sutton016

Perhaps it’s my present homicidal state, but I’ve just purchased more things to kill a mouse than was probably necessary. I don’t just want the mouse to die; I want him to think about what he’s done. I bought four glue traps, three mouse traps and eight packets of poison. I realize this sounds incredibly cruel but A) I have to at least try to get this mouse out of my home before my mother-in-law impending visit and B) Going through the IVF process and not getting pregnant is also cruel… so someone has to pay. Why not Mickey? As I scattered the various forms of rodent destruction around my apartment, I thought about my mother-in-law’s impending seven day visit. Because I’m currently a bitter, hormonal and deeply sardonic person, I thought to myself, “ What kind of trap would you set if you wanted to kill your mother-in-law? A Talbots Gift Card ?” But seriously, I don’t want to kill my mother-in-law. It’s not her or even her visit that’s upsetting me. It’s more the timing of her visit an...

I got the results of my first pregnancy test today and it was negative. So, as it stands now, for the first time ever, I’ve just spent over $15,000 to get my period. Apparently, IVF does NOT mean “I’m Very Fertile”. It may very well mean “I’m Very F*cked.” Although we’re doing a second blood test tomorrow, the odds are slim that it will suddenly come up positive. If only these pregnancy tests were more like a magic 8 ball and you could keep shaking them until you get the outcome you wanted. “Check back later.” “Outlook hazy” “You’re knocked up” I did not have my hopes up, nor was I pessimistic. I was, as they say, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. However, I could tell as soon as I said my name to the nurse when I called today that we were not successful. Her tone gave my results away before she even said a word. I really don’t envy her job. She tells exceptionally hormonal women bad news on a daily basis. When you think about it, it’s amazing she hasn’t been murdered ye...

Today, I drank out of a sterile urine sample cup. Two years ago, this would have shocked me. Today, it’s pretty much on par with how my life is going. Tomorrow, I will get the results of my first round of blood work. As you know, I’ve recently gone through the IVF (I’m Very Fertile) process and remarkably, my two-week wait will soon be coming to a close. Throughout the past few weeks in particular, having a sense of humor has been key. Like drinking out of the urine cup this morning, for over a year, I’ve endured several humiliations and predicaments I did not know were possible. Yes, there have been the standard pills, shots, blood tests, and those fun and fabulous medical procedures but there have also been other things such as having more conversations about sperm then I ever thought possible. The shape, the size, their sense of direction, how many of them there are and how they all look like they are abandoning a drowning ship under a microscope. I’ve also had so many inter-vaginal...

It’s raining in New York today and its Monday. This automatically makes me think of the song, “Rainy Days and Mondays” by The Carpenters… for what should be obvious reasons. I admit it – I’m a fan of The Carpenters even though there’s something I find rather depressing about Karen Carpenter. She just sounds so melancholy. Even when she’s singing something upbeat, you can’t help but think, “Man, you sound bummed. Go eat a burger.” I was sociology minor in college and I remember in one class, we learned that in states where Country Music was prevalent, the rates of suicide were higher. Aside from this being unintentionally funny, I remember wondering to myself what would have happened if Karen Carpenter ever sang country music? It would be a downright blood bath. Now, let’s see if I can put this correctly: Today is the first day of my second week of my two week wait. Wow. That was like an SAT question, wasn’t it? My initial blood test will be Wednesday so hopefully by Thursday; I’ll know...

It should come as no shock to me that if you put a group of hormonally charged women in a room, the fur would fly, but it’s still with grade school excitement that I report to you that I just witnessed a fight on a Baby Chat Board! Is it obvious I’m starved for entertainment right now? Regular readers of my blog know that I’ve been avoiding baby chat boards due to my disdain of acronyms. However, when a friend told me that there was trouble a-brewing in an “Actively Trying” chat room, I had to check it out. It was either that, or sort my socks in alphabetical order for the eighth time this week… blue, polka dot, sport socks, yellow… The “Actively Trying” room is for people who are, well, actively trying to get pregnant. That seems pretty obvious but they still have a little disclaimer on the top of the page clarifying the theme. It states that this board is specifically for women who have been actively trying to get pregnant for quite some time. You really can’t get any clearer than th...

As insane as this may sound, I honestly believe that one of the main things you should do after having an IVF is to NOT to think about it whatsoever. Wondering if you’re pregnant, obsessing over all the possible details, analyzing every physical symptom you have all accomplish nothing other than driving you crazy. And for me, that’s not a very long drive. The goal this week has been to stay relaxed, rest, take care of myself and NOT think about babies, pregnancy or anything along those lines. It's clear to say that the rest of the world did not get my memo however. Yesterday, my big trip was to acupuncture. Luckily, I live right near a subway that practically goes into the lobby of my acupuncture’s building so it was a straight forward and easy ride. I also managed to snag a seat (after lovingly knocking a few people over of course), so it was ideal. A few stops into the ride, an obviously pregnant woman got on the subway and despite New Yorkers having a reputation as assholes, sev...

Today is Day three of both my current two week wait and resting after my IVF. Resting + Waiting = Feeling like I’m in the movie, “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” (although my makeup looks way better than Bette Davis). One of my greatest comforts and distractions in the past few days has been watching “RuPaul’s Drag Race” on the LOGO channel. In particular, RuPaul’s recurring catch phrase, “ Good luck and don’t f*ck it up. ” truly speaks to me. It pretty much says it, doesn’t it? We hope for luck and we strive to do our best. There’s also something to be said for watching the gay channel during this time as, like it or not, there are no commercials for pregnancy tests, diapers or maxi pads. They do however have a lot of commercials for pet and plant care products. I’ve also learn more about “ throwing shade ” and what “ tucking ” than I ever thought possible. It’s all an incredible distraction and I love it. While staying glued to RuPaul’s fabulous dresses and challenges such as “The Sn...

Today was the first day of my two-week wait. Since I just had the transfer of eggs yesterday, it was mostly a bed rest day and I’ve got to tell you, I don’t have much to report other than my ceiling needs a new coat of white paint and daytime television pretty much sucks. For some reason, while I laid there collecting dust, the thing I kept thinking about the most were all the friends and family that have gotten pregnant in the time Sam and I have been trying. I wasn’t thinking about them in a bitter way or even in a competitive way. It was more that I was impressed. There was one point in the past year that I began to think that if I even alluded to a friend that we were thinking of starting a family, that friend in particular would soon get knocked up. This is why I eventually only started telling menopausal women and gay men. One particular case popped into my head today that I have to share with you. Awhile back, I was on the phone with my childhood friend, Julie. At the time, Juli...

As I said in my very first blog entry, I was always told that if you let a penis touch your leg, you’d get pregnant. This is the impression most 5th grade health teachers leave you with. If you were in a two-mile radius of sperm, you’d get knocked up, have no money and the baby daddy would end up working at a gas station. That was the deal. After a little over a year of more unprotected sex than Ron Jeremy, three failed inseminations (including one involving a Starbucks bathroom), ovulation prediction kits, sperm friendly lubricants, Clomid, primrose oil, prayer, and desperation, I was still not pregnant and had thoughts of calling my 5th grade health teacher to tell her that she was full of crap. Fortunately for both of us, she died years ago. Sam & I decided to try IVF. IVF officially stands for In Vitro Fertilization but in my mind, it stands for I’m Very Fertile. Go with me on this... you’re dealing with a hormonal woman and I don’t want to have to hurt you. After thirteen days...

I spent twenty minutes today explaining what IVF is to the Russian woman giving me a bikini wax. I don’t usually have such conversations when getting the “hedges trimmed” but when I took off my pants and hopped up on the table, she noticed the bruising on my stomach and asked me what that was from. It started innocently enough when I told her that I’ve been getting shots. Not satisfied, she asked why I was getting shots. It’s a bold and somewhat personal question but let’s face it – if you’re waxing someone’s cha cha, formalities are a tad out the window. I figured, screw it and admitted the shots were for IVF. Some of my closest friends know nothing about this but tonight, Ivana the wax girl was included in on my secret. "IVF?", she asked as she got her equipment out. "InVitro Fertilization." I thought the longer word would make something click. She still didn’t know what I was talking about. And so it began. I explained to the basics of IVF while she gave me my b...

As of yesterday morning, I still hadn't received my HCG shot from my mail order pharmacy. It seems like every time my doctor calls my them, they come up with something else that needs to be completed before giving me my medicine. It’s like they are holding my HCG shot hostage and won't ship it to me until all their needs are met. Their latest demand was a "State Medical RX Form", three goats and the broom of the wicked witch. I'm seriously considering creating a board game and calling it, " TRY TO GET YOUR PRESCRIPTION FILLED! ". One space could be, " Can’t find your insurance information – Go back to start! " The other could be, " A friend gives you her left over progesterone tablets – Move ahead four! " And if you make it through the game without killing any customer service representatives, you win! Yaaaay! What I also don’t get is the HCG injection needs to be given in a timely manner. Don't they get that the maturation of my ...

Between eating egg white omelets almost every morning (they are low in fat and no cholesterol), Easter eggs and the hormone shots I’m taking to produce more eggs, I’m on egg overload. I’m also premenstrual. If I were Justin Timberlake, I’d be bringing crabby back. This morning, at our favorite diner, our chipper waitress asked me how I wanted my eggs. Sunnyside up? Scrambled? It took all the strength not to answer with "Fertilized and implanted, thank you." Even the mere existence of Cadbury Crème Eggs pissed me off today. I found them patronizing. Also, in some weird irony, we got a voice mail around 5:15pm from a woman named Erin. She said, " Hey, I’m sorry but I think we left our diaper bag over there when we were at your daughter’s birthday party. If you could give me a call and let me know for sure, that would be great. And we had a great time and your daughter is adorable!" After rolling my eyes, I decided I’d better call her back and tell her she had the wro...

I believe it was around the time I turned 15 that I noticed I developed some extra fat in my lower abdomen. It's almost like a pouch that I can’t store anything in. Even when I was only 105 pounds, I had this little extra something at the bottom of my stomach. Sit ups, diets, exercises... nothing seemed to get rid of it. Over time, I started referring to it as "my bagel". I really and truly have always hated the bagel. It makes finding a right sized pair of pants almost impossible. My hips and waist are one size, but the bagel is entirely another. And don't get me started on bathing suits! I also have to be very careful with dresses and baby doll tops as I could easily look pregnant (amazing that I can look pregnant but I can't seem to get pregnant just yet). Tonight, was my first Gonal-F shot. Something about getting an injection in my stomach upsets me. I’m not sure if I can explain why but I’ll give it a shot (Give it a shot!! Get it????) WHY GETTING SHOTS IN M...