Newsflash!

We interrupt this regularly scheduled broadcast to bring you this important announcement:

"Mrs. X has FINALLY gotten her period. Film at 11."

Yes, finally, I have been cursed and I haven't been this happy about it since I was in college.
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Thanks to everyone who chimed in on my friend John*. You are all absolutely right (as you were last time) that I should block his sorry ass to kingdom come. But, I have a confession: I am secretly hoping that he sees the errors of his ways and sends me a heartfelt email begging for forgiveness. This is probably as likely as a) hell freezing over; b) me winning the lottery; and, c) me winning Miss America - all at the same time. But, so far, it's what has held me back from blocking his email.

And, in the event he does send me another super-insensitive email after I asked him not to, I want to tell him point blank that I'm blocking him and why.
____________________________________________________________________ image: Sunfox
In other news, five years ago today, I went from being single to married. Yep, Sweetie and I tied the knot today five years ago in a beautiful ceremony with about 75 people. I'd post pics, but that would totally blow my cover. So, instead, I'll quote some language from the lovely note my mom sent us (which the Bad One just bit - little bastard!) which I think sums it up perfectly:

"Congratulations on the occasion of your 5th wedding anniversary! We're happy to know that yours is a good, strong marriage with lots of laughter in it. And our best wishes for happiness in the years to come. The first five have been adventuresome. What will the next five be like?"

We also treat our wedding anniversary as the kitties' birthday - since we got them eight weeks after our wedding and they were eight weeks old. So far, the Bad One is celebrating by being an extra nuisance. He has quite a knack for this.

I'm also happy to report that, on this auspicious day, I haven't really thought about how long we've been married and that we don't have children yet. I've just thought about what a wonderful time we've had with each other (and continue to have).

Little steps, always.

Wherefore Art Thou, Mrs. X?

image: notanartist
I have felt very much out to lunch these past few days. Between distractions and complete exhaustion, the best I could muster the other day was a paraphrasing of Sweetie. His man-musings are good filler, but let's face it, he's not the one writing this blog. I am. So, I'll see if I can step up to the plate.

I think I have turned the corner on my anxiety, no doubt in part to just being plain tired of being anxious. It takes so much out of you that unless you are prepared to really expend a lot of energy, it's not sustainable. Since I can't abuse alcohol, drugs or caffeine (yes, I include chocolate in this category), I had to address my anxiety head-on or continue to suffer anxiety and the utter exhaustion that it brings. Sweetie, and one of his man-musings actually got me over the hump. I asked him if he was worried about the scan next week and he very quickly and decisively said, "no." His theory: there's not much we can do about it and so worrying isn't very productive. This is the lesson that I have spent the last 32 years trying to learn (and obviously, still haven't completely internalized).

I realized that a lot of my anxiety is trying to avoid another suckerpunch like the one I got last time. I figured if I prepared myself that it wouldn't hurt as much. I've tried this in the work context and it doesn't work, so I don't know why I suddenly had delusions that it would work in this situation (actually it is yet another manifestation of my need to control EVERYTHING that happens to me). I've prepared the best way I know how and now I will just sit back and enjoy the weekend.

Speaking of the weekend, the man and I are hitting the road, taking a jetliner, getting out of dodge, etc for the weekend. We had this trip planned for about a month now and it turns out to be spectactularly timed for purposes of maximum distraction. We will be seeing his family (who I lurve) and enjoying that mellow feeling you get when you are at someone else's house and they don't expect you to do a damn thing other than sit with them and talk. I plan to catch up on my magazine reading (back issues of numerous magazines are strewn about my office and staring accusingly at me that I haven't molested their pages at least once since they arrived), work on my cross-stitch (the project I was going to finish in November), and avoid thinking the big P word at all. It helps that the rels don't know and we won't be telling them. image: rah77az

I'm also going to use this weekend as the opportunity to take a minor and short hiatus from the blogosphere. I will return when I have news. In the mean time, remember to play nicely with everyone, don't run with scissors and whatever you do, make sure you do something I wouldn't do.

Kisses, Mrs.X

Mrs. X Muses. Pay Attention.

image: CTaylor
When I was a kid, I hated Valentine's Day with a passion. As early as elementary school, I learned that the holiday was really about who has and who doesn't. I hated the ritual of giving out little Valentine's day cards because I knew when I was in school, it was not required that you give them to everyone else in the class. That egalitarian advance was after my time. The whole day was an exercise in self-esteem depending upon how many you got. In high school, my negative opinion of the day was further solidified when some club or another that was trying to raise money would sell candy-grams or other romantic items that you could give to your sweetheart and they would be delievered in class. In front of everyone. Meaning that if you didn't get one, it was obvious. I don't think I got one all of my time in high school.

In college, I was never in a relationship over Valentine's Day (I was more a spring relationship kind of gal), so no organized frivolity, but at least now there wasn't deliveries of goodies in class. Sure, the girl down the hall would get roses, but I was cynical and told myself that the guy was probably just trying to get somewhere.

When I met Sweetie, again it was about a month after V-day so it wasn't until we had been dating for almost a year that we hit Valentine's Day. Now I had someone to go out to dinner with and do the usual 'couple' things. And you know what? I still didn't like it because it felt like we were celebrating a non-holiday. And, I felt bad for all of other girls who were still at home without a date on Valentine's Day. We did the dinner at a restaurant thing a few years and it just seemed so trite and ... expected. The hearts all over the wall, the roses on the table, it was just so "ugh". I'd much rather go out to dinner to celebrate some important event that is of significance to us rather than buy into the craze to be 'romantic'. Romantic to me is not Sweetie getting me roses on Valentine's Day. It's Sweetie getting me roses on a day just because. It's him giving me an extra snuggle after a hard day. It's him laughing at my many malapproprisms ("I'm going to go hare krishna on you!").

As you can guess, we aren't doing anything special for the big V. In fact, we didn't even do cards this year. I didn't want to buy into the commercial-industrial complex and I can find 50 better ways to tell him that I love him.

So, what I'm trying to say? It's that the spirit of Valentine's Day is a wonderful thing, but it has been so corrupted and used for commercial purposes that it is a tarted up shell of its former self. And I think everyone, no matter their current situation in life, should know on national "Someone-Gave-Me-Flowers-What-Did-You-Get?-Day" that it really doesn't matter if you have a significant other. If you love someone or if you are loved (pets are most certainly included) then you are doing just fine. So sayeth Mrs.X.
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In other news, my name today is Little Miss Cranky image: _elspeth
Pants. Apparently, my off-the-handle trigger has been set very low. This happened last time I was pregnant and it felt like violent thunderstorms that kind of pop up and then go away. On the bright side, it definitely confirms that there is HCG in my system.

My progesterone is also in the 200s so I've been told I can roll back the dosage. Luckily, there is no such thing as too much progesterone. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
image: psd
Thanks also to lori , jellybelly, farmwife, schatzi, loribeth, e, jj, peesticksandstones, paranoid, shinejil, pamela jeanne, kaaron, deathstar, Denise, TABI, Kelley and Lesley for your wonderful congratulations. All of you have provided so much wonderful support and I'm looking forward to showing all of you the same love.

Mwwwahh!

He Ain't A Brute, He's My Sweetie

image: ulv gullskeggr
Gentle Reader, in looking over some of my past posts, it occurred to me that they may have given you the impresion that my man, Sweetie/Mr. X is somewhat rude, crude and unrefined. In reality, he is all of those things but so much more as well. I wanted to take this opportunity to list some of his better qualities to make sure that he is seen in his complete glory.

First, I should mention that he is much smarter and funnier than yours truly - driving today on the highway I almost crashed because he had me laughing so hard, providing dialogue for the white-haired old lady that kept getting in front of me. He is much better travelled and more worldly having lived overseas for several years growing up. He totally did better in college (although, we both agree that I had more fun) and he makes a great deal more moolah than I do.

He's incredibly handsome and has that certain boyish charm. He tans while I burn. He can explain how just about anything works while I can just point and say, "what does that thingy do?" He is extremely good natured while I tend to be moody (even without the aid of hormones). And, he loves animals. Awwww.

Now, just as he is all of these things, he also loves watching cop chase shows on cable and he seriously talked about getting a giant inflatible pig for our front yard (um, no). He whines that I don't have any new reading material for him in the bedroom while I'm doing my PIO injection, and he makes me deal with all of the customer service people on the phone, health care issues and vendors that come to the house ("because you're better at it than I am"). He hates talking on the phone so much so that I am the one who has to call to order the pizza and he will go pick it up. He plays World of Warcraft (WoW). And, after almost 5 years of marriage, he still leaves the *&Ying seat up on the toilet.

He's the ying to my yang (you're so right Lori!), the ivory to my ebony, the jelly to my peanut butter. He is all of these things and he's my Sweetie.

The Post In Which Mrs. X Is Chatty

image: Lovely Day
First off, thanks to everyone who commented on my last post and helped me see that there really isn't a whole I can do right now to ensure a positive outcome (short of like, sleeping with Kevin Federline - ick, yuck and barf), Instead, I should watch a Golden Girls marathon (fabulous idea Matthew M.F. Miller), do my taxes or play on-line games (I choose on-line games Deathstar), go shoe shopping (mmm, shoes thanks Melanie) and basking in the additional waves of good vibes coming from shinejil, schatzi, tabi, peesticksandstones, kidlicious (welcome!), and lori). If nothing else, I can't say that I was depressed during the 2WW. So thanks and I can only hope to provide similar excellent advice should you ever find yourselves in such need. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We can also now have our own Disney On Ice special: Embryos on Ice! Yep, our six little blasts that were left after the transfer made it safely into the thaw just like Han Solo. Sweetie was concerned that they, too, would have carbon-freezing sickness upon being thawed. I assured him that this probably won't happen. We also discussed the very real possibility that they are all skating around right now in the liquid nitrogen or maybe having one helluva kegger. One can only hope. They can survive in this state for eternity (assuming of course someone keeps paying the electric bill). We're just glad to have six back up options.

I also got an answer on my question about the Day 3 v. Day 5 transfer. The missing piece of the puzzle that Dr. Google selfishly withheld is that to reach Day 5, the blasts are put in a rather challenging environment in the lab and those that make it to Day 5 are truly the "best". Total survival of the fittest, infertility style. He only uses this for where there are many embryos and you can afford to lose some that don't make it to Day 5. We had 9 embryos and I would have been supremely pissed if we lost some before transfer because of the Day 5 Challenge. Dr. Uterus would much rather see how the Day 3 embryos do where they want to be rather than in a lab. I was very pleased with this explanation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
image: The Pack
It appears that I've been tagged by Lori in some out-quirk-ing contest. Well, let's see what Mrs. X can come up with, shall we? But first, the rules.


1) Link to the person who tagged you.
2) Post the rules.
3) Share six non-important things / habits / quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people.
5) Make sure the people you tagged KNOW you tagged them by commenting what you did.

Quirk No. 1: I had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch every single day in high school. Yes, I still eat them sometimes. But maybe once or twice a month.

Habit No. 2: If I can't find something, I automatically think someone stole it. It doesn't matter that there might have not been anyone in the house. I am not above accusing my cats ("Kitty, what did you do with mommy's keys?")

Important Thing No. 3: I have been to Mardi Gras and flashed balconies with hundreds of people. One time (yes, there were multiple times) I was a little drunk and forgot to lift my bra in addition to my shirt so the crowd got a lovely view of my lace bra. I was roundly booed.

Quirk No. 4: I love even numbers and hate odd numbers passionately. Luckily, I was born on an even day, in an even month in an even year. Sweetie was born in an odd month, on an odd day in an odd year. I married him anyway (on an even day in an even month but in an odd year).

Habit No. 5: Everytime I walk into my kitchen I mentally curse my ugly, ugly countertops. Die Corian Die!

Important Thing No. 6: I have been in Newsweek and Time.

Well, Lori, Ms. Lord of the L? Quirky enough for you?

For my three tags I throw down the gauntlet to shinejil, melanie, and jellybelly. Who among you can out-quirk me? Hmmm?

The State of My Ovaries and Other News

In keeping with the January plethora of State of the State, Union, City, etc addresses, it is only appropriate that I give an update on all things having to do with Mrs.X.

Concerned Citizens of the Blogosphere, you have asked (well, actually not) how my formerly sleepy ovaries are doing on the nuke 'em method of egg production. Good news from Dr. Uterus: he has declared my ovaries to be 'beautiful', 'gorgeous' and humming along on their journey of egg production. My estrogen is apparently doing quite well and was also called 'gorgeous'.

I would not be exaggerating to say that he has a thing for hyperbole.

For my part, I feel as if I have swallowed a balloon that has lodged itself in my midsection and moves everytime I try to sit comfortably. Instead of the pinging and twinging earlier this week, we have moved into dull ache territory. And, I learned the obvious lesson the other night that intercourse (as Dr. Uterus put it) is not advisable. Ouch and ouch. But, Sweetie is now on conservation measures in anticipation of providing a specimen early next week, so I don't feel too bad completely turning him away.

I go back in for another scan tomorrow, Sunday.
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I finished Wuthering Heights and I have to say, I wasn't that impressed. Sorry, Emily dear, but I think Charlotte was the better writer. I haven't read Agnes Grey yet to see if Anne trumps either of you.

Sweetie now wants to get the Laurence Olivier version of the movie on DVD. I'm having trouble picturing him as a brooding Heathcliff.

Next on the reading list is Villette and The Boleyn Inheritance (I love trashy fiction!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I found the quilt pattern that I want to use for my friend's baby quilt. I sent a picture to her and she is thrilled. I'm going to use some wonderful vintage children's fabrics. Hopefully, it will turn out as beautifully as I am picturing seeing as how it is my first quilt and all.

She also absolved me of any guilt about not being able to handle details about her pregnancy. I am so grateful and happy that she is willing to forgive me this one thing. She is a truly wonderful friend.
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I got a new iPod but I'm still trying to figure out how to switch the library from my work computer to my home computer. I am searching for the elusive "iPod control" folder and so far have been disappointed. Damn you search dog!
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Sweetie and I are meeting friends for a movie date tonight. On the marquee: Rambo. I'm in it just to see if Sylvester Stallone is using a walker yet.
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Well, as you can plainly see, Concerned Citizens of the Blogosphere, Mrs. X is doing pretty well. She has shown much economy in her prudence, wisdom in her interactions and bloating in her ovaries (not to mention snark in her general direction). Go about your business knowing that Mrs. X, for one, has things well in hand.

Good night and Dog Bless.

The 100

I've seen in a few blogs where the blogger writes down 100 things about them. I'm always one for shameless self-promotion, so here's mine.

1. I HATE cold weather.
2. I'm always cold.
3. I have an irrational fear of anthropomorphic animals
4. I don't like going to zoos.
5. I have weak ankles.
6. I own a t-shirt that says "Go Fuck Yourself" but I don't wear it in public.
7. I have heckled a baseball team's mascot.
8. I enjoy spying on my neighbors.
9. I work from home which makes No. 8 much easier.
10. I do get completely dressed for work. I do not work in my PJs.
11. Peanut butter and jelly is one of my favorite foods.
12. I eat to live, not live to eat.
13. When I was a kid, I wanted to be on Saturday Night Live.
14. I can do a fabulous Church Lady impression.
15. I am very active in recycling. I would recycle everything if I could.
16. I buy most of my clothes at designer consignment stores.
17. I didn't learn how to do my laundry until I went away for school.
18. I had to take calculus in college (after 2 years in high school) and complained about the textbook to my professor, who it turns out was one of the authors.
19. I wrote a paper in high school on the book Of Human Bondage and started my presentation by saying that I thought the book was about actual bondage.
20. I have been on the cover of Time.
21. I played the flute for 5 years, including private lessons.
22. I have obsessive compulsive disorder (not like Monk)
23. I volunteered at a senior center reading bingo numbers and was heckled by the harpies playing.
24. I have one living grandparent left and she's a harpie.
25. I live 3.5 hours from her, but I've only visited her once.
26. I think I have known more sadness than my parents.
27. I do not feel as if I am home.
28. I floss six days a week. I get Fridays off.
29. I eat at Subway at least two times a week.
30. My weight has fluctuated only 15 pounds since I was in high school.
31. My top size is different than my bottom size.
32. I have a shoe fetish.
33. I have beginnings of bunions as a result of No. 32.
34. I'm branching out into accessories like scarves and necklaces.
35. I don't wear a watch. Ever.
36. I have no tattoos.
37. My only piercings are on my ear lobes.
38. I lost my wedding venue 5 weeks before the wedding.
39. I found a new venue within 3 days.
40. I did not have a traditional wedding cake and there was no DJ.
41. I love watching people's wedding videos and critiquing the fashion choices.
42. I have a Sno-Globe collection (how on earth did someone think it was a good idea to have a Sno-Globe of Gettysburg?)
43. I have Sno-Globes from four countries (including Tasmania!) and 13 cities/states.
44. I can trace my ancestry back to the Mayflower.
45. My parents told me that I was related to Ben Franklin (complete truth) when we were at a Burger King.
46. I can drive a manual transmission.
47. I have been mistaken for a Jehovah's Witness.
48. I ran indoor and outdoor track in high school.
49. I lost my arches in the process.
50. I have personalized license plates. They are not my first pair.
51. I actually enjoyed square dancing in elementary school.
52. I wore glasses from when I was in elementary school until 2004 when I had Lasik.
53. I met my husband on-line.
54. I asked him prior to us meeting if he was an axe murderer. He said no.
55. I know how to paint in watercolors and oils.
56. I got to draw from nude subjects in high school (I have never, ever seen a hairier man)
57. I refused to give in when my social studies teacher tried to blackmail me in return for a letter of recommendation for college applications.
58. I did not become a serious drinker until grad school.
59. I like O'Douls non-alcoholic beer.
60. I don't like the rind on soft cheese and cut it off before eating the cheese.
61. I had my first taste of champagne when I was several months old. I reportedly slept like the dead that night.
62. I have emotional and sentimental attachments to cars, but I do not name them.
63. I can't stand liquer in desserts.
64. I loosely follow Weight Watchers.
65. I have smoked approximately two packs of cigarettes in my entire life.
66. I have never smoked marijuana (and I certainly didn't inhale).
67. I judge Mexican restaurants by how many and what kind of flashy colors they use on the outside.
68. I have used an outhouse complete with a moon in the door. In West Virginia. Seriously.
69. I am not an outdoors-y type.
70. I don't do camping.
71. I know a little about a lot of things.
72. I have been called the Veritable Fount of Useless Knowledge.
73. I still can't beat my husband at Trivial Pursuit.
74. I used to be addicted to Tetris.
75. In my youth, I flashed.
76. I have mild hypoglycemia and have to have protein at lunch or else I will crash in the afternoon.
77. I don't drink coffee, but I love the smell.
78. I don't drink iced tea. I don't like the smell either.
79. I love Diet Coke with lime.
80. I have broken only one bone in my entire body.
81. I broke it when I was thrown from a horse.
82. I haven't done much horse-back riding since.
83. I'm much better with people who are older than I am than with people who are younger.
84. I didn't learn until I was in my 20s that you are supposed to shave the hair on your big toe.
85. I had my first eyebrow wax when I was in college.
86. I had my first pedicure when I was in grad school.
87. I think I'm getting a wart on my left foot.
88. When I was a kid, I had warts removed with liquid nitrogen. It was really cool.
89. I got my first job when I was 16. It was working in a craft store.
90. When I turned 10, I moaned that I was turning the big 1-oh.
91. When I turned 30, I moaned that I was turning the big 3-oh.
92. Even though I am Athiest, I love gospel music, but not Christian rock.
93. I live in a different time zone than my parents.
94. I have visited or lived on three different continents.
95. I have not crossed the international date line.
96. I have walked the Golden Gate Bridge (twice!).
97. As a wedding favor, we gave away tree saplings.
98. I used to like the song "88 Lines About 44 Women." Now it just sounds sexist.
99. I am all of these things and I am infertile.
100. I'm doing my absolute best to overcome No. 99.

2008: The Year of No Expectations

When I was younger, I relished the idea of a new year. What would it bring? Some years, the major events would already be set, like a graduation (1994, 1998, 2002) or in one memorable year, a wedding (2003). The sheer anticipation of those events made the new year that much more sparkling. Also, there was always the assumption that nothing truly awful would happen that year and it would be pretty much a repeat of the others. Work, Birthday, work, vacation, anniversary, work, Sweetie birthday, work, holidays, work, repeat. With some very notable pre-infertility exceptions (Sweetie emergency and surgery, sudden move to new state) this has held true.

However, as the years have flown and the major plan-able milestones have been reached, the new year doesn't bring as much anticipation. And with infertility, frankly the last thing you want is anticipation. It is so tempting to think, "this will be my year. I can feel it." For those infertiles who had this thought last year and start this year with still no baby, it can be incredibly disillusioning and depressing. I don't remember if I had this thought at the beginning of 2007. I really doubt it since I found out a few days in that I was benched for the first time due to cysts from my previous cycle.

Rather than make resolutions or pronouncements, I choose The Year of No Expectations. A friend of mine defined the life philosophy of no expectations as this: if you have no expectations, you can't be disappointed. When I first heard it, part of me kind of thought it was a cop out. After all, aren't we supposed to have goals and expectations of ourselves? By having no expectations, aren't we just living an unmeaningful existence? I came to realize that his philosophy applies to expectations that we have of things that are beyond our control, such as other people's behavior, and events that we cannot manipulate. Viewed this way, it becomes clear that it is a sophisticated method of self-preservation with a touch of freedom thrown in.

So, 2008 will be the year of no expectations. I won't expect to be expecting. I won't expect that my other friends won't suddenly get knocked up or worse, get knocked up with number 2. I won't expect that my parents will be more supportive. I won't expect that I will feel better about 2007. I hope I will be content with my life as it is and try to make it a little better - however that might come about. Otherwise, I suspect I'll go crazy by June.

2007: The Year that Wasn't

I am sick of lists about 2007, just like I was sick of lists about 2006. There are so many 2007 lists out there that they are actually generating more news than probably happened in 2007. There are also the anti-list lists which are still lists. I choose to do something different to memorialize 2007. I'm going to do it by the numbers.

Number of times I laughed: thousands
Number of times I cried: hundreds
Number of plants I killed: less than 5
Number of new hobbies started: 2 (sewing and gardening)
Number of old hobbies rediscovered: at least 1 (reading poetry)
Number of pregnancies: 1 (yes, Virginia, you can get pregnant!)
Number of miscarriages: 1 (yes Virginia, life does suck)
Number of weeks our baby lived: 9
Number of weeks it took me to get over the miscarriage: 34 (and counting)
Number of condolences after miscarriage: at least 10
Number of people we told about the miscarriage who never said anything: at least 3
Number of vials of Menopur shot up: at least 30
Number of IUI cycles completed: 4
Number of episodes of Grey's Anatomy I watched: 71
Number of miles put on the car: maybe 3,000
Number of couples we are friends with who had babies: 3
Number of baby presents I made and sent: 2
Number of thank you notes received for those presents: 1
Number of new friends made: 3
Number of old friends lost: 1
Number of movies watched from Netflix: 29
Number of new countries visited: 3
Number of new cities in US visited: 2
Number of new Christmas ornaments bought: 2
Number of sewing projects completed: at least 8
Number of sewing projects still going: 2
Number of cross-stitch projects finished: 3
Number of cross-stitch projects still going: 2
Number of cross-stitch projects bought but not started: at least 4
Number of home improvements made: 2
Number of times I cursed: thousands
Number of cruises: 1
Number of plane flights: at least 10
Number of times I said that I hate my job: at least 20
Number of resumes sent out for new job: 0
Number of therapists seen: 1
Number of visits with Dr. Uterus: at least 30
Number of times I gave up alcohol and caffeine: at least 10
Number of prenatal vitamins taken: 365
Number of Prozac taken: 365
Number of times I shook my fist at the sky: 0
Number of times that I would have liked to: 5
Number of kitty bites: at least 15
Number of books read: at least 30
Number of pictures taken of the kitties: at least 250
Number of times I rearranged my office: at least once
Number of times I thought I was being a bitch: quite a few
Number of times other people told me I was being a bitch: 0
and
Number of times I wished the grass would be greener: too many to count