I haven’t been able to sleep for pretty much as long as I can remember. I have been on Ambien for oh…about… eight years, at least. My dose is now only a quarter of what it was, but I still need it. Some nights, it doesn’t work very well, but if I don’t take it, I will lay in bed until the sun comes up.

I finally decided to seek the help of a sleep specialist. I just can’t see myself needing to take this drug, which is not approved for long term use, for the rest of my life. I was prepared for a whole smattering of sleep studies and tests. But, then, I suppose one needs to sleep to actually have a sleep study done. She told me, in simple terms, I somehow reset my internal clock to think I should be awake at night. Now, it needs to be reset.

The fix? Instead of going to bed when I think I *should* and laying there for hours getting frustrated (and keeping myself awake longer), I should go to bed when my body thinks I should. Which is 3AM. Then I get up at 10AM. No naps. After a week and a half, I am to stop the Ambien. The hope is I will be “trained” to think it’s normal and fall asleep unmedicated. Once that happens, we’ll slowly start pushing the time back to get a normal sleep routine.

Will it work? I don’t know. But, in the meantime, I can blog to fill my night time hours. Early morning hours?

PS- I have already taken my Ambien. No, I’m not proofreading this. If it makes no sense, you know why.

The Squatch and I had a conversation prompted by my parents putting their dog to sleep. We discussed never getting another dog once Misty passes. Especially never a puppy to tear things up and pee on the floor. We like to travel and it is hard to do with pets. That’s when the world laughed at me.

Not many days after our conversation, my Mom called. She works at a vet’s office and one of the women there runs a dog rescue. Do you see where this is going? She rescued a 10 year old American Eskimo, and since we have an 11 year old American Eskimo “don’t we want another one?”. Yes, yes we do.

As soon as we walked in to get our new dog, Polar, he looked up at us, walked over turned around and sat right on the floor in the midst of us. It was as if he was saying “this is my family now. I’m going with them”. He took to the kids right away, like a big gentle teddy bear. Misty and Polar became buddies immediately. It took a few days for him to adjust to the cats, (and he still likes to chase them on occasion), but he just meshed.

Four weeks after bringing him home (Christmas Eve), Misty started acting funny and she vomited. We thought it was something she ate and just kept an eye on her. We also had company that week and figured all the new smells and people she didn’t know were freaking her out. As soon as our company left, we took her to the vet for bloodwork. She was in kidney failure. We were hoping to maintain it with fluids and medication, but she didn’t seem to be getting any better. My mom decided to test her for Lyme Disease on the off chance she had it. Sadly, that test was positive. We added antibiotics to her daily regimen of medication and fluids, but she couldn’t keep them down. As she got sicker, her blood pressure spiked and she lost her vision. She was a fighter through all of it. She never even let us know she was a little sick until that night on Christmas Eve.

That was almost a month ago, and sadly, today, we made the decision to say goodbye to our Misty. She took a turn for the worse yesterday and we just didn’t feel her quality of life was worth living anymore. She couldn’t walk or even go outside. It was too much for her to even hold her head up for a drink.

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But, I feel like a huge weight was lifted.

Now, I know why Polar is here. He needed to be here, so Misty could go. She has been our protector for 11 great years and she didn’t want to leave until she knew we were in good hands. Or paws as the case may be. Once she knew that, she allowed herself to succumb to her illness. I know it all may sound crazy, but I truly believe Polar was “meant to be” our dog. He came when we needed him most.

We’ll never forget you Misty.

I went to the website and checked it out. Here are some of the claims. (I added what is in parentheses)
~Aimed at children 6 and up (Preying on children 6 and up)
~Safety is ensured by filtered chats and well-trained chat moderators who supervise Panfu chats at all times (or never, whichever we decide)
~Chat suitable for children (that we want to corrupt)
~Children-chat has strict rules (or none at all, again, whichever we decide)

Being that the website made these claims, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary during her free trial (some of which I played myself), I signed her up for a membership. Big. Mistake. Apparently there are no moderators on the chat. I have screenshots of some very perverse things that were said while my 7 year old (who can read!!!) was playing.

I immediately contacted the owners of the website, sent them the screenshots and told them I would be canceling Thing 1′s subscription. I also told them I expected my money back (which I am sure I will never see)

So now, I am trying to put the word out there as best I can for anyone with children to NOT ALLOW your kids on this site. I know my blog is in a very remote corner of the internet and has virtually no readers, but if you do stumble upon this…please pass it along.

Sure, I knew, logically that it wasn’t a guarantee. I went into it cautiously optimisitic. Or I thought I was being cautious. Clearly not enough. I had the mindset of it worked for me six years ago, why not now? Simply put, it’s been six years. My eggs are not in the same condition they were in when I was in my twenties. Toss in the variable of this being a frozen cycle, and well, the odds drop again.

I’ll be honest, I was fairly certain that I was pregnant. I was afraid to admit it out loud, but I was sure. I had several symptoms, that could also be attributed to the progesterone injections, but I wanted to believe that it was pregnancy. So I did. It was a mistake.

I went for my bloodwork at 9:30 AM. I was told to expect a call between 1 and 3. I was also assured that they call “in no particular order”, so if I am getting a call closer to 3, it doesn’t mean it is bad news. As it got closer and closer to 3, I started freaking out more and more. I checked the clock every minute. Passing the time trying to put together Thing 2′s Transformer that now sits in pieces on my kitchen table. The phone didn’t ring until 2:58. TWO freaking FIFTY EIGHT!!!!! And I knew. Regardless of the fact that they call in no particular order, I just knew.

If I didn’t know from that, I would have know from the tone in her voice. The fake pleasantries as she asked how I was doing. Does she really need to ask me that? Just tell me the results and be done with it. The words “I’m sorry, the test was negative” hit me like a hammer in the chest. I didn’t hear much else of what she said. Some lame excuse as to why they called so late, blahblahblah. I just wanted to hang up.

Then I sat. I didn’t cry. I just sat. And stared. I replayed that call in my head 100 times, trying to see if maybe I heard her wrong. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe she dialed the wrong number. Maybe she was going to call back and say it was a mistake. That was my shock and denial phase. It lasted all of three minutes. Then I cried. I called my parents and hid in my room. And cried. Knowing full well that I needed to pull my self together to leave for a Christmas party in 30 minutes. I blocked out all emotion. Threw on some makeup to cover up my red blotchiness, loaded everyone in the car and put on a brave face.

After the torture of a family Christmas party, on a day that I wasn’t the only one in the family to receive bad news, we dropped the kids off with their father. I came home and focused as hard as I could on computer games and anything to occupy my mind. As soon as I climbed into bed and realized I didn’t need to ice myself for my injection the tears came. Like waves. Again and again tearing down the wall I so carefully built all day long. Then I slept. Hard. When I woke up, my eyes were swollen and buggy and generally awful. But, I was out of tears. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I stayed in my PJs and played Xbox all day long. Then I ate Chinese food, watched Inception and decided to move on.

I still make that decision several times a day. The decision to not dwell on this. To know that I still have to embies on ice and I can try again. I feel little cracks in the wall, but I can plug them up. And I do. And I move on. And if it never works, I still have this….

I was met in the hall by Mr B. I had no idea who he was. Mrs. L (the teacher) informed me that he would like to “sit in on Thing 1′s conference”. My brain immediately went to the bad. I assumed it was the principal and he wanted to talk about her behavior, or her school bus probation, or something of the sort. I was zipped back to my school days and the whole “what did I do?” mentality. My fears were quickly dissolved when he introduced himself as the music teacher. He informed me he likes to sit in on conferences of the students that seem to really enjoy music and show a great potential for it. Whew. We talked about the guitar she is getting for Christmas, and that she will be starting School of Rock in January. He said if she learned a song, and wanted to, he would have the school hold a special assembly for her to play on stage. Wow! She would eat that up. Such a Diva.

Then we moved onto the educational stuff. Mrs L went on and on about how she talks about Thing 1 all the time. She told me she has a wonderful foundation for learning. She always knows every new book, new song, and new country they talk about. Before they even learn about it in class. This girl retains everything she ever hears. Even if she only hears it once. I know I had to be beaming with pride the whole time.

The class is split into five different reading levels. She is in the highest, with only two other kids. That’s a third grade level, folks. She is in first grade. The beginning of first grade! You have no idea how happy that makes me. Providing the kids with their own libraries (thank you Scholastic!) has certainly paid off. Her stories are incredible, full of detail, and always make sense. She is learning to expand on the sentences she writes, and I can already see a huge difference in the stories she wrote in the beginning of the year, as opposed to now.

Moving on from school stuff (even though there was a ton more said at the conference). We loaded the bikes up into the car and went to the park today. It was freezing but Thing 1 and Thing 2 needed to get out. Up until now, Thing 1 has been terrified of trying her bike on her own. Today, we got out there, and when I let go, instead of freaking out, she laughed. Hysterically laughed. As she zoomed around. And around. And around. Naturally, the laughter ended when she fell, but that led us into our next lesson of using the brakes. She picked that up and was skidding around in no time. The final lesson of the day was for her to launch herself instead of myself or The Squatch running with her and letting go. I thought that one would take more time, but boy was I wrong!

OK, so this post totally sounds like I am bragging about my daughter, but I’m really not. I’m just so stinkin’ proud! And maybe I’m bragging a wee bit. What can I say? She’s awesome!

Well, of the 30 eggs retrieved, 17 of them were mature enough to perform ICSI. Of the 17, five fertilized. We had to call off the Wednesday transfer, because on Tuesday there was fluid in my abdomen, my ovaries were large, estrogen was high and it put me at a high risk for OHSS (ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome). Dr F told me to come back in Thursday morning and we would decide what to do from there based on my ultrasound and bloodwork.

I knew before I got there we wouldn’t be transferring on Friday either. I was still extremely bloated, but at least my ribs didn’t feel like they were cracking anymore. Dr F confirmed my suspicions. Still some fluid in my abdomen, and my ovaries were even bigger(estrogen also doubled). He was also concerned that because my ovaries are so large that are higher than they should be and I am at risk for ovarian torsion, which would require surgery. Umm..no thanks.

OH! Ice cream is here..I will finish this later!

It’s now Saturday (I started this on Friday). Four of our embryos made it to blastocyst stage and got frozen. It’s odd to think our future baby could be potentially sitting in a freezer somewhere.

As for me, I still feel crappy. Still very bloated and having a nagging pain in the right side of my back. Hoping this goes away soon and I can return to my former self for at least a small amount of time before starting over next month.

I woke up the next morning at 4:10, then 5:10, then 6:10, at which point I just stayed awake. We were to be at the center at 7AM to get my anesthesia, so the procedure could start at precisely 7:30. I was taken right back to change into my gown. The Squatch wasn’t allowed to come back with me, even while I just sat in the chair…waiting, feeling my pulse get faster and faster, and my blood pressure rise.The nurse got me a magazine to help bring my anxiety down. I looked at the articles, but didn’t read a single thing. Then the anesthesiologist came in and asked a million questions. He talked and joked about his dog, which momentarily eased my anxiety. Until he started telling me what was going to take place and that the anesthesia might burn and so on and so forth.

Then the tears started. I didn’t actually cry, but my eyes were watering something fierce. While he started my IV, the nurse had me close my eyes and breathe, while she monitored my pulse. Once it went down, they took my back to OR. Cue fast pulse again. I got on the table and started freaking out. I didn’t actually say anything, but I suppose they could tell by my heart rate yet again. The anesthesiologist assured me it would be over before I know it, and put me on oxygen. Then I heard “we’re going to get your anesthesia started, don’t worry, it will take the edge off”. Instantly I felt a burning in my throat and my face. I meant to ask if that was normal, but I don’t think the words ever came out of my mouth. Next thing I knew I was back out in the recovery room, waiting for The Squatch.

Dr F came by to tell me they retrieved 30 eggs. He also mentioned that my estrogen was higher than any number he has ever seen. Which meant that my ovaries were super large and it would be too dangerous to transfer embryos back in. He will be monitoring me closely this week to see if they drop enough. If not, we will have to freeze the embryos and wait until they do.

As far as recovery, I mostly felt a lot of cramping, bloating, and heaviness in my abdomen yesterday. Today, I’m still slightly crampy and when I take a deep breath it hurts my rib cage. I have no idea why or if that’s normal, but I will ask when the doctor calls. But, for now, I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well due to the pain, so off to bed I go. Well, after I eat lunch!

Sometime during the first weeks of school, I noticed Thing 1 brought her snack back home instead of eating it. I also noticed it was the days I sent her treats that she likes. I sent her a little baggie of those chocolate mint grasshopper cookies. We rarely buy them, because only the kids eat cookies, and Thing 2 doesn’t like mint. I thought she would have inhaled them the moment she laid eyes on them. When I asked her why she brought them back home, imagine my shock when she said “the teacher told me I’m not allowed to have them because they aren’t healthy”. OK, so why didn’t you drink your juice box? “Not allowed to have that either” (Plain water only). Say what?

Now, I know for a fact that if the kids buy lunch, they are allowed to choose an extra snack from the cafeteria (that I pay for!!!), to bring to the classroom for snack later. They have a wide assortment of things from fruit to veggies to yogurt to pudding, and even chips! But, this teacher, she only lets them choose fruit or a veggie. In my opinion, it should be up to the parent what their child eats. Especially since we pay for it. Now, again, don’t get me wrong, I am all for my kids eating healthy. But, Thing 1, she usually will choose fruit over chips or cookies. On the occasion that she should want something else? I think she should be allowed to have it.

What makes the list of healthy snacks? Fruit. Veggies. The teacher will bend the rules for pretzels and cheese sticks. That’s not a whole lot of options, especially now that fruit is starting to be out of season.

Here’s the latest occurrence that prompted me to write this post. At the beginning of the year, a paper went home asking what each parent was willing to volunteer for. I volunteered to be room parent. But, one of the choices was to be a baker for the Halloween party. I imagine there are some parents that would be all over that. Some people just love to bake creative little treats. Not me. I burn them. Anyhow, I got an e-mail from one of the other room parents about the party. The teacher wants healthy treats only. No baked goods. A pretzel tray and a fruit tray. She is asking the “bakers” to donate individual oatmeal packs, tea bags and granola bars for the kids to make breakfast bags for seniors. While I think that is a fantastic idea, and would make for a great activity for the kids to do, even at their party, I also think they should be allowed a treat. I know for darn sure if I was one of those parents that loved to bake, I would be really disappointed if I signed up to do so, and what I got instead was a request to donate oatmeal.

So, what are your opinions?

I’ve been looking forward to today since April when we had our failed attempt at an IUI cycle. We chose mid September to start IVF for timing and financial reasons. It was a long, long summer waiting for this day. If you know me, I am not the most patient person in the world. And several months of nervous excitement can drive a person like me bonkers.

I woke up this morning practically bouncing, and let me tell you that is quite a feat since it was 7:30AM and I usually don’t see daylight until around 10AM. I chugged down a metric butt ton of water (and a Peppermint java chip frappacino), in an attempt to have a full bladder for my mock transfer. The doctor pronounced it “not full enough” as I wiggled around needing to use the bathroom. He was able to do the procedure anyhow. Naturally the *insert medical term here*, or you could call it a thing like I did got stuck and couldn’t get into my cervix. No worries, we’ll grab a thicker one. Huh. That doesn’t work either. Hey nurse, go get me *insert medical term here*. Do you know what that is? No? OK, go ask the other nurse, she’ll get it. This is all so typical of how an appointment of mine should go. Fortunately that instrument worked, only causing a minor pinch and done. The doctor got his measurements and told me he wasn’t sure if the hysteroscopy would work due to too much bleeding.

Oh, I didn’t mention I started spotting over the weekend? I apologize. I did, but only light spotting. I was told it wasn’t a problem as long as it didn’t turn into full flow which it didn’t. Did I also mention that I do not have a cycle? Haven’t since April and only because it was brought on by Provera. I digress.

I was allowed to empty my “not full”, but ohsofull bladder and move into the hysteroscopy room. For some reason I was extremely nervous. My heart was racing and I kept waiting for the “mild to moderate” cramping that I was supposed to feel. It never came. In fact, in about 30 seconds the doctor said “I’m done, you can sit up. All looks clear. When do you want to start?” Uhh..yesterday? He chuckled and said “and what day of your cycle is this?” To which I explained, yet again, that I don’t really get a cycle, that this was an unusual occurrence. “And how long are your cycles?” I don’t really get a cycle this is an unusual occurrence. OH. “So we should do bloodwork to see when you ovulate, then” I don’t ovulate, hence the IVF. Do you not have my chart? Have we not been through this?

He left the room and came back only to tell me that since I started my *insert expletives here* cycle, I would need to wait two weeks, then come back for bloodwork and an ultrasound to then start a Provera/Lupron overlap cycle to bring on my period that way, since this is not a “typical cycle”.

I scheduled my two week appointment and left the office feeling defeated. Once again, my body took matters into it’s own hands and laughed in my face. What are the odds that I don’t have a cycle, ever, unless brought on by Provera or birth control, and I am going to get it now? The week I am supposed to start my medications. In fact, I was supposed to start them today. It makes no sense.

I know, I’m whining about two weeks. It’s really not the two weeks that I am whining about. It’s more the fact that I feel betrayed by my own body, yet again. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

Infertility. She’s a bitch.

I’m excited and nervous all at once. Mostly, I’m nervous about the IM shots of Progesterone in oil. They hurt like nobody’s business.