Monthly Archives: November 2004

The Fertility Gauntlet

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I have other stories, like all about the middle school dance I ran last night, and how it made me realize that my kids really freakin’ LIKE me, or spending the afternoon at the SIL’s house for a niece birthday party, and the akwardness of it all, or about the 403(b) guy that came to my room and showed me the basics of his laptop (because he figured the lil lady wouldn’t know such technical terms as "thingie that lets you know something is happening ‘behind the scenes’) and also said "Single, I assume?" when we got to marital status, but instead I will tell you about my day spent running the fertility gauntlet.  I’ve no idea if it’s a sign or not, but it’s a story, anyway. So.

I had to go to the mall to get a present for my niece. This is Good Niece, who is going to college (gasp!) and doesn’t have a baby and is nice and kind and sweet and LOOOVEES us and thinks I’m a "cool aunt."  Because my inlaws idea of giving a gift is to give someone a completely irrationally purchased giftcard (ex: Bath and Body Works for the known eczema sufferer, WalMart for the avowed WalMart hater/Target lover, Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse for the couple that doesn’t eat red meat) I protest silently by purchasing actual gifts. I know. It’s crazy!  I actually like to THINK about what I’m buying and whether or not it relates to the receiver in any way at all.  Since I was already committed to going to the mall, I also decided to use my Lane Bryant coupons (seriously, their CoolMax bras are my absolute favorite) and pick up some vitamins.  I parked and headed to LB first.

My coupon was $25 off a purchse of $75, so I tried to get as close to $75 as possible.  I found a shirt that sounds much worse that it is —  black crewneck with rhinestone trim — and I grabbed one of their long-sleeved tees that are the staple of my wardrobe.  I also spent some time looking for pants: I could’ve bought one pair that fit just perfectly, or a pair that was a little loose.  I decided to buy up, because what if I am?  And as i was trying them on, I heard the voice of a girl I’d worked with outside of the changing room.

I worked with her at Borders, years ago, when she was TTC.  She’s a DES daughter, which she told me about way back when but only recently made sense to me.  Even though I was fully dressed, I waited in the change room to listen to her.  From the conversation, I gathered that she was in the adoption process and also taking fertility drugs. She had a little girl of about 5 with her, but I couldn’t figure out if that’s who she was adopting.  I remember hearing about her fertility issues years ago, though, at least seven years ago she was talking about it as we worked in the cafe.  And still, no baby. (The kid with her is a recent addition, I last saw this woman in the spring and knew there were no changes.)

I paid for my things (and got a $25 off $50 purchase coupon; LB knows how to get and keep customers) and headed off to GNC, where I needed more vitamins.  I went in, grabbed the pink and purple bottle of prenatals and put it on the counter.

"These for you?" the clerk asked.

"Uhh, yeah."

"Sooo, are you . . . ."

"Oh, no. Not yet. Well, I don’t know, I’m just . . ."

"Being prepared?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Well, good luck to you!"

When I left, I wanted to cry. Something about that — about buying my second bottle of prenatals and still not being pregnant.  Having someone (other than me, heh) for a minute think that I must be, it was just odd and weird and sad.  I went to B Dalton and picked out the gift: a leather bound, refillable, traveler’s journal and a neato red pen. (Screw gift cards!)

When I got to their house for the party, I arrived at the same time as Other Niece and her baby, Damian, and her mom and stepdad. We all walked in together, and then Nephew, his pregnant girlfriend Angie and her daughter showed up. It was all baby baby baby, since Angie is 36 weeks and Damian is almost 6 months.

I stayed away, so frustrated that they seemingly have no problem getting knocked up, and here I am in my 5th cycle, there’s jodi in her at least 7th year, Persephone, 2 years, EmmaNadine and that whole array of tragedy, but, the baby kept staring at me.  It was unnerving.  I actually left the room to get away from it.

Here’s the thing. I was afraid to hold him.  I’ve held plenty of babies before, but I was afraid to show emotion of any kind by holding him. It wasn’t like holding my friend’s kids, it was different.  I felt on display, almost, and if I held him, maybe they’d see through me and see that I wanted one so much it hurt, and that it pissed me off that it seems everyone who does it ‘wrong’ gets one, and those of us that try to do it right, aren’t getting them.

Here I was, in this room of people and babies that were born to unwed mothers, or fed with foodstamps, or calling someone ‘Daddy’ that wasn’t a biodad because biodad had disappeared. Seriously, everyone.  Hell, even Good Niece is the reason her parents got married; they had been together for years, but only eloped after  finding out Good Niece was on the way.  Same thing with nephew, Other Niece’s parents were never married.  She’s not married, and has a kid, her brother and Angie aren’t married and expecting one next month.  Her daughter calls him "daddy," because the original just didn’t care enough to stick around.  My own husband was in a similar situation as a kid, only no one ever showed up to fill in.

I know plenty of people in nontraditional situations.  I know and love people who have kids that aren’t married, and it’s not just the married part, it’s the whole thing.  Other Niece and Angie are supported by the state, which is part of the reason that Nephew hasn’t married her: then they’d lose their state housing that she gets and have to live off his (very good, probably better than mine) income as a city truck driver/PW employee.  I’m the only one with a four year degree in the room, you know?  And no baby.

Anyway.  Good Niece loved her gift, and I found out that she isn’t going to Italy after all.  (She smashed up her car last month, and couldn’t afford Italy AND the work needed for her car and new insurance premiums)  She likes to write, anyway, and she loved it and honestly? I was glad she had something to unwrap.  Ours was the only GIft, but she did receive some Powerball tickets, and Giftcards to Borders, Bath and Body works, and the mall-in-general.

So, yeah. I have a week to go, and I don’t know how to interpret any of these ‘signs,’ but it was weird and emotional and I wish I could get a baby as easy as everyone else in Dave’s family has.  Maybe college transcripts have some sort of ink that causes a fertility slowdown? Maybe.

You Know What It Is

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Amazon knows me too well.  First under my "Recommended Reading" was this book:

"A psychological term, "magical thinking" describes the belief that one exerts more influence over events than one actually does."

Also in Signs, a PS in one of my kids reading journals was this"

"PS, When can I name your unborn baby????" 

And,at lunch I overheard the school nurse talking to one of our pregnant staffers about "getting tested" and asking "who else is pregnant or trying, do you know? because they should get tested, too."  Melanie, one of two colleagues that know was sitting right across from me, non-verbally and subtlely as possible communicating that I needed to talk to the nurse.

Luckily, I am stuffed up, so I finished my meal and left under the premise of needing to blow my nose.  I was able to corner the nurse very quickly and get the scoop. In doing so, I’ve now come out to a gossipy type (in her defense, though, she doesn’t tend to talk about other’s medical issues, just everything else about them) and remind her that this was NOT public knowledge.  The scoop is that there is an outbreak of Fifth Disease at school, that can cause problems in pregnancy.  Basically, she told me to wait until I knew if I was or not, and if I was, I’d have to have a blood draw to test for immunity. No big deal, really.  And I was discreet and quick enough that no one saw the conversation. WHew.

In other news, the trunk of my car is filled with 200 dollars worth of sugar for the dance my NJHS kids are sponsoring tomorrow. MMmmmm.  I hope I feel better by then!

The Amazing Race!

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I already hate the power couple from L.A., if only for their annoying decision to jog in place as Phil gave out instructions. From then on, it was down. hill. UGH.

How sad that I am more invested in TAR in the first FIVE MINUTES than I am in Survivor at all? Survivor blows this season. I’m so over you, Survivor. Don’t call anymore, TAR and I are exclusive now.

Golden Horseshoe, Again

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Several years ago, now, Amy and I and some other people had gone out drinking back home, over the river in Canada.  It was one of those nights out where you see lots of people from the past, and when we got home, her brother told us the story of Ash’s brother’s girlfriend, whom we had met as we drank pints in the basement irish pub, in front of the fireplace.

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Well, then.

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The Bad News:  MIL has a spot on her lung, as big as a half dollar (or bigger) that was not there when she last had chest x-rays, which was fairly recently. (MIL gets chest x-rays like I take HPTs.)  She has more testing tomorrow, but it "don’t look good."

The Good News:  MIL has a new tenant in her senior housing complex.  The tenant is a transgendered "Felicia."  It is the talk of the apartment building.  I wonder if she does puzzles, or if she’ll be part of the 1st floor Anti-Puzzle Lounge Mafia.  The ‘worst part’ is that Felicia goes to all of the bingo and coffee clubs and Meals on Wheels, and insists on being referred to in the feminine.  Personally, I think Felicia sounds pretty badass for rocking on with her bad self in the Old Lady Dorm.

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“Did you just call her ‘Mom?”

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Seriously.

One of my 8th graders walked up to me this afternoon and said "I thought of a name for your daughter: Stephanie. That would be really pretty with S******."

I blinked a few times. "Uh, what?"

"Your daughter that you’re going to have? Stephanie should be her name."

Last year, a bunch of my 7th grade girls (now 8th graders) had this thing about making lists of baby names for me as part of their "Procreate Now!" campaign they were running.  I had pretty much forgotten about it, except for some of the really ‘Um, No" names.  But obviously, this kid didn’t. (Incidentally, she picked the worst name, which was "Shay."  This was after knowing the guidelines that the middle name would probably be Faye, and that any babies will have my surname.  Shay Faye is only one phoneme away from my last name, so if you said it all together, well, it sucked on many levels. Of course, Shay is also the first syllable of her name, and she probably wanted to be a namesake. OMDB, as I tell my kids.)

I laughed, maybe too heartily, and was all "AHAHAHAHHAAA, Yes that is a good one!"

A few minutes later, back on social studies, the same kid was trying to find information on Baron von Montesquieue.  I pointed at the last name and said "yes! that’s what I’ll name her, ‘Montesquiue. No! MonteSQUIRELLY!"

"Omigod Mrs S, that’s awful, you can’t name your baby after a SQUIRREL!"

"Why not, it’s a nice French name, like Stephanie."

"Stephanie is NOT French, it’s beautiful."

I turned away and another kid said "ummmmm, can I  something something" and the girl who wants to name my baby said "OH MY GOD!
DId you just call her MOM?! Because we were JUST TALKING ABOUT BABY NAMES. OH my god!"

Like I need a 14 year old to fan the flames. ARGH.

Also in class:  "Mrs S! If you were a booger, I’d pick you first."

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Adventures in Retirement

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My mom retired from a 35 year career of teaching second-graders two years ago.  Since then, she has been working with my dad, spending more time at the mountain or with friends, and basically, enjoying retirement.  She came up for our housewarming a few weeks ago, and she brought the new studio car, a Toyota Sienna.

She loves this minivan.  She gave Dave and I a tour, pointing out the folding seats, and taking great pride in showing us every. single. compartment.

"And here! I can put my sunglasses or Junior Mints right in here.  And maps fit here, and this one folds down and even comes out!"

Oh, Mom.

See, my mom taught little kids for so long, that sometimes, she acts like one.  She was a great teacher; children loved her.  It’s one of the reasons I can’t wait to have children, because I know that my mother will be an amazing grandmother.  She’s ready, too.  She’s retired, she has the time, and she would just love to have a grandchild at this point in her life.  She is unfailingly happy, even when she’s pissed.  At her retirement party, people kept saying over and over that they would miss her laugh the most.  She is always laughing. Always.  (In the picture I posted a few days ago, I can GUARANTEE that she was smiling as hard as she could behind the mask, not even considering that she was wearing A MASK.)

As she was showing us the rear folding seats of the Sienna, she pointed at a large cardboard box.  "Did I tell you about my new Miracle Chopper? I bought it from tv. Heee!"

I rolled my eyes in my stock "are-you-fucking-kidding-me" manner. 

"Actually, I got two for the price of one, but I’m going to send the other one to your sister for her housewarming."

This was not the last we were to hear of the Miracle Chopper.  True to Mom-Form, it is not even the Miracle Chopper, but in fact, the Ultimate Chopper.  Mom-Form dictates that she will almost always get the product name wrong when describing it.

"It makes ice cream! And you put in regular sugar, push the button, and you have confectionery sugar!"

"But, Mom, do you really need to make your own confectionery sugar? Is it a hardship that you’ve never been able to?"

"On tv, they put in a chunk of granite? And made sand."

By the time I dried my tears from the laughing fit, the conversation was over. Okay, whatever mom, your Miracle/Ultimate Chopper is like the Rock Tumbler I never got when I was a kid.

Tonight, though, my mom called to talk.  She asked the usual things: How is Dave, how was the Incredibles, why do we eat so late, and did I tell you about Cindy’s vertigo and her anti-nausea suppositories? And the time she peed herself?  She finished, though, with a story about her Miracle/Ultimate Chopper.

"Oh! I used the Miracle Chopper and made my own ice cream!!"

"Oh, really? How’d it turn out?"

"Well, I was making apple pie.  And you know what they say, ‘Apple pie without the cheese is like a kiss without the squeeze!’  I love apples and cheese.  Have you ever tried that? Apples and cheese?"

"Mom, I grew up in your house, of course I’ve tried apples and cheese. And apples and honey. And apples baked in the oven with brown sugar and cinnamon. Yes, apples and cheese…"

"So, I put in the cream and the sugar, like the instructions said, and then it said ‘Add your own ingredients for new flavors!‘  And since I was making apple pie, I figured I could just make the a la mode and the cheese one thing!  So, I added a whole bunch of cheddar cheese."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"It tasted pretty good before I froze it, and I was all ready to send off the idea to Ben & Jerry! I was going to name it ‘The Squeeze,’ you know how they have all those funny names."

"Oh, Jesus, Mom . . . ."

"But, when I served it with the apple pie, it was rock hard. And I didn’t tell your father about my new flavor because I wanted it to be a surprise."

"And?"

"And he took one bite and gagged.  I tried it, and it was . . . . . well, it wasn’t good."

"Really mom? Cheese Ice Cream isn’t tasty? Are you SURE?"

"I think something happens when you freeze it.  But I was ready to sell it to Ben & Jerry! I still think it might work. Maybe they can figure out the secret."

Do you SEE why my mother needs grandchildren? She’s making CHEESE ICE CREAM.  Clearly, she needs a new hobby.

(In the 2WW, btw, prepare for your monthly deluge of paranoia, self doubt, hope, and rambling.)