Accidentally, on TV.

Accidentally, during a lovely nibbly dinner (I'll define that later in this post) with my husband, I had a small IF breakdown.

We were watching a lil preseason football (Chargers/Falcons) on CBS, and an ad comes up for their new fall comedy, Accidentally on Purpose. From their website, the premise is this:

ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE is a comedy starring Golden Globe Award winner Jenna Elfman as Billie, a single woman who finds herself "accidentally" pregnant after a one-night stand with a much younger guy, and decides to keep the baby. and the guy. A newspaper film critic, Billie is barely surviving a humiliating breakup with her charming boss, James (Grant Show), who's still trying to resume their relationship. Suddenly expecting a child with her "boy toy," Zack (Jon Foster), Billie and Zack make an arrangement: to live together platonically. Billie's party girl best friend Olivia (Ashley Jensen), and Abby (Lennon Parham), her conventional, younger married sister, eagerly look forward to the new addition and offer their own brands of advice and encouragement. But when Zack and his freeloading friends, including Davis (Nicolas Wright), start to turn her place into a frat house, Billie isn't sure if she's living with a boyfriend, a roommate, or if she just has another child to raise.

*facepalm*

The kicker? That she's 37 and happens to get knocked up. Now, I know I've got age on my side, but still - I can imagine this is harder for others who have age working against them.

I proceeded to stuff 3 asparagus spears into my mouth at once and chew angrily, sadly. Ari placed a reassuring hand on my leg - he knew it hit me hard, out of the blue.

A nibbly dinner is kind of like our version of poor man's tapas -an assortment of cheeses, cornichons, sausage/meat, salad. Tonight we had fresh tomato and asparagus salad with balsamic, asagio fresco and st. albray cheeses, cornichons, and choriso. All fresh, all delish.

As I'm writing this, we're flipping the channels and stopped on NBC to watch a lil Law & Order SVU... and it's the pregnancy pact episode. Olivia was lecturing some knocked up teen. The lil spitfire gets up in the detective's face and is like "What's your deal? Wait too long? Older women are so jealous of me. Tick tock, tick tock!"

C'mon TV, really? I so rarely watch you lately, and this is what you throw at me?

(And of course, now I'm caught up in the episode, so I'm going to watch the rest of it now.)

Thyroid & General IF Updates

Dr. G sent over my latest results, with more thoughts on Ari's SA. While the numbers may be borderline, they're ok for IVF, but he wants to boost Ari's count when we eventually go that route. Most likely will involve a modified diet and some vitamins.

Latest thyroid panel: TSH is down from 5.69 to 2.93. T3 and T4 are still mid-range normal. Dr. G wants to up my Levoxyl to 100 mcg. I've felt a noticeable difference since re-upping my dose. We're almost there, but not yet. I'll be so glad when my levels are where they should be.

As for IVF, donor eggs... That's all up in the air. The finances just aren't in place, our current housing arrangements are less than ideal, and really... are we ready to be parents yet? I seem to think I am, but there are moments where I wonder if I'm just blinded by a biological imperative. Ari has a clear timeline in mind, so it looks like it's going to wait for a couple of years yet. It's frustrating, confusing... I'm hanging in, I suppose. I am seriously doubting the viability of even trying to use birth control to stim my ovary anytime in the future. 2 reasons: 1) disappointment. 2) I'd have to complete readjust my thyroid meds again, and lord knows, I am not about to redo the last 7 months of work.

So, we wait.

Until then: get my thyroid in shape, get me in shape.

And wait.

Life as of late.

Life has been a bit nuts lately. Ari's mom is now in sheloshim, the 30 day mourning period following Nan's death. Ari had a potential job offer in NH fall through b/c his point person was in a horrific car accident. He's negotiating another offer now, but it's not looking good; he's thinking about freelancing now. It's all uncharted waters, and daunting, at best.

At work I've essentially been given a new job without a title change or pay raise (yet... maybe?). My old responsibilities have been stripped for new ones, including the direct supervision of our largest student staff team, the biggest res hall on campus, and oversight of 9 other RDs and the entire residential programming model for our campus. This is an amazing opportunity; I just wish I had been given more than 48 hours notice. In fact, I'm blogging on my phone during some downtime at our RA retreat.

We are looking forward to the High Holidays. We are *stupid* excited for our trip to Japan in October. I have said the Amidah for 8 days running now. Life has been a blur, really.

I have been breathless, trying to keep up.

Baruch dayan emet.

As the stars fell, her light too, was extinguished.

Update on Ari's Grandmother

(Follow up to my most recent post.) Still no progress for Ari's grandmother. She ate yesterday- something she's barely done in 2 weeks- but no progress one way or another. She is still generally unresponsive.

Right now, Ari and I are operating in that mode where we're just waiting for the phone call. It is a conflicted place to be in.

Hospice care is simply astonishing to me. I'm the kind of person who wants to make the world right, to get my hands dirty and wade out into deep waters to make change, to heal, to repair. The idea of hospice care is simply to let nature take its own course. Ari and I have read her living will, and this is in fact, her wishes. These were her wishes made several years ago, in fact, while she was still quite lucid and mobile. We may not intervene- all we can do, legally, is stand by.

For ENFP & INFP personalities such as Ari and me, respectively, this course of (in)action is contrary to our personal beliefs and values.

Yesterday I went shopping for a new dress for the inevitable. I felt so shameful doing it, but as Ari explained, when it comes to Jewish funerals, there just isn't time to go out and get new clothes if you don't have them for the funeral. The deceased must be buried as quickly as possible. I felt so awful, like I'm willing this kind of fate upon her and yet, it was a matter of practicality.

FFS, she's not dead yet.

In the end, I didn't buy anything. I have a dress, and Ari just did a ton of dry-cleaning so I have a cardigan to wear as well. If anything, I just need to pick up a pair of new shoes.

What it comes down to is that I'm not standing here, arms folded, tapping my toe in impatience. I'm here waiting, continuing with life as normally as possible. And I pray. I pray a lot. I don't ask for G-d to be quick in His decision. I simply want her to be comfortable, to be happy, to be at peace.

B/c if there's nothing else I can do, I can do this much.

Eikev.

This week's Torah portion, Eikev. A good chunk of Jewish theology can be found in these quick chapters in Deuteronomy: the V'ahavta, the concept of welcoming strangers. The overarching theme is love, from a very parental aspect.

This weekend was supposed to be my last weekend before the shit hit the fan at work as we gear up for the opening of the University. I have several weeks of training ahead of me- long days, lots of time away from home. I was planning to relax, take things slow, but instead we drove 5.5 hours south to spend time with his family.

Ari's grandmother is dying.

I have never witnessed anything like this in my life before, and nothing can prepare you for the gamut of emotions of watching someone literally just slip away in front of your eyes.

As we left her, she was sleeping. The shallow, rapid breathing- a strange punctuation like an ellipses to an inevitable ending. She is in and out of lucidity. She's in hospice care, and only has oxygen at this point. As we left tonight, Ari's parents believe it's a matter of hours really.

My heart is breaking to have to drive back tonight- I have to be in at 8am tomorrow. Of course, barring the course of events over the next week, I'll be on the first plane back home. But for now, we drive back, b/c there's not much else to be done.

This weekend has been filled with symbols and portents of death: playing poker with 4's all over the place, an absolutely awful car accident I passed where I actually saw a body covered with a sheet, an out of place crow at the mall parking lot, cawing ominously.

...

EDIT: Post resumed at 1:16pm, 8/10/09. I have had 2 hours of sleep to my name, and am on my 3rd cup of coffee. I'm jittery, I'm exhausted, I'm miserable, and I'm trying desperately to give a damn about my work. It is a stretch.

Ari's grandmother is still deteriorating. We were all convinced that last night would be it, but by 10pm, there wasn't progress one way or the other, so we made the call to drive back to Boston from NJ. I have been doing a lot of writing in the last 48 hours- scribbled in margins, in spare notebooks, in various Word files. It has been my sole coping mechanism.

Like my blog description says: writing it all out, one day at a time.

Nan has been a grandmother to me, and there is nothing that can prepare you for literally watching a person die. Aside from the onslaught of confrontations with my own sense of mortality, this is fascinating, sad, taxing, and overwhelming.

Ari and I are officially writing off 2009. Aside from our trip to Japan coming up in October, and our awesome vacay in California in January, I am done with 2009.

B/c I really can't take much more.

Today, I'm making myself a promise.

Today I promise to stop peeing on sticks, b/c in this economy and in a single-income household, I simply cannot afford to buy anymore.

I've had persistent nausea and migraines for the last week. I thought *maybe* - maybe baby.

$13 later, maybe not.

When you haven't had a period in 7.5 months (227 days to be exact, but who's counting?) it kind of makes any odd early pg symptom jump out at you, even when you know you have a busted ovary.

Today at lunch, I P'd OAS. I didn't even set a timer. 20 minutes later my husband reminded me- Hey, did I check it? Oh yeah, duh. The single line of doom. Toss it out like every other one. And every POAS I've ever done in my life- including the handful in college- has always been for the same reason: Oh crap. Am I? Did we?

Previous to my diagnosis, one line meant relief. Now, it's an annoying reminder. A minus sign. Me minus a baby. Me, incomplete in some way. Two lines are an equal sign. Two lines equal completion.

Today, I promise to stop peeing on sticks until we're actively trying, which at this point, is so up in the air right now it makes me want to scream. I need to stop overanalyzing myself and my body. I need to stop thinking that my POF will reverse itself, magically, on a whim. And every time it comes up negative, I just get into one helluva foul mood.

Today, I'm giving up believing in chances, in maybes, in what ifs. It's not a matter of giving up hope; it's a matter of fiscal responsibility. It's a matter of survival.