Friday, September 25, 2015

A long day's journey into madness

So, I was supposed to have my Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) in August, ie the final step in BFU’s glorious carefree life of frozenness. I found a clinic in Chicago to do the 3-day ultrasound, since I was still there at the time, and all went well this time, ie no Fuckheads (aka polyps).

As fate would have it though, my ORM coordinator person Haley left me a detailed message as to what I should do upon returning to Oregon, and oddly enough, that message somehow went to some electronic voicemail box instead of my normal Voicemail app. A box that I’ve never used or accessed or called since I got my phone over 2 years ago. This mean that I had no way of getting back to that message…..and figured well, there must not have been anything critical.

Except there was, ie my need to actually come in for another US to test for ovulation before FET. Oops. This meant that my FET was pushed back to September, but this was okay, because that meant Dr. B. could do my transfer. Whee! It all seemed meant to be. I took it as a sign, clearly.

Wednesday, September 16th

BFU transfer day! I set out for ORM, and while I’m still in Silverton, I stop at the stoplight on Water St. where it intersects with C St. I’m behind one car at the light, a white Mercedes, and when it turned green, he went and then stopped abruptly. I of course thought, what the hell? A full second or two later, a car goes flying through the intersection on C street, down the freaking wrong side of the street. FLYING. Probably going around 60. I honestly have no idea how Mercedes guy even saw him coming - but if he hadn't and he and I had just gone ahead (as one innocently does at green lights), it would have looked like Armageddon on the road, and I'm pretty sure someone would have been killed. Probably me or Mercedes man. Holy. Shit.

When I relay this story to others, they point out that Mercedes guy was probably my guardian angel, and this makes sense to me. Fate is trying to protect me from being splattered across a road, so I’m obviously going to give birth to Jesus or something. Clearly.

Transfer goes well. BFU defrosted successfully! This seems like a great harbinger of success. Well, basically because if he hadn’t defrosted, it would have been game over pretty much right away. I think they just put him in the microwave on the “defrost” setting, and that seemed to work. Or at least that was how I understood it. The embryologist came in to report on this, and she told me that BFU looked “scrappy” and “feisty.” Okay, I might have said that, but I’m sure that’s what she was thinking.

That night

I’m supposed to be on bed rest today. Fine, I can handle one day without canning. Wait, what….bed rest tomorrow too? What fresh hell is this??

Thursday, September 17th

How does one define “rest” anyway? Isn’t it just a state of mind? Does one actually have to be prone to be resting? I say not. Rumor has it that one can actually go for a walk, so I take Kone for his morning walkie, but not to the rezzy. The guilt will haunt me for life.

My friend who had her FET yesterday as well is obviously on the same schedule as me, so we check in frequently. We’ve both decided that we’re not going to test at home (POAS) before we go in for our blood test (beta). Pshaw, what’s the point of possibly getting upset about it all? No thanks.

Later today I look longingly at all the stuff I have to can, but I stay strong. Oh yeah, and I can only have ONE cup of coffee a day, and need to wear warm socks. According to some feng shui shit, warm feet = warm uterus. Warm socks it is. One meager coffee. No booze. No lifting stuff. Sigh. It’s going to be a long week. It’s one thing being intentionally lazy, but enforced laziness is maddening.

Friday September 18th

Today I go to Oktoberfest with Peg since I’m allowed to walk around, and am as virtuous as one can be at such a thing. No bier. Okay okay, I normally don’t drink beer anyway, but still.

Saturday, September 19th

Today is fig-picking day. Not as in “you fig-picking son of a bitch!”, but as in actual picking of figs. But it’s not like I climb a ladder or anything ; I just pick the ones close-ish to the ground. Not that near the river or anything. Nope.

That afternoon

I have some cheap-o POAS tests that I bought at the dollar store at one point, for god only knows what reason. Of course it makes perfect sense to try one, in the afternoon. Of course it’s negative. My stupidity has no bounds.

Sunday, September 20th

I test again, this time in the morning. Negative. But it’s ridiculously early; most people don’t even start testing until 6dp5dt (6 days post 5 day transfer, in IVF lingo), and this is only day 4. Pfft.

That evening, I feel a sharp pain in my lower back/side. A symptom?

No, you dumbass, it's not. That's because you were scrunched on the couch because of Kone. Duh.

Monday, September 21st

More negative. No biggie. I go with
Most Excellent Neighbor Laura to our local Hi-School Pharmacy, and as we walk in, I whack her arm with excitement.

"Hey, nausea! I feel nauseated!"

Laura backs away from me slowly. "Umm, yeah, it's the horrible candle smell they always have in here, it makes everyone sick."

Sigh. I do get a headrush as I'm looking at canning supplies, so clearly that's a symptom. Clearly.

Tuesday, September 22nd

Tonight I go out with some friends for TFT, aka Tiki Fucking Tuesday, at the Creekside Grill. I virtuously have a Shirley Temple, which is actually pretty good, though I look longingly at the slushy tropical drinks the girls are having.  It’ll be worth it though. Of course this has to work, why wouldn’t it?

I'm really tired these days. That has to be a symptom, right? I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Kone is really restless at night, so I'm getting on average 4 hours of sleep. Nothing at all.

Wednesday, September 23rd

How the FUCK can the test be negative? At this point it should be showing something, some faint semblance of a line. Nope, nada. To keep my mind occupied, I go apple picking, but am careful to not lift anything too heavy.

I also go on a fig quest with my fellow figilantes, Liesl and Joseph. Okay, at one point I may have gotten on a ladder and been precariously balanced while reaching for a particularly glorious fig.

Liesl: Tasha! What are you doing?? The unicorn! Think of the unicorn!

Sigh. I get off the ladder and let Joseph do the honors. 

Most Excellent Friend Sarah Z. pops by today with a card and chocolate and a gift, because she's just that awesome and gets the whole "showing up" part. And she too understands the shit mood I'm in, and how devastating and soul-crushing this is.

Thursday, September 24th


NOW I’m pissed off. A negative fucking test? My friend tells me that she got a line yesterday, as well as this morning. My FRER (an early response test) is, on the other hand, so blindlingly white that it’s mocking me. Seriously, the control line is getting starkly dark, and the rest is the definition of stark white. Wtf.


I go to take Kone for his morning walkie, and he decides to yank my arm out of its socket and practically take me down. “Kone!” I yell. “I am NOT IN THE MOOD!” I then feel bad, of course. I am a bad momma. Clearly this is why I’m not pregnant. I start bawling while I’m talking to Laura, and I’m supremely annoyed by her friend, who I’ve met before, and who always looks at me silently with a weird moonlike smile on her face, as if I’m the strangest person she’s ever met. Yeah, lady, well maybe I have a personality, unlike some people. Geez.

Laura a bit later texts me to see if I want a coffee from the stand near us.

Me: Yes! ALL THE COFFEE! Make sure it’s highly caffeinated! The biggest size they have! Because fuck it!

When she brings me my coffee, I look at her with tears in my eyes and tell her I’m going to go get jars, because jars make me happy. Normally Laura would tell me that I’m insane for getting even MORE jars, but today she just looks at me and agrees that yes, this is a good idea. She understands.


I drive to Mulino to pick up some canning jars that I scored on Craigslist. This is unusual for me, because I always miss out on any good deals. In this case, it’s obvious that fate has decided hey, you don’t get a baby, joke’s on you, but we’ll throw you a bone and give you some canning jars. Clearly that’s what’s happening here. Clearly.


I test again using a cheapo test. Again, blindingly white. Rage. I head out to do some errands, and the world is feeling my wrath.

“Why the hell doesn’t anyone in Oregon know how to fucking drive???”
Really, is it necessary for everyone to drive so far below the speed limit? I kid you not. 40 in a 55. 30 in a 50. 50 in a 55. 15 in a 25 or 10 in a 20, because those aren’t already slow enough. I hate people. I’m not asking you to speed or anything, just drive the fucking speed limit.


I go to deliver some apples and insist on toting heavy boxes. Because fuck it. Fuck you, universe, for the nice kick in the teeth. It’s worse this way, to get this far and get my hopes up, and then, nothing. Story of my fucking life.


I stop at the grocery store to get some ginger ale for the fucking cocktail I’m making tonight. And to get Kone a steak, since clearly I won’t be needing to save any money for raising a child. When I get to the checkout, the woman in front of me is writing a CHECK. A freaking check! Who the hell writes checks anymore, unless you’re at Costco and don’t use an American Express card? Seriously, who? WHO DOES THAT??

I realize I’ve become like George Bailey in IAWL, when he realizes that old dumbass wino Uncle Billy has carelessly lost all of George’s hard-earned cash. “Stop it, stop it, can’t you all just STOP IT???”


I’m plotting to burn down or bomb any and all POAS manufacturing facilities. This will be my new mission in life. Those things are evil. I have one left, and I am going to symbolically destroy it. Because fuck that.

Why? Why does nothing ever work for me? Why is life so fucking unfair? Why do shitty crackheads or assholes pump out babies with no problem? Why has fate fucked with me like this?

I can’t stop bawling.

Fuck my life.

Friday, beta day

I am going in wearing flip-flops. I will stop on the way in, and get the biggest fucking coffee Starbucks has to offer. A quintenta or something. If I could put Kahlua in it and not have to drink and drive, I would.


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