The best laid plans

This past weekend was suppose to be our first grand outing since all the crap with Monkey's old work went to hell, his certification studying, him working 50hr weeks and then getting really sick from being overworked. It should have been a short but carefree trip up to Seattle for a dinner at our favorite Indian restaurant and the Daft Punk laser show at the Pacific Science Center. There should have also been plenty of time for "adult activities" and maybe even a little boozing (since I'm not ttc-ing right now.)

Our trip did happen however it involved dragging my sick ass around behind Monkey and Author. I caught Monkey's cold. A sick Bear is often grumpy. I'm afraid wasn't the best company. I also couldn't taste a bit of the wonderful lamb curry and mango lassi I always have. Nor could I focus much on the laser show since I felt like utter crap. There were good moments of the show where I was able to lose myself in the music and the visuals but not many. Even sick it was an awesome show, I just wasn't able to enjoy it. I couldn't taste any of the treats we had ready at the hotel for late night noshing and picking apart the show. I couldn't have any of the wine. Breakfast out, a rare event for us, was no better. By the time we were on the road home I was even sicker than I was when we left.

Today I haven't been up. I moved from bed to the futon downstairs and slept all morning. I think going on the trip might have been the wrong call considering how sick I am now. But we all so needed the outing. If I had stayed home then Monkey and Author would have refused to go so they could take care of me. Even today Author stayed home from work to keep and eye on me.

I know I'll get better soon. Chances are next weekend I'll be fine. I just wish the first trip of our travel season hadn't been marred by my being sick.

And to top it all off...I gained 3lb this week. I didn't exercise much because I was trying to fight off the beginnings of this cold. I didn't realize how important my exercise routines had become in my weight loss. I'm guessing I wouldn't have better results this week since I won't be working out any time soon. ::sigh::whine::grumble::

The hunt

The time has come. Monkey is no longer working 50 hr weeks. He is down to just his full time job. The cold he came down with while stressed to his limits is starting to fade away. His first real weekend in about 3 months starts tomorrow night.

It is time to hunt for a new sperm donor.

Monkey and Author are my sperm wranglers. Well, Monkey is the wrangler and Author helps with separating the good from the bad. We consider this a division of labor. He deals with the sperm and I will deal with..well..the labor ::chuckle:: plus everything else that goes along with the whole pregnancy package. As a result of this deal I'm not involved in the first few screenings of potential donors. When we use frozen we have so little control that we actually don't care who we get as long as they have a history of pregnancies. Known donors are a lot more complicated but there are other advantages. The one time I actually did get pregnant (I miscarried) was with a known donor. I wish we still had access to him. Damn dream job offer in the UAE. Pttht.

Anyway, Monkey is on the lookout again starting this weekend. We aren't counting on finding some one for summer inseminations so I have a back up plan. We have two Clo.mid cycles left with my NP. She will only do them if I go for monitoring and do a trigger shot. I think it is time we took those last couple tries. We'll use frozen and do the IUI at home. (Yay for having a nurse practitioner for a partner!) I'm aiming for the cycle in mid-July. August has too many concerts and out of town things so that will be my rest cycle between medicated cycles. If by some amazing chance we have a donor by then, well, we may just do one anyway but with fresh.

I'm so tired of this. I just wish I knew what the result would be. I wish some one could tell me "Keep trying! You will be a mama bear yet!" Or "It is time to hang up the speculum and move on to accepting that you won't have a baby." I guess since I'm not so tired of ttc to give up then all I can do is keep trying until I get that pregnancy.

Some things don't change

In a previous post I talked about how my new combo of psych meds had made some surprising changes in me. I also listed some basic things about me that haven't changed. This point in my life seems to be all about discovering things that were buried under the fog of sub-clinical (for me) treatment of my depression and anxiety. Even the things that are just truly me, not my illness, are discoveries.

There was one thing that I always wondered if it was just me or if it was my mental illness. I have never been a particularly engaging person. I am curious person and I like to watch people but I'd really rather not interact with them. There are notable exceptions, some situational and some universal. Monkey is a universal exception. I always feel comfortable with him. After a bit of "getting to know you" time with Author (and accepting that I can not read him at all) I found that he is also a universal exception. Past lovers and a couple friends have been situational exceptions. These are people I am temporarily comfortable engaging with. Those ones come and go depending on situation and my mood. Beyond that I'd rather be left to my watching.

Some things don't change. Though my tolerance for crowds and stimulation has improved it seems I'm still the classic non-engaging introvert I've always been. Check that off the list as a truly Bear characteristic. I still like watching people and, now, I can do it for longer and in more varied situations. I would still rather they not talk to me and I have no interest in talking to them. I have no drive to find more friends or spend more time with people I already know. I'm interested in going to more events (queer, leather, Jewish, concerts) but I don't hope for interactions or socialization there. I just want to watch...like I always do.

With everything that is changing for me it is kind of comforting to find the things that are the same. It is nice to know that my identity as an introvert is real and true.

Getting impatient.

After 4 1/2 years of trying to get pregnant I think I'm finally getting impatient.

That isn't entirely true. I haven't really been patient by choice during that time. If we had the resources to get my ass into a fertility clinic I think we would have. If our insurance covered more infertility treatments/IVF or we could have gotten into a study. We could have the resources if we wanted to change our lifestyle and choice in work. Monkey could go work for some private clinic than only takes rich or over-insured people. I could go back to work full or part time to bring in more cash. But we like the way we live and what we do. Some people will pay any price, monetarily or emotionally, for a shot at having a baby. I guess Monkey and I have lower line. Life is too short and too unpredictable for us to make choices that would mean we'd be miserable.

Anyway, back to the main subject. Impatience. I'm ready to give those last two Clo.mid/monitor/trigger/IUI cycles a try. This isn't much of a big deal to a lot of infertility people but for me it is big. This will be the most intense thing I've done. I've done 4 Clo.mid/IUI cycles before but we didn't monitor or trigger. We plan on doing it in July/August.

We keep looking for a known donor. Well, we are kind of on hold until Monkey stops working 50+ hours a week. That should happen in 2 weeks. He'll get back to it again then. The summer cycles will likely be frozen sperm though.

::sigh:: I'm feeling a little hopeless...and very, very impatient.

Who are you?

There is a common argument against psychiatric medication that we are using them to change people's personality. I hear it over and over again "I don't want to pop a pill to change who I am." (In fact, I heard almost exactly that on the latest episode of Glee.) My partner, a Psych Nurse Practitioner, hears this from his patients constantly. I never really understood this argument because I never experienced a huge change in behavior from taking psych meds....until now.

I've always identified more with the dark places. I've always been pessimistic. My music and art of choices tended to be more about the emotional agony that life sometime contains. I've even, without really admitting it, leaned toward the stereotypical dark-colored clothing. I never celebrated these aspects of myself. I knew that a huge part of my affinity to this kind of stuff was my faulty biochemistry. I did accept it though, assuming that nothing could ever change it.

It seems I was wrong. My latest psych drug therapy, along with a good dose of cognitive behavioral therapy, has started to show signs of changing my taste in some things. I've started buying and wearing bright colors. I own a teal hoodie now and a growing collection of bright spring-colored t-shirts. I've also found my usual goth/industrial/angry punk music to be getting less rotation. Instead, I've created a Daft Punk station on my online radio that plays a constant mix of electronic dance music. (My fave has been Daft Punk's Tron Legacy soundtrack.) I enjoy doing yard work. I look forward to sunny days. I smile more. I'm more likely to think things will work out rather than believing every situation will crash and burn. (The one great exception is ttc/infertility. No amount of pills or therapy can lessen the pain of 4 1/2 years of trying to get pregnant and continuing to fail.)

So am I going to be one of those people who say that the pills changed who I am? HELL NO! I've got a bold line between my disease and my identity. I still wear my black t-shirts, choose skull patterns in decor, enjoy a good rain storm and Nine Inch Nails will never leave my iPod, ever. There is room for change and growth in my interests. That room wouldn't exist without the meds and the therapy. My teal hoodie is a trophy of successfully managing my illness. My veggie patch in the yard will be my own kind of victory garden.

This is who I am. This is who I was meant to be if my brain biochemistry hadn't gone haywire. I'm a skull button on a teal hoodie. I'm blue-haired, freckled, kinky, hippie, freak armed with knitting needles and a belief that I can change the world for the better just by being healthy.

(Glee fan side note: I was rather impressed that Glee went on to draw the same line I do between identity and illness. Yay for talking about and properly addressing mental illness without shame.)