Wednesday, June 29, 2005

We cool

Still employed? Check.

Grandmother still alive? Check.

Stopped birth control pills? Check.

Ovaries quiet? Check.

Mood returning to normal? Errr...

Two bad things happened today: 1) My wireless network had an invisible but total meltdown when I tried to add a range expander, the addition of which was necessitated by the fact that our TV room/guest room/my office will be housing the in-laws for (*gulp*, *sigh*) two weeks, and I need to move my desk (new, from Ikea, $65 and rather sharp, but the legs must be removed to navigate our slender hallway) to the bedroom. And why, oh, why in the name of Alabama did the wireless manufacturer not document--somewhere, anywhere in the installation guide--that it is not compatible with 128-bit WEP encryption? 2) I was told that my cervix is now "difficult"--after being such a paragon of virtuous behavior--and will have to be stitched aside to ensure that Dr. FYC doesn't have problems during transfer. The stitching will, thank god, be done during retrieval, when I am happily asleep.

Two good things happened today: 1) Jeff made fauxlognese sauce. It is a bolognese without about 90% of the fat, and is a work of culinary genius. Tastes like pure and glorious sin. 2) I am soon to make my first real-life contact with a fellow blogging infertile, the lurvely Cass from Many a Mile. I hope that we will discuss what's wrong with our vaginas in loud, proud voices, drawing a fascinated crowd in the streets of San Francisco. Though, realistically, our audience has likely been desensitized by the just-past Pride weekend.

Off to L.A. for the seventy-fourth time on Friday, back Tues.

Sunday, June 26, 2005


I'm still around, I just haven't found anything worth saying, or the energy with which to say it. In addition to the sense of both overwhelm and impending failure, I've just been feeling a sort of marginal depression. Feeling low. Feeling down.

I think the BCP's are affecting me. My temper has been snapping unreasonably, I can't seem to feel anticipation or satisfaction in anything and I just want to hole up somewhere quiet. I have been doing things--going to work, birdwatching with Jeff--but I can't garner much enthusiasm.

I've been negligent with your blogs, for which I'm sorry, though please know that I've done a lot more reading than commenting lately. Just can't seem to think of any words to string together.

I'll be back to normal one day, won't I?

Friday, June 17, 2005


I am a broken record these days. Nothing to say, ignoring what's on the horizon, trying to focus only on what's to do today, this hour, this minute. And what's to do this day, this hour, this minute is for me to finish proofreading a server installation SOP, send an email to the client, then pack for yet another mind-numbing five-hour drive to Los Angeles, where my grandmother waits in an exhausting limbo.

I have one anecdote to relate, and one anecdote only: Jeff asked me if I'd go with him "to China so we can get a baby." He does, in fact, know it's not as simple as finding a nice ripe girl-child in some Guangdong melon stall and simply walking off with her like a honeydew, but at least the idea has implanted itself quite firmly in his sweet, sweet mind, and not just my own.

If there's anyone still out there reading this boring, boring blog, I offer you another abject apology for my inability to write something interesting for, oh, a month or three. You are a trouper to put up with all of this boringness.

Sunday, June 12, 2005


Do you think that, if I don't try very hard this IVF cycle, I won't be as disappointed when it fails?

Because I'm really not trying. I can't even be bothered to make my next appointment, much less check the med schedule or return the pharmacy's call. It's not that I don't care about the result--I'm pretty damned sure I do--it's just that I seem to be in an apathetic, amnesiac fog where the details are concerned.

Oh, I was supposed to stop birth control pills yesterday? Oops. Forgot.

Wasn't there something about the new pharmacy needing my insurance information before they send me those eight different things? Oh, nevermind. They'll call back eventually.

And what
were those eight different things? Hmmmm. Search me. Guess I'll find out when the package arrives.

Oh, Dr. FYC called again? Bother. Guess I'll have to go in. One of these days. I'll get around to it someday. Whenever.

How could I suddenly be so blase about this potentially life-changing process? Is it a result of displacing my worry from my old eggs to my new job? Or just a self-preservation instinct? Or, maybe, some peculiar manifestation of subconscious self-sabotage?

Monday, June 06, 2005

Gargling the saltwater and driving

Very quick post:

Had to return to L.A. again a few days ago--again--and got back last night. Nam had a small stroke and went into a coma, so we drove down as quick as we could. By the time we got there, she was, very surprisingly to all concerned, conscious. When we left, she was speaking, softly but clearly, and feeling OK. I feel like I've said goodbye to her a dozen times already; the rollercoaster is getting hard to take.

Other than that, just commuting and working, working and commuting. Now catching up after the unexpected absence. At least the next few days will be at home, investigating the lesser-known joys of regulated document management systems.

Haven't been able to read any of your blogs for days on end and am jonesing for some serious communing with the internets. Hope to catch up one of these days very soon.