This video is actually really cool. Tragically, not embed-able.
Merry Christmas, y'all.
yet another HCG question
Hey all. So thanks to the suggestion of a lovely lady who lives in the DC area and sent me an email, I stopped by a compounding pharmacy that's really close to my house, open on Saturdays and till 7PM weekdays, and is angelically nice: Preston's Care Pharmacy. (First I called Kubat's - they absolutely have to have the doctor call the prescription in, which is not a requirement I would to risk in view of my phone-related difficulties with Tep.eyac - and then Freedom Pharmacy, which left me on hold for about ten minutes without even estimating a wait time. What kind of call volume could they have on the afternoon of December 23rd?)
The problem: the only brand of HCG their wholesaler carries is Novarel. From the information the (awesome) pharmacist was able to find on the computer, the Novarel people say you're only supposed to inject it intramuscularly - but then, she found mention on the techniques website of some people injecting it subcutaneously (what my prescription calls for, and what I would prefer to do). I was of the understanding that other bloggers who've taken HCG have taken it subcutaneously.
Please, enlighten me: if you've taken HCG (or know of someone else who has), was it intramuscular or subcutaneous? If subcutaneous, what brand did you use? (I believe Ovidrel is commonly used sub-Q, but I'm particularly interested in anyone who has taken Novarel subcutaneously.)
Thanks a million, again, guys!!!
good things
Thank you all for your brilliant suggestions on the HCG. Tragically, I left my cell phone at home today, so I will be calling pharmacies tomorrow to see who will send me my drugs, needles and all. I'm actually now toying with the idea of waiting a cycle before starting the HCG shots - among other reasons, it would mean I get to find out whether the mystery cyst is an endometrioma before going forward. Hey...you know how people (you know what kind of people I mean) have little pools on their blogs for people to guess or bet on the baby's due date? I could have one of those with all the known types of cysts...
That's not what this post is about. This post is about good things - for real good things. Not small things for which I endeavor to be grateful as an exercise in good behavior, nor large things for which I ought to be grateful but simply cannot feel that way. I mean actual good things. At least, in my view (the only one that matters...to me).
My marriage has had ups and downs like any marriage. Obviously some of those downs have been a little more of the accidentally-dragged-behind-a-moving-vehicle type than the typical downs, because I, like you people, am infertile. Not good. And there's the fact that my own family is crazy - one divorce, going on two; mom in a convalescent home because she is schizophrenic (or something) and cannot function on her own; various feuds within my nuclear family; father and (soon-to-be-former) stepmother ruining their young kids' lives. General unpleasantness.
And of course, we can't forget the fact that my husband and I, each in our own special way, have a lot of emotional and psychological baggage that we brought into the marriage. Heavy baggage. Some of which we have worked through together. Some of which has just stuck around, un-improved. Some of which has probably been accruing interest all this time.
I think it would probably be fair to say that my beloved husband is depressed. Or manic depressive? Or something. And he has plenty of good reason to be. I am probably not the best person to be married to, if you struggle with that sort of thing. And I know that, what with all of my issues, I have very little resilience to offer in the more difficult phases. I love him, and I want to help, but I really can't deal.
This doesn't sound like a post about good things, does it?
On Friday night, we had a big blow-up. People have those...but there is a difference between the fights that we have that are like the fights that normal people have, and the fights that I know only unhealthy people have. This was one of the latter. As I lay in bed, I thought about how at times like that (and they are not that rare), I know I need help. And I feel desperate - I am lost, there is an actual disaster, maybe it will pass, but I don't really know; and I need someone to talk to who can give me a frame of reference, and I need to talk to that person now. At...10PM on a Friday evening. Not feasible. And I know that I feel that way every now and again, and I think, "I need to find someone who can help me," but then we patch things back up, and life seems OK again, and I am so busy, and I don't seek help. And then it happens again, and there is no one to talk to right now, and I am lost again.
I did two things. I emailed my spiritual director (as calmly as possible) and asked him for a recommendation for a therapist. I told him that I knew I needed help dealing with the infertility, but I also knew I needed help coping with my husband. I don't know how, and I am making things worse. I had begged and pleaded with my DH to seek help, but he refused; but how could I expect him to do so if I would not? Father passed along the name of another priest closer to me, whom I have yet to call. I will call today.
I also started a novena. I realized that it was eight days till Christmas exactly - I had two hours to start a novena that would end on Christmas day. Because the Infant of Prague has been stalking me lately, and it will be His birthday, I knew that was the one to choose. Google "Infant of Prague novena" - click on the top result. I prayed for something very simple: healing for my husband and for me.
There is so much that we need, but it all falls under that heading. Strengthening in faith. Graces for our marriage. Healing for our hearts. My body is falling apart, too. I have had that last in mind throughout the novena, but I don't intend to hold God to it - that's not the most important thing. I have an idea it's not something He wants for me anyway. Much of the other healing is necessitated in order to deal with the fact that He took that away, but it's a fair request - if I can't have a healthy body and a life-giving love, I need the things required to deal with that. But I always feel at greater peace if I ask for something, not merely objectively good, but that I know God must want for me. He wants us to address the things in our lives that drive us away from Him, and each other. He wants our faith to be stronger. He should answer this prayer.
True to form for a fight rooted in real underlying problems, this one hung on, or recurred, throughout the weekend. Even now we're at a fragile peace, and I feel like a basket-case. On Sunday, when he agreed to speak to me, my DH said something astonishing. He had promised, a week previously, to think about trying therapy - even though he was opposed. I figured when he got angry with me he would decide not to consider it after all. He told me that he had looked up the symptoms of long-term untreated PTSD, and he has all of them. He also looked for doctors in the area. He found an older Jewish woman who looked formidable and took his insurance. (This sounds like exactly the sort of person he would want to work with, honestly.)
Then Monday he sent her an email. She called him right away. She asked him to give her a run-down of the things he was dealing with, and he did. She gave him an appointment for today. (He says he is convinced that she accepted him as a patient because he's so fascinatingly screwy, and he is hoping he can get a syndrome named after him.) Before I get home from work today he will have done his first hour.
I haven't entirely absorbed this information yet. There is no question in my mind that supernatural grace was required to change his heart. Obviously it ain't over yet. Maybe professional help will do nothing to help (though I believe it must be some help). But experience has taught me not to become emotionally attached to the best possible outcome of a promising situation. I am absolutely floored by the turn of events so far. In themselves they could only be good. And perhaps the day will dawn when they mean every good thing I could imagine now.
On Friday and Saturday when I was thinking, I came to some conclusions. I still have faint vestiges of the effervescent joy that causes the very young to run barefoot through rain puddles. In my mind, when I was married, I could see the impulse to do such lovely things, but that it was tempered by the plodding reasonableness of adulthood. And then I could picture that sharing life with someone you love would return that childlike lightness - skipping in the rain, making snow angels, walking through Christmas lights, driving in the fall leaves, looking at every restaurant menu on the street before choosing the perfect one, enjoying sappy movies, singing Christmas carols, eating cookie dough out of the bowl, looking at houses that might be our home; all those would seem perfectly natural to spend impractical hours doing with the one you love.
It has not turned out that way. The things that seem magical enough for me to make the effort to plan them often fall through; he doesn't see the same magic, or they happen to fall on a day when he just isn't putting a good face on life, or my sky-high expectations just don't pan out. It's not that every day is awful; it's just that a lot of things in life are difficult, and the little joys seem to help one manage, and I don't manage to have a lot of those.
And I realized that because of how I imagine this should work in my head, I pin most of my joy on my husband. He has to be on board when I think we should be experiencing something magical. If he doesn't love it too, I can't enjoy it. If, heaven forbid, he refuses to participate, I am plunged into sadness. That's a totally normal reaction the very first time it happens. If it happens repeatedly, continuing to hope that all will go beautifully is just asking for problems. I need to recognize that, even if my DH is having too difficult a time to be joyful (or at least, to be reliably joyful), I should be able to find joy in life; otherwise, no joy. Bad for both of us.
And, there are so many things in life that I want to do that I have postponed (indefinitely, I guess), at first because I was broke; and then because we were going to have kids and that would be our life; and then because I needed to save up vacation for maternity leave; and then just because I was busy, and life was difficult, and that could always happen later. You know what? Later is now.
My brother lives in Vienna, Austria, right now, and my sister in Warsaw, Poland. She has the least spare cash (since she's a student), but the brother and I haven't seen Warsaw; the sister and I have spent time in Vienna. The brother refused to come home for Christmas. I didn't know why. He will literally spend Christmas by himself - and then fly home, to spend time with some friends. No family. I didn't think he was angry with me, so I am confused, and it makes me very sad. I miss hanging out with the two of them. For how much of our lives will the three of us all be adults, free to travel, financially independent, and with an easy opportunity to hang out in Europe? Right.
So I emailed them and said that I had a long weekend for President's Day in February - who wants to crash Warsaw? I expected him to demur enigmatically, as he did with Christmas. Nope. Immediate email back: "We need to make this happen." My sister sent a list of places to see in Warsaw and said she had room for both of us. I bought a plane ticket yesterday (under $500 - not bad, right?). My brother bought his today. We have a conference call (yes, really) scheduled for the morning of the 24th to discuss our itinerary. My misanthropic baby brother says he is "very excited." My dear sweet husband, who despite being (some days) crazier than I am, is infinitely more generous than I am, is excited for me. (Even though I didn't invite him to come.)
I have decided that in every month of 2011, I am going to do something I should have done five years ago. Some things could be small. But I have really close friends from college I rarely see. And good friends I have not seen since graduation - more than seven years. Some of them live a few hours from here. I am going to get back in touch.
And I have said for years that I will take dancing lessons. Why don't I actually do it? And that I will volunteer with the underprivileged in the city. I've done a little bit toward that in 2010, but I need to get myself a regular commitment. And I say I'll learn another language or two. Would it kill me to do something about that? I mean, I might not have time to get very far, but I won't know until I start. And I have canvases and paint I bought after we returned from our trip in May...unopened. 2011 is going to be my year of eradicating items from my list of regrets, rather than adding.
Other good things - there are more! (You can stop reading eight or ten paragraphs ago - this is interminable, and interesting only to me.) I have been thinking a lot about TCIE and her prayer post. According to what (to me) was the most striking of her comments, prayer changes our minds - not God's. So that means...my novena gave me an opportunity to be grateful and hopeful for the possibility of healing for myself and my husband, a grace God already had in store for me? That doesn't sound too crazy.
Looking back, I realize I've gotten just a wee little bit better about prayer in the last month or so. Made some progress on the awesome St. Therese book a friend lent me. Read some Scripture as well. Have had no trouble keeping up with my novena - in fact, the idea of having to remember for nine consecutive days seems almost easy, where usually, it's a proposition fraught with peril. Periodically at work I remember to pray the Angelus (OK, never actually at noon), which seems particularly special in Advent. I'm trying. Not succeeding, but - baby steps.
I started taking that Adren-All supplement TCIE's awesome doctor recommended in the fantastically detailed letter she posted. (What, it was prescribed to someone else? They sell it on Amazon. That means it's for me!) I figured that although the natural thyroid has cut my overall exhaustion, I am still basically nocturnal and need a crowbar to pry me out of bed in the morning. That seems like enough for an amateur diagnosis of adrenal problems. I was hoping I would be more energetic and lose five pounds, or something. That has not happened. However, I have had an interesting attitude change. My scary list of chores and errands is no longer scary; for whatever reason, I now view it as a challenge - and I will conquer. I now get home far more motivated to clean something and conquer the housework demons than to feed my brain to the internet. I did not know this came in pill form. Strange.
Houses - I've been quiet about houses, right? I'm taking it strangely easy, for me. There are two houses of interest. One is a few miles from me and centrally located among our friends. Good price (for the location), but a real fixer and we wouldn't have a ton of extra funds to sink in at that price. Almost no yard. Busy street. Hmm. Second house is further out (in the area where I more generally am looking). Further from the friends, but an easier commute to my job. Nice yard, awesome neighborhood, rock-solid structurally, though kitchen and bath remodels will be needed ultimately. Priced $175k-200k above market (per comps, assessments, and estimates). If we could get it for market, we could certainly afford it, and whatever remodeling it needed. And I really like it. The seller can't afford to drop his price because of all his refis, so I want to write him a nice letter, with lots of supporting documents, and suggest he try to short. He may not listen; and if he did we might not get it. But, we can give it a reasonable, grown-up sort of a try. And my DH is on board for this. Who knows...maybe the interest rates would drop again by the time it went through...? We shall see. Maybe my comparative peace of mind with this is itself a good thing.
And I'm looking forward to Christmas and New Year's. I would love to have a huge group to feed, but that won't happen; but I am willing to look forward to it in a later year. My sister is coming in tonight (!!) - for some reason this whole time I thought it was tomorrow. (Actually, I think that's what she told me.) I get to visit with two lovely ladies tomorrow amid my cleaning. Friday I can do the bulk of the baking, and cook Christmas Eve dinner. Midnight Mass in Polish. American Christmas dinner Saturday. Helping to host an awesome New Year's Eve party, and I think I will fit into a really pretty dress I got at a thrift store and have not yet worn. (Might have to buy myself some appropriate corsetry.) Delightful friend coming down for that party. And I could not possibly be pregnant at Christmas - I'll be mid-cycle.
Good things.
That's not what this post is about. This post is about good things - for real good things. Not small things for which I endeavor to be grateful as an exercise in good behavior, nor large things for which I ought to be grateful but simply cannot feel that way. I mean actual good things. At least, in my view (the only one that matters...to me).
My marriage has had ups and downs like any marriage. Obviously some of those downs have been a little more of the accidentally-dragged-behind-a-moving-vehicle type than the typical downs, because I, like you people, am infertile. Not good. And there's the fact that my own family is crazy - one divorce, going on two; mom in a convalescent home because she is schizophrenic (or something) and cannot function on her own; various feuds within my nuclear family; father and (soon-to-be-former) stepmother ruining their young kids' lives. General unpleasantness.
And of course, we can't forget the fact that my husband and I, each in our own special way, have a lot of emotional and psychological baggage that we brought into the marriage. Heavy baggage. Some of which we have worked through together. Some of which has just stuck around, un-improved. Some of which has probably been accruing interest all this time.
I think it would probably be fair to say that my beloved husband is depressed. Or manic depressive? Or something. And he has plenty of good reason to be. I am probably not the best person to be married to, if you struggle with that sort of thing. And I know that, what with all of my issues, I have very little resilience to offer in the more difficult phases. I love him, and I want to help, but I really can't deal.
This doesn't sound like a post about good things, does it?
On Friday night, we had a big blow-up. People have those...but there is a difference between the fights that we have that are like the fights that normal people have, and the fights that I know only unhealthy people have. This was one of the latter. As I lay in bed, I thought about how at times like that (and they are not that rare), I know I need help. And I feel desperate - I am lost, there is an actual disaster, maybe it will pass, but I don't really know; and I need someone to talk to who can give me a frame of reference, and I need to talk to that person now. At...10PM on a Friday evening. Not feasible. And I know that I feel that way every now and again, and I think, "I need to find someone who can help me," but then we patch things back up, and life seems OK again, and I am so busy, and I don't seek help. And then it happens again, and there is no one to talk to right now, and I am lost again.
I did two things. I emailed my spiritual director (as calmly as possible) and asked him for a recommendation for a therapist. I told him that I knew I needed help dealing with the infertility, but I also knew I needed help coping with my husband. I don't know how, and I am making things worse. I had begged and pleaded with my DH to seek help, but he refused; but how could I expect him to do so if I would not? Father passed along the name of another priest closer to me, whom I have yet to call. I will call today.
I also started a novena. I realized that it was eight days till Christmas exactly - I had two hours to start a novena that would end on Christmas day. Because the Infant of Prague has been stalking me lately, and it will be His birthday, I knew that was the one to choose. Google "Infant of Prague novena" - click on the top result. I prayed for something very simple: healing for my husband and for me.
There is so much that we need, but it all falls under that heading. Strengthening in faith. Graces for our marriage. Healing for our hearts. My body is falling apart, too. I have had that last in mind throughout the novena, but I don't intend to hold God to it - that's not the most important thing. I have an idea it's not something He wants for me anyway. Much of the other healing is necessitated in order to deal with the fact that He took that away, but it's a fair request - if I can't have a healthy body and a life-giving love, I need the things required to deal with that. But I always feel at greater peace if I ask for something, not merely objectively good, but that I know God must want for me. He wants us to address the things in our lives that drive us away from Him, and each other. He wants our faith to be stronger. He should answer this prayer.
True to form for a fight rooted in real underlying problems, this one hung on, or recurred, throughout the weekend. Even now we're at a fragile peace, and I feel like a basket-case. On Sunday, when he agreed to speak to me, my DH said something astonishing. He had promised, a week previously, to think about trying therapy - even though he was opposed. I figured when he got angry with me he would decide not to consider it after all. He told me that he had looked up the symptoms of long-term untreated PTSD, and he has all of them. He also looked for doctors in the area. He found an older Jewish woman who looked formidable and took his insurance. (This sounds like exactly the sort of person he would want to work with, honestly.)
Then Monday he sent her an email. She called him right away. She asked him to give her a run-down of the things he was dealing with, and he did. She gave him an appointment for today. (He says he is convinced that she accepted him as a patient because he's so fascinatingly screwy, and he is hoping he can get a syndrome named after him.) Before I get home from work today he will have done his first hour.
I haven't entirely absorbed this information yet. There is no question in my mind that supernatural grace was required to change his heart. Obviously it ain't over yet. Maybe professional help will do nothing to help (though I believe it must be some help). But experience has taught me not to become emotionally attached to the best possible outcome of a promising situation. I am absolutely floored by the turn of events so far. In themselves they could only be good. And perhaps the day will dawn when they mean every good thing I could imagine now.
On Friday and Saturday when I was thinking, I came to some conclusions. I still have faint vestiges of the effervescent joy that causes the very young to run barefoot through rain puddles. In my mind, when I was married, I could see the impulse to do such lovely things, but that it was tempered by the plodding reasonableness of adulthood. And then I could picture that sharing life with someone you love would return that childlike lightness - skipping in the rain, making snow angels, walking through Christmas lights, driving in the fall leaves, looking at every restaurant menu on the street before choosing the perfect one, enjoying sappy movies, singing Christmas carols, eating cookie dough out of the bowl, looking at houses that might be our home; all those would seem perfectly natural to spend impractical hours doing with the one you love.
It has not turned out that way. The things that seem magical enough for me to make the effort to plan them often fall through; he doesn't see the same magic, or they happen to fall on a day when he just isn't putting a good face on life, or my sky-high expectations just don't pan out. It's not that every day is awful; it's just that a lot of things in life are difficult, and the little joys seem to help one manage, and I don't manage to have a lot of those.
And I realized that because of how I imagine this should work in my head, I pin most of my joy on my husband. He has to be on board when I think we should be experiencing something magical. If he doesn't love it too, I can't enjoy it. If, heaven forbid, he refuses to participate, I am plunged into sadness. That's a totally normal reaction the very first time it happens. If it happens repeatedly, continuing to hope that all will go beautifully is just asking for problems. I need to recognize that, even if my DH is having too difficult a time to be joyful (or at least, to be reliably joyful), I should be able to find joy in life; otherwise, no joy. Bad for both of us.
And, there are so many things in life that I want to do that I have postponed (indefinitely, I guess), at first because I was broke; and then because we were going to have kids and that would be our life; and then because I needed to save up vacation for maternity leave; and then just because I was busy, and life was difficult, and that could always happen later. You know what? Later is now.
My brother lives in Vienna, Austria, right now, and my sister in Warsaw, Poland. She has the least spare cash (since she's a student), but the brother and I haven't seen Warsaw; the sister and I have spent time in Vienna. The brother refused to come home for Christmas. I didn't know why. He will literally spend Christmas by himself - and then fly home, to spend time with some friends. No family. I didn't think he was angry with me, so I am confused, and it makes me very sad. I miss hanging out with the two of them. For how much of our lives will the three of us all be adults, free to travel, financially independent, and with an easy opportunity to hang out in Europe? Right.
So I emailed them and said that I had a long weekend for President's Day in February - who wants to crash Warsaw? I expected him to demur enigmatically, as he did with Christmas. Nope. Immediate email back: "We need to make this happen." My sister sent a list of places to see in Warsaw and said she had room for both of us. I bought a plane ticket yesterday (under $500 - not bad, right?). My brother bought his today. We have a conference call (yes, really) scheduled for the morning of the 24th to discuss our itinerary. My misanthropic baby brother says he is "very excited." My dear sweet husband, who despite being (some days) crazier than I am, is infinitely more generous than I am, is excited for me. (Even though I didn't invite him to come.)
I have decided that in every month of 2011, I am going to do something I should have done five years ago. Some things could be small. But I have really close friends from college I rarely see. And good friends I have not seen since graduation - more than seven years. Some of them live a few hours from here. I am going to get back in touch.
And I have said for years that I will take dancing lessons. Why don't I actually do it? And that I will volunteer with the underprivileged in the city. I've done a little bit toward that in 2010, but I need to get myself a regular commitment. And I say I'll learn another language or two. Would it kill me to do something about that? I mean, I might not have time to get very far, but I won't know until I start. And I have canvases and paint I bought after we returned from our trip in May...unopened. 2011 is going to be my year of eradicating items from my list of regrets, rather than adding.
Other good things - there are more! (You can stop reading eight or ten paragraphs ago - this is interminable, and interesting only to me.) I have been thinking a lot about TCIE and her prayer post. According to what (to me) was the most striking of her comments, prayer changes our minds - not God's. So that means...my novena gave me an opportunity to be grateful and hopeful for the possibility of healing for myself and my husband, a grace God already had in store for me? That doesn't sound too crazy.
Looking back, I realize I've gotten just a wee little bit better about prayer in the last month or so. Made some progress on the awesome St. Therese book a friend lent me. Read some Scripture as well. Have had no trouble keeping up with my novena - in fact, the idea of having to remember for nine consecutive days seems almost easy, where usually, it's a proposition fraught with peril. Periodically at work I remember to pray the Angelus (OK, never actually at noon), which seems particularly special in Advent. I'm trying. Not succeeding, but - baby steps.
I started taking that Adren-All supplement TCIE's awesome doctor recommended in the fantastically detailed letter she posted. (What, it was prescribed to someone else? They sell it on Amazon. That means it's for me!) I figured that although the natural thyroid has cut my overall exhaustion, I am still basically nocturnal and need a crowbar to pry me out of bed in the morning. That seems like enough for an amateur diagnosis of adrenal problems. I was hoping I would be more energetic and lose five pounds, or something. That has not happened. However, I have had an interesting attitude change. My scary list of chores and errands is no longer scary; for whatever reason, I now view it as a challenge - and I will conquer. I now get home far more motivated to clean something and conquer the housework demons than to feed my brain to the internet. I did not know this came in pill form. Strange.
Houses - I've been quiet about houses, right? I'm taking it strangely easy, for me. There are two houses of interest. One is a few miles from me and centrally located among our friends. Good price (for the location), but a real fixer and we wouldn't have a ton of extra funds to sink in at that price. Almost no yard. Busy street. Hmm. Second house is further out (in the area where I more generally am looking). Further from the friends, but an easier commute to my job. Nice yard, awesome neighborhood, rock-solid structurally, though kitchen and bath remodels will be needed ultimately. Priced $175k-200k above market (per comps, assessments, and estimates). If we could get it for market, we could certainly afford it, and whatever remodeling it needed. And I really like it. The seller can't afford to drop his price because of all his refis, so I want to write him a nice letter, with lots of supporting documents, and suggest he try to short. He may not listen; and if he did we might not get it. But, we can give it a reasonable, grown-up sort of a try. And my DH is on board for this. Who knows...maybe the interest rates would drop again by the time it went through...? We shall see. Maybe my comparative peace of mind with this is itself a good thing.
And I'm looking forward to Christmas and New Year's. I would love to have a huge group to feed, but that won't happen; but I am willing to look forward to it in a later year. My sister is coming in tonight (!!) - for some reason this whole time I thought it was tomorrow. (Actually, I think that's what she told me.) I get to visit with two lovely ladies tomorrow amid my cleaning. Friday I can do the bulk of the baking, and cook Christmas Eve dinner. Midnight Mass in Polish. American Christmas dinner Saturday. Helping to host an awesome New Year's Eve party, and I think I will fit into a really pretty dress I got at a thrift store and have not yet worn. (Might have to buy myself some appropriate corsetry.) Delightful friend coming down for that party. And I could not possibly be pregnant at Christmas - I'll be mid-cycle.
Good things.
question: source for HCG?
So I took my prescription for HCG that I scored to my grocery store, where I filled all my prescriptions until I started getting my thyroid meds from Canada (thanks Barbie!) and quit taking tamoxifen. The pharmacist told me that he doesn't have any other customers who buy HCG and he'd have to order ten vials (and I only need one) so he can't really waste hundreds of dollars in un-needed drugs. So I need to get it elsewhere. (He also didn't know whether it came with needles or other things I think I would need to know.)
So, does anyone know of a chain pharmacy that usually offers HCG? Or, if you live in the DC area and have any specific suggestions, that would be delightful too.
I have a week or so to get it, but not forever. So, I'm hoping I can pull it off. Thanks, as always, oh wise infertile women...
Washington's Trees
Day #19- We took a drive around D.C. last night to see the Capital and White House Christmas Tree!
Granny Came
Day #17: Granny arrived safely and we headed for Williamsburg and the Great Wolf Lodge to celebrate Nash's birthday. The 112 miles turned into more than four hours of travel because of the joyous holiday traffic on the East coast. The kids were still able to catch the show, the inside snow, and story time with Rowdy the Reindeer. Nash ate his birthday cake about 10PM and then opened his presents.
an oldie but a goodie
I've spent so much of my life in the past few years feeling abandoned. Not only because I sense that no one is listening when I pray, but because I feel as though my life is a matter of being stranded in the desert. I know many carry heavier crosses than I. I know my life has comforts and riches that I don't deserve and that should make it seem easy. But the crosses I carry seem absurd and senseless to me. I don't see any good that can come from them and I don't understand how it could be God Who has left me here alone.
I have felt truly alone at other times - well, one other time that I can remember. My heart hurt so much I thought I might be dying. But I didn't believe I had been abandoned by God. I could never "run to the cross," as some of the saints have said. But I could collapse on it and beg God to take my suffering away. I don't know how to make that prayer now.
Sometimes it helps, a little, to step back far enough (it's very hard to get that far back) to realize that I'm not actually crazy. I rail and rail about how tough infertility is, but it isn't just good rhetoric - it's true. We're all being put through the furnace, and no amount of toughness would enable any person, no matter how saintly, to walk this way and not stumble and fall under the weight. I may fall more because I am weak; but I am not crushed under the burden because I am worthless, but because it is heavy.
And I am married to an untreated (indeed, undiagnosed) PTSD sufferer. And probably manic depressive. And definitely recovering alcoholic. No one, no matter how long they have known me or my husband (not even if they've known him much longer than I have - although I am sure his old friends would dispute this) knows what our marriage looks like from the inside. I could tell a thousand stories and still no one who has not had a similar cross to carry could understand what it is like to be here.
I'm not crazy. I sometimes think, when I feel like I'm living in hell, and entirely abandoned, I must be losing my mind. But I'm not losing my mind. The suffering I imagine is actually here; and if I get up the next morning, if I keep fighting, it's proof not that I've been delusional, but that I'm a survivor.
I can't claim to have had a close, or even a non-schizophrenic, relationship with God of late. Some things resonate with me and some don't. But this seemed appropriate, I thought, and perhaps it will resonate with some of you as well, familiar though it may be.
One night I dreamed a dream that I was walking along the beach with my Lord. Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. Through the scenes, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to me and one to the Lord.
When the last scene of my life passed before me I looked back at the footprints in the sand. I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints. This bothered me and I questioned the Lord about my dilemma.
"Lord, You told me when I decided to follow You, You would walk with me all the way. But during the most troublesome times of my life there is only one set of footprints. I just don't understand why, when I needed You most, You left me."
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you. During your trials and testings, when you saw only one set of footprints, It was then that I carried you."
Color A Nativity
Day #16-We had our first snowfall of the winter. Only a couple of inches, but perfect for slicking up our hill for the boys to get some major speed sledding. They love crashing into the pool fence which made me so nervous that I finally just went inside. Couldn't watch any longer. They both survived and they sure savored their hot chocolate when the fun was done.
I found this cute NATIVITY PRINTABLE and the boys worked on it most of the afternoon. They had fun playing with it, although their play was a tad irreverent, like when a 747 crashed into the angel and killed her along with her pet donkey.
I found this cute NATIVITY PRINTABLE and the boys worked on it most of the afternoon. They had fun playing with it, although their play was a tad irreverent, like when a 747 crashed into the angel and killed her along with her pet donkey.
more than a river in Egypt
So I guess I've had a great luteal phase, or whatever. I mean, some of my temperatures have dropped below the cover line, which is bad. And my highest temperature was 98.1. And it looks like I'll have had...five days of pre-menstrual spotting. Despite the topical progesterone. So actually, could be a lot better, but this is me. We're celebrating the fact that it looks like I'll have had a thirteen-day luteal phase, and in the last few months when I've been taking temperatures, they've pretty much all been eleven days.
Wait, why am I celebrating having a somewhat improved luteal phase? Isn't the goal not to have a luteal phase, so much as a post-ovulation phase that lasts the next forty weeks?
Today is going to be CD1. I know this because of the tightness I could feel in my stomach starting yesterday evening. I know because swearing off sweets during Advent has been easy - until this past week, when I wanted all the chocolate. Right now. I know because the spotting is, probably, technically still spotting - but looking increasingly ominous. I know because this morning I have a very mild version of what I pretty much have to call cramps.
Fortunately it's getting smaller and weaker throughout the day, but up through at least bedtime last night, why was there still a voice nattering at me ceaselessly, about how spotting is not inconsistent with pregnancy (indeed, some people deliver healthy babies despite pretty heavy bleeding early on), and abdominal pain isn't either, and if I make it to p+13, why not p+15, and p+17? And then, to infinity, and beyond! And we seem to have used the right days this cycle. And I was pretty good about the progesterone cream. And...
This is not helpful. Not helpful at all.
Because there's also a voice, much quieter, and wiser, that reminds me that as of my surgery last October, I had no working fallopian tubes. Dr. L/C said the surgery might have fixed the problem, but "might" only ever works out one way when it's me. I could have perfect hormone levels (though I don't). Be endo-free. Have great CM (not bad these days, actually). Actually be ovulating. Use all the right days. In a cycle when all these things align...nothing changes.
Some day, I hope I learn to accept this fully.
Wait, why am I celebrating having a somewhat improved luteal phase? Isn't the goal not to have a luteal phase, so much as a post-ovulation phase that lasts the next forty weeks?
Today is going to be CD1. I know this because of the tightness I could feel in my stomach starting yesterday evening. I know because swearing off sweets during Advent has been easy - until this past week, when I wanted all the chocolate. Right now. I know because the spotting is, probably, technically still spotting - but looking increasingly ominous. I know because this morning I have a very mild version of what I pretty much have to call cramps.
Fortunately it's getting smaller and weaker throughout the day, but up through at least bedtime last night, why was there still a voice nattering at me ceaselessly, about how spotting is not inconsistent with pregnancy (indeed, some people deliver healthy babies despite pretty heavy bleeding early on), and abdominal pain isn't either, and if I make it to p+13, why not p+15, and p+17? And then, to infinity, and beyond! And we seem to have used the right days this cycle. And I was pretty good about the progesterone cream. And...
This is not helpful. Not helpful at all.
Because there's also a voice, much quieter, and wiser, that reminds me that as of my surgery last October, I had no working fallopian tubes. Dr. L/C said the surgery might have fixed the problem, but "might" only ever works out one way when it's me. I could have perfect hormone levels (though I don't). Be endo-free. Have great CM (not bad these days, actually). Actually be ovulating. Use all the right days. In a cycle when all these things align...nothing changes.
Some day, I hope I learn to accept this fully.
Snowflakes and Birthdays
Day #15- 30 years and one day after Scott entered the world, came his second son. Spunky little Nash Joseph turned 4 years old today. However, he isn't actually aware of that fact. We are waiting until Friday, when Granny comes into town, to celebrate the blessed event. There is something about Nash's boyish naughtiness that makes him absolutely irresistible. He is funny and squeezable and we feel so thankful to have him in our home.
Today he told me, "Mom I might be crazy but Harley is completely out of control!" Then when I was complaining about the mountain of laundry I had to tackle he said, "It's your fault mom, you make us wear clothes."
Also this afternoon I came around the corner and saw him standing on the counter top with one of my snowmen Christmas decorations. His pudgy arm was wrapped around his snowman friend and they were having an intense conversation about what sounded like the local weather forecast.
And since it is his birthday here's another story. About a month ago he crawled into bed with me. He turned my head so that we were nose to nose and he tickled my face for a few minutes until he fell asleep again. He left his little hand resting on my cheek. I was in heaven. I kept so still hoping it would last for awhile. Well, it didn't. He woke up and was apparently freaked out that someone was so close to his face. He took that little hand that was so gently resting on my face and smacked me as hard as he could with it. He's adorable, if I do say so myself. We love you Nacho!
For our December to Remember activity I decided that we would make snowflakes. I had this idea of creating a snowflake curtain for my kitchen window. I could see the boys and I gathered around the kitchen table happily cutting snowflakes and chatting about the day's events, while Harley sat merrily in her highchair. The boys made ONE snowflake and I spent most of the night making the 28 more that I needed for my Snowflake Curtain. By the way I sewed the flakes together after I cut them out. A bit of a nightmare, but I do like the way it turned out. Unfortunately, the boys probably won't remember our special time gathered around the kitchen table, since it lasted for all of 5 minutes. They will probably remember that they ate chips for dinner while mom sat in a pile of little tiny scraps of white paper with the rest of the house falling to pieces around her. Despite the mess I am going to bed anyway. Although I admit to a totally irrational fear that I might kill over sometime in the night and people will see my house in this state of disastrous chaos. I worry that it will be the only thing they can think about after I am dead. "That poor Melisa sure had a dirty house!" So, I want you to know, this mess was for the sake of the snowflake! Give a girl a break.
Today he told me, "Mom I might be crazy but Harley is completely out of control!" Then when I was complaining about the mountain of laundry I had to tackle he said, "It's your fault mom, you make us wear clothes."
Also this afternoon I came around the corner and saw him standing on the counter top with one of my snowmen Christmas decorations. His pudgy arm was wrapped around his snowman friend and they were having an intense conversation about what sounded like the local weather forecast.
And since it is his birthday here's another story. About a month ago he crawled into bed with me. He turned my head so that we were nose to nose and he tickled my face for a few minutes until he fell asleep again. He left his little hand resting on my cheek. I was in heaven. I kept so still hoping it would last for awhile. Well, it didn't. He woke up and was apparently freaked out that someone was so close to his face. He took that little hand that was so gently resting on my face and smacked me as hard as he could with it. He's adorable, if I do say so myself. We love you Nacho!
For our December to Remember activity I decided that we would make snowflakes. I had this idea of creating a snowflake curtain for my kitchen window. I could see the boys and I gathered around the kitchen table happily cutting snowflakes and chatting about the day's events, while Harley sat merrily in her highchair. The boys made ONE snowflake and I spent most of the night making the 28 more that I needed for my Snowflake Curtain. By the way I sewed the flakes together after I cut them out. A bit of a nightmare, but I do like the way it turned out. Unfortunately, the boys probably won't remember our special time gathered around the kitchen table, since it lasted for all of 5 minutes. They will probably remember that they ate chips for dinner while mom sat in a pile of little tiny scraps of white paper with the rest of the house falling to pieces around her. Despite the mess I am going to bed anyway. Although I admit to a totally irrational fear that I might kill over sometime in the night and people will see my house in this state of disastrous chaos. I worry that it will be the only thing they can think about after I am dead. "That poor Melisa sure had a dirty house!" So, I want you to know, this mess was for the sake of the snowflake! Give a girl a break.
Daddy's Birthday
Day #14- Scott is getting a little sensitive about his age so I won't say anything about him turning 34. The truth is, we love him even though he practically has one foot in the grave.
To celebrate we transformed our dining room into a 5 star restaurant. We called it CHEZ MOMMY! The boys were supposed to be waiters. What can I say,they were pretty lousy. We ate a four course meal prepared by "moi" and then Scott opened presents. Of course, he had to wear the official Butler-Family-Birthday-Hat throughout the process.
Nash gave him some chocolate covered popcorn-because chocolate is Nash's favorite thing and popcorn is daddy's. Atley gave him an ashtray that he made in art class, but since "you don't smoke dad, you can just put your wedding ring in it." The boys also made lots of signs and pictures to decorate the walls. Nash drew one portrait and then he made me add the following caption, "Happy Birthday! To Dad Butler."
In other news, Harley is turning into quite the mischief maker. She is already trying to peek at her Christmas presents. Get a load of where I caught her this evening. BUSTED!
To celebrate we transformed our dining room into a 5 star restaurant. We called it CHEZ MOMMY! The boys were supposed to be waiters. What can I say,they were pretty lousy. We ate a four course meal prepared by "moi" and then Scott opened presents. Of course, he had to wear the official Butler-Family-Birthday-Hat throughout the process.
Nash gave him some chocolate covered popcorn-because chocolate is Nash's favorite thing and popcorn is daddy's. Atley gave him an ashtray that he made in art class, but since "you don't smoke dad, you can just put your wedding ring in it." The boys also made lots of signs and pictures to decorate the walls. Nash drew one portrait and then he made me add the following caption, "Happy Birthday! To Dad Butler."
In other news, Harley is turning into quite the mischief maker. She is already trying to peek at her Christmas presents. Get a load of where I caught her this evening. BUSTED!
Joy to the World
Day #13 happened on a Monday night, which is designated as Family Home Evening in our church. This is a special time to be together as a family have fun and learn more about the gospel. First, we watched the Joy to the World DVD, a Christmas movie produced by the LDS church to commemorate the season. We have watched this movie every year since it's production. It is a beautifully simple film that our children can enjoy as much as we do.
Thanks to a brilliant idea my mom told me about, the boys and Scott built this snowman game out of a box. Then we saw how many marshmallows we could get inside of the snowman's mouth. We kept Harley safe from the crossfire by putting her in the laundry basket.
When we finally freed her from the laundry basket the most memorable part of the evening happened-Harley's first crawl! She didn't mess around with the army crawl nonsense. She went straight to all fours. Of course she was definitely motivated by her desire to chase the vacuum and find any stray marshmallows.
Finally, cookies and milk before bed. I made my favorite ROLO Cookies. Here is the recipe. They are especially heavenly if eaten in large portions.
2 1/2 Cups Flour
3/4 Cup Unsweetened Cocoa
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1 Cup Sugar
1 Cup Brown Sugar
1 Cup Margarine
2 Teaspoon Vanilla
2 Eggs
30 Rolos
2 Tablespoons Sugar
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix all ingredients except the rolos and 2 tablespoons of sugar. Chill dough for 30 minutes. Form dough balls around one rolo and then roll in sugar. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes.
Thanks to a brilliant idea my mom told me about, the boys and Scott built this snowman game out of a box. Then we saw how many marshmallows we could get inside of the snowman's mouth. We kept Harley safe from the crossfire by putting her in the laundry basket.
When we finally freed her from the laundry basket the most memorable part of the evening happened-Harley's first crawl! She didn't mess around with the army crawl nonsense. She went straight to all fours. Of course she was definitely motivated by her desire to chase the vacuum and find any stray marshmallows.
Finally, cookies and milk before bed. I made my favorite ROLO Cookies. Here is the recipe. They are especially heavenly if eaten in large portions.
2 1/2 Cups Flour
3/4 Cup Unsweetened Cocoa
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1 Cup Sugar
1 Cup Brown Sugar
1 Cup Margarine
2 Teaspoon Vanilla
2 Eggs
30 Rolos
2 Tablespoons Sugar
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix all ingredients except the rolos and 2 tablespoons of sugar. Chill dough for 30 minutes. Form dough balls around one rolo and then roll in sugar. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes.
The Christmas Angel
I wrote this in memory of our sweet niece who turns 11 today but is celebrating her birthday in heaven. 
The Christmas Angel
Our story begins with the Holiday birth,
Of a Christmas Angel here on this earth.
In a tiny body with eyes bright and blue,
Shone the spirit of one, most valiant and true.
With Holly and angels all gathered 'round,
A life began, a new love was found.
Her soul was so strong. This child was different.
And all who beheld sensed her spirit was brilliant.
Her journey was short, though she taught all she met
about patience and faith, things we cannot forget.
Then just one month after her passing,
came another baby girl, with hope everlasting.
I like to believe they met somewhere above.
And the Christmas angel taught what she knew about love.
I imagine them there, each without worldly pain.
And the Angel was cheering her on as she came.
They were sisters in heaven and cousins below,
Now she’s an angel companion to help the girl grow.
She was the most cherished gift we ever were given.
Yet we understand the joy she must now know in heaven.
So, we will be reminded with the smile of each twinkling light,
Or the eastern star shining so very bright,
That the one we love is never far.
Just as sure as that glowing new star,
We love, miss, and hold her dear.
But never doubt that the Angel is near.
In loving memory of Alexis Holly Butler.
The Christmas Angel
Our story begins with the Holiday birth,
Of a Christmas Angel here on this earth.
In a tiny body with eyes bright and blue,
Shone the spirit of one, most valiant and true.
With Holly and angels all gathered 'round,
A life began, a new love was found.
Her soul was so strong. This child was different.
And all who beheld sensed her spirit was brilliant.
Her journey was short, though she taught all she met
about patience and faith, things we cannot forget.
Then just one month after her passing,
came another baby girl, with hope everlasting.
I like to believe they met somewhere above.
And the Christmas angel taught what she knew about love.
I imagine them there, each without worldly pain.
And the Angel was cheering her on as she came.
They were sisters in heaven and cousins below,
Now she’s an angel companion to help the girl grow.
She was the most cherished gift we ever were given.
Yet we understand the joy she must now know in heaven.
So, we will be reminded with the smile of each twinkling light,
Or the eastern star shining so very bright,
That the one we love is never far.
Just as sure as that glowing new star,
We love, miss, and hold her dear.
But never doubt that the Angel is near.
In loving memory of Alexis Holly Butler.
Gingerbread Man
Day #12- Are you getting tired of the gingerbread stuff, because I am but, Nash's very favorite book is The Gingerbread Man. He says it has the perfect balance of drama, humor, and poetic justice. Well, he doesn't actually say that, but he really loves the book. And when we made gingerbread cookies a while back he didn't want to eat them because they were too CUTE!! So, last night I sewed them some felt Gingerbread Men. They decorated them with buttons, ribbon, and more felt. The best part according to Nash, "I don't even have to eat him!"
blessed straw
My family is big on the lore of our Polish heritage. I guess we get marginally more credibility with that than we might otherwise, because my father (and uncle) actually speak Polish. And when I was born, my grandmother (who spoke Polish fluently) and my great-grandmother (who was actually born in Poland) were still alive. Anyway, these things seem to manifest themselves more around Christmas and Easter - especially Christmas, I think.
There are a million little things. Christmas Eve (Wigilia - "vigil") dinner is a big deal. Because it's a waiting holiday, there's no meat. All the dishes are fish (or non-meat), and all of them are white. And there has to be an odd number of dishes (up to thirteen, if you do everything). Among the ones we typically did are baked perch; smoked pickled herring (szledzie); leniwe ("lazy man") pierogi; kapusta (sauerkraut) pierogi; mushroom soup; and noodles with poppyseeds. Oh, and Polish wodka (vodka). The rituals also include the excange of oplatki, and forgiveness of one another for the sins of the past year; and the reading the nativity story from Luke 2 (preferably in Polish).
There's also always an extra place set at the table, with a plate from which no one has ever eaten. Under the plate, straw is scattered - blessed straw, if you can get it. (My [non-Polish] parish back in Michigan distributed blessed straw at the beginning of Advent, for scattering under the creche - I kept a bag for a long time, and I wish I had it still.) The place is set for Christ, in the person of an unexpected guest. The really old version of the tradition is that if a wanderer or a beggar should knock at the door on Christmas Eve, he would be welcomed in, seated with the family, and served dinner; because the unexpected guest came in the place of Jesus.
I wrote my college admissions essay on my family's moves, and my memory of this tradition throughout the years - and how, when we celebrated Christmas with my father in a tiny, cramped apartment with no table or chairs, and put dinner on an upside-down VCR box with a green vinyl disposable table cloth, saved from year to year, we always thought that someone might really knock at the door, any moment. Even though he'd have to get through the locked door to the apartment building first. When we finally bought a house years later, we had not only a table and chairs, but an actual dining room - with room for a buffet AND a china cabinet. We always set the place for the Christchild, but, because we were older and because the possibility seemed so remote, in a middle-class village in a normal home, I no longer really believed that a stranger would knock at the door and join us for Wigilia dinner.
My father had told me in no uncertain terms not to write my college admissions essay on anything Catholic. He's a professor himself, and he told me that the standard perspective in academia is that Polish Catholics are anti-Semites. I was confused. Obviously Hitler killed Poland's Jews, and the Poles hid them at the risk of their own lives; and I was friends with all of the (few) Jewish kids in my school. Surely no one could think such a thing. I was not yet acquainted with the "tolerance" of elite academia. But I let him edit my essay anyway, and he didn't tell me to change a thing; he just looked sad.
I have to remember to buy a new plate this year - that's something my family always forgot until the last possible moment. (Actually, since there are probably plates I'd like to add to my collection, maybe I should plan ahead and buy a new plate for Christmas every year that actually matches those from other years. Would that be exploiting the tradition for materialistic ends? I hope not. It would probably be nicer than buying a $3 cookie plate with a Santa on it from the drugstore, which we not infrequently ended up doing when I was younger.)
But I have to say, the bit of scattered straw has new resonance for me this year. My little family has been waiting for an unexpected guest for a lot of Christmases now. We're probably not going to get an infant of our own to welcome at Christmas, though God always has the opportunity to surprise us and I'm not sure yet whether letting go of that hope is part of what He wants from me. But I see, in that little pile of straw, the nest to welcome a baby; the manger where the divine Child lay - something of expectation, anticipation, hope. And we are very much in need of that unexpected guest - Christ walking into our lives and joining our family, our home, and our Christmas would be very welcome. I'm not sure what I'm to anticipate exactly, but then, the unexpectedness of the guest is the whole idea. And since I have no idea what would get my life on the right track now, I would be better off with an un-looked-for visitor than anything I might actually request.
I need to be on the lookout for some straw.
National Harbor
Day #10-Today we went to Christmas on the Potomac at National Harbor. It's a really fun place to eat and shop. The kids particularly love the PEEPS store. For the holidays there are lots of fun crafts and activities for the kids. Also, Gaylord National Hotel is located at National Harbor. The hotel hosts a huge water fountain show choreographed to music and lights, plus a toy train ride, indoor ice rink, and much more. The boys had a great time watching the fountain but they got soaking wet. Therefore, we had to watch the Christmas Fireworks from the car. They stuck their heads out of the sunroof and still had a great time. 
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