Thoughts on the psychology of cleaning

So, if I'm adding correctly, I've been living in my new apartment for three weeks. I've kept things somewhat tidy, but not exactly clean.

When I was pregnant, I thought I would hire a cleaning service as a sort of indulgence, a pampering that would: keep me away from harmful chemicals, treat myself, and keep me from over exertion (I tend to vacuum like a fiend). I've been watching the size of the dust bunnies growing in the corners, and checking out a few services on the internet.

When I found out today that I had miscarried, I came home, ate a little snack, and immediately got to work scrubbing floors.

Now, I was not hands-and-knees bucket in hand, but I was sweeping, mopping...

As I watched the wood floor go from dull to shiny, I started wondering about myself and my almost neurotic desire for clean floors. I mean, the tables can be stacked high with paper and mess, and I don't care, but when I see dirty floors, I'm grossed out.

The only thing I can think of now, is that it is a clean slate...a baseline cleanliness that it is somehow akin to the beginning of a semester...the fresh bouquet of newly sharpened pencils...fresh start.

So, my little apartment smells clean. My slate is clean. I am wondering what will come next.

Miscarriage

So for the second time in three months, I've miscarried. I am trying to tell myself that at least I got pregnant -- which is new (I'm one of the two or three woman I know that didn't get pregnant in high school or college--on purpose or not). But, with working in Alabama, and the fact that our insurance only pays for one IVF attempt (it is a dollar cap, not a particular idea that one should only try once), and the $15,000 per-try price tag, I'm not exactly sure where we will go from here.

For now -- no where. Maybe, if our jobs hold out, we'll take a long expensive vacation. We may or may not try another round this summer. I can't really see how we will make that decision. But at some point, I guess we will.

Sorry for the false hope guys.

Not So Fast

Never count your chickens...

Oh the wisdom of the proverbial eggs.

The second blood test was bad news. Not completely, but bad enough.

Will test again tomorrow to confirm a miscarriage or to begin hoping again.

Oh the roller coaster that is my life.

Officially Knocked Up

During one of my Christmas shopping mall nightmares, I went into Spencer's because, you know, it reminds me of being 13. They have an interesting T-shirt collection, and I have to admit I had to keep myself from buying quite a few of them as fun gifts for friends.

They also had maternity t-shirts. My favorite said, "I'm not fat, I'm knocked up."

Doc said today, that officially, I am knocked up.

Ohhhhh, yeaaaahh. I'll be going back to Spencer's to pick up my "in your face" maternity wear:

Still waiting

Well, I had hoped that the doctor would call over the weekend -- HA. Take a test on Friday, and no one cares about you for two whole days. So, I should find out the results of the "official" blood test tomorrow. If my body isn't lying to me, I'm still pregnant.

Constant nausea, and a lot of tiredness and irritability. What? You say that is normal for me? HA. You have no idea.

Just wanted to say, I didn't forget to blog; I'm just waiting for that phone call.

Oh, and I did my first headstand today (with an instructor assisting me, of course). It wasn't as hard as it looks. But of course, she had my ankles in her hands. That helps.

Yes, Virginia, there is...

a baby.

When Phoenix jumped out of bed at 5:00 this morning and asked me to break his fast, my rationale must have been a little weakened.

So before I dug his drumstick from the refrigerator, I peed on the stick (see yesterday's post for more on that struggle).

Now, you have to understand, I have to take another one tomorrow. But this one said:



So, for the very first time in my entire 39 years of life, the little test said yes. Even when we had the "chemical pregnancy," the at home test did not show pregnancy. So this is it, I thought. This is what that feels like.

And what that feels like is:
Excitement
Hopeful that I can hang on to the little critter for at least 30 more weeks
Scared that I can't hang on to the little critter for at least 30 more weeks
Nauseous
Scared to death
Panicked to buy diapers and a crib
Sure that 9 months is PLENTY of time to read everything ever written on babies
Wishing my husband lived in the same house
Hoping that it is just one little critter
Frantic to find the perfect names
Counting months on my fingers
Panicked that I'll never be able to read everything that should be read in time
Hoping like hell that the stick still says PREGNANT tomorrow.

That's only the beginning.

So much more to come.

Okay, okay...I'll try it

So, I've been "reluctant" (at best) to write here about the infertility journey that I read from so many other bloggers. I enjoy reading theirs, so really there is only one explanation for my silence: my husband.

Yes, we can always blame them, can't we?

C didn't tell his family what we were doing. When asked why I took a semester off from work, he didn't tell them that we were trying to adopt a child or that, when that failed, we started trying fertility treatments. He claims he didn't want anyone asking for updates. I stayed out of it. Agreed that we just missed each other and wanted to live together again (enough to sell a house at an incredible loss and give up a job that I loved).

Not that I didn't miss him. I did.

But now the truth is out there. One has to explain in more detail when they return to that job six months later and rent an apartment.

It's too late to go back now and rehash the whole process. Most of my readers heard it from my mouth anyway. But, here I am, day 10 post embryo transfer, and all I want to do is go pee on the stick.

But, you see, if I did it, the results would be unreliable. Even if it said YES (BFP -- Big Fat Positive), it could mean NO (BFN -- Big Fat Negative). Or vice versa. So, my Beta (blood test to check for HCG hormones in my blood) is Friday. Doctor says I could do a reliable pee test that day. That seems to be 48 hours away.

I went to CVS and bought a three pack last night.



They are in the cabinet.

Rational thinking says leave them be.

Passion says try it...WTF.

Blogging postponed making a decision.

I'll keep you updated.