It’s amazing what you can find at your local Home Depot. I’m just saying.
Jan31
Monthly Archives: January 2010
Jan30
Joey’s Turn
Joey was at a church in the area filming some B-roll for a piece he’s putting together. They arrived a little too early, so after they got all the cameras set up he found himself chatting with two women. One was an associate of his, and the other was the lady they were planning to film.
“So, do you have any kids?” She, the subject of the film, said to him, after the had exchanged the requisite pleasantries.
“No, we don’t,” poor Joey replied. And we hate that question.
“Oh that’s good,” she gushed. ”It’s SO much easier to get through seminary without any kids running around while you’re trying to study.”
“Sure,” Joey said. Whatever you say, lady.
She asked about three different kid-related questions before she came to The Kicker.
“And WHEN are you going to get around to having children?” That’s just a brazen question if you ask me.
Joey had had it up to here at this point; he had been tactfully trying to put off the children questions for the longest time. And, well, she DID ask. ”Actually, we’re infertile,” he said.
“I’m sorry, you’re in Fort Worth?” She asked, eyes wide. (NO LIE. She said that.)
“No.” Joey said slowly. ”We’re IN-FER-TILE.”
“OH!” She gasped. I can just imagine the mental gymnastics she was doing, trying to decide if she had said anything inappropriate. She probably assured themselves she was just fine. (I actually made a few blunders like this a few years ago, and I feel SO bad about them now.)
“Well, that’s OK,” she recovered quickly and said with a flick of her wrist. ”You can always adopt.”
Joey wanted to drop his camera on her foot and march out of there, but he – bless his heart – stayed and continued the conversation. One thing we hate is when people flippantly write off infertility with the “oh, no big deal, just get a child from Child Protective Services or something; Heaven knows there are thousands of them out there” attitude.
And we realize it’s not meant flippantly when it’s offered as a suggestion, but it sure feels that way when someone you don’t know just shoves it in your face like that.
I’m not sure what Joey said to her because, honestly, adoption is something we’ve tossed around. But we’re not there yet. We still want to know what Joey+Jenna looks like. We’re not ready.
A few minutes after the adoption comment, she asked Joey what he was in seminary studying. He told her he was planning to be a youth pastor, and her eyes lit up again. ”WELL! Just think of all those kids you can be parents to! That’s WONDERFUL!”
Again, Joey’s shoulders sunk a little bit. He understood what she was trying to say, but once again it was super inappropriate. It’s just not the same as actually having children, and it feels like you’re cheapening both youth ministry and the desire to have kids by equating the two.
As we were driving home and he was relating this to me, it struck me that this was the first time that Joey’s gotten the grilling. I’ve had it several times because, let’s face it, women default to the “so when are you having children” question in get-to-know-you settings. (Although, no one has asked me if I was in Fort Worth when I told them I’m infertile before. That’s a new low.) But I was sorry he had to face the questions.
It’s not his fault. So I’d just rather all the rude ladies came through me.
Maybe someday it’ll get easier.
The most awkward part, though, in these conversations where we really don’t know the person (and, frankly, taking into consideration in these circumstances that they probably don’t care too much about us) is trying to decide HOW to handle the completely inappropriate things they say regarding infertilty. Like…should I say, “um, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW AWFUL THAT WAS?” to them? Because it would just cause them a great deal of embarrassment.
However, if I don’t say something, they’re more likely to keep saying terrible things to other infertile (did anyone else hear Fort Worth?) women.
Especially if these women are in WOMENS MINISTRY, like the one from yesterday was, and they should really know all kinds of better.
There is definitely no easy answer.
Because the last thing that sounds like a good idea is getting into an awkward situation with someone you barely know over the most painful part of your life. And all because they were just asking normal, fertile-people questions and wouldn’t quit.
BLECH.
Joey doesn’t know either. Because he never could decide what to do with this particular woman. So he held his tongue.
Jan29
Probably the strangest dinner conversation we’ve ever had.
As we were sitting at dinner listening to Oedipus Tex (long story) Joey said, “You know, in Children of Hurin, a brother and a sister got married, but they didn’t know they were related. They found out awhile later, after they were married for awhile.”
“Huh.” I said.
Children of Hurin, for those of you who are perhaps unfamilar, is another novel by J.R.R. Tolkien.
“Then what happened,” I said.
“They killed themselves.”
Gosh, delightful dinner conversation.
There was a contemplative pause while we chewed on our Italian Grilled Cheese sandwiches. And then I said, “First of all, we’re not in much danger of that happening to us. There’s pretty good photographic and genetic evidence that we aren’t, like, siblings or something.”
“True,” Joey replied.
“I mean, I haven’t seen you in any of my baby pictures. And I’m definitely not in any of yours.”
“Definitely not,” Joey munched.
“And secondly, it’s not like we can reproduce without major medical intervention. So I figure we’d be just fine and we wouldn’t have to kill ourselves or anything. Like, should we discover we were related.”
“Also true,” Joey said.
And there you have it, Internet. Nothing to worry about here.
Jan29
“Does your face hurt? ‘Cause…it’s KILLIN’ me.”
I woke up this morning and felt really weird. Like…something was wrong with my face. Now I’ve done my fair share of waking up and feeling weird lately, but this was not the way I normally feel when I feel weird.
So I rolled over and sat up and BAM. Yes. Something was definitely off.
My lip felt all puffy and fat, and HOLY MOSES did my chin and part of my cheek hurt.
“Zhowey?” I mumbled. ”Thersh sumfing wrong wifff mah face.”
I stumbled to the bathroom and flipped on the light. Sure ’nuff, half of my lower lip was swollen like someone had punched me (and throbbing like it) and my jaw and chin were quite tender.
“It doesn’t look so bad,” Joey said, examining me from several sides.”
“It wooks tewible,” I slurred. ”Mah wip is faaaaaaat. And mah face huwwwwts.”
I took a shower and got ready just like normal, gingerly applying my makeup in the car. My skin was loosening up a little bit by this point, so I could talk more clearly (bonus!), but my chin still had a pulse and was throbbing. As soon as the clock hit 8:30, I called my dermatologist. They could squeeze me in about 2:00, and I told them that was just fine. I would come in whenever they told me, just so they would see me!
Finally. Finally it was 2:00. I sat in the lobby with my fat, painful face and flipped through In Style (even though I am totally not in style, but a girl can dream right?) and sighed with relief with the nurse called me back.
I gave them the medical rundown on me and she said “Huh. You did IVF? This might be causing what’s up with your face.”
I concurred.
Finally, the doctor came in.
“OH! It’s YOU!” She squealed. Not even kidding. ”We’ve been wondering all day since you called what was wrong with you. The theories were staph infection, shingles, or cold sore.”
I just looked at her with a rather surprised look, and she sat down in the chair next to me with my chart.
“IVF,” she said. ”Huh.” Then she kept reading. ”Who’s your doctor?”
“Dr. Babyplease,” I told her.
“BABYPLEASE!” She exclaimed. ”She works with BABYMAKER!”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I had fertility trouble too,” She said. ”We were about to go see Dr. Babymaker, but I managed to get pregnant.”
“‘Well, I really like Dr. Babyplease,” I said.
“She’s SO GOOD,” replied my dermatologist.
Such a weird conversation to be having while at the dermatologist due to a fat lip and swollen face. Just weird.
“Well, I’m going to culture that sore,” my dermatologist said, after taking a good look at it. ”It looks like it could be a staph infection, and you’ve seen a lot of doctors lately so it wouldn’t surprise me.”
I didn’t know you could get those from seeing doctors. DULY NOTED. I will not be seeing any more doctors.
Then she asked my IVF schedule, and I told her we were on a break. So she wrote me maaaajor antibiotic prescriptions and shoved them into my hands. ”Take those,” she said.
And she breezed out the door, telling me she would send her assistant in to culture me and – EEEK – give me an injection in my sore. A few moments later, my injector walked in the room. She swabbed me with a fat Q-Tip thingy and told me to sit back and close my eyes.
I eyed the syringe.
Like, I’m all cool with shots in the arm, and shots in the stomach (I KNOW, right? who would have thunk it), but getting a shot in my FACE? By my MOUTH? It was a little weird. I won’t lie.
“Close your eyes,” she said. ”Deep breath in, and then out through your nose.”
I obeyed.
And then….wham.
HOLY COW. It was pretty painful, but the worst part was the needle in my sore. I sat there with my eyes closed, seeing stars. The injection burned, of course, and I was really relieved when it was over. And also kind of dizzy.
In a week, I’ll get my results back from the culture. I’d be willing to be it’s not a staph infection. It’s probably just some hormone gone completely wild on my face. In any case, I’m hoping it feels better tomorrow, once I get all souped up on the antibiotics we have to go pick up tonight while we’re out grocery shopping.
Speaking of, I’d better get working. I’m supposed to be cleaning the house…
Jan28
Pearly Whites
Yesterday afternoon, Joey and I headed up to Addison for our semi-annual dental checkup. I mostly don’t like dentists (but then who does) but since ours has TVs we can watch while getting brushed, flossed and scraped, it’s not so bad.
Unfortunately, Joey and I forgot which floor our dentist was on, so we hit the button for the 3rd floor, 5th and 6th (because I didn’t think it was on the 4th) and each time the elevator doors opened, one of us shot out to look at the hallway and see if it was familar. There was a dude on the elevator with us holding a ladder, and he looked at us like we were total weirdos. Once he got off at the 5th floor and I jumped off and back on (it wasn’t our floor) I said to Joey “That guy thought we were crazy.”
And Joey said, “He heard you say that because the doors hadn’t closed yet.”
Oh well.
Miraculously, we made it to the appointment on time. It was on the 6th floor, and maybe we’ll remember that next time. But don’t count on it. I was first, so I left Joey in the waiting room to read his book and watch a boring advertisement video about Invisalign. Me? I went to go watch Ellen, which was what they were playing in my exam room.
I’d never seen Ellen before. It was OK I guess.
Anyway, it was a fairly painless appointment, primarily due to the schnazzy toothbrush that my parents gave us for Christmas. (Oral B Sonic Complete!) In fact, the hygienist told both Joey and I that our teeth were really boring; nothing was wrong with them at all.
We wound up not having to pay, because the billing lady said “You know, I can never figure out if you owe money or not. One of you has a credit from last time, and plus we raised our rates a little bit anyway. We’ll just send you a bill if you wind up having a balance.”
True story: our insurance usually overpays the dentist. Half the time we make money when we go there, albeit only a dollar or two. We have received checks in the mail from them before; it’s not a bad gig if you can get it.
So we walked out of the office carrying our little bag of toothbrushes, flosses, and toothpastes and stood to wait for the elevator. There was a middle-aged woman standing there, a faded, red cardigan sweater draped around her neck like a gym towel. She had blonde curly hair that looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, and she appeared to be sweating. Then I noticed she was pacing and rocking back and forth, as well as breathing weird and moaning.
All this and she was standing next to an elevator (elevators completely freak me out). The DOWN button was pushed, and I immediately thought HOLY COW, maybe she just got stuck on an elevator and is now trying to get down the rest of the way on one that’s not broken!
So then I began to hyperventilate. Mildly.
I told you I hate elevators.
I really don’t think that’s what was wrong with her, because the longer we stood there to wait, the more the moaning and rocking increased. She began tugging on the cardigan that was around her neck, and I thought GOSH, THESE ELEVATORS MUST BE REALLY DANGEROUS!
Suddenly, she wailed and stumbled off down the hall, in the direction of the bathroom.
That’s when I put the moaning, sweating, rocking, and pacing together with She Probably Had A Stomachache And Was About To Throw Up. Which I’m really glad didn’t happen while she was on the elevator with us, because that would have been disgusting and awkward, and probably wouldn’t have helped with my irrational fear of elevators.
So…that’s the end of the story.
Jan27
Joey is a Gumshoe
A month ago, Joey got a hole in the toe of his favorite Chuck Taylors. A few weeks before, he had shown me that his other pair was also holey. (He IS going to be a pastor, but that’s not the same kind of holy as we’re shooting for in this house.) Joey has two pairs of Chuck Taylors, brown and blue, and he wears them pretty much exclusively. I wonder if his other shoes don’t get their feelings hurt, but I guess he’s right; they’re more either fancypants shoes or athletic shoes. Not so much everyday kind of shoes, and he really can’t wear his other pairs to the office.
Also, Joey’s a guy (woohoo!) so he really doesn’t have a plethora of shoes like I do.
On Thursday of last week, I noticed the hole in the toe of his shoe had grown from just a tiny speck to about an inch long. When he wiggled his feet, you could see SOCK.
“You need new shoes,” I told him.
“No I don’t,” he replied. ”These are still fine, we shouldn’t waste money on shoes for me.”
I tried to explain to him that when both of his shoes are falling apart at the stitches it isn’t a waste, but he lost interest in the conversation somewhere after I said the word “shoe” and wandered off. Too much hanging around with high schoolers or something.
So on Friday I was poking around on Piperlime and discovered a pair of shoes, on sale, that I thought Joey just might like. They were a little edgy, but he had mentioned that when he replaces his Chucks, he doesn’t want two more pairs of Chucks. He wants something new. Something different. I spotted some Simple Gumshoes, which looked comfy and casual, but still not so casual that he couldn’t wear them to dinner or something. (And they looked like the Sanuks he also wants someday, when he decides it’s not a waste of money.)
I ordered the Gumshoes.
They had free shipping and free returns, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt and maybe it would spur him on in the “you really need new shoes Buster” way of thinking.
Yesterday, they arrived.
“Those are COOL!” Joey said when I pulled them out of the box.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought maybe they were a little too edgy or something, but he definitely liked them. And they would have been great, too, if they hadn’t been too small. So I’m shipping them back today. My little plan did work, too, because we ordered the same shoe in a different color (not plaid) two hours later.
He still needs another pair of shoes, but I think he’ll probably get those for his birthday. Poor guy. What a boring birthday present. But that’s what happens when you’re in seminary, and as soon as the new brown pair shows up at the end of the week, the old, brown holey shoes are going in the dumpster.
Oh happy day.
You know, I should get in the shower before I’m late. It’s going to be a bad hair day for me today, I can tell already. Meh.
Jan26
It’s the only kind of ironing I don’t totally hate
About a year ago I announced to Joey that I was ready for a new flat iron, because the one I had was just not cutting it anymore.
“What’s a flat iron,” he asked.
Sigh.
After I explained it to him (it’s that thing that straightens hair, in case you were wondering also) he wasn’t sure it was really that important.
And I was all, BUT MY HAIR LOOKS WEIRD.
Suffice it to say, nothing ever happened and I forgot about wishing for a new flat iron; well, I sort of forgot.
Then, last week, it started pulling my hair. On top of not heating up well and all the other stuff I don’t like about it. I mean, I got it in 2001 for $20, so I’d say it has served me well. But it’s GERIATRIC. And it wasn’t even good quality when I bought it, because I was in college when I suddenly realized that I was doing my hair all wrong and – HELLO! – everyone was using flat irons and I was still using a curling iron!!!
And then I made a speedy trip to Wal-Mart.
Over the weekend, I got tired of my hair getting pulled by the flat iron. ”I HATE THIS THING,” I yelled to Joey.
I had to re-explain what a flat iron was, because it had been a year since we had this conversation, but once we were all on the same page, he acknowledged that we had decided I could replace my flat iron. In January. Of 2009.
Somehow I had forgotten, which is kind of amazing to me. Because I’m usually all over this type of thing. So I got on Folica.com and started researching flat irons. To make matters more complex, I wanted to get a dual-voltage one (because you just never know) and I wanted digital temperature control.
I KNOW, I KNOW, so high maintenance.
But I finally found it, and it was on sale. And then I found a promotional code and got 10% off. LOOK AT IT IN ALL ITS DIGITAL, LASER, TOURMALINE GLORY!
So now I’m just waiting for it to come home to me. I am hoping it solves pretty much all my hair problems. I’m pretty sure it will.
Jan24
Ugggggggh
So last night we went to Gloria’s for dinner with some friends. We had a ridiculously fun time eating chips and salsa, eating yummy Mexican food and LAUGHING OUR HEADS OFF.
Joey and I left early because, um, HELLO didn’t you know that the 2010 US Figure Skating Championships in Spokane were on TV last night? Women’s long program, Internet. And it’s like prelude to the Olympics (which make me cry with excitement just thinking about them.) And since Joey is a rockstar who realizes that I have been literally GLOWING with anticipation for about the last six months, he got our Olympics TV Setup finished yesterday afternoon so I could watch the competition.
As I said, he’s awesome.
Anyway, we got home about 8:00 and flipped on the computer/TV and for the next two hours I happily absorbed figure skating. But…I had started to feel kind of weird. Like, not so good at all. Not so good.
About 10:30 we fell asleep and set the alarm early enough so we could make it to Sunday School.
At 2:30 a.m., I woke up and was suddenly, COMPLETELY awake.
Something was wrooonnnnnng with my innards. I did not feel like getting sick at all, but I was feeling so miserable that that’s all I wanted to do. Whenever I get sick I always wind up waking up in the middle of the night and pacing the house for several hours before It Happens. Joey is way more lucky, he’s able to get It over with so much quicker than me.
So I paced around wrapped in a blanket, dug around in the closet and somehow didn’t wake Joey up, brought Henry into our room, tried to read a book…for so, so long. Something had totally been wrong with my food.
Two hours, a bunch of water and two tablets of Gaviscon later, I decided to cut my losses and try to go back to sleep.
Miraculously, I fell asleep and woke up when the alarm went off, blaring at 8:00. I rolled over and told Joey how awful my night had been, and all he wanted to know was if I threw up all over the place. No, no of course not, I said. I took Gaviscon and that’s like the magical stomach-aid that Pops showed me a couple years ago. That stuff works.
Joey lit a fire under me and told me to hurry up and get ready for church, unless I thought I was going to throw up on him right then and there. But I told him naaaah, I was probably fine and I felt much better.
We did make it to Sunday School, ten minutes later. But we made it. And then we went to church and Joey held my hand and intermittently tried to squish my fingers so hard that my eyes would pop out of my head and I’d kick him in the shin.
It’s so lame, I always try to beat him at something (like Thumb War) but he totally smokes me, EVERY SINGLE TIME. He never even gives me a chance. Sigh.
But it’s OK.
At least I didn’t get sick from whatever it was that I ate for dinner last night that my stomach hated.
Jan21
One Thing I Know
Finally. I think I know what I learned. (At least one thing, anyway. There had really better be more than just one thing.)
Last night, Joey and I got to talking through the past year kind of with the “what if we hadn’t” perspective.
- If we hadn’t put in the work, we could have grown apart easily.
- If we hadn’t been actively looking for each other’s strengths, all we would have seen is weakness.
- If we hadn’t been careful, we could have started to blame each other for what has happened. (And this terrifies me, because I really still do feel like it’s all my fault if I let myself.)
- If we hadn’t gone to church when we didn’t want to, we could have quickly lost our perspective and lost our faith.
- If we hadn’t tried to pray, we may never have started again.
- If we hadn’t looked for things to be thankful for, we could have grown bitter.
Our list really could go on and on, and as I look at what I’ve written…it kind of looks like we’re more awesome than we really are. Truth is, we aren’t. But the what-ifs that come out of a really hard year are enough to scare me. Nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed. We know that now more than we ever did. Rough, awful spots can sneak up on you and hit you with all the force of an 18 wheeler going 60 miles an hour…and then what.
Here’s what I know:
I never want to be unprepared again.
I’ve learned from my last year that I am not who I need to be, that I’m not ready for another year like 2009. I’m not ready for another year where I try and try and try to keep it together and put on a brave face and hope that this HAS to be over soon…right?
The only reason that Joey and I didn’t implode on each other this past year is because of our faith, of Who we believe in. I definitely couldn’t see it then.
But I don’t ever want to be the same.
And now that I can at least see one thing I’ve learned, that I don’t ever want to be the same, I don’t want to settle for status quo in the way I follow Jesus, that I don’t want to settle…I can start to change.
Because I can’t handle another year without it, no matter what happens to me in 2010.
Sing to the LORD all the earth; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among the people – 1 Chronicles 16:23-24
Jan18
Oh yeah – Maybe you were wondering about the Embryology report
So I realized what with the trip to San Antonio and everything, I forgot to post about the Embryology report we got from Dr. Babyplease on Thursday.
The report boils down to this: our embryos looked good, they weren’t forming weird, genetically crazy or anything like that. They weren’t perfect, but she thinks that is due to another problem with me they discovered during the IVF process. (Yep, another problemo.)
I don’t cycle normally (and I could have told them that about $15,000 ago) and they had me on levels of Follistim that were really high based upon what my body “normally” does. And when I say “normally” I mean…it’s kind of a crap shoot to tell what will actually happen month to month.
ANYWAY, Dr. Babyplease said based on what they learned she would really alter the amounts of Follistim she started me on, and, AND, we’d add Menopur about five days sooner.
I was all, MENOPUR Dr. Babyplease? Do you even know what you are saying to me?
And she was like, Yeah yeah yeah I know it burns.
I wanted to find out if she’s actually ever given herself an injection of it just to see what it feels like…or if she’s taking her patient’s word for it.
I asked her what adding Menopur sooner would change, and she told me that it would trick my body into thinking the eggs it was producing were were more natural than the ones I made last time. The theory Dr. Babyplease has on why the IVF failed is that because of all the extra hormones they gave me, the eggs I produced were not very strong. If we can mimic something more natural, she thinks the odds increase a lot more better.
The bad news, though, is that based on the severity of my Endometriosis and this new problemo they found…my chances of “spontaneous pregnancy” (and what exactly does that mean?) are down to about 0%.
Sigh.
But at least the embryos weren’t defective. That’s the rainbow here.
