Just when you thought nothing could surprise you…

I’ve been debating posting what I have on my mind. I’ve really thought long and hard about it (yes, I’ll get to it but there is a back story so indulge, please and thank you). I’ve had a pretty horrible few years months. I’ve not told anyone about all of the things bothering me. In fact, I’ve kept almost everything to myself for so long that I’ve become used to it. This blog is about as close as I get to spilling my guts about what is really bothering me and most of you have no idea who I am (er, I suppose).

Let me backtrack…

I went to visit my husband’s family for three weeks in June. It was the first real holiday I’ve had in three years and I REALLY needed it.   This has been a challenging year for many reasons not just waiting for the doctor to approve my chosen surrogate.   I was hoping to relax, recharge and hopefully come back to the great news that Dr. Schoolcraft had approved my surrogate after the “difficult cases” meeting and that our journey could begin. I was rather sure AND as my husband said after reading the pleading letter to the good doctor “there is no way he won’t be moved by that” or something of that nature.  I had pretty much secured the loan from our credit union for most of the costs, I was set. The IS (intended surrogate) was getting a little tired of waiting and I didn’t blame her. But knew that it would crush me and ruin my one chance to rest after a hard few years.  I didn’t think three weeks would make much of a difference and knew that a calmer me would make me able to deal with whatever the decision was with a clearer head.    So I went to the UK blissfully unaware that meetings had been had in Colorado and fates had been sealed. Who knows, they hadn’t called me back despite a few phone calls and emails so I assume that is what was going on. I certainly was not going to have  another hundred or so dollars to talk to him again (plus the 8 dollar phone call charge – love that touch).   I try not to think of the money we’ve spent so far and the phone calls….which have been about 2 minutes long.  What is the hourly rate for that?  A million dollars an hour?

I digress.

So I went to the UK and had a fantastically craptastic time thanks to some work drama.  The highlight was going to Paris for the night, eating a chocolate ice cream cone and working off the calories (and almost dying of heart failure) trying to keep up with my 5 year old ball of energy who literally ran up the Eiffel tower to the first level.  Let me say that the Eiffel Tower is a big deal at my school.  We talk about it a lot.  We draw pictures of the steeple at our school (we reside in a church) and the kids love imagining it with all the lights on it at night.  I have little replicas that they love to hold.  My son was a ROCKSTAR at school for going up the Eiffel Tower so it was worth it….even if I cried all the way down and back on the Eurostar….imagining horrible things that never happened, arguing with my husband over almost everything and nothing and missing my friend who died last year.  You know, the one person you have in your life that you can call and talk to for a few hours and you both walk away from the call having unloaded and feeling like you connected with another person who gets it?  He was that person for me.  I know I’m all  over the place but I just needed him at that moment and well, now….and I don’t have him or anything like him anymore.    Enough with the pity party.  I’ll be fine, I just get sad sometimes and talk to the air imagining he is here and listening (minus his incredibly catty stories about people we know from high school and who is now gay and who is divorcing and….you know, a little harmless gossip with an old friend).   He was gay, for the record and when he died we hadn’t talked because I was so busy, I didn’t return his few calls.  Not because I didn’t care, I was too busy working to save my family.  Another blog post… another regret.

God help me I will get to the point.

So I get back to the US and solve a few of my pending problems, get the news from CCRM, digest it. tell the surrogate via FB (because I could not speak I was so upset)…  A few weeks go by and I’m thinking about how perhaps I could try one transfer with me and then move the other embryo to a clinic (my husband’s wishes) and transfer to her.

Then Aurora happens and I immediately look to see if she is OK (on FB – she lives in that vicinity) and she is gone.  Poof.  She blocked me.  She erased me from her life.  My husband was very relieved that we didn’t proceed further with someone who clearly didn’t see us as anything more than dollar signs…I took it a bit harder..  I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.  The idea of someone carrying a child for me wasn’t easy.  I had pangs and yearnings and questions but I made peace with it because of her.  I also felt a connection to her and knew she would care for my children (if they do turn into children but with a normal CGH embryo made a few years ago, you have a good chance in the right womb).

The person that I almost let carry my children blocked me on facebook.  Just.Like.THAT.

If that isn’t a kick in the pants, I don’t know what is.  All I can say is I hope she isn’t following me.  Fool me once and I get the picture.  I’ve now learned that life is not only about choices but also how you react to the choices of others.

I just keep on thinking…what if she had my children living inside of her and blocked me.  What if, what if, what if.

Maybe I have a guardian angel.  I don’t know.

Let me leave you with the good news – my period is back again.  Heavy too.  I think I am going to build a lining, folks.  I think I’m going to do this myself.  Soon.  44 and pregnant.  Think I’d get a reality TV show?  Good LORD, my friends from high school are having grandchildren now.

Enough counting chickens.

The End of Post 125

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Vivelle Dots.

What the f? Sorry. I’m just stumped. These are not dots. They are sheets of plastic with adhesive and estrogen. What is with the dots thing?

I have one on me. Assuming it is making its way into my bloodstream to get my pathetic lining to grow.

Yep, I nagged good old Dr. S to let me do a mock lining check locally. New doc (who I LOVE) will do a hysteroscopy and I don’t care if I spelled that wrong. It is late and I am so cranky. I digress, so we are going to check out the uterus, make sure there are no more traces of ashermans and that my ovaries look OK and that the lining is developing and then I am putting these embryos back in. I’m in the middle of a secret adventure and I want to share but I can’t – suffice it to say that it is really stressful. Combine that with the fact that my husband’s job fired him. FIRED! He is a Managing Director and they made things up. They actually fired him for poor performance when this guy brought in 12 million dollars last year. But they don’t really know what we have here. The kind of trouble they are about to get in for lying is just amazing. I wish I could elaborate but I can’t. Normally I would like to just walk away from this but not when they essentially prevent my husband from working in the industry he has worked in for 20 years. So, there will be justice. And it is going to be painful for them. The law was broken and we have some proof. Oh do I wish I could just write it all out! But suffice it to say that when I am involved, I make sure that we cross every T and dot every i because I saw this coming.

So my little adventure has to keep us alive.

I’m scared but I know, I truly know that we will succeed.

One day at a time.

Get me through the transfer, let there be another baby and who cares about the rest. The world will open up and we will be happy again. It has been so long. Wow, I’m excited thinking about happy and us in the same sentence.

I do love my family so very much….now I just want to give my son his sibling. It is time.

Husband in the dog house

I never did elaborate on that post, did I?

Well – after 7 years of nagging, crying, begging, ignoring, pleading with my husband he is quitting smoking. In August he quit and promised me that would be the end. He started when he was 14 years old so I have every right to worry that he will be impacted at some point by this nasty habit. So, imagine my delight when he decided to quit on August 30th….and imagine my dismay to discover at the end of September that he had started smoking again…all the while denying that he had had a relapse. I caught him red handed and there was big trouble. After another two weeks of begging, crying and pleading he decided to start chantix. It is going very well and I have a feeling this drug is going to be able to finally break this horrible addiction…and to further encourage my dear sweet husband to keep his resolve, I offer 1,000 US dollars from his bank account if you can provide me with a picture or any other evidence that shows he has started smoking again. How about that, husband?