Run-on Sentence

This is not a post about grammar. Certainly not from a former business major.

I hate ambiguity. I hate 700 page books (although I read them anyway) because I want to rush to the end. I micro-manage my life to receive the biggest "bang for the buck", in the least amount of time of course.  My usual mode is get from point A to point B.  It works for me.

My infertility journey, not so linear. Pretty much a never ending book.

My story is different than many that walked the path before me and alongside me.

There was no success, no "graduation", no closing of a book in a defined timeline.  My journey ended with a big question mark followed by a ...  as in, to be continued...  but for how long?

Some days I almost forget how I got here, and other days it hits me square in the face.  On the worst days I encounter a random event that feels much like a bandage being ripped off from a fresh wound.

A friend of mine is having a very complicated and extended ending to a miscarriage of sorts, similar to one of my losses years ago. It brings me back to a place I hate to go. Uncertainty, irony, sadness, anger, and impatience at the world. Oh, how I feel her pain.

Today is one of those days I am rolling in the muckity-muck. My heart feels raw for all of us that don't get the happy endings and neatly wrapped gift... rather those of us who get the loosely wrapped present... paper ripped, tape falling off, bow askew. What the hell does one do with that mess?

For a long time I felt mad, and over the years I just could not shove it into the dark or bend the hurt and anger into something worthwhile. Sometimes when my guard was down, the feeling faded into the background, but it never really left. Just lurked out there, waiting. Unresolved.

I mean, my path is highly unusual. I get it. I have a son from some miracle of miracles and then the train went off the rails. Trust me, I know how fortunate I was.  Once.

But let's get real- secondary infertility often drives odd judgement from others. I try to fly under the radar and brush the naysayers to the side.  I run into them often (and they are always fertile beings, ironically).

No, I am not always happy with what I have.  Does that make me a terrible human being?  No.  It means I am being truthful and allowing myself to feel the disappointment- and, without disappointment, the joys in life just don't shine as brightly.

It's okay really. But what stings the most is never knowing when "to be continued" turns into "The End."

That sentence can be short, or painfully run on.

No ending in sight.

Awakening

The last two weeks have been crazy. Sort of like being on a rollercoaster against your will. I love rollercoasters, but imagine being on one for 24 hours a day. Every time I catch my breath on the way up, I know the next steep drop is just seconds away. Then, my eyes closed, hands clenched...my head is screaming.. "no! no. no. no....argh, no!!"

Terrible analogy, I know, but the only way to describe my new job.

I feel like I bit off more than I can chew. I had a meltdown of epic proportions last week (yes, tears too) and the weeks events have left me reeling. I've awakened each day to a headache and heartache I can't get rid of. I haven't eaten. I feel drained.

And then the thought occured to me that, even though this is all new to me and I should probably give myself a break for being the newbie, there is something else going on here. Something that won't get better with knowledge, training, and time.

Perhaps my need to a new role was less about needing a change in my current tasks and more about a lifestyle change.

I know, great time to realize this. But I guess this is how things go sometimes.

Truth be told, I won't say I made a mistake, but I will say I probably gave lip service to how this could alter my ever-confusing work/life balance. Looking big picture, I'm realizing that I am in need of an even bigger change that will take me away from my 18 years invested in the corporate environment. I wish I could say I don't have to work at all, but there's bills to pay unfortunately. That doesn't mean our dual-income family can't be tweaked.

And we will be tweaking.

So I don't want to divulge to much yet, but I am working with S. to devise a plan that will benefit our family and put a lid on the madness. Both S. and I have been in career turmoil for some time, and there's a point when you lose sight of the forest through the trees. That's where we are.

As much as I would like to think that the changes I've made thus far are for the better, there's no harm in acknowledging possible mistakes and re-evaluating.

As usual, life is subject to change....

Class is in Session

While my latest blog post is still brewing in my head, I wanted to let you all know where I've been spending my time over the last week.

As I prepare for another school year with my son, I have two timely posts on this theme:


Click over to my review blog to read my latest book review from one of my favorite authors, Phillip Done. Phil is a third-grade teacher, and his newest book was just published, "Close Encounters of the Third Grade Kind- Thoughts on Teacherhood" is required reading for the start of this new school year.


Also check out my latest New Jersey Moms post, "The Lost Art of Handwriting", where I pine over the potential extinction of handwriting in today's cyber-charged world. I may be a blogger and technology geek in my day job, but I often love to abandon my keyboard for a pen and paper. Is handwriting going the way of the dinosaur?

Disorganized

I am truly losing my mind.

In two weeks we leave for vacation in Hilton Head, South Carolina. Since it's a beach vacation (and we are driving), packing is a little more complicated since there's just stuff and gear that needs to go with us. And, the car we are driving down in this year is smaller, so S. is limiting my suitcases (he only wants to pack two for 8 days (3 people). The good news is there is a washer/dryer in our suite, but I hate to wash on vacation. And since we are packing light, we won't bring any of the usual stuff (case of water, soda, snacks, paper goods, etc)- we'll be spending our first day shopping at the Piggly Wiggly for groceries.

I have five lists for packing... mine, David's, hubby's, stuff to buy when we get there, and what to have in the car (things to keep David occupied for 12 hours and a cooler for the road).

Then there's work, which has been slowing down a little thankfully... BUT I have to make arrangements and delegate some of my work while I am gone for two weeks. Timely in the fact that my manager and I just reorganized our support team and totally changed how and with whom they work.... once again bad timing but we are limited to making big changes in the "slow" months of the business.... which is now. Sucks to be me.

David's 5th birthday is a week away. We decided to put off the party till June when we get back from vacation. But a party also involves PLANNING which I don't have time for at the moment. Initially we wanted to invite some of his school friends, but then we found out his best friend's party is the SAME DAY, and the invites already went out. So, he cried last night that he can't go to his best friends party... and I just felt bad.

Wait, there's more. I made my consult appointment at the RE, and honestly I am just cringing. I want to go, and I don't want to go. It is just a weird place to be. Wanting to move forward, but scared to do ANYTHING. That's a post for later.

If only the car was packed and we were on our way to vacation today...

Better the second time around?

And so starts another cycle.

Thanks you guys, for your comments yesterday and e-mails. Who commented that I sounded sad but not devastated? It think it was you MM, and you are pretty dead on.

I am ok about it. Sad and bitter, but ok.

Because, in the world of IF a new cycle starts the beginning of a new chance. And, really, what's better than living your life in two-week increments?? Yes, sarcasm indeed.

So, Thursday marks another Day 3 scan and bloodwork and the start of the dreaded IM injections. Actually, I lie. The injections are not that bad at all. S. is now an injection whiz, and I have it down to a science, really. At least they make me feel like I am working towards something, which is a good mind diversion.

It also helps to get moving onto a new cycle before the bills come in for the previous one. lol.


Sigh... I don't know guys. It's been 2 1/2 years of this rollercoaster. Maybe I need a Plan B.

Actually, Plan B is IVF, so maybe I need a Plan C.

A fresh start

Things are finally getting back to normal here from the holiday. Yesterday we lugged the last box of Xmas decor into the basement and my family room looked a lot bigger again without a tree and a mountain of toys.

I had this crazy idea, back before Halloween... that for each holiday of "stuff/decor" I was going to buy color-coordinating containers to put stuff in rather than miscellaneous cardboard boxes. So all my Fall decor is in orange 18-30 gallon plastic containers... and now (after raiding Target of the last clearance aisles) 10 red and green containers for the holiday decor.

The goal is to get rid of as much cardboard as possible.

1. Because the storage area in the unfinished side of the basement is risky (we had one flood a year back and I feel much safer with all my stuff in plastic and up/off the floor)

2. Keeps my sanity when I have to ask S. to bring up any seasonal stuff.

3. I feel organized.

4. Cardboard sucks and there's only so many times you can tape and retape a box.

All of David's (baby) clothes that he outgrew are also in big blue containers. Stacked in the corner should we ever need them again.

The crazy thing about all of this, is I feel so much better not wading through junk downstairs anymore. There was a time (before the basement was partially finished) when our basement was a graveyard... a dumping ground. When we were forced to organize and throw out stuff it took us TWO FULL DAYS and an entire dumpster.

Soon I can rest easy that my basement is a friendly environment, and not have that perpetual monkey on my back that I need to clean and organize. Sometimes tasks like that can be so overwhelming.

Next up after the basement is finito, the walk-in closet above the garage. 7x10 feet of more stuff I probably don't need. Half of it is old baby stuff. Most days when I have to venture in there for something I don't spend a lot of time. It's currently a wasted space that could function as a sitting room, or a crafts room.

No matter what happens this year, I do plan to get rid of all of the contents (some of the stuff can't be reused anyway). I feel like having it stare me in the face is doing me no good. Just a reminder that I've been perpetually waiting for 2 1/2 years.

Cleaning is good. Sorta like cleansing the soul at the same time.

All's Quiet on the Ovarian Front

7dpiui, and all is well. Went in for the obligatory u/s and blood draw this morning and the conversation with Dr. P went like this:

[Dr. P scans the right ovary, and measures large gaping hole]

Dr. P: "So, the ovaries look good. No signs of hyper-stimulation, so we'll do the HcG booster today".

[Dr. P scans the left ovary, and measures equally large gaping hole]

Me: "So, I ovulated then right?"

Dr. P: "Oh yeah, nooooo question about that, looks very promising. We'll see you back in 10 days for the beta."


Stupid newbie question of the day to my BTDT buddies... can they tell if you ovulated on both sides? Or was I just reading too far in between the lines?

And, have any of you had the HcG booster? They gave it to me to stimulate the creation of more progesterone just in case. I guess that's way better than those damn suppositories in the meantime.

In work news, I am off today! I closed out the year at work and home today with the boy. I'm thinking of swinging by Target for some plastic containers, and maybe a little miscellaneous shopping and errands.

Beats working!

Update: ugh, so the suppositories were prescribed anyway. I just can't seem to get away without those awful things.

Raise your hand if you want a Christmas Miracle

It's Monday, and what better way to start the week than a trip to the RE.

I missed blogging about Saturday's appointment, nothing earth shattering except to say on Saturday I had 4 lead follies (two on each side) measuring 10, 10, 11, 12... with a bunch of wannabes on each side under 8.

My E2 was 266. Doctor said all was "cooking" well, and sent me on my way.

Today (after 7 days of stims), I had u/s #4 and the sizes have increased slightly on three of the four from Saturday... they are now at 11, 12, 12, 12.5-13. Lining=11mm.
I gave another donation of blood too, I won't find out the results of that until Wednesday at the next u/s unless they call me today to adjust my dosage.

So, S. is like an old pro now, and I think I finally got the hang of mixing all the vials and using the syringes. (Although I am still having some user issues drawing up and not creating a damn vaccum in the vial and syringe). David has witnessed our routine at bedtime, but he hasn't asked why Daddy is giving Mommy needles. He has a habit now of giving me a kiss on my boo-boo when we're done. So cute.

One issue I do/did have... because nothing is EVER freaking easy for me....
I think I developed some sort of UTI over the weekend. It was bothering me Saturday slightly, so I bombarded myself with water and cranberry juice, and I think I flushed everything out because I feel fine today. Nevertheless, I left a sample at the doctors just in case. The odd thing is I've only ever had one UTI in my life... and that was after I had David. So, of course NOW would be a good time for one, right???

Other than that snafu, I guess things are going as planned. I can't remember, but I think they said that they wait to trigger until any reach 16? Does that sound right?

I assume Wednesday might be the pivotal u/s day. We are kind of hoping that trigger and IUI are towards the end of the week (Fri/Sat), because S. is off from work.

BTDT buddies, how close do you think I am? Having not done this before, and always wanting to know my schedule (sorta).... is it logical to think this may go off before the weekend? I really want to avoid an IUI on Christmas Eve.

Of course, now that I just typed that... I probably jinxed myself. And furthermore, universe... if you see fit to have me do an IUI on that day, bring it on.

Are you thinking what I am thinking?

I'll avoid the irony there... but just for now.

Hit me with your best shot

It's two weeks to Christmas.

Is your holiday list completed?

I always work towards a yearly goal of having all my gift purchases done one week before Christmas. Most of the time I screw up and miss that goal, but I think this year I really might make it.

I think it's my alter ego at work. When I am most stressed and busy, I tend to whip my ass into shape. I'm like a little kid, sometimes if you give me too much leeway, I get bored and procrastinate on every little task. But pile up my calendar, and I am forced into "Commando" mode. get a task. complete the task.

What has gotten into me?

Anyway, I've gone from not doing anything to getting everything done (I think the week off of work and blogging helped). So much so that I am pondering embarking on baking next week. I have a beautiful Christmas cake pan that has waited the last two years to be used, and some cookie recipes I've been wanting to try.

I know, you are laughing. I can take it.

Oh, and I must report on last night's injection. Went just fine, and S. didn't even hesitate. I think he missed his calling as a nurse.

So when will I start to feel my ovaries revving up? I am a newbie, remember. Enlighten me.

I have a follie scan scheduled for Thursday (that will be after 3 days of stims.... I'm on 150IU of Gonal-F).

Oh, and the title of this post.... yeah, I know. ENOUGH with the 80's song references. But I love Pat Benatar. So there.

Peace on Earth, or at least at BagMomma's house

So where have I been?

I was growing tired of the drama around here. Is it a coincidence that I have off from work this week? I think I must have used some serious psychic powers knowing I would need this week off.

If you remember a week or two back, my drama at work was reaching a head, and then the great computer meltdown occurred. Then the loss of Luke. All the while, anticipating my first cycle back on the TTC bandwagon and worrying about that.

I had originally scheduled this week off to do a lot of little projects around the house. I have done a few, and did another purse cleanout and donation. I cleaned two closets (so far) generating a landfill of trash. Mostly empty boxes and crap I was saving for god knows what.

Sadly, my PC rebuild hasn't gone as planned... so I ended up ordering a new PC for the family computer. Since I had my work laptop under lockdown since last Friday, I've been out of the loop on blogging and e-mail. My Google Reader had 780 unread posts when I posted on Monday... I'm sure it's over 1,000 by now. But you know what? It doesn't matter.

I am relishing the fact that I have been able to detach myself from the computer for awhile.

I even (GASP) went shopping to REAL stores yesterday. Places where they give you free boxes with gifts you buy instead of my internet purchases where they CHARGE you a giftwrap/box fee.

I went to lunch alone yesterday, and sat in a restaurant eating a turkey wrap with NOWHERE to be. I browsed the Coach store, Williams-Sonoma, Sur Le Table, and Harry & David. I sat in a comfy chair in Starbucks sipping a Latte watching the snow fall outside.

It was heaven. Well, except for the money I spent.

So far, this week is turning out to be unexpectedly decent.

I am done my BCPs, and awaiting arrival of AF to make my first u/s appointment and the start of my injectables cycle.

I am (almost!) done my Christmas shopping.

I finished decorating, and decorated a special tree dedicated to our departed pets. We got rid of the dog and cat food, the dishes, the kitty litter. It was time to let it all go.

My new PC should arrive next week, and I think I'll just take my time loading everything on it. I am using my work laptop for urgent stuff and these posts in the meantime. Won't have my usual time to browse and lurk, but that's okay. It's temporary.

To sum up this week in one word: PEACEFUL

[breathing out a sigh of content]

Another soul in heaven

Luke was born in a bush outside my bedroom window at my parent's house.

We had started feeding a stray..... we called her Candy, and unbeknownst to us she was pregnant at the time. So it was a surprise when I woke up one July 4th morning in 1992, groggy eyed, to see Candy outside my window with four little kittens snuggled up to her.

I loved cats, and as a younger girl, we had a few over the years... but they were inside and outside cats. After awhile they would become bored and just leave, or met untimely demises despite all the love I showered them with while they were with my family.

I carefully adopted out each of Candy's kittens, and eventually one was left. I begged my Mom and Dad to keep him. I wanted to keep him inside the house with us. After much protesting, and buttering up my parents, they let me keep him.

I named him Luke.... after Luke Perry of 90210 fame.

Luke became Lukemeister (I think my brother started that name), or Mr. Meister, sometimes Lukie, often you could hear my brother and I shout.... "MMMMMMeister!"

He was a dog in a cat's body. He would come when you whistled or called him by name. He would follow me around the house, beg for treats, and sleep in my bed. If I was upset he knew I would feel better with him around me. He loved to be scratched under his chin.

He was there for my first job, my wedding, three houses, my pregnancy with David, my four miscarriages, 15 Christmas holidays, and 15 Birthdays.

And today he is gone.

Yesterday, S. and I took off to go Christmas shopping for the boy. But over the weekend, my dear cat had stopped eating and on Sunday night, he vomited all over the place. He had been hacking since Thanksgiving, and silly me thought he might have a very large hairball.

So we rushed him to the Vet yesterday (yes, the same place we rushed our dear dog not 5 weeks ago) to get some tests done. His weight was down to 10 pounds.... a shadow of his former tough-cat self when he was 17 pounds a year ago.

S. and I decided to let them keep him for the day. We drove 20 minutes to Toys R Us, and I was not even through the front door when they called with the result of the x-ray.

He had cancer. A tumor in his chest protruding into his lung and heart. As I held the phone to my ear, I suddenly felt dizzy and hot. I handed the phone to S.

I cried in the Toys R Us store in the Fisher Price aisle while hubby spoke to them on the phone. We had to put him to sleep.

In a short 24 hours he went from okay to pain. I just couldn't justify bringing him home.

So we drove back to the Vet, and Luke passed on yesterday morning in my arms. My Vet, bless her heart knew we just lost Teddi, and she cried administering the last injection.

The rest of the day we shopped. We went to Target. Bed Bath & Beyond, Sam's........Anything to avoid going home to silence.


I find it hard to accept the loss of Luke, and Teddi all within a month's time. I am angry at the world that I have to explain YET AGAIN to my son that we lost our third pet in a year's time (If you are a long-time reader, you might remember Gilbert died last year after only three weeks with us).

I am disappointed that loss has become commonplace in my family. I am angry that I have tried to keep hope and faith on my mind, and all the while just more bad news is served to us.

When will the heavens decide that our suffering should end?

I was so upset yesterday I went to see my Mom. She is already worried about me, that I know- especially recently. She made a comment that our loss could be purposeful. "To make room for the love yet to come..."

Mom, I hope you are right.


Luke, my constant companion: you will always live in my heart. Take care of Teddi, and Gilbert, and my four babies. I wish you endless naps, and pork fried rice in heaven.

I will miss you Meisty. Rest in Peace.

It's not you, it's me...

I swear I'll be back on Monday for some new and exciting conversation.

I'm still weeping over my PC issue. I decided to rebuild the old one since we really can't afford a newfangled one.

But guess what? Only three BCP's left.

Which means next week the real fun begins.

Retro Shelli

Don't they say sometimes you have to take one step back to take two steps forward?

The last time I was free-wheeling, pregnancy-avoiding Shelli was when I was 33 years old. It was the eve of my 34th birthday when we decided we were ready to start our family. That was almost 7 years ago.

I had been on birth-control pills for nearly 14 years.

Today, I am back on the wagon against my will.

Well, it's not the world's worst tragedy I guess. I was hoping to start my injectables cycle in two weeks, but that will now be extended slightly because I just started a pack of 21-day pills today.

It seems my body is still revolting from the m/c from hell, and I am getting tired of seeing spot every single day for the last three weeks... so my RE thought it might be a good idea to regulate this cycle and get to another (hopefully normal) period in December.

I had an uneventful u/s today, and the good news is there are no abnormalities causing the continued bleeding (no cysts, just ill-behaved ovaries asleep on the job).

I guess it could be worse. It's just the thought of birth control is somewhat ironic (even though I know it's used a heck of a lot during infertility treatment). I just lose a month of trying au naturale.

Please tell me it will be ok and my body will abide so I can get one cycle in before the end of the year? Please?

BTDT IF/SIF buddies, please make me feel that this is a good thing. Because I am really trying to stay positive.

Loss and dog biscuits

As I sit here at my desk on Monday, I am reminded that 'life goes on', in all aspects.

After the events of Last Thursday at work, the remainder of my team are back to business... as if nothing has happened. Well, except we have less people to do more work.

This morning, after I dropped off David at school, I carried on with my morning ritual. That is, until I got home. I was so used to being greeted by Teddi, and when I opened the door from the garage, it was dead silence. Not even my cat was in sight.

How is it possible that I miss this dog? I guess the answer is that old saying 'you don't know what you have until it's gone' applies here. Never in a million years would I have expected to be so sad to see her go.

For me, I think losing Teddi was an extension of the feelings of loss I've had over the last two years. When we sat with Teddi as the doctor put her to sleep, all I could think of was loss. I whispered in her ear to take care of my babies in heaven. And I cried. I knew it was her time, and I was okay with that... I just had my fill of loss I guess.

I had so many plans when the day came that we were dog-free again. I know this sounds kind of cold, but there were some things that grated on me about having Teddi around. For one, she completely destroyed the hardwood floors. She was a shedder. And, it was hard to have strangers in the house with her around (she was always overly protective).

I've always said that I had a short list of things I would complete in short order after Teddi's departure:
1. Refinish the floors
2. Hire a maid to deep clean the house twice a month

Those things are on the radar, I'll admit. But the fact remains that this weekend was the oddest in years without that old girl. S. has taken this quite hard, but he has been good about letting David know that when he's sad and crying, it's because he misses Teddi too. Let me tell you, it is 200% more heartbreaking to see a 40 year old man cry over the loss of his dog.

David understands Teddi is not coming back. We talked to him about it on Friday, and as all kids do, he has proved himself resilient and accepting to the fact his dog is gone. Upon asking him about Teddi, his response is "Teddi is in heaven with her Mommy and Daddy Dog, and she's not sick anymore."

This morning he told me that he had a good dream about Teddi. That she was "eating all the biscuits she wanted in heaven, and she was happy running though the woods."

Children sometimes surprise us with their clarity and strength. If I could bottle that and apply it to myself, well, that would be something wouldn't it?

Sleepwalking

I don't know how I got here.

These words manifest themselves in the oddest of situations.

You know how you drive your car to a destination, and once you get there, you think to yourself... "Gosh, I don't even remember driving here"? That happens to me more often than I like to admit... and I know the reason... My mind is in overdrive thinking about a gazillon things, yet somehow I miraculously still get to where I'm going.

Autopilot.

Imagine if that scenario takes over in other areas. You just do what you have to to get though the day. And then you wake up and realize you've been sleepwalking though life.

I am Shelli, and I am a sleepwalker.

It became evident yesterday when I had that "how did I get here" moment.

I was drying my hair in the bathroom listening to the radio. I put on my makeup. I put on my earrings and ring, and got dressed.

I made lunch for David.

I drove him to school. I dropped him off, hung up his jacket under his cubby and set out his breakfast at the table with his friends.

I drove home, along the way stopping at Dunkin Donuts for my large coffee with just cream please.

I got home and turned on my laptop, dialed in for my 9am meeting with my boss.

And it hit me.

I didn't remember how I got to my chair. Two and a half hours of my morning routine, and I couldn't recall being mentally awake for any of it.

In the middle of my one-on-one with my manager (coincidentally a development meeting about my career)..... I blurted it out.

"I don't know if I can do this job anymore."

Wait, did I really just say that, or did I imagine it up in my head??

Nope, I said it.

My boss is a dear friend of mine. We were friends and co-workers long before she managed my team. She was a bit taken back, rightfully so. But considering what I've been though lately, she was not very surprised at all.

We continued to chat, and normally the chat always helps me set my head back on straight. The message we agreed on, "think through my feelings, reevaluate, work will always wait". But the thought of that..... it wasn't the waiting part that made me feel better.

I couldn't care less what was waiting. In fact, I wished that the work would just disappear.

After I hung up I had the worst pain in my stomach, like my heart took a nose dive to my knees. What am I thinking?? How did I get here?

And, now that I am at this crossroads of sorts, what do I do? I've always loved my work, I defined myself by my strong work ethic. So it seem very odd to say I am questioning that.

Maybe it's the role I'm in, or maybe it's just the personal stress starting to corrode away my energy, and my passion. Whatever it is, I need to figure this out. Tape some options up on a dartboard or something and fire away. I just can't be in this state of mind anymore.

I guess the first thing to do it stop sleepwalking. Because, sleepwalking whether traditional or non-traditional, is most definitely not a good thing.

In fact, it can be downright dangerous.

Cover, and reduce to simmer

I've gone from a full boil to a sizzle this morning regarding yesterday's news. I just can't believe this is really happening this way. The reason I am concerned, is, frankly, I just want to be like every other woman who suffers a miscarriage. I want my numbers to return to zero, get AF, and move on.

I get so tired being in the unlucky 1%. Having more than three m/c's after a "live born", having no answers regarding my infertile state, having a failed D&E, having this hCG saga, it's just too much for a person to take.

"When do you reach your personal breaking point?" I was asked this question by my family physician on Tuesday when I went in for this strep throat illness. She mentioned that having the flu and strep all in a months time has as much to do with stress as the germs lurking in David's pre-K class. Then, we sat for 40 minutes talking about what's been going on with me. She nodded, offered suggestions, and gave me lots of analogies.

And then, she said, "Life is not a sprint, Shelli, its a marathon."
"If you continue in sprint mode, you will almost surely run out of steam, physically and emotionally."

And she's right. I am a micro-manager, an organizer, a perfectionist with a warped sense of order. I can manage the healthcare I receive, but there is so much out of my circle of control (oh man, I'm goin' Dr. Phil on y'all now) that by spinning and spinning WHO KNOWS how that affects my body physically.

And how many times have I blogged about my Dad's cancer, and the irony, and his best friend dying of the same cancer, and the good that was spawned from it?
I wrote the words and didn't listen to the words.

I am so driven to my goal, I am just plowing down everything in my way. A one-track mind, as my Dad would say. Ignoring the important things like... taking care of myself, being with my family ("connecting" with them, not off in space thinking how many days since the m/c), staying in touch with my friends, being PRESENT in my life (crap, now I've gone Oprah on you too).

Well, you get the drift.

So here's the thing. If my beta is still high on Monday, I am not dumb, I already know what's coming. Drugs, like Meth.o.trex.ate likely (there are other drugs, but if I post them here I am sure to get spammed). The concern is microscopic placental cells can go all nuclear and crap and can easily transform into abnormal cells. Abnormal=bad. hCG increasing means they are getting unruly. If it increases more, the chemo effect in the drug will eradicate those sons of biotches.

So let's think happy thoughts. Like lab error from yesterday. Or, my body is just toying with me and the number will be zero on Monday.

A girl can dream. I can be in the 99% right?

Whatever the outcome, hubby and I agreed that we should start thinking of Plan B and Plan C. While I am sure we are still going to try a round or two of injectibles and IVF, we also are warming back up to the idea of adoption that we've been kicking around.

Either way, come February when I turn 40, my time clock won't stop.

No sense sprinting towards it.

It will come, and it will pass, and whatever I will be doing, I can only guarantee that it will be far away from today.

Baby, we were born to run

David has been exercising his freedom lately.

Our neighbor has a little boy 2 years older than David. David is completely enamored with Patrick. Reason is, he's older (6), and he therefore hangs with older kids.

Now let me explain. David acts like an 18 year old in a four year old body. He doesn't want to hang out with the little kids. Little kids bore him. He is an explorer. An independent. I don't know where he got that trait from, certainly not from me or S.

BIG kids can go all the way around the block. They can ride a bike. They can go farther than the 'two house limit'. (David knows he is supposed to stay on the sidewalk, and in a two house radius on either side.) He knows this rule, but as most four year olds do, he challenges the rule every chance he gets.

So last night, he was playing with Patrick while I was watering my flowers. I walk in the house to fill up the watering can. TWO minutes after I told him 'stay where I can see you' he disappears down the street following the big kids, of course.

I walk out to the sidewalk. I look both ways.

He is nowhere in sight.

I see a little girl on a bike (whose name I forgot), and asked her if she saw David and Patrick.

"Yeah, he's with Patrick on the other side of the block".

The other side?????

Immediately I go into search and punish mode. My heart is pounding. I called for S., and we took off around the block (our block is pretty big, we call it a block but it's really like 3-4 blocks in a loop). Along the way we were asking the little/big kids,where David is. Each one responding.... up the street! That way!

How did he get that far so fast?

We circle the entire block, and just as we turn the corner to see our house in sight....we spot David and his two friends sitting on the sidewalk in front of our house. Safe. While we were walking one way, he had already ran around the whole loop and came back the opposite way.

After thanking Patrick for watching David and staying with him, I ask David why he broke the rules. "But I was with the big kids, they were watching me"... and I lecture him about the fact that big kids are not adults, and they don't have responsibility to watch him.

To which he says, "well, Mommy, you can come with me when we play" and his two friends (6 year olds) look at me with that "OMG, she's a MOM!!!! I can't believe you said that!!" look..

S. sends David in the house. He's pissed.

Just as soon as I walked away from the kids I felt bad for embarrassing him in front of his friends. What is the protocol for this? I don't want to look like maniac Mom, but I don't make the rules for fun.

And as S. and I stand in the house we quickly realize that this is just the beginning....

....of letting him go.

We can't keep him under our wings 24/7, nor should we. We are unprepared for the first step beyond our house, daycare, Grandma and Pop Pop's house... the "ultra-supervised environment" we are used to, and I am feeling a bit uneasy.

The world out there is a big place.

I wish he was still little, like this.

When the flowers grew bigger than him and and the world was too big to even think of walking down the driveway.

When the block seemed like a million miles from Mommy.

p.s. I am still enforcing the two house rule punk.

Friday funk, I said FUNK people!

Well, thank goodness this week is drawing to a close. Work was insane this week (I did get through all of those e-mails btw), and now I am winding down my day.

I am also waiting for Nurse T to call me with my hcG blood draw results from this AM. Since it's only been 48 hours since the last one, I'm not holding out much hope that it's a lot lower. I'd love for her to say ZERO! but you and I know that would never be the case in my wildest dreams. I'll settle for anything less than 30.

Husband S. hasn't been able to sit on the patio yet. He managed to develop a sinus infection (again) and he's sick. Which sucks all the way around for me since I become handmaiden for the little guy and my 'big' little guy in the evenings. It's a tough job but somebody has to do it.

And, of course we can't leave out talking about last night's episode of Big Brother. What a letdown! Just give those two the money, why bother with the finale? And the bigger question, WHY did I invest 72 days watching this show? why? why? why? And, who to vote to win? I have to say ED, because he looked like a sad little wet puppy standing on that carrot for 7 hours and losing the first competition. In reality, you KNOW dude was just dying for a cigarette. That is one fierce chain smoker. And if his daughter won, well, I'm not convinced she would even share that money with him.

Lastly, I opened my mail today and read that I was invited to the super-secret-positively-awesome VIP party at the Coach store (25% off and freebies at the store). While normally I yell like a silly schoolgirl when I get my invites twice a year, my heart is not in handbags today. Shudder the thought, but it's true. It's not that I need a handbag, well, ok.... I really don't.... but I never miss it, and today.... well, I am missing it.

So carry on, people, and enjoy your weekend. Think AF thoughts for me, will ya

Update: hcG=23.... well, I guess I'll take what I can get. Next draw will be Wednesday.

A year in a blog

Last August, I started this blog with no purpose other than to vent to myself. I didn't care if anyone read it. It was just a place for me to go and unwind.

I was just another working Mom with an expensive hobby (handbags, remember? - I seemed to have strayed from that lately...lol).

I thought I had nothing to share with the blogosphere. Nothing unique about me. Just another blogger to enter the fray.

In August of 2006, I was just getting back into TTC after my first loss. I was cautious, but hopeful. I was naive. Little did I know the path I was about to walk on. The kind of path that takes you along to experience the ultimate joys and the pits of despair (sometimes even in the same day).

At some point in the last year, my blog went from happy and lighthearted to cold and broken. And back to lighthearted, and then broken. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Also over the last year, people started to read my blog. A few, and then a handful, and then many. I thought, "why do people come here? are they just being nice, or really like my blog?"

And all of a sudden it hit me that anyone could find my blog and I would be exposed. Will they think I am a selfish person? shallow? After all, this started out as a venture to keep ME sane, not worrying about who I might offend in a post, what things I should or should not talk about, or pictures I should or shouldn't post.

And then, a curious thing happened.

I started meeting women like me. Working Moms. Work at Home Moms. Women experiencing Secondary Infertility. Women experiencing Primary Infertility. Humanity. People I just like because they seem like friends I would have outside the Internet.

People like you, my readers. Many of you have blogs I frequent each day. My Google Reader is filled with almost 150 blogs I like to read. Stories I follow. Life moments. Hints from the trenches. Crazy people who make me laugh when I need it most. Plain ole' fun.

The sanity I am looking for has now developed in two unexpected ways:
Me putting my thoughts to the keyboard, and you responding.

And to my surprise, I ended up with a circle of blogging friends that I look forward to interacting with each day. So whether you are a regular reader, an IRL friend, an acquaintance or a mere passerby I thank you for stopping here in my world if even for a moment. Your comments make me realize I am truly connecting in a way I never imagined.

So as I meet the first anniversary of BagMomma I find I'm in the middle of a blogging split personality it seems. Is this still the blog I started? Have I alienated some of my readers now that much of my content is heavily weighted in IF? Should I start another blog just talking about my infertility?

And, the answer that came to mind in short order is.... no.

Here I am.

BagMomma, Shelli, IF Flunkie, whatever.... this blog is me. Right now, expanding into another blog would be like diluting myself. And staying true to my original intentions, you will get the best and worst of BagMomma.

So expect a myriad of topics in the next year. I'll be blogging about work, balancing life with a child, family, and my upcoming IF treatments. I may even get back to talking fashion and bags. And I promise never to lose my sense of humor. Because you already expect that from me.

Here's to another year... of sharing and hope.

~xo~

Fevers and regrets

Who says the flu should keep you from blogging?

I'm actually feeling a bit better today, after last night trying to fight down my 104.5 fever. Suffice to say that I spent most of the night in the shower or under a cold, wet towel.

Note to self: showers hurt like hell when you have a raging fever.

My fever hasn't registered over 101 today (yet). I did a little work this morning, but promptly logged off the work laptop at 11am for the day.

I am just about to crawl into bed. But before I do....

did anyone see "The View" this week? Joan Rivers was guest hosting, and Barbara Walters asked the panel "what is/was your biggest regret in life?"

A pretty heavy question. Of course, Joy made a joke. And Elizabeth begged off the question with some wishy washy Mom answer, "I regret little things in a day, like I should have done this or that... but I am a Mom... so busy..." blah, blah... (I bet her answer really was she wish she didn't have the smackdown with Rosie, but just my opinion). Elizabeth, I am sure you have a deeper regret than showing up late to an appointment. Plueeze.....

Anyhoo, Joan Rivers (who I love, don't laugh) got all serious and said,"I wished I would have had another child."

Barbara, who has a daughter, nodded in agreement, and exclaimed the same regret. That knowing look on their face, I've seen it. I teared up. I don't usually get weepy watching The View.

It stung. All I could think of is fast forwarding 20 or 30 years (when I'm pushing 60-70) and thinking those words may come out of my mouth too.

Followed by ".... I tried, I really, really, tried".

So I asked myself, what is my big regret? And the answer was no surprise.... I waited too long to have children.

Because in my perfect world, I would love to have three. At least, I always visualized that.

And now, having two may end up as a miracle, if the stars and moon align.

What's your biggest regret?