger on Sunday or Monday. We're back tomorrow for another U/S.

We finished up the day with an excellent dinner at The Hampshire House, which you may recognize as the restaurant upstairs from Cheers. I think it was called Melville's on the show. We love it there.

Have a great weekend everyone -

I'm The WORST F'ing Father In The World

2006-11-21T16:16:00.000-05:00

OK, first things first:

10 follicles, all looks "great" down there. Estradiol level (whatever the F*CK that is) is 219. I'm told that's "good". Back on Thanksgiving morning for more.

If anyone can help me understand what the estradiol number means, I'll give you a dollar. Seriously. I'll pay.pal you.

Now I'll tell you why I don't even deserve any more children and why I feel like jumping out my 32nd story window.

Because M had to leave early to get to her appointment, I had the pleasure of taking miss Buggins to her pre-school. I've never done that before. M left some stuff out for me to take there, like buggin's little Maisy Mouse bag, which held her goldfish crackers for snack time, as well as a little bib so she doesn't get crumbs all over her fancy little school clothes. M told me to remember the "moo milk", which is a little container of vanilla milk with a built in straw that buggins LOVES. She said they were in the fridge, and that I should not forget to grab one. Sure.

So the time came, I gathered up all the stuff, put buggins in her big coat and hat, and we headed off for school. I dropped her off, she seemed very happy, and off I went to work.

4 hours later, M picked her up from school. Her eyes were all red and puffy, and the teacher said buggins had been VERY upset. It seemed that at snack time, there was no moo milk. I forgot the effing moo milk. She was forced to eat goldfish crackers with no moo milk to wash it down. She had to sit there and watch as all her little friends got to drink THEIR drinks, but her Dad is too fucking stupid to remember hers.

Its one thing to suffer because of something dumb you did. It's an ENTIRELY different feeling when someone else, who happens to be totally innocent and dependent on you, suffers because you forgot something. Seriously, the thought of buggins in tears because I forgot the milk has put a huge lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach. I think I will be plagued by guilt over this for the rest of my life. I will be apologizing for this at her wedding. Which I'll probably forget to give her a present for.

Buggins, if this blog still exists when you can read, and you happen to stumble upon it, I want you to know that I am very, very sorry. I will always make sure you have everything you need in the future. As I'm sure Mommy has told you several times, Daddy isn't very smart. But he loves you.

I Think I Hit A Vein

2006-11-20T16:14:00.000-05:00

First u/s tomorrow. We'll see if all this mixing and shooting into my wife's abdomen is doing any good.

Wish us luck -

MWWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

2006-11-18T11:15:00.000-05:00

Stims start tonight!!!

What fun! I get to mix FOUR vials of drugs into each shot. I wish I could slip a little something extra in there, to make her euphoric or into a sex maniac or something.

SHOCKING Update to Pumpkin Touching

2006-11-17T08:54:00.000-05:00

So I got home last night and, after eating a delicious bee boo (oh yeah, we're back baby), I settled down with a little glass of scotch. I ruminated a bit on the pumpkin touching dilemma, as I watched buggins perform her "ring around the rosey" dance 1,472 times in a row. I knew that today, Friday, she would be spending the day at the Children's Program, where Rick works and perhaps practices his evil pumpkin touching. I decided to probe on the matter.

Smarshy: Buggins, what's happening tomorrow?
Buggins: Want cookie
Smarshy: No, Buggins, what's happening tomorrow?
Buggins: Rick. Rick touched the pumpkin.
Smarshy: What? Say that again
Buggins (getting annoyed with me): Daaadddyyy...Rick chachy plumpgrem!
Smarshy: Buggins, I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that. Say it again.
Buggins: Rick cheldmen prugum!!!
Smarshy: What?? Rick cheldmen prugrum?
Buggins (totally exasperated with me): RICK CHILDRENS PROGRAM!!

Oh my God. She wasn't saying Rick touched the pumpkin. She was saying Rick Childrens Program. As in "I want to go see Rick at the Children program".

I totally threw Rick under the bus needlessly. I guess I can put away my lead pipe and brass knuckles. And I was all geared up for "mortal combat" type bloodshed and asskicking.
Oh well. Crisis averted. Riddle solved. She is at the Childrens Program right now, stuffing her little face with french toast sticks and subjecting Rick to hours of Ring Around The Rosey entertainment.

*****

Baseline ultra-sound was this morning. M has 10 follicles, which they said was very good, given that she was on birth control pills for 2 weeks. The Dr. said many women have none on their first ultrasound. And she hasn't even had any stims yet.

So it looks like M is off to a good start. They expect her to be a "good responder". Yeah, that's my lady.

Rick Touched The Pumpkin

2006-11-16T10:33:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, when M has doctors appointments or needs to be in the city, we take the Buggins to a day care center affiliated with my work. It's an unbelievable place, such an amazing benefit. 20 visits a year are covered by work. And its like the Four Seasons of day care. Every person in there has an advanced degree in kidology and poopology and all that other stuff. Buggins loves it there, and they love her.

Almost all the people who work there are women (and they're all ridiculously hot, for some reason). The only guy who works there is Rick. Buggins loves Rick, and it always seems to be Rick who plays with her, writes her daily report, etc.

Also, Buggins is starting to make sense when she speaks. There's alot of "La la cribbie Elmo Banana" but then sometimes there is an actual sentence to be heard, i.e. "hello daddy, I had a fun day".

The other day she said something new, which caused me to pause and wonder just what the HELL she was talking about. She was following me around the house saying "daddy, daddy, daddy, daddddyyyyyy" so I finally turned, squatted down to her level, and said "Yes, Buggins?".

She replied, "Rick touched the pumpkin".

Well. My imagination started to run a little wild. She has since said it a number of times, at least 2 times a day. Buggins would not be able to watch someone do something like this and then describe it like that. She is saying "Rick touched the pumpkin" because someone said to HER, "Rick touch the pumpkin". Maybe it was in the form of a question? As in, "Rick touch the pumpkin?", or, "May Rich touch the pumpkin?" OR, what I'm MOST afraid of, "Do you enjoy it when Rick touches the pumpkin?"

The big question in this case, obviously, is...what the hell is "the pumpkin". Is it an actual pumpkin? Or is something sinister going on? Is my buggins crying out for help?

Now, obviously I am mostly joking here, and this type of thing should not be joked about. If I thought someone was out there touching Buggins pumpkin, I'd be doing alot less writing and alot more ass-whoopin'. But it does give you a glimpse into the paranoid mind of the father of a very pretty little girl. I am CONVINCED there is a madman around every corner waiting to make off with my little Buggins. And what I'm sure was a very innocent case of "pumpkin touching" temporarily sent me down a very dark path. I expect to head down this path at least once a day for the next 18 years.

I've decided that even though I'm sure everything is fine, and nothing untoward happened, I still have to go kick Rick's ass. If he asks why, I'll just say "Watch out who's pumpkin you touch". That'll teach him.

As far as Mrs Smarshy and I go, we haven't been touching the pumpkin in quite some time. Did you know that Lupron is one of the drugs given to repeated sex offenders to quell their sex drive? Yeah. If it has that effect on crazy sex maniacs, imagine the effect on little Mrs. Smarshy.

Oh, that's right, I have a blog...

2006-11-14T17:16:00.000-05:00

I haven't been too good at updating this thing lately, and I apologize to anyone who has come here looking for updated posts. Work has gotten uncharacteristically busy, and that has left me no time to write. I really miss it, though. I've been reading all your blogs, though - and I want to give a big shout out to Alli and to Soralis. That's the good news I've been craving lately.

Too much to say to do it all in one post, so here is a quick executive summary:

Things are good on this front. We are on day 7 of Lupron. I love giving shots. Actually, I only like it every other day. For some reason, it doesn't hurt at all when I put the shot in M's left leg, but when I put it in her right leg, she screams like I'm poking her with a red-hot branding iron. That takes the fun out of it. Well, most of the fun. It's still a little fun.

So far, no side effects at all - no headaches or abnormal craziness. I say abnormal because if there was NO craziness, that would be incredibly abnormal.

We start stims on Saturday. I imagine that's when the evil Sith Lord will invade my wife's body. I'm planning on shutting down half my brain for that 2 week period.

She has to get an MRI on Friday because they think she may have an obstructed bile duct left over from her recent gall bladder surgery. Depending on what they see, this whole cycle could end up in the shitter. If she does have to have surgery, we hope we can at least get to the retrieval stage first, and then make some frosties. We'll see.

Buggins in sick. My poor little buggins. Nothing is as terrible as seeing your little girl sick, and there is NOTHING you can do about it. Fever, sniffles, coughing. I would give anything to take her illness away and give it to myself. One good thing about it: she gets really cuddly when she's sick, like a puppy.

M and I are still seeing the social worker every week, but we had a breakthrough. Actually, she had a breakthrough. I was staring out the window watching workmen lay brick on some new construction. They had nice form.

Anyway, I'll tell you all about that (the breakthrough, not the brickwork) another time. I gotta get home to see the Buggins.

Bee Boo

2006-11-10T10:12:00.000-05:00

In my house, the belly button is referred to as a "bee boo". This is because of one of Buggins' favorite books, The Belly Button Book by Sandra Boynton.

Sometimes, when I get home from work, I announce that I'm very hungry and that I'd like to eat a Bee Boo. Thus there is a brief chase, accompanied by glass-shattering girly shrieks, until I catch her, then lift her up and pretend to eat her bee boo while tickling her. After a few minutes of frenzy, I release her and we both sit on the ground, catching our breath and feeling exhausted. Then I have a beer. This goes on almost every night.

The last couple of days I've noticed a disturbing change. I get home and announce that I want to eat a Bee Boo. Buggins looks at me, and instead of running away and screaming with glee, she simply stands there and lifts up her shirt. As if to say "Ok Dad, come and get it. Do your thing".

That makes me feel very
1) Stupid, as if this whole time she's been playing this stupid game for ME
2) Dirty, for obvious reasons
3) Sad, because our little bee-boo phase must be coming to an end

Also, it makes me a little worried. I mean, is that all it's going to take to get my little girl to lift up her shirt to some dude? What's next? I want to make sure I teach her not to go flashing her boobies to every pimply little dickwad who wants to cop a feel. So far, it looks like all someone has to do is announce they want to eat a bee-boo, and up comes the clothes (I think she may have even continued watching TV while holding up her shirt). Complete lack of passion.

It also brought to mind what she might be like if she were in a loveless marriage someday. Really. She gave off the whole vibe of "alright, make this quick, I'm watching my programs".

These are not thoughts I want to contemplate about my little girl. I ALWAYS want her to run from anyone who wants to see her bee-boo.

Tagged Again

2006-11-09T08:24:00.000-05:00

Serenity tagged me and now I have to list 5 things you don't know about me.

Serenity just moved over to beta. Should I do that? All I've heard are crappy things about it. But I don't want to be the only loser still stuck back in regular blogger. What should I do? I'm inclined to stay here, if only because Serenity has already used the "lighthouse" motif, and anyone who know me knows that I'm all about lighthouses, and now I can't use that without copying Serenity. What a quandary.

Ok, so 5 things:

1) Rent the movie "Without Limits", starring Billy Crudup and Donald Sutherland. I am the very first person you see in that film, right after the opening credits. That's me, walking through the parking lot with a tray of coffee. If you watch it, you'll notice I was kind of, um, LANKY. Not so much anymore. That was 10 years and almost 35 pounds ago. The fact that I could put on 35 pounds and still not be fat at all tells you what a skinny dipshit I was. I've since gotten a haircut too, thankfully.

2) Whenever I see my wife being incredibly sweet to the Buggins, or whenever I see her being a great mother or whenever I get the sense that I'm being a good father, I get overwhelmed with sadness that I have not been able to explain. I am working with a counselor who is helping me realize that at that moment, I am mourning the fact that I did not receive that level of parenting from my own parents. Literally, the baby in me is jealous of my own baby. Weird.

3) I believe that we bloggers are totally full of ourselves. This exercise if absolute proof of that, in my mind. Why would I think 5 things about me would be of any interest to anyone? Why do I think I have anything interesting to say? I know many of you say, and I myself have said, that this blogging business is all about getting feelings out and the therapy of sharing. I think there's some truth to that, but I mostly think we all just want people to read our shit and think we're funny/smart/interesting.

4) I got a bonus in March that changed my life. That's when M stopped working.

5) My mother is an alcoholic who lives alone, thousands of miles from any of her children. She has a sister who lives 4 hours away by car. My mother refuses help, will not move, and is combative and is filled with self-pity. She does not return phone calls and prefers to hang out with her friends during holidays instead of her family. I am very afraid something will happen to her and we won't know about it for days or weeks. Not so much because I'll miss her, but because of the horribleness of dying alone and no one knowing for along time. The horror that that can happen to someone, despite the fact that they had decades of a happy, normal life, raising kids, being married for 40 years. Then, to live a hermit life of an angry alcoholic and to die alone, it just shatters the idea of happy endings.

Rock The Vote

2006-11-08T08:50:00.000-05:00

Choose or Lose, Baby. Rock The Vote.

Remember when Martha Quinn and all the other MTV jerkoffs were trying so hard to make voting seem cool to our disenfranchised youth? Ah, the innocent 80's and 90's. Damn kids weren't voting enough. Some of them even chewed gum in the hallway.

I rocked the vote last night, with M and the Buggins, who isn't yet totally clear on the "V" sound and thought we were going on a "boat". So in the middle of the little voting room, she was screaming "Going to Boat! Going to Boat!!". Yeaaah. Rock the Boat, baby.

Speaking of rocking the boat, we really stuck it to ol' G-Dub last night. Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative, blah blah blah. I just really like the fact that, despite all of the immense power inherent within the presidency, we can still stick it to him if we don't like what he's doing. No electoral college in the congressional or gubernatorial elections. Just us. We kicked Dubya in the pantalones. Sorry George. Now, take these cookies. And this milk, careful not to spill. Go sit in that comfy chair in the corner, and try not to make any loud noises. We'll come and get you in 2008 when it's time to leave.

My state (MA) elected it's first black governor. It seems odd to me that that is such a big deal. He ran against a woman, who would have been the first woman elected. That was a big deal too. What is it with this country? Margaret Thatcher was running the UK decades ago. And don't forget Cleopatra, Queen Elizabeth, Catherine the Great. A woman running things is really not a very new idea. One visit to my home proves that point.

Started Lupron this morning. I was like a shot wizard. The reason for that is that I went to Shot School yesterday. I went to the clinic (BY MYSELF) and got a lesson in how to use my wife as a pincushion. I am now officially an expert in syringes.

The nurse who taught me was a middle aged woman. Not especially nice looking, but certainly not homely, either. The thing about her was that she has got the most incredible colored eyes. They are like a pale, sky blue. I don't think I've ever seen eyes that color. And, she happened to be wearing a p.atagonia pullover that was EXACTLY the same color. Exactly. Now, this is no ordinary color, it's like "pale blue #423534". Hard to replicate in nature. And the P.atagonia really made them pop.

So of course I said something. That's just my nature. When it comes to things like this, I just have no filter. I said "Wow, you know your eyes exactly match your pullover, it's really a very nice color". She looked at me in amazement, and then sort of stuttered a thank you and got all weird. It occurred to me as I was leaving that she may have thought I was hitting on her. While I was learning how to shoot my wife up with fertility drugs.

Hey nursie, if you are reading this, I wasn't hitting on you. I just liked your eye color, that's all. Get over yourself.

I Love Spackle

2006-11-06T11:48:00.000-05:00

I haven't really known what to write about the last few days. Instead, I've been working in my basement - cutting, nailing, painting, washing, and yes - spackling. I thought I would take just a moment of your time and announce to you that I truly love spackle.

There are only a few things, from a guys perspective, that come close to spackle in terms of variety of usage. Duct tape is up there too. But it's what spackle GIVES you that makes it so special. While duct tape will hold things together, spackle goes one step further - it gives you a fresh start.

Have a hole in your wall? Spread on some spackle. Did you drive a nail into your wall in the wrong place? Pull it out, and slap on some spackle. Did the pieces of drywall not connect evenly, and leave a gap? Spackle spackle spackle baby.

It covers your mistakes. Just wait for it to try, grab some sand paper or a wet cloth, and sand or wipe away the excess. What's left? NOTHING. It's like the badness was NEVER THERE. No one will EVER know.

Oh, I have so many uses for spackle in my life. There are a few ex girlfriends I'd like to spackle over. I knocked the buggins in the head with the 'fridge door when she was like 10 weeks old. I'd like to spackle that. My wife recently said that she would love diamond earrings, and I responded that I'd consider it if she were pregnant. I'd slather a whole CAN of spackle on that conversation.

Can't they sell Life Spackle?

I'd buy it at CostCo, in like a 10 gallon tub. Instead of a spackle knife, I'd spread it around with a snow shovel. But I would save a whole bunch for the middle of December.

Why? Because that's when we'll get the results of the current IVF cycle we're on. I would stand by the phone, spackle knife fully loaded and in hand, and when the call comes in, if it's a negative, EVERYTHING is getting spackled. The phone, my wife, her memory, everything. Then I will sand it all, and paint it all nice and happy.

Still Lacking Motivation

2006-11-03T09:16:00.000-05:00

Hi everyone, thanks for your nice comments about the Buggins! I really appreciate it when people say nice things about her. I'm crazy about her.

I still can't quite bring myself to create a post of any significance. I originally started blogging because I thought it would bring me and M hope, but lately I think it's been having the opposite affect on me. It's making me feel hopeless. This is a community of people who I have grown to care about a great deal, so I feel each setback and negative event that befalls any of you acutely, as if it were happening to me. I would feel the positive events too, but there just seems to be a dearth of those. I'm not going anywhere, though. I'm far too involved in all your stories to disappear now. I just don't have much to contribute at this point.

I'm in shock over Kellie's news. If you haven't already, please visit her and offer a kind word.

M and I are still on the rollercoaster, and at every twist and turn she is screaming to get off the ride. The social worker we *have* to see together I'm sure thinks we're a couple of nutjobs.

The latest drama was that the box of fertility meds arrived, and when M opened it and saw how many shots and boxes of drugs were in it, she reacted literally as if she had opened the box and found a severed head inside. I was traveling that day, and I got calls on my cell phone while I was in a meeting and she was literally hyperventilating into the phone. She decided right then that the cycles was cancelled.

The next morning she decided she would try to continue the cycle.

That afternoon she cancelled it again.

Today its back on.

I'm going fucking crazy.

Kangaroo Girl

2006-10-31T20:25:00.000-05:00

Hope everyone had a great Halloween!

We made it to a few houses before Buggins announced "ALL DONE HALLOWEEN!". When Buggins uses the phrase "all done", one ignores that at one's peril. The rest of the evening she spent standing by the door, waiting for trick or treaters. When the doorbell rang she would scream "BIG KIDS!!!".

Kids are fun.

Here are a coupla pics. (note the master carving)

All Blogged Out

2006-10-31T11:31:00.000-05:00

I'm running low on motivation to update my blog. That is probably due to a number of factors, chief among them being that our cycle has not officially started yet (M is on the birth control portion of the program). But in addition to that, I'm really just feeling pretty bummed out by alot of the blogs out there and I've lost the desire to update. Too much bad news. Anyone have any good news? Please?

Plus, it came out in our couples session that M feels like I'm spending too much time reading and writing blogs and not enough time talking with her about OUR cycles. That's pure crap, by the way. But she said it, and she said in front of the THERAPIST which of course made me sound like some kind of a freaky internet weirdo. Trolling for infertiles. Come here, little infertile...want some candy?

I just read Songbird's blog; I haven't checked in on her in a while. I am so sad about her news. I just don't understand all these miscarriages. I mean, WTF? Anyway, her news is a week old, but please go lend some support.

Not much going on here. I've been working in the basement, trying to make it look nice. Installed some drywall for the first time, so that was interesting. The 1st peice I put in looks a whole lot different than the 10th and 15th and 20th. You can literally see how I progressed down the experience curve.

We got our IVF schedule. It's all going down on Thanksgiving week. Retrieval on Tues, Wed, or Thursday (T'Giving Day), with transfer 5 days later. So I guess we're staying home this year? I hope we get the really crappy, second string nurses who have to cover for the good ones while they take time off. It's always fun to see them bumbling around, bumping into eachother, trying to use the u/s maching as a telephone, etc.

Buggins is going as a kangaroo tonight. I'm taking her out on the town. If we stop by your house, and you're not there, then GOD HELP YOU. I'm bringing eggs, shaving cream, and m-80's.

Ooooh ooooh that smell...Can't you smell that smeeeellll

2006-10-27T10:39:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was like 3 days long. It was truly a day I'd like to forget. Surely there are worse days, and my bad day in no way can compete with days that include a BFN, or a car accident, or anything of that sort. It was just a bad day.

It all started when we had to meet the "social worker". As part of our treatment, M and I had to sit down with a counselor to talk about all the various IVF related issues and how they affect us. She claimed she was not a gatekeeper in any way, and that she was not an "obstacle" we had to clear prior to beginning our cycle, but I think that was bullcocky. She wanted to make sure we weren't crazy people.

Counseling sessions with couples are really really hard. That was my first experience with it. I did NOT like alot of the things my wife said. Everything really came out into the open. That meeting really put me in a funk. Turns out, we have some serious issues. The social worker pretty much insisted that we go back and see her regularly, like once a week, until we can start to clear some things up. So I've got THAT going for me.

Then, as we were leaving the session, seething and angry at eachother for all the crappy things we said, M's cell phone rang. It was the Buggin's pre-school. Apprarently there was a really foul, unusual odor in the building, and even the fire department did not know what it was. So they had to evacuate, and all the kids needed to be picked up IMMEDIATELY. Well, guess what? M was in BOSTON, with me, and it would take a good hour to get to the school (we had to fit the social worker appt in during the 3 hours Buggins is in school). So it was cold out, Buggins did not have a warm enough jacket or gloves, and she was stuck in the frigging PARKING LOT waiting to be picked up. So M totally lost it. She felt as though her baby needed her, and she wasn't there, instead she was in the city focusing her attention on making another baby that doesn't even exist, and meanwhile her little baby that DOES exist was shivering in a parking lot. So it was clear to me that M could not make the drive from Boston to our town, given that she was sobbing and convulsing. So I drove her most of the way there, until she was calm and composed, and then dropped myself off a train station so that I could get my ass BACK to Boston and to work finally. M picked up the Buggins, who was having fun with her teachers in the parking lot. She was just fine, except her little hands were cold. They never did find out what the smell was. I suspect Buggins just let one fly; she does that from time to time and it really is pretty noxious.

So then, after they were home safe and I was at work, M and I got into a RIP ROARING fight on the phone about stuff that was said to the social worker. She hung up on me, and I called her back. I hung up on her, and she called me back. Yeah. One of THOSE fights.

But, the truth is, after we got through the fight, we were in a pretty good place. We understood eachother alot better than we did before, and I think that fight was good for us. We had a babysitter lined up for last night (it was parent teacher night at pre-school, but noxious gas cancelled it) so we decided to keep the babysitter and go out for a nice dinner. I'm glad we did. We are much better off now than we were before meeting with the social worker, but the journey was BRUUUTAL.

Anyway, it's sunny and it's Friday and things today are pretty good. So I have THAT going for me too.

Things I Think

2006-10-26T13:41:00.000-04:00

I've decided that my blog is the perfect receptacle for all my absurd thoughts, half-baked ideas, and ridiculous theories. They are not necessarily good ideas, or intelligent or even well thought out. But they're mine. These are things I think.

1) I think I've grown spoiled by the level of comments on my blog over the last few months. Because I only got about 10 on my last post, and now I'm afraid you all have grown weary of me. Don't feel bad, you all hung around much longer than most of my ex-girlfriends. I think my wife might be growing weary of me too.

2) I think you should have to surrender your drivers license at a certain age, like 75. Now, I know there are plenty of 77 and 80 year olds who are perfectly capable of driving. There are also plenty of 13 and 14 year olds who are capable, but they can't drive. Sorry Grandma. Hand it over.

3) I think it should be a law that the President of the United States should have to populate half of his cabinet-level positions with people from other political parties. Abraham Lincoln had his "Team of Rivals", literally his cabinet was made up of his former political opponents. After he won office, he basically said something along the lines of "I don't feel I have the right to deprive the American public of these people's intellect and leadership" And it was like the most effective cabinet ever. There are NO checks and balances in a room filled with yes men. Abe Lincoln had it right. Too bad about the Ford Theater thing.

4) I think ailments like infertility, as well as cancer and any other type of ailment, cause the sufferer to wake up to the idea that people are, for the most part, totally selfish, self-absorbed, and insensitive. What a horrible discovery that is. I'd much rather not know.

5) I think all humans are constantly one tiny step away from losing all semblance of civility, and running naked in the streets throwing poop at eachother. We're all just animals. Look at how Boston reacted when the Red Sox won the world series. It was mayhem. We can all wear suits and get fancy degrees but we're all just one winning baseball game away from being a bunch of crazy monkeys.

6) I think our society should be like Asia, where they revere the elderly. People don't value experience nearly enough. Old people here are treated like they're crazy. (some ARE crazy). But they were once young, and they have been there. In ancient China or Japan, these people would have been held up like gods. We should pay MUCH more respect to our elderly. (We just should not let them DRIVE)

7) I think prisoners should get a bill after they get out of jail. For room and board.

8) I think the Secretary of Defense should have a military background. Call me crazy.

9) I think it's odd that those Segway scooters never really caught on. I suspect it's because there is no cargo space. Where do you store all your crap? Also, no one wants to be that first guy who buys one, and then everyone stares at as he goes by.

10) I think diamonds are precious just because we have decided that they're precious. It's up to us. Let's decide DIRT is precious. There, look, now everyone is rich.

11) I think electricity will be wireless someday soon. And we'll regale our offspring with stories of how we used to have to "plug things in" and how we had giant wooden poles along the streets holding "wires" that actually had to carry electricity from place to place.

Those are some things I think. What are some things you think? I'd be interested.

Tuesdays Are Pretty Much Worthless

2006-10-24T13:27:00.000-04:00

Seriously. What is the point of them. On Monday, you know it's the first day of the week, so you're revved up and ready to go. It's painful, but you're just off a weekend and things are pretty good. Wednesday is "hump day", when you go "wow, middle of the week already, sweet...". Thursday is good because you're almost there, just one more day to go. Plus, you can go out on a Thursday night without guilt because, well, it's Thursday. And Friday, forget it. Everyone pretty much phones it in on Friday. Which leaves Tuesday. The shit day.

Happy Shit Day, everyone.

So M and I have been going back and forth on this "2 week decision" thing. She had a bit of a breakthrough last night when she realized that what she was lacking, and what she desperately needed, was a word of encouragement or a pep talk from someone knowledgeable about her situation (i.e. the Doctor). No one has ever said to her "M, based on your numbers here, I think there is a strong likelihood that you'll get pregnant from IVF. Maybe not the first time, maybe not the second, but chances are pretty good for you overall". She has had a pep talk from NO ONE except me, and I give TERRIBLE pep talks. Here's my pep talk: "Hey, buck up little camper, we'll all be dead in 100 years anyway, so why does it really matter?" Pure sunshine.

Remember when I was so happy that the Dr gave us his e-mail address? Well I dug it up and used it. I sent him a long note telling him the M was paralyzed with fear over a negative IVF, that she felt as though she has no reason to hope, and that she needed a word of encouragement or she was going to bail on the whole thing. He wrote back! He said everyone in that practice was "very optimistic that she would not only respond well, but also be quite successful!". He then went on to say that her only cycle so far was an IUI-IVF conversion, which in his mind "Doesn't even count since IUI and IVF protocols are very different". That was what she needed to hear. If we erase that bad transfer, then actually M has had NO treatment since we started trying for baby #2. All other cycles have been cancelled by either insurance or over/understimulation. That negative IVF really screwed her up, and if we can say "it didn't count", well, then she's in a much better place, isn't she. So it looks like we're going to do the IVF cycle.

Things I realized when I thought we were going to stop treatments:
1) The extra room we were saving to make a bedroom for Buggins #2 would be an excellent walk-in closet and sitting area, and we could break down the wall and make a gigantic master bedroom
2) With one kid we could go on SICK vacations every year with the Buggins. Like "oh, where are the Smiths going on their vacation? Oh, their inlaws in North Carolina? Nice. The Smarshys are going to Venice, and then skiing in the Swiss Alps."
3) Poopy diapers really smell very, very bad
4) Pregnant women fart constantly

These four things were helping me get comfortable with no more kids. So, maybe I'll need to refocus on these 4 things again someday. Or maybe not.

2 Weeks

2006-10-23T08:16:00.000-04:00

M and I had a serious conversation this weekend. Actually, it was a series of conversations on a very important and ever present topic: infertility. Treatment for infertility, to be precise.

These conversations, along with the differences in the way M and I process and conduct these kinds of conversations, make me very sleepy. So we had to take breaks to prevent me from falling into a narcoleptic coma on the kitchen floor. To be honest, I'm not sure if this topic itself is what causes this reaction in me, or if it's M's reactions to this topic that do it (smart money is on the latter). Either way, I become one hell of a sedentary, slothful, somnolent son a bitch at the outset of one of these discussions. Just the thought of it makes me want to curl up under my desk and have a little nap. But I have a meeting in 15 minutes, so I'll just nap then.

As I've mentioned before, M is having a very difficult time in the few weeks leading up to the official cycle kick off. CD1 is fast approaching, and then it's back on birth control for a couple weeks. She is literally in knots over whether or not she can ever be put back in the situation of getting a BFN. Just the thought of it sends her into hysterical tears. See, I'm starting to realize something: it's not the treatment that she can't handle. Its the risk. She would really rather give up trying than risk going through another BFN. Having seen her at her last BFN, I can understand why. It was a total and complete breakdown. There are many things I don' know, but I DO know one thing: she can NEVER be in that situation again. I honestly don't know if she would live through it. She is very strong in a number of ways, but not when it comes to this. Now, that doesn't mean necessarily that she can never have treatment again, but it does mean serious steps need to be taken to give her the coping tools necessary to deal with another BFN.

And since we are just a few short weeks away from shots and treatment, we don't know that there's time for her to gain these coping skills. It would literally take years. So we have agreed: 2 weeks. She is going to decide within 2 weeks whether to continue trying for baby #2, or pack it in and get busy living the life we have (which is, admittedly, a pretty good life). We are extremely blessed to be able to contemplate this decision knowing that we already have a baby.

So, 2 weeks. If she still feels like she can't go through with it in 2 weeks, and if she feels that way consistently during this period, then that's it.

I also have 2 weeks. 2 weeks to get myself accustomed to the idea that I may be the father of only 1 child. I was sad after these conversations, and M was afraid I was angry with her. I had to explain that I wasn't angry, but the decision is one in which I obviously have a stake and the possible outcome makes me very sad. I'll need to grieve too.

Honestly, there are moments when I think it would be very nice to put this chapter behind us. We could make plans again, go on nice vacations, we'd have more money, etc. But then Buggins will do something so sweet and innocent and it will occur to me that she's a declining asset. Every sweet phase she goes through will be IT. We won't see it again. There's no backup. When she outgrows her cute clothes, we can't save them for her sibling. And then I feel like we'd be making a big mistake by stopping.

Anyway, that's where we are. This post is kind of serious, but what do you want, it's Monday. I'm sure M and I will go through periods in the next 14 days when we are convinced we should stop, and also that we need to continue.

Wish us luck. I have 5 minutes before my meeting. Going to lie down.

Smarshy & The Buggins

2006-10-19T17:07:00.000-04:00

Nantucket 2006

I already miss Summer....

Pot of Gold Anyone?

2006-10-19T13:42:00.000-04:00

Daddy Try

2006-10-18T09:23:00.000-04:00

Thank you all for your comments on my last post. I like it here.

OK, so I thought I would tell a little story that will hopefully help all of us remember why we are going through all this bullshit in the first place. A cute Buggins story will follow, so if you can't deal with that, may I suggest you take this time to peruse some internet porn, which, according to CNN, America is addicted to. I know I was when I was in business school. Now, if we can just combine porn and your weather pixies...now THAT'S an addiction worth having.

How do I segue from porn into a story about my daughter? I can't. But I must.

I think little kids can be so perceptive and amazingly caring and sweet in the most subtle ways. As a bit of background, Buggins has a little pink stuffed elephant. His name is "NuhNight". She loves him more than life itself. Sleeps with him, carries him around, shares her juice and food with him. Loves him.

One of her favorite things to do, particularly around bedtime, is to take NuhNight's incredibly soft, velvety ear, and rub it up against her cheek (think Linus and his blanket). She just rubs her cheek with it, and all is right with the world. GOD HELP YOU if she catches YOU trying to rub YOUR cheek with it, though. Seriously. NuhNight's ears have a special magical quality that she alone is allowed to enjoy.

So yesterday, as some of you may recall, was a bad day for me. I was frustrated, I was pissed, I was tired. I do an excellent job of hiding that from the Buggins, though. We went through the evening routine, "brushyteeth", PJ's, I read her a story on "Bigbed" (AKA the brick) and then I plopped her into her crib. She sat there looking at me for a minute, and started rubbing her cheek with NuhNight's ear. I noticed she was really looking at me. Toddlers aren't known for making continuous eye contact. A moment of silence occurred as each of us looked at the other directly in the eyes. Then she took NuhNight, held his ear out to me, and said "Daddy try?"

I stood there in shock. I took NuhNight, and slowly rubbed his ear up against my cheek. Oh, it was sweet. That ear is magic. As soon as I started rubbing her eyes lit up and she smiled. Then I handed it back to her and said "Thank you." She said "uh huh" and just lay down and went to sleep.

M could not believe the story when I told her. She takes care of the Buggins all day long and SHE never gets to rub NuhNight's ear. I hope she gets a chance someday. I hope you all get a chance someday.

I Really DON'T Get It

2006-10-17T15:53:00.000-04:00

I hate to cannibalize my own posts, I really do. More than one post in a day and you're just stealing readers from your other posts. But I just had to get something off my chest here.

You guys all seem to think I "get" it. That M is "lucky". M might be lucky for other reasons, but let me be brutally honest about something: I DON'T GET IT!

I DON'T understand why M has descended into the far reaches of hell before her cycle has even fucking STARTED yet!! And some of you are right, I didn't win any points for that post, alot about it pissed her off. But I'm not TRYING to win points here. This blog is not designed to be a "points gathering" vehicle. I'm trying to be honest and blog about the fact that I'm PISSED that my wife is such a total freaking basketcase, and that I DON'T understand why she reacts the way she does and that I think a positive attitude every now and then WOULDN'T kill her.

I'm convinced all your husbands feel alot like me. If there is anything I "get", it's how to recognize and articulate my own feelings. But just because your husbands may not be able to find the same tools to describe them, doesn't mean they don't have the same feelings! The husband who says "try to relax, it could still happen on its own" is trying to HELP! It may be clueless, but at least he's not saying "Screw you, go clean yourself up, put something frilly on, and go make my dinner"!!

If you guys are sensing some frustration here, you're right on track. I just had a fight with M over the phone. Not about the blog, or anything like that. It wasn't even a fight. It was M yelling about how she hates doctors and hates her friends and isn't sure she wants to even do this anymore and I'm holding the phone 2 feet away from my head and I can STILL make out every last word she's saying.

You ladies all treat eachother's blogs with such respect and non-judgment. How will you treat this? Maybe I'm hanging out in the wrong room. Maybe I need to find a community of clueless but well meaning guys who want to have conversations like this:

Clueless Guy #1: So what'd your wife do now?
Smarshy: I don't know. Threw some fucking fit about some awful shit she has to do in a couple weeks. It's bad.
Clueless Guy #1: Why'd she throw the fit today then?
Smarshy: I have no fucking idea.
Clueless Guy #1: Huh. Weird.
Clueless Guy #2: Why does she have to do all this bad stuff?
Smarshy: She wants another baby
Clueless guy #2: Oh, so she has elected to do all this stuff? She really wants to do it?
Smarshy: Oh yeah. She's just not sure she wants to do it.
Clueless guy#2: Huh? What? My head hurts
Clueless guy#1: If she's so bent out of shape, why don't you tell her to relax, and that everything will be ok?
Smarshy: I tried that
Clueless guy #1: And?
Smarshy: She punched me and started screaming and ran upstairs
Clueless guy #1: Huh? What? My head hurts
Smarshy: Is there a game on?

When I see you write comments to me about how much I get it and everything, I feel like a fraud. This makes no freaking sense to me. NONE.

She's BAAAAAAAACK

2006-10-17T10:44:00.000-04:00

It was nice while it lasted, Happy Fun Wife. I really enjoyed seeing you again. Your positive attitude and carefree outlook truly was infectious. We had alot of laughs. Like, remember that time you dressed up as Catwoman and I dressed up like Superman and we went at it for hours on the roof?

You don't? Oh wait, I dreamed that.

But still, you were such a pleasure to be around. We danced in the kitchen, sang ridiculous Ses.same Street songs in the car at the top of our lungs (you have a terrible voice by the way), went for long walks, played in the yard, and just treated life like its a party. Remember? You were throwing down the M.ike's H.ard L.emonade like you were some kind of bar room floozie. Good times. I'll miss you.

I hope to see you again soon. I'm not sure when that might be, since if the next cycle doesn't work, then we're going to do another, and then probably another. AND, if any of these cycles DO work, then you'll be pregnant, and we both know how you love THAT. The puking, the bloating, the constipation. Remember last time, when your ankles disappeared? That was so funny. You looked like a weeble! Again, good times.

And THEN, after pregnancy? It's a brand new baby. Remember that last one? She only slept during the day, but never at night? And she kept crying. And barfing. Oh man, you were so tired, I think you were legally insane! Sorry I didn't help more. I was a little clueless. I promise to do MUCH better, if we are ever lucky enough to be back in that situation again.

So I'm putting the best case scenario at 18 months. I'll probably see you again in a year and a half. Sure, there may be times when you pop in for half an hour here, 15 minutes there. But I won't see you again for an extended period of time for at least 18 months. But don't worry, HFW, I'll still be here waiting for you whenever you decide to come back. I may have a few more grey hairs and a few welts and bruises, but I'll be here. Because I love you. (Could you swing by for a few minutes around the holidays? Buggins and I would really like to see you then.)

HER, on the other hand. The one who visits when your gone? She's bad. I wish I could send her to the "naughty chair" like I send the Buggins when she whips her grilled cheese at my head. I may be paranoid, but I don't think Unhappy Mean Wife likes me very much. One thing is for sure, she HATES doctors. She has to start going to see them again soon. Which is why you're leaving. I understand. I wouldn't want to stick around for that either. Soon I'll have to start sticking UMW with shots. Let me tell you, UMW does not dig on the shots.

In a few weeks, UMW will have to start driving, WITH the Buggins, into the city every day to see doctors. As you know, UMW HATES driving in the city. She's kind a chicken that way. Get's all freaked out. Man. You should see it. But again, I don't blame you for hightailing it out of here.

I get sleepy when you're gone. I nap alot, like sometimes 2 hours on a Saturday. Since you've been visiting, I haven't taken any naps, I've been full of energy. Painting room in the house, yardwork, doing fun family things. I've had boundless energy. But UMW takes it away. I guess I'll be getting used to that new brick bed we bought.

I guess that's all I have to say, HFW. I just wanted to say bye, and to let you know that I understand why you have to leave and I will work very hard to try to make UMW less , well, Unhappy and Mean while you're gone. I'll see you in a little over a year, hopefully sooner. If you could just send me a note before you show up, that would be great. It would give me a chance to neaten up a bit.

Didn't Need To Know

2006-10-15T14:00:00.000-04:00

I've got a big post a'brewin'. It's swirling around in my head. I'm going to start writing it now but to be honest, I'm feeling a little lazy and I may call it quits well before I finish. I just painted the Buggins' playroom, and on one wall, I used this awesome chalkboard paint to paint a 6' x 3' chalkboard in the middle of the wall. Once the paint dries, it turns any surface into a chalkboard! Isn't that cool? As it's drying, it really looks like a classroom. I can't wait until she scrawls things on it like "poop" or "fart". Fun.

Anyway, that's not what I want to write about. I will start out by saying that in the past, I've always been kind of an "It is what it is" kind of person. I'm not usually the type that gets jealous when I see babies, or when I see dads with their pregnant wives. I just never really felt as though by being pregnant, they had taken anything from me. Well, let me tell you, last night, that all went out the window. Everything changed.

You see, last night, I couldn't sleep. That mattress I made a big stink out of buying is too damn firm. We refer to it as the "brick". As in "Honey, are you coming to the brick?" We're thinking about returning it. Anyway, I was lying there around midnight and I decided to fire up the laptop to see what was happening with that crazy bastard Kim Jong Il and that other crazy bastard, his US counterpart. I decided to check my e-mail, and lo and behold, there was an e-mail from my ex girlfriend. We'll call her "Pill". I haven't heard from her in about 2 years. You see, we met in Australia when I was just 22, and we dated for 4 years. Age 22 to 26; those are some pretty formative years. We feel like we grew up together. Anyway, we broke up in '97, and remained vaguely friendly for a few years in a "send a Christmas card" and "forward an e-mail joke" kind of way. She and M have even met. But like all ex-relationships, Pill and I drifted away, just like we're supposed to. No bad blood, remembering only good times, have a nice life, etc.

Anyway, this e-mail I got was one of those mass e-mails she sent to about 100 people. Reading the distribution list was like reading a who's who directory of my life in the early 1990's. I knew as soon as I saw the ridiculous title "Announcing...." what this e-mail was about.

Pill had a baby. Another baby. Baby #2.

My face got RED hot when I read the e-mail. She had told me when she had baby #1, because I got the same stupid-ass e-mail that time, too. But that time, I was actually happy for her, because M was pregnant with Buggins at the same time. Now, here we are in infertility hell, and Pill is having ANOTHER baby. It was probably easy for her. She probably doesn't even realize that it's actually hard for some people to have babies. I know she's had an easy time of it in the past...Get this: trying for baby #1, she was 35 and assumed she'd have some problems. So she and her husband tried to get pregnant for TWO months before they made an appointment at an IVF clinic. At their first appointment, they did some testing: She was ALREADY pregnant.

Plus, the very fact that she included me, who she hasn't seen or spoken to in years, in that e-mail shows her insensitivity. And she KNOWS we had alot of trouble making the Buggins. Why the F*$& did I need to know about her baby? What are we, friends?

Now I have to say, by many metrics, my situation in life is better than hers. During those years we were together, we did alot of talking and dreaming about the kind of life we wanted for ourselves. Well, I ACHIEVED that life. I live in the very waterfront town Pill and I dreamed about living in someday. She lives in some crapheap in a truly mediocre town. Her husband is average in every way. I married a beautiful women who I am totally, absolutely nuts about. She married a kind of dorky, weird guy who she didn't love that much, but who worships her. She settled for him because she thought she was running out of time (her drunken words one night when we bumped into eachother at a party, not mine). I make much more money than they could ever hope to make. In almost all superficial respects, and in quite a few meaningful respects, I was WINNING, dammit.

Until now.

I am SO PISSED that Pill had another baby, that she gets to give her first baby a sibling. I am so FURIOUS that that dorky little dickweed gave Pill something I am unable to give my wife, despite the fact that I believe M deserves it 1000 times more than her. And, I am PISSED that she even sent me the stupid e-mail. Because now it was after midnight, I was upset, and I was NEVER going to be able to sleep now, brick or no brick. And I knew that in the morning I was going to be put in a situation of being pissed about something and wondering if bringing it up to my wife was going to upset her.

For you clever folks out there...yes, I must have told M, since I am writing this blog post. She was not nearly as upset as I was, which was a rather nice reversal of the norm.

Plus, Pill named the kid a stupid name. I won't say what. But it's stupid.

At Least I Don't Live In Buffalo

2006-10-13T08:43:00.000-04:00

Man, 3 feet of snow? In October? Forget it.

Thanks for your interesting replies to my last post. I think I may have mistakenly given you all the impression that M was not giving me any say in the matter. That could not be further from the truth. I agree with Krista - she was letting me know how she was feeling, and soliciting my feedback. It was more a theoretical exercise than a practical concern of mine. It's just interesting to me that, in situation where the woman DOES say she's through, there's really nothing the husband can do. Each has veto power over the other. But M would never make a unilateral decision like that for a number of reasons, chief among them is that we just depend on eachother's opinions too much. That's such a huge decision, she would never feel comfortable making it on her own. Plus, even is she did feel comfortable making it, she feels like it wouldn't be the right thing to do to not include me in the decision.

Ok. On to the topic of the day: Lupron.

M used to work with a girl who was going through IVF. Let's call this girl "Beth". I never met Beth, but I heard about her every day (sometimes I listened, sometimes I didn't). At the time, M and I knew NOTHING about IVF, not a thing. We had not officially started fertility treatments for #2 yet. When I heard about her, I felt no connection or empathy, because I couldn't relate to her situation. But I did feel bad for her. She had gone through like 3 failed IVF cycles. She was getting in trouble from her boss for leaving work all the time to go to RE appointments, she was all bloated and totally cranky. She was so bloated, she had to wear maternity clothes! That's WHACK.

So anyway, M and Beth reconnected by phone yesterday. I'm happy to report that Beth is pregnant! But now that M is more knowledgeable about IVF and IF in general, they really got into a big discussion about it. It turns out that Beth's main problem from IF (the bloating, etc) was from Lupron. Her FIL is a doctor (not sure what kind) and he had an absolute fit about Lupron. He said it was a very dangerous drug and that no woman should go on it. He said he was sure that in a few decades, there was going to be a huge outbreak of uterine cancer, and they would realize that there was a direct link to Lupron taken during IVF. Apparently, Lupron is manufactured for the treatment of endo, and even the drug manufacturer recommends that it NOT be used for infertility treatments. This guy even called Beth's RE and told him all this, and the RE admitted that while it is a dangerous drug, and even though the manufacturer recommends it not be used with IF, the amounts being used per cycle are so low that they pose no danger to the woman. Dr. FIL replied that may be true, but for those people going through 3,4, 5 IVF cycles, the dosage was no so low anymore.

Anyway, the FIL eventually piped down, Beth went on the Lupron, and now she's pregnant.

I just add this story to the huge pile of evil stories I have heard about Lupron, and Mrs. Smarshy will be going on it soon., which has me quaking in my wingtips.

Has anyone NOT had a bad experience on this stuff, and has anyone else heard about this link to uterine cancer?

Backfire!

2006-10-12T10:19:00.000-04:00

First of all, what's up with blogger today? I haven't been able to get on the site. Anyone else encounter that?

Ok, so I've been writing alot recently about how nice this little IF break has been for me and Mrs. Smarshy. She's been in a good mood, she's feels healthy and energetic, yadda yadda yadda, life is good. I missed her when she was in the midst of infertility hell. Well, I'm not the only one who is really happy to have her back. Not surprisingly, SHE'S quite happy to be her old self again. It's not just that she feels better now because of a break from fertility, either. She is finally free of a whole host of medical issues that I could go into another time. She had major throat surgery in March to fix a blockage in her trachea which made her last pregnancy particularly sucky. Then she spent a series of nights in so much pain that I kept having to take her to the emergency room. That ended with her gall bladder coming out. So she is finally feeling good right now. Better than she's felt in a long, long, time. Because of that, she told me something last night that I was NOT expecting to hear.

Mrs. Smarshy is thinking about packing it in. Closing down the baby factory. Boarding up her uterus.

She says she's been looking at the Buggins alot lately and thinking that life is pretty good the way it is. She feels as though if she goes through with more cycles, she'd be giving up another year and half of her life - either by being in IF treatment hell or by being pregnant and then a mother to a newborn - two experiences she could do without. Let me tell you, Mrs. Smarshy did not dig on being pregnant. It's almost become sacrilegious in our society to admit that, but it shouldn't be. She hated the bloating, and the heartburn, and the nausea, all of it. PLUS the complications from her screwed up trachea. And the first 3 months of the babies life aren't exactly a fun time, that's for sure. It's all a foggy, sleepless dream. It's no fun for the baby either - I mean, why do you think they cry the whole time?

So anyway, there it is. She's thinking about not continuing. Now, I have to be honest, I think she will continue. That's a huge decision to make, and I think she knows that you don't make it based on how you feel in an instant. You need to wait and see how you feel over a longer period of time. And she needs to make sure she won't change her mind 6 months later, after we've already pissed off the Dr. and gotten off the schedule and need to re-apply for insurance. Mrs. Smarshy may look 23, but she ain't. She does not have time to pack it in now and resume in a year or so. If she closes up shop, it's closed. No more shop. In fact, it would probably be razed to make a parking lot.

So this all leads me to ask, do I have any say in this? The truth is, I really don't. I WISH I did, but if a woman decides not to try to get pregnant through IVF any more, the husband really is just kind of left there with his dick in his hands. I mean I guess I have the same power, right? I could say I'm not jerking off into the petri dish any more. What could she do? But then again, that would never happen. No guy would pass up the chance to jerk off.

I think she's kind of "trying this decision on for size", to see how it makes her feel. I have to be honest, I would be incredibly sad not to have a sibling for the Buggins. I never imagined having only one child. But then again, we are incredibly lucky to have her. Maybe that's enough?

I don't know. The next cycles starts in a couple weeks, if she goes through with it. I'm assuming she will. We'll see.

Where do you all stand on this? Would you give your husband a vote if you wanted to cash it in?

I met Serenity!

2006-10-10T14:01:00.000-04:00

Seriously, I mean it. I met Serenity. No, I didn't get her autograph, and no, I didn't get a picture, but I swear to God, I met her! You have to believe me!!

I really do feel like I met a movie star. She's like the Mack Daddy (um, Mommy) of bloggers. I find her writing to be heartfelt, honest, intelligent, and funny. And to think, Serenity and I actually KNOW eachother now. I even know her REAL name. You want to know it? Ok, it's uiadbv shvhhlfg. Don't tell her I told you.

As it happens, Serenity and I both work in downtown Boston, just a few blocks apart. In fact, when Mrs. Smarshy was still working, only about 6 months ago, they worked in the SAME building. So we decided to meet for lunch, and today was the day. I must admit, I was a bit nervous! Never had, or met, an internet friend before. I mean, what if she was a wacko? Or worse, what is she was a DUDE! And this whole thing was a farce! Or maybe she was with Dateline NBC, running a special about IF bloggers who scheme with eachother to meet up in various downtown locales. I'd go to shake her hand, and Stone Phillips would jump out from behind a plant. Busted.

So we decided to meet in front of her building. She told me what she was wearing, so that I would recognizer her. I got there at the appointed time, and I couldn't remember what she said she was wearing. My wife is right - I don't listen! So I was standing there, awkwardly, realizing that there were 3 or 4 young women within a 15 foot radius, and any one of them could have been her. I was about to go up to a woman and say "I'm Smarshy...Are you Serenity?", but just then I noticed a woman walking towards me and it was like we'd known eachother for months. It was clearly her. For those of you who are wondering, and for those of you who put value on things as superficial as looks, Serenity is beautiful. Confident, funny, charming. Very kind eyes, and a warm smile. Just as you'd expect.

We grabbed a sandwich and sat down to eat, and 90 minutes just flew by. Oh - and get this - she bought ME lunch! I protested, but it was done before I could stop it. And I didn't even have to put out!

As we started talking, I realized how very odd it was that this person, who I literally had JUST met, knew more personal and intimate things about me than friends I've had for decades. And I felt totally comfortable telling her even more. I've never talked about this stuff with anyone, except Mrs. Smarshy. Once it started coming out, there was no stopping it. I'm sure she wanted to get up and leave after 30 minutes, but I just kept talking. Of course we talked about her recent BFN, and I spoke on behalf of the whole blogosphere when I told her how sorry I was. She has a good plan ahead of her, and she and J are going to be great parents someday, that's for sure. Just not sure how or when. But someday soon.

We made plans to do it again soon! She want to hang out with me AGAIN! We are totally friends now.

That's my review of meeting Serenity. Of course, I won't be posting this until she writes in her blog about what it was like meeting me. If she writes that I'm an annoying shit, I'm TOTALLY deleting this and writing bad stuff about her.

Sunday Evening Reflections

2006-10-08T18:19:00.000-04:00

Sitting here on the couch, dirty martini on the coaster (M makes me use them), listening to some crazy-ass kid music CD on the stereo. Buggins seems to dig it.

I hope every one had a good weekend. Shout out to RC, an anonymous reader who de-lurked to let me know that there is a guy out there reading my blog. Thanks RC, happy to have you along.

I got a haircut this weekend at Mr. Jim.my's Hai.r Company. Yes, that's the name. It's a barber shop in a strip mall. I'm a pretty classy, important guy. I get Mr. Jimmy himself to do it. Not some half-wit employee.

Anyway, I bring this up because I remember something very annoying that people used to say to us when we were trying to make the Buggins. They'd find out we were trying to get pregnant, and they'd say something extremely douche-baggy like "Ugh, you don't know how lucky you are, to still be childless. You don't know it, but you're in the time of your life right now. Enjoy it". I'm sure many of you have heard that statement too. Ignorance run amock.

Anyway, once you actually have a baby, these types of bullshit comments don't exactly end. They just change. Take Mr. Jimmy, for example.

Mr. Jimmy: "So, you guys going out tonight?"
Me: "No, we have a little buggins. Can't remember the last time we went out."
Mr. Jimmy: "This is the time of your life, when they're that small. You don't know it, but it is"
Me: "Oh, I know it."
Mr. Jimmy: "No, you don't know it. But it really is. The time of your life. You just don't know. But you will someday."
Me: "No, seriously, I know it. It's the time of my life."
Mr. Jimmy: "Oh no, you just don't know. But trust me. Time of your life."
Me: "Listen, you A-hole, I'll tell you what is definitely NOT the time of my life, this STUPID-ASS conversation."

Alright, I may have only thought that last line.

On another subject, I have to give a giant shout out to my extremely awesome wife, Mrs. Smarshy. She is going through a PARTICULARLY awesome phase. And I say awesome with the biggest Boston accent I can muster, given that I'm from Connecticut.

Since we have been forced by insurance to take a couple cycles off, there is not a drop of evil IF-related meds in her system. Her body and her mind are her OWN. And, because we know we are kicking off a new IVF cycle at the end of October, we have a gameplan and a sufficient supply of hope. So there is nothing we're supposed to be doing, charting, watching, poking, or counting. And we don't feel like we're slacking, because we have a good plan, and it's not too far in the future. So it's just time to be us, to enjoy the Buggins, and to be awesome.

I have to tell you, my wife is the happiest I have seen her in at least a year. She is in a good mood, she's silly, energetic, and so much fun. Honestly, I totally forgot how much fun she can be. It's literally like the woman I married just popped in for a visit.

I am so happy to have her back. I recognize I will lose her again, in just a few short weeks. But this brief period has reminded us how close we are, how compatible we are, and how much fun we have together. For those of you who are wondering if you might benefit from some time off, particularly those of you with the time to do it (in your 20's or early 30's), I want you to know that in our case, this time off has recharged us for many cycles in the future. Hopefully we only need 1 more cycle, though.

Other reasons why my wife is so awesome right now:
1) She started drinking again. HALLELUJAH. I just bought her a whole case of Mi.ke's Har.d Lemonade. I have to be honest, I get a little thrill each time I see her reaching for drink #2. It's not because I'm excited that she's catching a buzz, it's because it means she's relaxing. She's typically not a very relaxed person. Plus, after a couple drinks it's much easier to get in her pants. (Wait, was that out loud?)
2) TV season is back in full swing. All her trashy, ridiculous shows, in all their cheesiness, are lighting up our living room on a nightly basis. America's Next Top Model, The Bachelor, Project Runway, Deal or No Deal. Plus, any MTV show about hot 18 year olds. Every wonder who on Earth watches that crap? Yeah. It's Mrs. Smarshy. And it makes her HAPPY.

Lastly, we bought a mattress. We ended up choosing a Tempur-Pedic, one of those memory-foam NASA mattresses. For the price we paid, we could have gone on a fairly nice vacation. But my hope is that the increased comfort will keep my wife in her current state just a little bit longer.

That's all I got -

Is That Mock Blood?

2006-10-06T08:23:00.000-04:00

First off, please send good wishes and support to Serenity. A negative test sucks, no matter how you slice it.

Old Business:
Thank you foreign friends, for your interesting answers to my last question. A couple of points I want to respond to: I really believe we DIDN'T elect Bush the first time. We elected Gore. The second time, he was elected more because Kerry is kind of a weenie, and because Bush scared the crap out of us by telling us that Osama was coming for each of us if we voted for Kerry.

One of the problems with this country is the the playing field is not exactly level. Republicans just have much more money than Democrats, and money = power = votes. When Republican are in office, they have double power - the power of the office AND the power of corporate money. Almost unstoppable. It takes the Perfect Candidate to beat that, and the Democrats have yet to serve him/her up.

I am not a Democrat, but I vote democratic on many issues. I vote Republican on probably more issues. But the fact remains that I dislike Bush with red-hot intensity. He embodies all that I hate in this world: ignorance, arrogance, stubborness, greed. If I had my way, he would face prosecution for war crimes after he leaves office.

The FBI and CIA will now be opening a file on me after posting this. Good thing they don't talk to eachother.

Another thing: A few of you mentioned Gun Control. I vote Democratic on this. I don't understand guns. I think it should be illegal to buy or own a device whose sole purpose is to kill humans. And if a hunter wants to buy a gun, I think they should have to go through a rigorous, month long pychological examination at their own expense before taking possession of the gun.

Still, many others think that guns would still fall in the wrong hands if they were illegal. This argument does not hold water with me, and I don't understand why it holds water with anyone.

Ok, on to New Business: **Warning, Buggins is mentioned below...

M had her mock transfer yesterday. Since we have no childcare for the Buggins, M had to drive into the city with her and I left work to take care of Buggins while M was getting "mocked up".

So I get to the hospital at the appointed time, in order to meet up with M and take control of Buggins. As I leave the elevator, turn the corner, and begin walking down the very long hallway, I see the Buggins at the far end of the hallway, playing on the chairs. She is outside of the clinic door that leads to the waiting room, which is open. I begin to wonder as I walk towards her, "Hmmn, that's odd. There's the Buggins. Why is she alone? Where is M? Surely she has not gone into the clinic and left our child out here in the hallway in this giant scary city hospital all by herself."

I start to pick up my pace down the hallway, and Buggins sees me and starts screaming "Hi Daddy! Hi Daddy!" As I almost reach the end of the hallway, and I'm about to scoop up my baby, M comes walking out the door and stands between the Buggins and me. Her face is drenched with tears, her eyes are puffy, and she's holding a bandage around her hand.

My first thought: "Oh, for FUCKS SAKE. What on EARTH has happened now."

M explained that Buggins kept asking for "numanums", which are tiny little tangerine flavored mints that M buys from Star.bucks. Yes, Buggins calls them "numanums". Anyway, these things are tiny, like 1/8 th the size of an altoid. WAY to small to be picked up by Buggins' chubby little sausage fingers. So M got one out and attempted to place it, every so sweetly, on Buggins tongue. Rookie mistake.

Buggins BIT M's finger. But it hard. Bit it long.

Bit it with all her might, as M screamed in agony and had the clinicians running to her aid. They gave her bandages and a tissue to stop the bleeding. Yes, bleeding. If someone asked M if she bled at her mock transfer, she's have to say yes. From the bite of her 2 year old devil child. Even Steve Irwin, God rest his soul, knew better than to stick his finger in a 2 year old's mouth, for Pete's sake.

So I had a serious talk with Buggins and made her apologize, got M situated and calmed down, and then they came out and told M they were ready for her. (We are in the hallway of the hospital, not in the waiting room of the clinic, for obvious reasons). So in she goes, and literally like 15 minutes later, out she comes, saying "all done..."

That was IT? A mock transfer takes 15 minutes? Jeez Louise. And just so you know, you future mock transfer havers, she said it didn't hurt at all. And let me tell you, she's a baby about pain. If it had hurt AT ALL, I would have heard ALL about it.

So that's the story of the Mock T. We'll probably get billed for the bandaid.

** By the way, Buggins isn't really a devil child. I think she didn't let go of the finger right away because when M screamed it scared her, and when some people get scared they clamp down like a vice.

Or, she may be a devil child.

Just a Couple Random Thoughts

2006-10-05T08:50:00.000-04:00

My brain has been a bit empty lately. We're in insurance limbo, and our next cycle starts next month, so there isn't much to say on the fertility front. That's why I've been thinking about your weather vixens, and digging through poo, and other non-IF related things.

But I do have a couple of random thoughts to share today.

1) Is it just me, or do you feel like you've passed some hard SAT-like test when you get the word verification jumble correct when leaving a comment? It really makes you question whether what you have to say is worth the trouble. I mean, is it worth it to take this incredibly difficult brain teasing test just to pass on the message "You go girl!" or "((hugs))"? (Incidentally, I have never written those comments on any blog). If I'm going to use up a good 50% of my brain cells on that quiz, I better be breaking some new ground in terms of comment brilliance.

And just so you know, if I have never left a comment on your blog, it's because I keep failing your test.

2) M is having a "mock transfer" today. Should I be sneaking off to the men's room for a "mock collection"? And since it's mock, would I even need to do that in the men's room? Can I do it in my office?

3) Every time the Buggins goes to her pre-school, she brings home with her some new strain of crazy illness that she gets over in about 3 hours while I'm down for the count for days. It's like she's the White Man and I'm an Indian. My immune system can not take this anymore. They should have those radiation hose-down stations at the entrance to her school like thay have at the center for disease control or at nuclear powerplants. She has to step through that thing before coming home. We'd save a bundle on tissues and Ny.quil (we'd probably buy N.yquil anyway, for recreational purposes).

4) M and I need a new mattress. Any suggestions? Thinking about a tempu.rped.ic memory foam one. Anyone have one of those? I can't even seem to figure out how much they cost online. Have to go to a "store" and talk to "people". Yecch.

5) A question for you readers outside the US: What do you think of Americans? Do you think we're all like George Bush? Or do you think that all people everywhere are pretty much the same, but our leaders are a bunch of nutjobs? And in addition to being proud to be from where you are from, are you also, separately, proud to NOT be American? I've always been fascinated by how our "friends from abroad" view us.

I guess that last one got a little serious. Sorry about that.

That's all I got for now, my little blogging babes. And you too, Treggles. The only dude who reads my blog.

I Have A Confession To Make

2006-10-03T09:20:00.000-04:00

Don't worry, this post has nothing to do with poop. Or with anything having to do with my digestive tract, either upper OR lower.

My confession today is much more serious than that. My confession is that I lust after, and am in love with, someone who is not my wife.

Who is it, you ask? I won't hide it. I'll tell you, because I'm proud of it. It's those little animated weather girls on some of your blogs. You know the ones, they are standing there, in sexy clothing, arms playfully behind their backs, eyes raised slightly upward in a "come hither" glance. Left leg kicked out a bit in a subtle sign of rebellion. Maybe showing just a bit of midriff. Right in the middle of the box entitled "Weather in My Corner of the World". Jenny from The Infertility Block has one. So does Hope548. I love Songbird's too. I waste hours of my day staring at them, wishing I could "weird science" them out of the blogosphere and into my home. And it's not just lust, I'll have you know. It's true love. And I know it's reciprocated. I mean, you CAN'T tell me they don't love me too. Just look how they look at me, all pouty and a little naughty. Oh yeah, baby. I know the weather. And the weather is HOT!

And no, this is not the first time I've had sexual feeling towards a cartoon (I prefer to call them "Animated Americans"). I mean, what red blooded American pre-teen didn't have a soft spot (or a hard spot, as it were) for Jessica Rabbit? But it was when I first laid eyes on Josey and The Pussycats that I first knew what it meant to be a man.

I know that society will condemn us, and our love. They are afraid of that which they do not understand. Our love trandscends human understanding. And we will likely not be able to be together in this life. But there is always the afterlife, my loves.

Until then, when you bloggers are reviewing your stats and you see a ton of hits from the Boston area in the middle of the night, be not alarmed. I'm just spending some quality time with my ladies.

You Sickos

2006-10-02T17:44:00.000-04:00

I find it interesting and noteworthy that the day I got the most traffic, had the most pageloads, and received the most visitors since I started blogging was the day I wrote a post about poop.

I have written insightful posts about comparing infertility to sci-fi movies.

I have pondered the point at which IF should be cast aside in favor of a happier present.

I have shared pictures of my wife and The Buggins frolicking in the sandy dunes.

But all of those wonderful, intelligent posts COMBINED did not garner the level of attention that my fecal exploits did. And for that, I am truly humbled. The say sex sells. I know what sells more than sex. Poo.

Now, preamble aside, let's get to what you all really want to know. What did I do about the poop.
I did more soul searching regarding this one decision than I did over whether or not to propose to my wife.

I knew in my heart, and in my mind, that clean was clean. And look, dogs EAT their poop, for Christ's sake, and their mouths are cleaner than ours. So for me, it wasn't a decision based on fact. It was a psychological decision. "Will my wife think of it every time she kisses me?" "Will I EVER, TRULY be clean, if one of my teeth has been lodged in poop?" "How the hell will I actually retrieve it without puking?" Much tossing and turning.

I decided to go for it. In part, what prodded me in this direction was the knowledge that M has to get a mouthguard because she grinds her teeth. Insurance doesn't go near it. The price? $500. So the question remained, how could I capture my crown in the least painful way? Susan noted the problem...I could not go in the toilet. There's a little hole in the bottom of the bowl that a little crown could easily get lost in.

So I thought long and hard about this on Sunday. As I mentioned, my digestive system had shut down in terror. It was clear to me that I had at least until Sunday night or Monday morning to make the decision.

I came up with an idea:

The Buggins has this perfectly good Elmo Potty, and God knows SHE'S not using it.

Now, before you split your sides thinking about a 6'5" guy trying to sit on a baby potty, please note the green bucket insert in the middle. I simply took that out, placed in the regular toilet, and did my bid'ness.

I put on the mask I stole from the OR when the Buggins was born. I knew that thing would come in handy some day. I decided that first, before I started slicing and dicing, I would take a cursory look over the entire exterior just to see if maybe, by chance, my crown was visible without me having to dig too much.

:-)

There it was.

I quickly extracted it, washed it with soap and water, and put in it a ziploc bag. I popped the bag in my briefcase and bounded up the stairs where I woke up M with the happy news "I GOT IT!" I forgot that it was 5:15am. She was not nearly as excited as I was.

So anyway, I got dressed for work with an extra spring in my step, and headed of to the dentist. When I got there, I handed the hygenist the baggy and proudly exclaimed "I may have swallowed it, but I found it!!".

She had no idea what I was talking about, but her eyes betrayed her. She was totally grossed out. She went on to explain that she was out in Friday, and the good doctor, who I never realized was Jewish, was OUT OF THE OFFICE today. Yom Kippur. You think someone maybe could have mentioned that to me on Friday?

The hygenist did my cleaning, and informed me that the tissue around my missing tooth was very inflamed, and she would not be comfortable putting the crown on without the doctor. She said there was a chance he would have to cut away some of the tissue. Super.

So, I sit here, still missing a molar, which is now residing in the sterilizing machine at my dentist in the city. My instructions to her: "Sterilize this like you've never sterilized anything in your life".

Appt with the doctor scheduled for 7:30am tomorrow. I look forward to this little chapter being over, so I can focus my attention on seeing how many hits I can get by writing about thick cervical mucus and spotting with clots.

A Quick Comment

2006-10-02T10:13:00.000-04:00

I have to add a comment here, but I won't divulge my decision regarding the last post yet because it's still up in the air for a variety of reasons that I will explain hopefully today or early tomorrow.

I can understand the psychological issues. I mean, poop is gross.

However, the fact remains that sterilized is sterilized. It means it's CLEAN. The nurse told me on the phone it would be by FAR the cleanest thing in my mouth. It would be the cleanest it's ever been since it was first put in there, about 10 years ago.

But again, poo is poo.

But again, clean is clean.

And $700 (yes, it went up) is a CRAPLOAD of cash for such a stupid thing. Yes, I do have good dental insurance. Without the insurance, it would be $1500.

Anyone change their minds?

Smarshy's Question Of The Day

2006-10-01T16:08:00.000-04:00

Here's a straightforward and compelling question:

If you were told that the next time you took a, um...Bowel Movement, there would be a $500 bill rolled up inside your stool, would you go after it?

I mean, of course it would be able to be cleaned, etc. But the fact remains that you'd have to go in for it. Nay, SEARCH for it. And it was rolled up in a very, very small little ball. You would have to find some way to capture it, separate it, and extract your treasure.

(For those of you totally grossed out right now, I would like to direct you to the subject matter of your OWN blogs....thick cervical mucus, heavy spotting with clots... I mean, that's just NASTY.)

Now, back to the subject matter at hand. Where have I come up with such an insightful, engaging question, you may wonder? Because I currently find myself in this very situation, with a slight twist.

You see, on Friday I had a delicious piece of pizza for lunch. BBQ chicken, if you must know. M and The Buggins gave me their colds, so I wasn't feeling great and I could barely taste the pizza, but what I could taste was magnificent. If you ever get the chance to eat BBQ chicken pizza from my company's cafeteria, I strongly recommend you do so.

Anyway, I've also been struggling a little lately with a loose crown in the back of my mouth. Right side, bottom, all the way back. One of the big ones. A molar. One of the working teeth. The Mack Truck of the dental set. Don't remember when I got this crown, but somehow it got loose. They are NEVER supposed to get loose, by the way. But this one did. For the last 10 days or so, whenever I accidentally chewed with my right side, off it popped. I became an expert in slipping the sucker back on with no one noticing.

Why did I let it go so long? Because I'm not that smart. Also, because I have a dentist appt next week for a cleaning, so I figured I'd have him slap on some crazy glue while I was there. I hate going to the dentist, or any doctor.

Back to the pizza. I was savoring every last bite, while at the same time getting pizza grease all over my mouse as I surfed the web. When I finished, I cleaned my desk and turned to throw out my trash, when my tongue gently brushed up against a rather rocky surface where my nice smooth crown had once been.

I ate the freaking thing.

At least, I assume I ate it. It was there when I started eating my pizza, and it was gone when I was done.

So after I sat there with a stupid look on my face for about 10 minutes, I called the Dentist to ask how serious it would be to go the weekend without the crown. Not serious at all, they said. But then that's not all they said.

"Can you retrieve it?"

"Uh, no. I ate it."

"Yes, I mean when it emerges out the other end, can you retrieve it? We could of course completely sterilize it."

"Lady, there is not enough sterilizing solution in the WORLD..."

"OK, your choice. But if you can find it and bring it with you, it will save you about $500."

Whoa. 500 bucks. That would leave a mark on the checking account. I didn't fully realize that my problem was no longer just that there was no crown for them to put back on, it was that they'd have to make a whole NEW one, and that's not cheap. That was one F'ING expensive piece of pizza.

So I'm sitting here, still sick as a dog, on Sunday night pondering my next, um, move. It would likely show up in the next round, but it seems my digestive system has completely shut down out of sheer terror over what I'm contemplating.

Any suggestions?

BBQ Rib Eating Contest And Other Cultural Events

2006-09-29T10:39:00.000-04:00

I have decided that today I will be throwing my brother under the bus.

Why? Because he BUGS me.

Any discussion of my relationship with my brother should start with the fact that I'm an insufferable Northeast Snob. BIG TIME. I can be a SERIOUS pain in the ass about it. I went to good boarding schools, a good college, have an MBA, lived in 2 major cities, I attend the theater, I have dated many women, all of whom were different and fascinating, blah blah blah, my wife is equally well educated and incredibly lovely. My daughter craps rose petals. I'm very fancy.

My brother went on a different track. Married the first girl he boinked at an ungodly young age, moved to the Midwest (NOT that there's anything wrong with that), and bought a house in a new subdivision in Ohio with no landscaping. I get very angry when I realize his house is literally twice the size of mine, and yet for the price I paid for my house, I could buy 3 of his houses. He has three great kids who I'm absolutely crazy about, and a basically loveless marriage with a woman I am not crazy about. He leaves the door open when he's in the bathroom. One time, I saw him mowing his lawn dressed in shitkicker boots, white tube socks pulled all the way up, jean shorts, and a white wife beater shirt. The image singed my retina. I literally went blind for like 20 minutes.

One time, when I was visiting him, he picked me up and the airport and as we were driving out in the middle of nowhere, I asked him what the hell there was to do there. His response: "Lots of things. For example, this weekend there is a BBQ Rib Eating contest, as well as other culture events".

Ok. Problem #1) There is such a thing as a BBQ Rib Eating contest
Problem #2) People are genuinely excited about it
Problem #3) It is considered a "cultural event".

That visit did not go well.

What I find the MOST frustrating about him is the the fact that he is such a nice guy. Seriously, he wishes harm on no one, with the possible exception of Osama bin Laden. He always just wants to help. There is not a mean, conniving bone in this kids body. For those of you familiar with the Garfield comic strip, my brother is Odie. EXACTLY. Just sits there, tongue out, waiting for me, the smart mean guy, to come kick him from behind. Why do I do it? Because he's just sitting there, grinning. Why not?

But that's all just mean-spirited background information. What pisses me off about him REALLY, I mean what REALLY PISSES ME OFF, is that he calls me, and calls me, to ask if M is FUCKING PREGNANT. Brother, if you are reading this, so help me God, if you call me again with that f'ing question, I'm going to stick a full rack of BBQ ribs up your ASS.

You called me the day after her transfer, and asked if she was pregnant. I patiently explained to you how the process works. I'm not entirely sure you listened to me. I think you may have been daydreaming about your tractor.

You called 2 days later and asked if she was pregnant. Again, I explained that it was a 2 week wait, not a 2 day wait. How the fuck did this guy get his wife pregnant 3 times?

You called this morning to ask if she was pregnant, even though I already told you her cycle was cancelled. Seriously dude, you should get yourself checked out. There is a wire in there that is just not connected. You made me get short with you as I explained the situation again. Then, you seemed HURT, and now I'm sitting here angry with MYSELF for being MEAN to you.

I tell you what: I PROMISE to tell you when and if my wife is every pregnant again. I PROMISE. I won't hide her pregnancy from ANYONE. It would be hard to hide at family gatherings. And eventually people would wonder who the extra kid was who was running around. I assure you, I will not FORGET to tell you.

Until then, let's talk about the key requirements needed to judge a world class BBQ rib eating contest.

Daddy Wuk

2006-09-28T08:41:00.000-04:00

That's what The Buggins says to me every morning as I leave for work- "Daddy Wuk".

That's right, Buggins. Daddy Work. Except today, Daddy only wuk until noon. Then Daddy golf.

I was cleaning up my desktop this morning and I came across this picture I took in April 2004:

I was standing in Red Square in the middle of Moscow. This is St. Basil's Cathedral. The picture doesn't come close to doing it justice. The bright colors, the architecture, the contrast between this building and the gray dreariness of Russia. It's just amazing.

Red Square is called Red Square because the word for "red" in Russia also means beautiful. So it means Beautiful Square, not Communist Square. (Although, the communists chose red as their color for the same reason). A little trivia for you this morning.

So we got some good news yesterday, it looks like we'll be able to slip in a cycle before the new year. If we start in Oct, then the final transfer will be just before the week that the clinic closes. It actually works out great - we get to take a little time off now, then proceed with the 8 week cycle, transfer would happen around December 6th, and beta test around December 16. Just before Christmas. So, if it's a BFN, we have the holidays to distract us. And if it's a BFP, well, then it's a BFP.

And hopefully the dickwads over at Insurance-R-Us will wrangle their heads out of their asses in time and approve us.

M is sick today. Buggins gave her a nasty cold. We've been teaching her about sharing, so I guess it's working. M took N.yquil, which totally makes her nuts. Not moody, but literally nuts. Like seeing little green men, thinking she's Cleopatra, the whole thing. Kind of fun to watch, actually.

That's all I got for today.

I Hope We Get A Good IRR

2006-09-26T16:59:00.000-04:00

INV = Time, Money, Fights, Insurance Headaches, Restless Nights, Tears, Panic Attacks

CF1, CF2....CF20 = BABIES

This is my attempt to connect my job with my homelife.

It's actually how IRR works, or Internal Rate of Return. The idea is fairly simple...you make an investment now, in the hopes that it will generate sufficient cash flows (CF) in the future.

Our investment might be a bit more than we had first guessed.

It turns out that by making the move to CityDoc and firing Buttmunch, our insurance approvals are revoked and have to be re-submitted. Even though were approved for IVF, it was approved for THAT doctor, not NEW doctor (who, by the way, can run circles around Buttmunch).

So with the new clinics help, we are re-submitting all our crap. The problem is, it may take some time to get an answer. We're on CD2, as you may recall. We'll probably lose this month.

Not that big an issue, perhaps you might think. WRONG.

The protocol is 8 weeks.

If we start next cycle, that will put transfer time right around Christmas. The clinic closes 1 week per year, so as to be able to upgrade all equipment, change filters, etc. I bet you can't guess what week that is. I bet you can't. Go ahead, try. Wrong! It's not Flag Day! It's Christmas!

Which MEANS....we are sitting on our fat asses until JANUARY 2007 before we can do anything to move the process forward. Our only chance is if the insurance company will agree to fast track us through what is ordinarily an already swift, logical, efficient, and friendly process. (ha). We have about a week for the data entry loving dipshits to cough up an approval, and our cycle is saved. Otherwise, it's 3 months off. Buggins will be, like, 50 years old by then. She won't even WANT a sibling anymore. She can have her OWN babies by then.

So, as I was saying, our investment (i.e. TIME) was increased as a result of switching to CityDoc. All I'm saying is, he better be good. He better give my wife a baby. And it better be cute.

It Takes All Types

2006-09-25T16:16:00.000-04:00

Yes, I realize this is my third post in a day.

I just have to get this out. It's good.

Some person ended up at my blog after typing the following question into Netscape : "What does GOD say about IUI and IVF?"

So many things wrong with that. Not the least of which is, who the hell uses Netscape as their search engine?

Also, the question itself bugs me. What did this person expect to find? A passage in the bible? "Whilst though haseth thine IVF, thou shalt spite me".

Are there people who think they're infertile because God wants them that way? I don't want to go down the religion route here...it's a volatile subject, to say the least, and people have VERY strong feelings about it. I, however, do not. So I'll leave all things religious to you good people. Do I believe in God? I'm not sure. But I get a pretty strong feeling that He exists every time I look The Buggins in the eye.

Ok, but here's the best part! Guess where this web surfer landed when he/she searched for God's answer on IUI's and IVF? (S)he landed on my post about dancing bi-sexual slutty virgins! HAHAHAHAHAH

Today is Day 1

2006-09-25T12:52:00.000-04:00

What was I thinking? I knew that would have been too good to be true.

ANOTHER Post That Will Piss Off The Wife

2006-09-25T09:09:00.000-04:00

Why do I do it? Why do I proceed on an action I know will get me in trouble? WHY? It's the same reason why The Buggins keeps sticking her hands in the toilet despite our repeated demands that she stop.

Because we're bad.

First off, thanks for your comments that you think the Buggins is cute. I must admit, I agree. As many of you already know, and as many others will know someday, one of the greatest things about being a parent is the feeling of being proud of your kids. Jesus. I sounded like my dad just then.

Anyway, back to being bad. As many of you may recall, when I posted about changing our care to CityDoc, I mentioned that M was due to get her period any second (I'm sorry, I just can't bring myself to call it Aunt Flo or AF. I'll let that be your thing). Well, now it's 3 days later, and it still hasn't come.

As you also may recall, we had a cancelled cycle last month. That didn't, however, prevent us from trying on our own (insert funky 70's porno music here).

Now, before anyone jumps to conclusions or gets excited, there are a couple of wrinkles.
1) You may remember that M was unsure when her day 1 was, and may have called it up to 3 days early
2) Word on the street is that if you take pregesterone, it can lengthen your cycle for up to 2 cycles after you stop taking it (I can actually find no evidence on Dr. Google that this is true, but my wife told me that, and I'm not stupid enough to question my wife about girlie things even if I suspect she made them up)

My wife gets very upset if I start to get a little excited when she's late. Around day 29 or 30, I start in with the "did you get it yet?" every hour or so. I know that must be incredibly annoying. I am powerless to stop it. She has begged me to stop asking her. She tells me I will be the FIRST to know if she gets it. So then I stop asking for a day or so. And then I start to wonder "Did she get it and just forget to tell me? If that's true, the only decent thing I can do is remind her..."

It drives her batshit.

You know what will drive her even MORE batshit? The fact that I am not only speculating that we could have gotten the brass ring this month, but I am speculating about it on the INTERNET.

Honey, if you're reading this, did you get your period yet?

How Do You Like Them Apples

2006-09-23T17:10:00.000-04:00

The Buggins and her apple.

Smarshy and his Apple.

(I had permission from Mrs. Smarshy to post this)

CityDoc Consult

2006-09-22T20:34:00.000-04:00

So we had our consult with CityDoc.

As soon as we saw him, the first thing out of his mouth was "M, how is your throat?". He remembered that the last time we saw him, last February, M was about to undergo some pretty major throat surgery. Now, he may have remembered that on his own, or he may have had it written down, but either way, nice of him to ask. Dr. ButtMunch would NEVER have asked about it. Meeting was off to a good start.

So we start getting into it. I tell him that M had asked if I would do much of the talking, since she gets so upset and bursts into tears whenever she starts to speak about this. I liked that, because I think I do a good job of sticking to relevant facts and keeping our story concise. (I've talked before about my obsession with frugal speech). I wanted to make sure, at least at the beginning, that I gave him only facts - that I did not pass judgment on the care we were receiving by ButtMunch. I wanted HIM to pass the judgment on it.

I told him the reason we had not seen him all along was simply one of convenience, ButtMunch was 10 minutes from our house. It's the truth. Then I told him that we had a consultation with ButtMunch in April, and since that time, we had never even spoken with him, let alone seen him in person. Not once. (I like the fact that CityDoc's eyes grew a little wide and his jaw dropped a bit).

We then launched into a narrative about the IUI that became an IVF due to overstimulation, and some of the crappy things that were said to us during that process (fodder for another post) as well as the subsequent IUI that had to be cancelled due to understimulation. We gave him the whole story. M piped in occasionally, but every time she did, she burst into tears. Poor thing.

CityDoc listened attentively, asked good questions when appropriate, and let me finish. Then he told us how THEY do it.

First if all...The DOCTORS do the ultrasounds. That is just amazing to me. Being able to SEE the doctor! Have him actually BE there? Incredible.

At the ultrasound, the doctors talk with their patients about everything. This is what I'm seeing, this is what's good, this is what's bad, this is what I think we should do, etc.

At the end of every appointment (EVERY appointment), M will meet with the nurse briefly to see if she has any questions, concerns, drug issues, etc.

Get this - the doctor gave us his E-MAIL ADDRESS. He said that is the best way to get to him, he can usually answer any e-mail within an hour or two. Even on weekends. He accesses that e-mail at home. He reads that e-mail at his kids soccer games. M and I looked at eachother in shock. Is this guy for real?

We asked about 3 day vs. 5 day transfers. His practice tries to do 5 day blast transfers for everyone, unless there is some reason a 3 day is needed. That is HUGE.

He said their freezing and thawing rate is very high.

M wasted no time in telling him that we were transferring our care to him. He ushered us into a room with a nice little nurse who walked us through the insurance process, the medical records request, the schedules, etc. M is expecting her period literally any second, so we may miss this month due to the fact that we may not have everything done in time. But its worth it.

It's an 8 weeks IVF cycle, so that would put us at transfer around late Dec / early Jan. I was sad to hear it would take so long, but so happy to see my wife so happy.

So I immediately walked back to work (another benefit of CityDoc), got on the phone, called ButtMunch's office, got our nurse on the phone, and FIRED HER ASS. The conversation went like this:

"We are transferring our care to another facility"

"Ok. So you want to cancel the appt you have on Wednesday?"

"Um, Yeah."

"Ok. Bye"

Not quite the fight I had geared up for, but whatever.

So we're probably taking another month off, but it's ok, because we finally feel like we're in good hands. Thank you to all of you for your great advice, I read every single comment and they all helped a great deal.

Have a great weekend!

** I forgot to mention: The only semi-bad thing about the practice: In the Male Fantasy Room, the 10 dancing slutty virgins are NOT bi-sexual.

The Fertility Island

2006-09-22T10:15:00.000-04:00

Did any of you ever see the 2005 movie The Island, with Ewan Mcgregor and Scarlett Johansson?

If not, here's the basic premise: (bear with me, I'm going somewhere with this)

A guy named Lincoln Six-Echo (McGregor) is a resident of a seemingly utopian but contained facility in the mid 21st century. Like all of the inhabitants of this carefully controlled environment, Lincoln hopes to be chosen to go to the "The Island" - reportedly the last uncontaminated spot on the planet. These poeple were the only people saved from a nuclear war or something that had contaminated the whole world, except for this little island somewhere, where residents were sent to repopulate Earth. Periodically, new residents are brought into this facility who were just "rescued" from the outside. This contained facility is all the inhabitants know, (they lost their memory of any other life due to the apocolypse somehow). There's a lottery every couple days to see which one of the thousands of people get chosen - seemingly at random, to go to "The Island", which has become, in their minds, the ultimate goal, the only thing they want, the solution to all their problems. They are told about it by the staff constantly. Pictures of The Island are constantly being projected around the facility. It looks like an awesome place, filled with love.

When the lottery is drawn, and someone is chosen, that person is obviously elated beyond words. The others, as you might expect, are a mixed bag. Some people are genuinely thrilled for that person, others are secretly jealous and retreat into themselves, and others are totally bullshit, yelling "this is unfair! I've been in this place WAY longer than that dude! He basically just got here! This is Bullshit!", and are not happy for that person at all.

Ok, now this next part is not relevant to the point I will make, but it seems only right that I tell you what happens in this movie. It turns out it's all a lie, these people are not the last survivors of some kind of apocolypse. They are human clones, living in an enclosed facilty under the desert. Obviously, they don't know that. Wealthy people can, for $5 million, have themselves cloned and have that clone's ageing sped up to match the current age of the wealthy "customer". They are, in effect, an "insurance policy" for their customer, a spare parts recepticle. If a customer gets lung cancer from smoking, for example, then their "clone" wins the lottery to go to the "island", which is actually an operating room, where their lungs would be removed and implanted into the customer, with the same DNA. That clone is then dead. Get it? The reason people are getting chosen to go to the island is because something terrible has happened to their "owner" , and he/she needs spare parts, (a new kidney, a new heart, bone marrow, etc). If someone has been in the facility for a very long time, it's because their owner is perfectly healthy and has no need for them yet. It's a very cool idea. Ewan and Scarlett (the clones of a race car driver and a famous actress) escape from the center and try to find their "owners".

So that's cool. But forget all that. Let's get back to wishing for "The Island".

We are all wishing for "The Island" too. We see images of it every day. Smiling people and playing with their little kids or walking around with their big pregnant bellies, they're all at the Island. And all we want is to get out of here and get to The Island too. At random, someone seemingly undeserving gets taken from this infertile facility and send to the Island, despite the fact that others of us have been here WAY longer! It's totally unfair. And, there are those a-holes who are happy in this place, who didn't even want to GO the the Island, and THEY get chosen! There's no justice in it.

There are those of us who are genuinely elated at the news that others have gotten pregnant, and of course there are plenty of us who yell and scream because it's not fair. We all think we'd probably love the Island more than other people, some of whom, in our opinion, don't even BELONG on the Island.

Thankfully, unlike in the movie where the Island actually equals death, our Island actually equals life.

There's really no good way to end this post, I just wanted to relate that crazy-ass movie to our lives. Mission accomplished.

Meeting with CityDoc in an hour. Fingers crossed for a good consult!

Thanks

2006-09-21T18:21:00.000-04:00

My wife subscribes to a veritable crapload of magazines. I'm talking about all the "majors", like People, US Weekly, Town & Country, InStyle, Lucky, and Vogue, as well as some of the lesser know "minors", like Shop, Parent, Child, and some fucked up little mag called "Cookie". Oh, and then throw in about 2,000 catalogs that always seem to get thrown out before I can buy anything stupid. "Battery operated meat thermometer, anyone? How about a complete outdoor weather station?" Not surprisingly, the catalogs that I would never buy from seem to linger around the house forever. As I write this, my beer is using the July 2006 Country Curtains catalog as a coaster.

Anyway, I snuck home from work a little early today, and found myself lying on the couch with the Buggins who was wandering off into various rooms and bringing me back assorted treasures. Picture frames, a book about sailing, a random lego piece, and a wad of toilet paper she had kindly ripped off the role and took the time to dunk in the toilet before presenting to me. Needless to say, I react to each gift like it was the Hope Diamond.

I point all this out because one of the things Buggins brought to me was this magazine called "Cookie". I thought it was some crazy cooking magazine, but it turned out it was some kind of "family" magazine. So I flipped it open, and came across an article called Second Shot, which was all about Secondary Infertility. So I read it. Really, really interesting, and it validated alot of the feelings my wife and I have had about this process. There was alot of talk about how primary infertile people tend not to be able to feel any compassion for secondary infertiles, despite the fact that the feelings of loss and sadness are, psychologically, pretty much identicle in either situation. (Are you reading this, Maggie?) .

The article goes on to say that in some cases, there is one element of secondary infertility that is much worse than primary: this inability to find compassion. The inability to find anyone to validate the feelings of sadness, and loss. Most people think "Well, you've got one already...what are you complaining about?". That's right up there with "Just relax...it'll happen." It's dismissive. And it's infuriating.

The reason for my post, though, is to say that through blogging, and through this community, I don't feel any lack of compassion at all. In fact, I feel an abundance of it. You all have shared your experiences, and your wisdom, and your pain, and your joy, and it has helped us tremendously in finding our way through our own journey. M and I are very lucky to have this support and compassion from you. Honestly, just since we made contact with this little club, we have become much happier and much more understanding with eachother. That has had a profound impact on our lives.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

Gearing Up For CityDoc

2006-09-20T21:18:00.000-04:00

Ok, we're getting ready to go see CityDoc on Friday and basically tattle on Dr. ButtMunch. We are going to tell CityDoc how we've been treated like crap and how no one ever told us anything and how it took 7 weeks to get an appt with our doctor and how he was mean to us and how he wouldn't share any of his candy with us. Ok maybe not that last part.

I'm very interested in his reaction. Will he say "Dear God, you poor brave souls, how you have survived such torment? I'm calling the authorities immediately and having ButtMunch arrested. We will never ever treat you in such a way. I am going to be with you every inch of the way, and I am dropping all my other patients so that I can focus all my time on you. M, while you're here, I'd like you to step into our Chocolate and JellyBelly Relaxation Room, where your feet and hands will me rubbed by a team of 3 armed midgets. Smarshy, you step into our Male Fantasy Room, where you will find 10 dancing bi-sexual slutty virgins awaiting you."

Or will he say "So what's so bad about that? I'm not sure I would have done anything differently. Sounds like a decent practice to me...Do you know if they're hiring?"

My gut tells me the actual response will fall somewhere in the middle (but will hopefully still include the slutty virgins).

So I'm hoping to draw on all your 10,000 years of combined fertility experience to help us. Since we're still kind of new to IVF, we're not sure we know all the right questions to ask to determine if the clinic is right for us. We certainly have a long list already, but I'm afraid we're missing something. I'm sure there's a great deal of knowledge out there, so let me have some of it please!

** Edit: Just to clarify, with reference to the three armed midgets, I am talking about a team of midgets with THREE ARMS (you know, for better massage). I am NOT talking about midgets with GUNS. I mean, that's just disturbing and silly, quite frankly. Why would you possibly need guns in the Chocolate and JellyBelly Relaxation Room?

Minimizing Cross-Divisional Inefficiencies Across Multi-Functional Matrix Reporting Systems

2006-09-19T08:07:00.000-04:00

That's how people talk at my work. Makes me want to leap out my 32nd floor window.

I thought I'd do a post about work today (mostly because we are still waiting for our next cycle to start, and my wife is in a good mood, which leaves me zilch to write about - and I love the sound of my own typing, just like every other blogger).

Anyway, I work in institutional investment management - private equity, specifically. I'm actually fairly senior (alot of you are thinking back on my 'passed out on the couch with scotch' post and wondering "how can that be?"). Well, it can be. And it is.

Like most businesses, this business is very complicated. Unlike many other businesses, it is populated by people who are not passionate about the work per se, but are rather passionate about making gobs of cash. Moolah. Jack. Do re mi. You dig? That does not apply to me, however. Don't get me wrong, I love money...but there are things I love about this business. Working with entrepreneurs, and helping to build businesses...it's actually quite a bit of fun, and very interesting. However, the fact that I am driven less by financial gain than by intellectual gain has a negative impact on my w-2 at year end, I assure you. But I do get to associate myself with VERY smart people. I'm talking PhDs, former intelligence officers, investment gurus, etc.

But that's the just the thing. Some of these people are so smart, that they refuse to entertain the idea that there is something about this business that they do not understand. Everyone is desperately afraid of looking stupid. But the truth of the matter is, everyone really only gets about 10% of this business. Seriously. Thing is, if you have 10 people in a room, everyone understands a different 10% than everyone else. You might think "perfect, there is knowledge of 100% of the industry in that room". Not how it works. Everyone in the room is desperately trying to convince other people that they understand the 90% that the other person does not understand. And since that other person doesn't get that 90%, how can they refute the other guy, who claims to understand?

Also, people spend 99% of every meeting trying to steer the conversation back to that 10% portion of the business that they themselves understand, regardless of whether it is relevant to the agenda of the meeting.

Guess what get accomplished while all this tomfoolery goes on?

You guessed it....NOTHING.

And the sad reality is that the people who climb to the top, and who get to run the entire organization, are not the smartest people. They are simply the ones who did the best job of either 1) convincing the other 9 people in the room that they understood the 90% of the business that those others did not understand, or 2) convincing all 10 people that understanding NONE of the business is actually the way to go.

Have a nice Tuesday.

I Got Tagged Again

2006-09-18T15:31:00.000-04:00

**Added note: In case you are wondering, yes, I did create another post the same day because I got a little sick of the negative attention from the previous one. I know, I asked for it, and I'm glad I was honest and I'm glad I leveled the playing field. But now I'm done and I'm turning the spigot off. I want to be wonderful again.***

Just Another Jenny From The Infertility Block just tagged me. (Jenny, did you every consider calling it 'Jenny from the Blog'? That's kind of funny.)

Anyway, she incorrectly called me a tag virgin. I was tagged once before. Although like most virgin experiences, that first time wasn't all that good and I think I didn't really do it right. Glad to have another chance; hopefully this time will be better for everyone involved.

My words:

Hope: This is a blog about infertility, and I get "hope" as a word? I'll spare you all the "we are desperately hoping for another child..." bit. I knew a girl in college named Hope, and she was ridiculously hot. Problem was, no one knew that quite as well as she did. But still, so hot.

In-laws: I don't have any. My wife's father died tragically of a heart attack 2 years before I met her. And her mother slipped into a bad place after that, and as a result cut off ties with her entire family. So as far as I know, she's alive, but we have never met, she doesn't know I exist, and most tragically (for her), she doesn't even know about The Buggins!

Sports: Oh, that was the title of the 1983 album by Huey Lewis and the News that changed my life. I was 12, and as far as I was concerned, this band was God. I saw them in concert in Hartford, CT when there were on tour promoting this album. My sister's boyfriend took me to the concert as a way to score points with my sister. He let me drink beer. Awesome.

Bush: Hmmnnnn. Please see response above re: Hope. Enough said. (Remember, wife reads this)

Ok, coming atcha, One Mother's Journey, Mrs. Negative, Krista, and not just The Oneliner, but TheOneLinersPookie. Oh yeah. That's her husband. (Hey Pookie, did you think I was going to let that one go?)

***Forgot to include words. See, I'm no good at this.

Joint
Pinnacle
Ocean
Deluge

It's Not All Sweet

2006-09-18T09:27:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all of your helpful answers to my questions. I'm so glad I asked them. Although I have to say, just based on how many of you use words like "protocol", I can safely say we are very far behind on the IF learning curve.

By the way, I meant to ask the question "Does it bother you when bloggers post pictures of their kids", not "Would it bother you if I posted pictures of my kid". I have no intentions of posting pictures of the Buggins. I mean I'd like to, but I think you all know by now that my wife would give that idea the double-handed smackdown. To quote The Rock, she would layeth the smacketh down. You smell what I'm cookin'?

As I've said before, she reads my blog every day. And lately I think she feels like I'm giving her a little bit of a raw deal. She says she comes across as kind of a mean, unhappy be-otch and I come across as a sensitive, saintly, handsome, charming, successful, funny, athletic, talented piece of beefcake. Whats that? You don't think I come across like that? You're just saying that to make my wife feel better. That's nice, thank you.

Anyway, to even the playing field, I told her I would post a story about something insensitive and/or just plain dumb that I did.

Long list to choose from. This took me a while. But I found one.

As usual, some background is in order. Our support system sucks. It's terrible. We have no family nearby at all, and the family that is within a days drive is either 1) too wrapped up in their own giant bag of serious issues to be of any help to us or 2) too selfish and insensitive to ever think about anyone or anything other than themselves.

This sad fact has caused us much trouble, and I think made things like IF and even pregnancy and giving birth so much harder and more stressful than it would otherwise be. Little things like making an appointment to see the RE. What about our 2 year old? There's no MIL to babysit, I have to go to work, there's no family to help, only price-gouging teengagers who charge $20 per hour and who require 2 weeks notice because of the crazy competition for babysitters in my town. Through this process we've learned who our REAL friends are (turns out there's none...), and we really can't think of anyone we would be comfortable asking to watch our kid, or who we think would even say yes. So what can my wife do? She brings The Buggins with her. Terrible.

Also, when Buggins was born, there was no help. Big C-section (which I think is good because the baby comes out looking all cute instead of all squished up, but then again I'm not the one getting sliced open). We could find no one to help us. My mom actually did show up to help, but before long I had to put her back on a plane because I could only take care of 1 baby, not 2. To top it all off, when Buggins was just three weeks old, I had to travel to Eastern Europe for business for a whole week. (Am I a spy, you ask? If saying yes makes me seem more interesting, then yes).

Leaving my wife alone (not just that week, but pretty much the first 3 months) with no help or support is one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. She was averaging about 2 hours of sleep each night. She was a ghost. It was awful. But that's not even the story I wanted to tell! That's just background.

OK, so Buggins was like 6 weeks old. Up all night pooping and crying and whatnot. I caught a glance of my wife, and noticed that I could fit all my dirty laundry into the bags under eyes. So I said "Honey, tonight, you got to bed and sleep well all night. I will take care of the baby. The Whole Night Long." (M had pumped so I had plenty of milk to feed the baby with). She was so thrilled, she darted upstairs and jumped into bed before I could change my mind. It was 8pm.

At 8:15pm, before she was even asleep, she heard the baby screaming. "Ahhh, she thought, I don't have to deal with that...he'll get it. I can just slip into sweet slumber." But the crying didn't stop. What the hell, she wondered. She gave it a few more minutes. Still, the baby screamed. Finally, M got out of bed (now she's sleepy AND angry, a swell combination). She peeked in on the buggins, who had dropped her pacifier out of reach. She popped it back in, and came hunting for me. She came down the stairs and saw me, in all my glory.

There I was, dead asleep on the couch, next to an empty scotch glass on the coffee table. The baby monitor was propped up against my ear like a headphone. The babymonitor was working, by the way. And it was only about 30 minutes since I told M to go to bed.

She woke me up and started crying in disbelief. I basically told her I was too tired and I REVOKED my offer. We took turns with the baby the rest of the night.

Anyone still out there reading this?

Everything I Ever Wanted To Know About Infertility (And Am No Longer Afraid To Ask)

2006-09-17T14:11:00.000-04:00

As I read all the blogs out here in Blogland, I am constantly faced with the reality that I have more questions about these processes (both infertility and blogging itself) than I do answers. So I thought I would dedicate a post to just asking simple questions that I think many of you might know the answers to.

1) When most of you include a brand name of any kind in your posts, you bleep out the name, like "Coc*a Col*a" or "F&llistim". Why do you do that? I have a couple theories on why but I wanted to ask you directly.

2) What's this acupuncture business all about? Did your Dr tell you to get acupuncture? Did you have to ask for it yourself? Is it part of your treatment? What does it do? Does it work? Should my wife be doing that? Our RE once mentioned acupuncture many months ago, in our first (AND ONLY) conversation...are we missing something here?

3) When you do a FET, are you taking drugs? If so, what for? Do you want follicles in an FET cycle, or do you not? I am assuming not, but I want to be clear.

4) For IVF cycles, did you all have a "mock transfer" first? We had an IUI to IVF conversion and we didn't get a mock transfer. In fact, no one ever mentioned that to us. We learned about it on the internet.

5) How common are cancelled cycles? Does it happen often?

6) Does it upset you when I mention The Buggins on my blog? Would it upset you if I posted pictures of her?

7) When my wife had her IUI-IVF conversion, she was told that her chances with the IVF were the same as they would have been with a regular IVF cycle. But the time from the beginning of taking drugs to the pregnancy test was only 4 weeks (like a regular IUI cycle). If the IVF conversion had the same chances as a regular IVF, why does a regular IVF cycle take 6 or 8 weeks? What's going on in that extra time? What does Lupron (or Lu*pron) do? (Other than apparently make women miserable?)

8) Why do we have to seek answers from the Blogosphere instead of learning this from our quack doctor?

Thanks for any info you may have -

I'm Leaving My Wife

2006-09-15T08:47:00.000-04:00

No I'm not. I just wanted a flashy title.

I have so much to say in this post, I really don't know how to get started. I'm very intimidated by the sheer volume of thoughts I have to put down.

I had a comment from anonymous yesterday, asking some pretty big questions, and they do touch on a couple points that I've been meaning to blog about.

Here's the question from Anonymous:

I am not a troll - but do you think that if this continues and you don't get a baby out of this it could end your marriage? How much and how long do you go through something like this? How long has your wife been unhappy? I know marriage is give and take and being there for the other person but it is not like she has cancer or a terminal illness - and you have a daughter! When do you all get happy again? I think you are happy (from what I read) and your daughter is happy but what about your wife. What if the second baby does not come, what happens then? Does your wife say if this works that would be wonderful but if not, I am lucky to have my hubby and daughter? How far do you go being unhappy?

Lots of good stuff in there. I originally wrote another post, complaining about her anonymity and how I wished this person left his/her name, how I wished I knew if she was infertile, and what her story was. But she has since left another comment, explaining that her name was Maggie and that she has been dealing with infertility for years and is now exploring adoption. Thanks for the follow-up Maggie, I'm glad to know more about you.

You say that your husband would never put up with all the moodiness / bitchiness / crying for so long. Honestly, what can he do about it? Yes, it bothers me ALOT sometimes when I just wish she would shake it off and feel happy. And there are times when I scream at her for ruining the present in favor of a possible future. But again, what are you going to do? I can not demand that my wife be happy. Doing THAT would probably end my marriage. And frankly, I've always been the type of person to admit that there is a ALOT I don't understand. I do not understand what infertility does to women. I do not understand the emotional damage it causes. How can I insist it go away? Feelings aren't wrong - they never are. So by "not putting up" with my wife's current swings, I would become the kind of person I hate most - the kind of person who acts and speaks with conviction about a topic he is basically ignorant of. My wife is not an unhappy person by nature - I would never have been attracted to or married a person like that. She is a very funny (funnier than me), incredibly silly, kind hearted woman who desperately wants to have another baby and is having a really hard time. If she's going to be upset about that, I have to let her. I can't control her emotions. I've tried. Does she cry every day? Yes, she does. For about 5 minutes. Does she laugh everyday? Yes. For about 5 hours.

So I'll write for a minute about secondary infertility vs. primary infertility (if that's what it's called). Again, I'm no expert here, I just know from my own experiences. My wife and I have been in both camps.

Is secondary infertility "less bad" (I won't say better) than primary infertility? Of course it is. For us, the fear that we would never have a child was overwhelming. I'll never forget that fear. I'll never forget the joy when that pee stick had 2 lines on it. I cried like a little girl. (I had had a couple drinks). So with that fear gone, this process is less painful. We are very, very lucky to have a child. We think that everyday. My wife says that every day.

But when you want to create a baby, whether it's your first or your second, or your 10th, and you can't, I think you feel broken. I think there are big natural forces at work there. And I think that does damage.

Let's do what you should never do: compare it to money.

Lets say a couple earns $50k a year. They can afford a roof, ok clothes, dinner out every now and then. They're not rich. They probably think if they could only have, say, $150k, they'd be happy. Think of all the crap they could buy...a house... a decent car...

Now look at the couple who earns $150k. They have a decent place, some nice vacations. She probably has a couple designer outfits. He might have a couple of $700 suits. Wouldn't it be nice if they could afford private school, though? And all the people around them when they were ALL earning $50k per year are now earning $1 million, by the way. They see them at the park every day, talking about their millions.

Should the second couple feel bad for wanting more? Everyone else seems to have more. And because people know that you are a $150k person, they just come to expect that you are interested in growing your income. If you weren't, you'd still be at $50k. And obviously you CAN grow your income...so why are you still only at $150k? When are you coming to $1 million? What's taking you so long?

And of course there are those people at $5million who it all came so easy to. They think it comes that easy for everyone. They make money by just waking up in the morning.

Maggie, in all honesty, if I were you, I'd feel exactly the same way. What the F*ck is this lady bitching about, she HAS a child. I know I would feel that way, and so would my wife. What I'm suggesting to you is that secondary infertility comes with its own bag of ass. A different bag. But if you want a child, you want a child.

To illustrate my point further, I'll give you a real life example. When my wife was in the hospital getting her eggs harvested, there was a girl in the next room over who was screaming in pain from some IVF procedure. My wife felt bad for her. The nurse told my wife that the woman had 2 kids already, and was undergoing IVF for a third. My wife no longer felt bad for her. She HATED her. Thought she was hogging all the babies. What right did she have trying for THREE babies? We can't even get TWO!

A couple other points. (I told you this would be long). I am sweet to my wife, and I do spoil her a great deal (she TOLD me to point that out). But the truth is, she definitely spoils me too. I'm not going to list all the douchebaggy things I do and say on my own blog. I'm not going to go into detail about the times I was a jerk to my wife and said incredibly insensitive things to her, because this is my blog and I don't want people to hate me. I'm not mis-representing myself on this blog, but let's just say, my personality is a bit scrubbed. This is MY blog, after all.

Last point: Maggie, I am glad you posted on my blog and I hope you do it again and that you stick around. I'm so sorry for the trouble you've had and I truly can't imagine the pain you've dealt with. I hope adoption proves to be the right thing for you and your husband and I'm sure you'll make great parents.

Tom Petty Knew What He Was Talking About

2006-09-14T14:00:00.000-04:00

When he said "The waiting is the hardest part". He probably also knew what he was talking about when he sang "Don't do me like that", but that's another topic for another day.

My poor wife is so sad today. Nothing in particular happened today to make her so sad, but that's partly what's making her so sad. Nothing is happening. Since our cycle was cancelled, we have to sit around and wait to start the next cycle. So its a 2 week wait, without the potential prize at the end.

Even when she's in the middle of all the shots, scans, poking and prodding, and she's miserable from it, at least she feels as though she is doing something to move this whole babymaking thing along. But now, we're just sitting around, doin' nothing. It helps to know you're adding value somehow. I give my wife her shots in her belly. She hates it, obviously. But I kind of like giving her those shots. Am I sadistic, you ask?

Yes. But that's only part of the answer.

Giving her those shots is the only tangible thing I can do to help this process forward. I can be sweet to my wife, and help her manage her emotions and stress, but that does nothing to help us actually get pregnant. Those shots, now they help. Plus, it's kind of fun. It's like playing doctor, only with real doctorin' stuff like needles.

Anyway, just waiting. Waiting and reading blogs. And drinking.

So I was "Tagged"

2006-09-13T14:04:00.000-04:00

I take it this is the new electronic way to play the age old game, except that now we are in our 30's. While I am happy to be included, the truth is I actually dread these types of things, they're kind of like chain letters. What happens if I don't tag other people? Will I have bad luck?

OK, here were the words given to me, and the thoughts they elicited:

Limb: What I would have given one of not to be tagged
Sand: What I would have eaten in order not to be tagged
Satisfaction: Something this exercise is not giving me
Divine: Divine Brown. I'll never understand why Hugh Grant was out on the street paying for it when he had Elizabeth Hurley at home. Honestly. She's like the most beautiful woman on the planet (next to my wife, but you wouldn't know that because I'm not allowed to post a picture of her).

Sorry Serenity, this is coming to you. (I'll only tag one person, if that's alright...)

Incandescent
Fragrant
Cement
Locksmith

And.....go

Isn't My Wife Beautiful?

2006-09-13T10:06:00.000-04:00

** I had a picture of my wife in this space. She made me take it down. Apparantly this was not one of my smartest moves.

Ok, this photo was taken 4 years ago, just a few days before our wedding. But I assure you, she looks the same now. Actually, I think she looks more beautiful now.

That's all. I just wanted to post a picture of my beautiful wife.

A Day Late

2006-09-12T14:55:00.000-04:00

I don't know why this is affecting me so much today. It didn't really affect me much yesterday at all.

September 11th.

I realize most people took note of the anniversary yesterday. But yesterday I had nothing to say about it. But for some reason, for the first time, today I imagined having to call my wife from my office and tell her that my building had been hit by a plane, and that I was likely going to die. I can't comprehend it; it's too painful and the mere thought of it makes me sweat and want to cry. What would I say? Would I be brave and tell her I love her, and that I hope she would go on to live a happy life filled with laughter and love, and would I ask to speak to my 2 year old, and would I tell her that her daddy loves her? Or would I just cry and scream into the phone and pray that it was all a bad dream?

The fact that hundreds, THOUSANDS of men JUST LIKE ME faced that very situation is incomprehensible. My brain rejects it. It's too painful to think about.

I knew people who died that day. 2 people from my high school class, and an old friend's husband. I lost track of her before 9/11, and I last saw her at her wedding (to the guy who worked at Cantor Fitzgerald). I tried to get in touch with her after, but I couldn't find her. I know she was 6 months pregnant with their first child on 9/11. I also heard through friends that he had called her after the attack.

It's enough to literally make you insane with grief.

The Happiest Infertile on the Block

2006-09-10T14:56:00.000-04:00

You may need to bear with me here. I'm pretty sure I have something worthwhile to say, but I'm just not sure how long it may take for me to get there. This could be a long post.

For the purposes of an executive summary, I'll state my conclusion first. Based on my own personal experiences during fatherhood, as well as during infertility, feedback from my wife, and your insightful comments, I think I can confidently state the following:

Infertile women are exactly like toddlers.

Now, don't get all bunjed up. Let me explain.

Obviously, there are some differences. Infertile women don't poop themselves, for example. (For the most part). But I think, if I do a good job expressing my point here, you'll agree with me by the end of this post.

First, a little background is in order. 2 years ago (2 years ago Wednesday, actually), when the Buggins was born, we were given a DVD called The Happiest Baby on the Block. It's by some Dr. named Karp or something. Has a famous book that goes along with it; I'm sure some of you have heard of this guy. Anyway, we didn't watch it for a long time, because honestly, we're just not that type of couple. We don't go in for alot of the how-to videos. We don't read directions. Half the shit in my house doesn't work as a result, but still, that's just not how we roll.

Anyway, after Buggins was about 4 weeks old, my wife and I had aged about 10 years (my wife maybe 20). The kid was crying all the time, up all night, it was awful. One day, at our wits end and in a total fog, we popped in this DVD. This Karp guy is a freaking MAGICIAN. Seriously, he made babies stop crying like he was pulling some kind of crazy Jedi mind trick on them. I wondered if it was some kind of Industrial Light & Magic special effect. This couple would hand him a screaming kid, he would hold it a certain way, whisper something, and the kid was jello. Smiling. Even SLEEPING.

Fair to say, the good Dr. Karp changed our lives. He's kind of a swarmy, annoying, dirty looking man with one of those scraggly half beards, (the kind that makes you wonder why the guy bothers to grow one at all) so I elevate him to this status with great hesitation. But he earned it.

So fastforward about a year. We come upon the sequel DVD, entitled The Happiest Toddler on the Block. We buy it. We buy two copies, in case we lose one. He's that good.

So in this toddler video, he really gets inside the mind of the toddler. He knows how they think. He has an inside line there. He says that when they have a tantrum, usually about nothing in particular (i.e. wanting a cookie, wanting to watch Elmo, etc) the reason for the tantrum isn't actually because of the sadness that they are not allowed to do or have that thing in question. It's because they feel as though we (the parents) are not getting it. We're not validating their desire for that delicious cookie. Saying things like "Ohh, it's ok, don't worry, cookies aren't that good", or "Don't worry, you'll have a cookie someday" don't come close to addressing the issue. That's ignoring the issue, actually.

At first I was totally skeptical of this. I figured kids have tantrums because they're BAD. But again Karp was shown with a toddler who was literally busting a nut over the fact that he/she wanted a cookie. And Karp looked the kid right in the eye and yelled "WANT COOKIE!! WANT COOKIE!! WANT COOKIE!!!". The kid actually paused, looked at the guy for a second (probably wondering about his half-beard) and then wandered off, having totally forgotten about the cookie.

Amazing. So we tried it. When we figured out what Buggins was yelling about, we yelled about it too. And sure enough, she stopped yelling.

I'll give you a recent example, it actually happened yesterday. Buggins has 2 pairs of Crocs, those weird plastic shoes. She has a pink pair, and a green pair. She's obsessed with them. So yesterday, she was dressed in an outfit that begged for the green pair, but prohibited the pink pair. We were going to a nice dinner, and we didn't want her dressed in her typical crazy-ass fashions. So I said "Buggins, you have to wear the green shoes". She LOST it. Started screaming and crying. I said "Green shoes, Buggins", and she kept on screaming, only LOUDER. She lay down on the floor and screamed bloody murder. Finally, I started pounding my fist in the air yelling "WANT PINK SHOES!!! WANT PINK SHOES!! I WANT PINK SHOES!!!! I WANT PINK SHOES!!! " And sure enough, she stopped crying, walked over to me, crawled on my lap, and put those green shoes on HERSELF. Then walked away, happy as a clam.

So this is where I circle back to my main point, about infertile women. You're probably seeing where I'm headed with this. I've been spending all my time saying things like "Ohh, it's ok, there's always next month" and "Shhhh, just try to relax, I'm sure the doctors know what they are doing..." And I've been getting NOWHERE, as anyone who read this blog knows. What I SHOULD be doing is pumping my fist in the air, and, depending on the situation at hand, yelling "INFERTILITY SUCKS!! OUR DOCTOR SUCKS! SHOTS SUCK! THAT NURSE SUCKS!! IVF SUCKS! PREGNANT WOMEN SUCK!!!"

It seems so simple....yet brilliant. My wife wants me to empathize with her situation, not necessarily fix it. I hear her complain about a problem, and my first instinct is to a) solve the problem, or b) minimize the importance of the problem.

I clearly can't do A, and attempting B is a surefire way to get my ass kicked.

So I've started yelling right along with her, and it really seems to making a huge difference. It's like a Jedi-mind trick.

I'm thinking of growing a scraggly half-beard.

p.s. Took the buggins to the Dr. today. No sign of a UTI, so who knows what the story is with the "boo boo". Could be the effects of too much time spent watching "Elmo's Potty Time" video.

Reflections on the week from hell

2006-09-08T19:23:00.000-04:00

Happy Friday bloggers. (Or for you Australians, happy Saturday morning...)

Sitting here with a martini reflecting on the crazy IF week. Cancelled cycles, traumatized wife, death threats against me, my job stressing me out big time, and to top it all off, my 2 year old is hunched over, holding her crotch and yelling "Boo Boo". (Not quite sure what to do about that one...wife is calling the appropriate people.)

Just to update you in the event you may be interested, we called Dr. Buttmunch's office and told them we want to sit down with the good doctor to discuss our care. Seems like a straightforward request - we are his patients, after all. And, it seems to me that many of you have just this kind of conversation with your RE every single day.

The nurse said she'd be happy to book a meeting with our doctor. Next available appointment: October 25th. That's 7 f'ing weeks away. Does that make sense to you?

So we called our old RE, CityDoc. Can he see us? Sure, come on in. September 22. That's TWO weeks. We can get into a doctor we are not USING in 2 weeks. The doctor responsible for our CURRENT CARE? 7 weeks.

So we are feeling pretty good about our decision to go to CityDoc.

Feeling less good about my daughter's "boo boo" in her netherregion. If that 3 year old in the leather jacket down the street gave her something, I swear to God...

Boy, That DID Get Me In Trouble

2006-09-07T16:44:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I am beginning to recover from the brutal beating I got from wifey for that last post. She read it at home, called me up at work, and screamed "YOU A$$HOLE!!!" into the phone and then hung up. I'm just glad I didn't have her on speakerphone.

But after she read it a few more times, and read your comments, and called me numerous names I never read in the Bible, I think she started to understand that I wasn't simply complaining about my wife on the internet, or trolling the web looking for anonymous agreement that I have a crazy wife. She now understands that I was admitting some serious mistakes I was making to a knowledgeable group of individuals, and that I was seeking guidance and help from people who understand, but are just removed enough from our own particular day-to-day crap to be able to shed some light on it. And your comments have been incredibly helpful. Thank you all for your insights and feedback. I really want to respond to each and every one of your comments but I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Your comments have made a profound difference in the way I think and act towards this process and towards my wife during this time.

So anyway, back to the shit.

The cycle was cancelled. The nurse said the follicles were not developed enough. Now, for those of you following along at home:

Cycle #1 - 150iu for 2 nights, then 225iu for the rest of the cycle...
first scan: 4 follicles, 2nd scan: 11, 3rd scan: 16 follicles, then - boom - conversion to IVF due to "overstimulation of the follicles". Needless to say, that IVF was a failure.

Cycle #2, 75iu for first 2 nights.
Oh, that makes sense. Starting us off slow. Overdid it last time. Seems prudent. Gee, these guys are smart.
First scan - no follicles.
Hmmn...well, I guess it's time to ramp up the dosage and get us some follicles. That's what they'll probably say when the nurse calls this afternoon.
They call: Stay on 75 for 2 more nights.
Huh? no increase? Seems odd. Well, I guess they know what they're doing.
Second scan: 3 follicles, all too small to measure. Technician is worried. Mentions that she wouldn't be surprised if they cancelled.
No worries, I tell wifey. I'm sure they'll crank up the dosage now and grow those little follicles into giants right at the last second. Just you wait. After all, you're only at 75. Last cycle, you were at 225.
Nurse calls. Stay at 75iu for 2 more nights.
WTF? That can't be good doctorin'. Are these guys asleep at the switch?
Next scan: Follicles too small. CANCELLED. Oh, but don't worry, the insurance company will still count this as one of the 6 ART treatments they will cover. Too bad you didn't get the opportunity to actually get IMPREGNATED.
And wifey descends into another black hole of despair, anger, confusion, panic, fear, depression, and frustration.
Thanks, Doc. Good lookin' out.

So, based on our gut instincts, your feedback, and, I think, common sense, we have decided we are getting really bad medical care. We have contacted our original RE doctor, who practices in the city. The only reason we didn't continue with him was because of the 2 hour round trip commute to his office from our home. But we have sacrificed care for convenience and found that quality care is more important.

I have to tell you, I am concerned about this commute. Its the same commute I have every day to work. My wife puts a HUGE premium on convenience. She may say she wants to go to the CityDoc now, but I envision MAJOR problems when she has to lug her ass (and our 2 year old) to the clinic 2 or 3 times a week). I'm just saying. CityDoc would have to be 200% better than Dr. ButtMunch just to balance out the affect of the convenience factor. So, CityDoc has to be 250% better than Dr. ButtMunch for this to be worthwhile. Maybe that will happen. Maybe not.

So we have a couple weeks off, no drugs, no appts. Just lots of booze and hopefully some SEX!

This is Going to Get Me in Trouble

2006-09-06T12:37:00.000-04:00

I have to vent. I know my wife is going to read this and be super pissed at me, but this is really the best outlet I have.

I just don't get my wife's thought process. She is always BLAMING people for things. Follicles too small? The doctor screwed up and prescribed too low a dosage on the Follistim. Follicles too big? Or too many? The doctor screwed up by prescribing too much follistim. And she's always on the verge of quitting this doctor and going to another. "If my follicle is below 17mm today, I'm calling that other doctor..."

I know what she's doing. She's scrambling for some kind of control. And she's trying to find REASON where there seems to be a total absence of reason.

What the hell should I do? If I thought it would calm her down, I'd just agree with her. I've tried that. I still try that. Doesn't work. My agreeing with her is met with one of a few different responses: 1) "How can you agree, you can't begin to understand", or 2) "If you agree so much then DO something about it", or 3) continued ranting about the problem as before, just with added anger at me for no discernible reason.

So I say things that I think would be useful to ME, if I were in her shoes. Things like "Honey, let's just wait until the nurse calls this afternoon with more information before we go making big decisions. Let's try to relax". That ticks her off, apparently. And "Honey, we have to assume, not being doctors, that there are reasons why the doctors are making these decisions that we don't have the training to fully understand". Oh boy. That one really pisses her off.

So then she's pissed, and she's got this constant electrical charge of "pissed-ness" coursing though her body well after this particular conversation has reached its conclusion.

So we start talking about something else. Actually, she's talking about something else, like scheduling a dentist appointment for herself, and whether that might conflict with other appointments.

* Let me add something here. It's important to note that I would love nothing more than to never be included in conversations about things like scheduling her dentist appointment. My wife is one of those people who needs to talk things out, even the most mundane things, in order to clarify them in her own head. Whether the other person is listening, or helpful, or even alive is sometimes of little consequence. She just needs to talk it out. See, this is where I get into trouble. I can't just listen and let her talk. I don't have nearly enough patience for that. Never have. I want her to state her point, succinctly, and then shut the hell up. Same thing I want from every other person who speaks to me. I have a thing about efficient language skills. I can't handle conversations where people say the same thing over and over again. I almost always explode. Not only does this get me in trouble at home, by the way. It will probably be my undoing at work.

Anyway, here's how the conversation went.
Wife: Maybe I could get an appointment in the late afternoon, and you could leave work early to watch the baby.
Me: Yes, that's certainly an option.
Wife: Or maybe I could get an early morning appointment, say at 7 or 7:30, and you could go to work a bit later and watch the baby.
Me (*not sure why she bothered to say this; I just assumed in the first exchange we had agreed that I would arrange work schedule to watch baby). Anyway, I reply, "Yes, that's a solution too."
Wife: I'm just saying, for me to do this, I'm going to need some help from you.
Me: (*I lose it. Her response would be appropriate if I had been saying "NO" to the previous points, instead of "YES". AND, she is implying that I am not being helpful CURRENTLY). I reply "Didn't you just hear me say yes a couple of times? Why are you still going on and on???"

click.

Now she's REALLY pissed.

**Clarifying edit: Please don't get the impression that I think that my wife is wrong and I am right. I certainly do not believe that, and the brief exchange above I think illustrates nicely what a total jerk I can, in fact, be.

Someone out there please help me. I know I am making mistakes. How can I calm this women down, and help her see this process for what it is: an imperfect, imprecise, ambiguous, chaotic, hellatious ride not for the faint of heart? And that that fact needs to be accepted?

How do I try to make her feel less alone without subjecting myself to a severe browbeating every day (deserved or otherwise)? I know she has crazy hormone drugs coursing through her body, and that may serve to explain some things (but don't you dare suggest THAT to her without protective eyewear), but beyond explaining, what do I DO about it?

** Another Edit **

The cycle has been cancelled. Follicles were not stimulated enough and she is beginning to ovulate. And I thought she was pissed BEFORE.....

More on this in the next post.

Life's a Beach

2006-09-04T18:27:00.000-04:00

We had a good day. Decided to take a vacation from infertility.

We went for a long walk around the Crane Estate, which is this huge expanse of land in Ipswich, MA along the water. Beautiful beach, great walking trails, hardly any people.

Anyway, we spent the morning climbing dunes and having fun with The Buggins. M didn't want to go. I made her.

We have spent all our time complaining, bitching, crying, obsessing about IF, Dr. ButtMunch, bitch-nurses, and follistim pens. I really wanted us to have a day that we just enjoyed; just a moment in time where we didn't fret about the future or regret the past. It sounds simple and even corny. But I think we could all use a day like that, where we simply just enjoy TODAY. Fuck Infertility. (for those of you offended by my crassness, F*CK infertility)

It was a an unbridled success (except for a phone call on M's cell from bitch-nurse telling us to STAY on 75 megawatts - WTF?? I'm calling the Dr. tomorrow, and I have asskicking on my mind) .

As I've said before, I have worrried about the effect of all of this on The Buggins. I really wanted a day just for us. Not for some desired, unborn and unconceived baby to-be. So we walked, sniffed some crazy flowers, tried to eat a pinecone, built gigantic sand castles, and reminded ourselves why we are going through all this IF bullshit in the first place.

Because little kids F'ing ROCK.

Peace out -
Smarshy

Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain

2006-09-03T18:08:00.000-04:00

I realize when I started this thing that I was a bit bummed at how few men there were blogging about the crapheap that is fertility treatments. Now, I want them all to stay away, because I am truly loving the attention from all of you and I want no competition. So, guys, if you are reading this, there's nothing to see here. Move on. These blogs are lame anyway. Chick stuff. Plus, there's a game on.

Ok good. So I was wondering why our Doctor, Dr. ButtMunch, never tells us what's going on. As I mentioned before, my wife and I met with him during our initial consult, and we have NEVER seen or heard from him since, save a lame message on our machine telling us how "sorry" he was about our last BFN.

So in our last IUI cycle, they started M off with like 150 milligrams, or units, or whatever the fuck they are, in that follistim pen. On her FIRST ultrasound, they said they saw 4 decent follicles, and then cranked us up to 225. At the next ultrasound, she had eleven follicles. They kept her at 225. Next ultrasound, they saw 16 follicles. The ultrasound technician said "I'm sure they've already discussed with you the conversion to IVF". NO. What the hell are you talking about? The technician was like "well, they can't give you an IUI now, or we'll all end up on the cover of People Magazine". So, later that day, we were told we were moving straight to IVF because of M's "overstimulation", even though they cranked her UP after the first appt.

So that IVF was negative, and that's all background. We are now back to IUI, as mandated by our insurance coverage. We are in our next cycle, but they have started her off at 75 kilowatts or whatever on the follistim pen. So we go in after a few days for the the first ultrasound, and guess how many follicles they see? NONE. The trusty technical told her that was low, but not totally uncommon. But it makes us worry a bit.

So we get a call that day (Saturday). "Ok, keep going at 75, come in on Monday, gotta go see you then bye"

Why the F would they crank her ass up the first time, and not the second time, when she is producing below average follicles? I just want to believe that there is some guy in that office, hopefully Dr. ButtMunch, who is watching all of this, reading all the data, and has a brilliant master plan from behind his curtain. I guess we'll see. If any of you lovely ladies with your advanced degrees in fertilities have any clue, I'd sure appreciate hearing it.

By the way, some of you asked if my wife reads my blog. Yes, she does. Sometimes she gets pissed at how much I reveal. She's afraid some of you are our next door neighbors.

The Post With No Title

2006-09-01T11:08:00.000-04:00

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings and for posting your insightful comments on my blog. I agree with you, it is a bit surprising to me how there aren't more blogs dealing with fertility from a male point of view. I know there are a couple out there - and I read them - but the female bloggers on this subject outnumber the male bloggers by at least 10 to 1.

Obviously, that is to be expected. You guys, are, after all, the ones getting shot up with all the drugs, and it is in your bellies that we are all hoping the little babies will show up. And I do know that some guys are just showing up when needed, whacking off in a cup, and then it's back to SportsCenter on HDTV. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

But I really do think that this process is rough on us too, and there are a couple of things going on with that:
1) We are afraid to admit that out loud for fear that our overly medicated wives will break out the kitchen knives and yell "you motherfucker, you think this process is tough on YOU?!?!"
2) On average, we are naturally less likely to discuss our feelings
3) We are too busy trying to calm down our wives to actually focus for very long on how the process is affecting us.

I can tell you how this is affecting me. Yes, I want another child. Badly. Yes, I'll be sad if we can't. But that is creating about 5% of the stress I am feeling about infertility.

The remaining 95% of my stress is coming from trying to manage my wife. Trying to talk her off the ledge every day. Hugging her as she cries EVERY DAY. Listening to her call me at work screaming because the nurse left some fucked up message on our machine like "you're number is at 49, which is a bit low" without explaining what the fuck that MEANS and what number she's ever TALKING ABOUT. Having to flee the playground with our daughter because all the other mothers there, who all have kids younger than our daughter, are all pregnant again. Every single one of them. Or having to explain to our friends why my wife couldn't make it to their BBQ AGAIN, for the 5th time in a row (it's those damn allergies...) when the real reason is that so many of my friend's wives are pregnant and my wife just can not deal with that.

I understand that that all makes her very unhappy. It's just that sometimes I don't fully understand WHY it makes her so unhappy. I've never been much of a jealous person, and the truth is, I really, really love my life. Wouldn't trade it for anything. So when our neighbor gets pregnant, I'm actually happy for her. I don't feel as though anything has been taken away from me. My wife, on the other hand, wants to put a contract out on her.

And its rough for another reason: I tend to rely on humor to get me through stressful situations. That's just me. My wife does NOT care for jokes during a serious process. In her mind, by making jokes, I am trivialize the seriousness of our issues. So there goes my outlet: making jokes. (that's one of the things that led me to blogging.)

And to those of you who think your husbands would benefit from writing a blog, but they think that it's a weird thing to do, I was right there with them. It honestly never occurred to me. The only guy I knew who had a blog was Anderson Cooper on CNN. This whole thing started by me trying to get my wife to start a blog, and she was resisting. So I started reading them to learn more so that I could talk her into it, and I decided I wanted the outlet for myself. And honestly, I feel so much better. It has made a gigantic effect on the way I feel. I never would've seen THAT coming.

Have a good weekend -

100 Things

2006-08-30T17:32:00.000-04:00

This seems like a reasonable way to kill some time.

100 things about SmarshyBoy

1. "Smarshy" is a mixture of my first and last names.
2. I love artichokes
3. I named my daughter after my mother and my sister (they have the same name, obviously)
4. I'm a big dude - 6 foot 5 inches tall
5. My brother and I are 355 days apart in age (no infertility for my mother)
6. My brother is older than me, but I love those 10 days when we are the same age
7. His wife pops out kids like it's going out of style.
8. My parents got divorced after almost 40 years of marriage
9. Both of them would give absolutely anything to go back in time and reverse that decision
10. For a variety of reasons, that's not possible (my dad got remarried and my mom hates him...also, time travel not possible yet)
11. I went to a fancy boarding school in the Northeast, where I had to wear coat and tie every day to school
12. I used to hate math.
13. I made it through 4 years of college without ever having to take a math class.
14. I now have a MBA with a concentration in Finance (aka math)
15. I have size 13 feet (you know what that means...)
16. I would love to rip out Kevin Federline's heart with my bare hands and show it to him while it's still beating
17. I have an undergraduate degree in Broadcasting and Film Production
18. I was born in Beaumaris, a suburb of Melbourne, Australia
19. As a result, I have dual US / Australian citizenship
20. I was raised in a nice town in Connecticut (my parents are American)
21. While in college, I spent a semester studying at Sydney University in Australia. At a bar, I met a girl who coincidentally lived in the same town as me in Connecticut, also studying at Sydney Uni. We dated for 4 years.
22. I think Paris Hilton is a disgusting skank.
23. If I was single, I'd probably have sex with her.
24. I hate the way raw cotton feels. I can't bring myself to touch it.
25. I used to be an actor in Hollywood in my early 20's.
26. I had tiny bit parts in Friends, ER, Jurrassic Park, and Without Limits.
27. I showed my wife my membership card to the Screen Actors Guild on our first date. That nailed it.
28. I work in venture capital for a huge global company that would love to fire me for naming them on my blog
29. Sometimes, it is very clear to me that my 2 year old daughter really, really loves me.
30. That is the single best feeling I have ever had in my 35 years of life.
31. I drive a Volvo (pussy...)
32. I married my wife on a big lawn by the beach in Montego Bay, Jamaica.
33. I used to smoke cigarettes (not much though)
34. I love coffee
35. I enjoy gardening, but not when its too hot
36. I love scotch.
37. Despite the fact that I used to be an actor, I have total disdain for all actors and Hollywood types.
38. I secretly read my wife's People Magazine (gotta know your enemies).
39. My least favorite kind of people are those with little self-awareness.
40. I spent one week per month working in Moscow in 2004 and early 2005.
41. I can name all the Teletubbies, as well as every single character on Sesame Street
44. My commute to work is about 1 hour each way.
45. I have 2 sisters.
46. I live less than a mile from the beach.
47. I don't understand why, after buying new furniture, it takes 10 weeks to be delivered.
48. I usually go to sleep around 9:30 pm
49. My alarm goes off every morning at 5:07 am
50. Autumn is my favorite season.
51. I asked my wife to marry me on a Thursday in late 2001
52. Before I was born, my mother had a son who died of SIDS at 14 months.
53. She's been a little "off" ever since then.
54. I react to stress by getting very sleepy.
55. The day of our last BFN, I slept for 3 hours.
56. I think cocktail onions are delicious.
57. My wife and I love to spend time on the island of Nantucket.
58. After I graduated from business school, I was unemployed for 15 months.
59. During my unemployement, my wife helped support us by making preppy belts and selling them online and in boutique stores.
60. She did this at home after working a full 9 hour day at her real job.
61. My wife no longer works.
62. My favorite color is blue.
63. I'm pretty sure I suffer from Seasonal Affectation Disorder (I get sad in the wintertime)
64. When I was a kid, I once ran away from home and hid in a big bush across the street. When I was sure everyone was freaking out, I finally went home. No one knew I had been gone.
65. I'm an independant, but I think America is going in the wrong direction.
66. I think the US has squandered alot of goodwill we used to have in the world.
67. When entertainers talk about politics, I get filled with rage.
68. I've been married for almost 4 years, and I've never met my mother in law (issues....)
69. I can make sushi
70. I once met Billy Joel.
71. After I graduated from college, my first job was working as Christian Slater's personal assistant on the film "Bed of Roses".
72. That was the worst fucking job I ever had. I was awful at it.
73. The best job I ever had was working as a launch boat driver at a yacht club on Long Island Sound.
74. I'm not one of those people who will have a difficult time retiring.
75. I have driven across the USA 5 times
76. I suffer from road rage in a BIG way
77. I snore loudly.
78. I think the most serious threat to our world is the dangerous mixture of ignorance and conviction.
79. On average, I eat 2 bananas every day
80. My wife is addicted to EBay.
81. I have a re-occuring dream about a house I have never seen in real life.
82. I dream about that house every single night, with no exception.
83. I tend to sweat alot.
84. I have a phobia about being in a bar or movie theater by myself.
85. I am a total slob.
86. I clean up pretty well.
87. The closest family member to me is 4 hours away by car.
88. I am fascinated by medicine and science and I wish I had become a doctor.
89. Sometimes I worry about the effect all this negative infertility stuff is having on my daughter.
90. I love to play video games. Especially James Bond- ish spy games.
91. I have never been arrested.
92. I have done things I should have been arrested for.
93. I had an internship at an Austalian radio station. They put me on the air every day.
94. I think the girl at my drycleaner has a crush on me.
95. She has GIGANTIC droopy boobs.
96. I don't floss as much as I should.
97. I secretly wonder if anyone does (besides dental hygenists).
98. I continue to take my daughter to swimming class, despite the fact that she screams the entire time.
99. My favorite drink at Starbucks in a grande non-fat no whip white mocha.
100. I don't listen to my wife nearly as much as I should.

The End.

Which is the lesser evil?

2006-08-29T08:59:00.000-04:00

I've been wondering lately which is worse: packing it in and accepting that we are a one baby family, and coming to terms with the fact that even though we desperately, desperately want another baby, it's just not in the cards for us, OR strapping ourselves into the rollercoaster ride from hell, complete with all the tears, rage, shots, tantrums, and fights just to see if maybe, just maybe, we might get lucky.

Infertility misery (with possible upside), or definitely no siblings for the Buggins. Which is worse?

I'll tell you one thing: I miss my wife. I haven't seen her, really seen her, in over a year. She is a shell of her former self. How could she not be? This process is terrible and all-consuming.

We only get one go-around in life. You can't get a do-over because you spent so much time being miserable about infertility. As the clock ticks, M is painfully aware that she is losing valuable time to have another baby. And I am painfully aware that we are spending too much of our lives being miserable.

And we are incredibly lucky to have a baby already. We were told that our chances of conceiving on our own were negligible, even less than 1%. But we did it. And she is absolutely perfect.

Now, I know everyone says their kid is perfect. But clearly, not everyone's kid can be perfect. Out of all the millions of people who say their kid is perfect, one person has got to be telling the truth. Well, that person is me.

I'd even post a picture of her here, if I wasn't convinced that you'd all shit yourselves and then pass out. When you woke up, you'd be babbling incoherently about her Cuteness, and you'd be unable to go to work. As a result, the global economy would collapse, and millions of people would be out of work. Then, sensing an opportunity, George W. Bush and Dick Cheney would seize control over the entire Earth, forcing us all into slave labor.

And all because I posted a picture of the Buggins on my blog. Doesn't seem worth it.

Anyway, back to my original point. At what point does it make sense to trade possible future euphoria with current contentment? If I had to make a choice between having another baby, with my wife miserable and, quite frankly, kind of scary, or things just the way they are, but with my wife happy again, I would choose the latter. In a second.

I know the benefits of siblings, I myself am the youngest of four. I know the value they bring to your life. I also remember that my brother used to pin me down under his knees and hang a big lugie of spit over me, sucking it back up just before it hit my face. I'm just saying. Siblings can be a real drag, too.

I'd be interested in hearing the opinion of a guy who's been through this. But, judging by the comments I've been getting, there are no dudes reading my blog. I'm not complaining - I'm digging the comment love in a big way - and I am truly enthralled and fascinated by all your blogs. It's just that it does kind of seem like a she-party and I'm the only guy in the room.

I'll just hang out over here by the keg.

My Name is Smarshy, and I'm a Blogaholic

2006-08-28T20:02:00.000-04:00

6 months ago, I couldn't have told you what a blog was.

1 month ago, I knew what one was, but I had never read one.

Now, I'm banging one out every day, and I'm reading all your blogs voraciously. I can't get enough. Blog blog blog. Blog this, blog that. What's that? I've done 5 minutes of work IN A ROW at my job? Time for a blog break. Hey - I just took a leak, maybe during that time someone updated their blog or wrote me a comment. Better check.

I swear to God, I'm not well.

I think I'm just euphoric about having found a community that gets it. All our friends in real life are a bunch of - what do you guys call them? Asshats?

You guys had me at hello...(sniff)... You complete me.

Ok seriously, do you guys realize that my wife and I sit here, feet up on the coffee table, laptop slowly cutting off the circulation to our legs, waiting for you guys to update your blogs? C'mon...WTF? What are you guys doing? Working at your jobs? Going outside? Don't you know that we need to read your insights and humor to get through this post-BFN week? Get with it dammit.

That is all.

Only you know

2006-08-27T21:09:00.000-04:00

Interesting couple of days.

Literally hours after I peeled my wife up off the ground following her negative test, her period started. So she called the Dr, and they said to come in on Sunday for an ultrasound.

Couple hours later, she wasn't so sure she had her period. Now, I'm no expert on periods. I spent my late teens and twenties praying that my girlfriends would get their periods. Now I pray that my wife doesn't. That's the extent of my knowledge of what you all call "AF" (still haven't figured out what the hell that stands for).

Anyway, something wasn't right. Blood had stopped. There was some initial blood, but then no more. She thought little of it, and went to bed.

Saturday morning there was still very light spotting. Not a normal period. No one told her that this might happen, no one ever explained squat. (Background note: we use a state of the art medical facility in Boston, one of the premier fertility clinics in the USA. The level of medical technology is outstanding. The level of personal care is ABYSMAL. Seriously, I think there is an inverse relationship between quality of medical care and level of douchebagginess.)

So M calls the nurse on Saturday morning to ask her opinion. You know, "Is this normal? Do you think I'm having my period? Does going off the pregesterone make you spot first?" The reason I say she had to call the nurse, instead of the Dr, is because she has not SEEN or SPOKEN with the Dr. since her initital consultation MONTHS ago.

Anyway, nurse had to be paged at home (didn't start work until 11am). So I can understand she was pissed to be bugged at home. And I know her job is hard. I know she works very hard, and is underpaid. But give me a fucking break. No one held a gun to her head and made her be a nurse. I digress.

The nurse said, and I quote, "Oh PLEASE. Only YOU know if you are having your period".

Then the nurse said the M should just skip this month anyway, since she would likely be "riddled with cysts" from her last failed cycle. She said there was really no need to get the ultrasound on Sunday.

M decided to go today anyway. Not ONE FUCKING CYST anywhere. And, it doesn't really matter when your period actually started anyway, since they control everything anyway with all the wacky drugs. And M confided in the ultrasound technician about the weird period. The technician said "oh, yeah, the spotting? That's normal. Should last a day or so until the normal flow. You did the right thing by coming in". HELLO....she had to hear this from the ultrasound technician?! Would it have been so hard for the nurse to say that?

So if we had listened to that mean nurse-bitch, we would have missed a month for no reason. And the clock is ticking, baby. We don't exactly have a lot of time to waste.

Deciding to go in for the ultrasound anyway was one little exercise of control that we have had. Thank God we did it! Unfortunately, after the failed IVF, we have to go back for 3 IUIs before we get back to IVF. So we have to use the procedure with a lesser chance of working 3 times before we can get to the procedure that yields better results, even though that same procedure just failed for us.

My wife is convinced that IUI has never worked for anyone, ever. Can anyone in blogland please prove her wrong?

It is what it is

2006-08-26T18:38:00.000-04:00

That's pretty much my personal motto.

I say it all the time, just ask my wife. I probably say it way more than I should.

I think it just illustrates my personal philosophy. One of the few things I do very well, I think, is worry about those things I can change, and accept those things that I can not change. I am one of those people who takes in bad news, assimilates it, recognizes the new Reality, and moves on, fully adjusted. Now, I don't know if that's a personal trait, or a male thing, or what. It's just the way I roll.

My beautiful wife? Not so much.

She's an equal-opportunity obsessor. She gives just as much attention to those things she can not control as she does to those she can. But that's really the bitch about this whole thing, isn't it. CONTROL. There is none. We're all smart. We'll all pretty accomplished. I mean, for the most part, we're in our 30's, when you start to realize that the shit you did in your 20's may have actually taught you something. Now we are used to having control over everything in our lives, ESPECIALLY those things that are really important.

But this, this fertility crap. It's the most important thing EVER. And we have less control over it than we've ever had over anything. I have more control over the path of the moon's orbit than I do over whether or not my wife will ever be pregnant again.

So if I follow my own philosophy, I should not be stressed at all, because I only stress about that which I can control, and since I can't control any of this, I should be footloose and fancy free.

So why am I so fucking stressed?

A bad, bad day

2006-08-25T15:05:00.000-04:00

The test was negative.

What do we bloggers call it? BFN? It was a BFN.

We're crushed.

Apparantly, M was sure she was pregnant. She kept that a secret; she never told me she felt pregnant. I thought we were on the same page with respect to our expectations; I was hopeful, but not optimistic. I mean, it's still only 35%. That's not good.

If she had told me she was 99% sure, I could have tried to bring her back down to Earth. When I got the call at work today from her, and all she could do was scream and cry and hyperventilate into the phone, I was a bit shocked by how strong her reaction was. I came home immediately.

She has cried all day. She feels like she was given these little "babies" and she messed them up. She feels like she's broken, and that everyone other woman in the world can get pregnant so easily.

It's a bad day.

Maybe I should read the directions

2006-08-24T14:53:00.000-04:00

I can't figure out how to do this. I'm trying to get a picture in the upper right hand corner, but it's not working. Its driving me fucking crazy and I'm about to put my fist through my computer. I think I'm going to leave it for now and figure it out later.

Hi.

This is the first post of my blog. Alot of pressure on the first post. Kind of sets the tone. If someone reads this and doesn't like it, I've lost them. I don't have lots of witty, intelligent past posts to fall back on.

I figured I'd start a blog because I've had a really fucked up year and I don't really have anyone I can truly bitch about it to. That's where you all come in. I can't bitch to my wife, 'cause she has much more to bitch about than I do (more on that later).

For summary purposes, I'll break it down thusly:

Married wife "M" in Jamaica in 2002. She's beautiful, caring, silly, intelligent. Kind of has a bitchy streak. But I love her madly and completely.

We tried to get pregnant for about 8 months starting in 2003. No luck. (Normally that would be no issue, but M was over 35 at this time so we had to get crackin'.) Had some tests done, and the Dr. told me my boys were 1) lazy 2) few in number 3) ugly and misshapen 4) generally BAD. So I had that going for me.

We had an IUI with M's OB. Total waste of time. Got poked and prodded and we were told that we had almost no chance of conceiving on our own. Took a month off to digest this terrible news. Guess what happened during that month? Yup - bingo. Remove the doctors and let a couple get their freak on because they actually WANT to, and its amazing what can happen.

Baby Buggins born September 2004. She is the most wonderful thing that ever was.

M was short of breath during pregancy, thought it was normal. It wasn't. After coughing her lungs out for a year, she went to the doctor. Idiopathic Larygotracheal Stenosis. Unexplained scar tissue building up in her trachea, blocking 80% of her airway. Big surgery, intensive care, big muthafucking scar across her neck.

2 months later, terrible pains, runs to emergency room. Another hospital stay. Exit gall bladder.

Time for new baby. No luck on our own for over a year. Started IUI, M responded too strongly to drugs, got converted to IVF all of a sudden, had 2 embryos transfered (my sperm count was BEYOND awesome by the way - it was like super-human good). M's beta test is Friday Aug 25th (tomorrow). I am praying. She is pretty sure it will be negative.

So those are the facts. In my next posts, I'll be able to share with you what I THINK about those facts. Plus new fun facts, like how much I hate my job. But I'm tired of typing.

By the way, I figured out how to get that picture on the top right corner. That's me.

See ya -

Smarsh