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Jun 30

flakes (and one final beta)

Jun 30

I have a bit of a rant before I get to beta news. Bear with me.

The last word that anyone would use to describe me is the word “flaky.” I’m far from perfect, but I take pride in my dependability and reliability (yes, I am most certainly a Taurus). If you invite me to something and I say I’ll be there, you better damn well expect to see my face on the scheduled date and time. That’s how I roll. I’m the antithesis of flaky. I’m the human embodiment of Head ‘n’ Shoulders shampoo. I have no tolerance for flakes.

boowhoreI realize that this is not a typical quality, especially in this day and age. Everyone is all, “Yeah, TOTALLY, that sounds like a good idea, we should DEFINITELY meet for lunch on Thursday!” Then Thursday rolls around and the inevitable text pops up, “OMG so sorry, my cat threw up and I can’t make it.” It drives me insane. I know I made an entire list of pet peeves, but by far, flakiness is my number one. Just do what you say you’re going to do, or don’t say you’re going to doing it. It’s that simple.

In case you’re wondering where this rant is coming from, let me tell you about Friday night. I’m part of a book club and have been for about a year now. Call me nerdy, but whatever, I’ve always loved reading and talking about the things I read, so a book club makes perfect sense. We have a fabulous group of girls and have a grand time whenever we get together. But life is busy, and inevitably someone or something gets in the way of scheduling. It’s kind of a running joke – each time we set a date for book club, it gets changed at least four times before we actually meet. But then it ends up being worth it because we have so much fun.

One of our members moved about an hour and a half away, so we thought it would be neat to do book club at her new apartment. It would be a road trip! It would be an adventure! We were all so excited at the prospect. Plus, we were reading The Great Gatsby, so how can you go wrong? We set a date. People couldn’t come. The date was changed. People couldn’t come. It changed again. And so on, and so on, for about two months until we finally decided it would be this past Friday night. I was going to drive everyone because clearly I could not drink. And then…well, you see where this is going. I ended up driving that hour and half all by myself. But you know what? I went anyway.

The girls who didn’t come have become some of my best friends and I can tell you with absolute certainty that they aren’t flaky people. I love them and love spending time with them, plus they are sweet and genuine and caring. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be friends with them. And both of their reasons for bailing were understandable (no cats vomiting). These friends are not flaky, they just flaked this one time. (And if we’re being totally honest, I will admit to flaking myself for one specific type of event – parties that try to sell me something. Jewelry parties, Pampered Chef parties, Please Buy This Awesome Yet Unjustifiably Expensive Stuff parties. In my defense, I usually RSVP maybe, so it’s not really flaking).

But still, I think the incident speaks to a larger societal problem, especially with my generation. There’s just no dependability anymore. As my aunt pointed out, she’s constantly bombarded with reminders for events and it drives her crazy. She said, “Obviously if I say I’m going to be there, then I’m going to be there. Stop reminding me.” But I pointed out that she’s the exception, not the rule. Most people assume that when you say you’re definitely attending, you’re really a maybe. And maybes often turn into sorry… I have indigestion. I’ll take a rain check.

We ended up having a really good time at book club, despite historically low attendance. There were three of us (me, the host and another friend and book club member who lives close by). The host is a girl who I used to work with who is 24, and is living right outside Manhattan with two roommates. If you ever want to feel ancient… hang out with 24-year-olds. The roommates were very nice, of course, and when they quickly deduced that I wasn’t drinking wine because I was pregnant, there was a lot of shrieking and congratulating. One of the roommates is “like, so totally obsessed with pregnancy and having kids one day,” so she immediately started asking me a bunch of questions. She asked if it was my first and I only paused for a fraction of a second before answering yes. I never really thought about how to answer that question, and in that moment bringing up miscarriage seemed like such a buzz kill. Plus, she was making me feel so delightfully normal. Next, she asked how long I had been married and I answered three years. She nodded emphatically, saying, “Oh yes, that’s perfect then. So you had some time with your husband and now you’re having kids.”

I had to hold back laughter at that one. As if these past three years have just been devoted to “building our relationship” before we started our family. As if I haven’t been consumed with the idea of getting pregnant since day one. As if I haven’t spent every single minute of our marriage worrying about having a baby. As if this baby wasn’t created in a lab somewhere and stored in a freezer. As if we just woke up one morning, decided it was time and magically conceived a baby. Oh, to be 24 and ridiculously optimistic again.

In other news, I had my fourth and final beta yesterday – 14,483. So, still pregnant for now! I’m symptom-free besides some sporadic shooting boob pain and a bout of nausea from waiting too long to eat. My first ultrasound will be on July 8th in NYC (the same day Eric starts his new job, so of course he can’t come) then I just have to make it through two more until I graduate from New Hope. Hopefully for forever. Still holding your breath, everyone? I’ll need it right around weeks eight and nine. Thanks.

Posted by amanda 18 Comments
Filed Under: IVF Tagged: beta #4, book club, dependability, flakes

Mar 27

“I take as much care as ever”

Mar 27

Every Monday I have to fill out a survey as part of my clinical trial experience at New Hope. I’ve memorized the questions by now and can zip through it pretty quickly, but it’s still annoying sometimes. The questions are all based on physical and emotional health, and I guess it’s supposed to follow your progression of elation/depression as you go through each stage of the process. There are gems such as:

Do you ever feel so blue that nothing can cheer you up? (um, no)
Do you feel anxious and stressed? (HAHAHAHA always)
Are you in control of your problems? (I like to pretend that I am)
Are you still able to enjoy music and television shows as much as before (…yes?)

The one that really gets me lately is the “Do you take care in your appearance?” One of the responses is, “I take as much care as ever” which inevitably leads to me humming “same as it ever was… same as it ever was” and having Talking Heads stuck in my head for a few hours.

As much as I bitch about my weight gain, I’m not vain. I’m relatively grounded when it comes to appearance. I wear minimal makeup, I never color my hair and most of my wardrobe comes from a clearance rack. However. I’ve been feeling impossibly frumpy as of late. I’m super bloated and it’s just not attractive. Everyone warned me that the first trimester is incredibly unglamorous. Mostly you’re nauseated, exhausted, bloated, grouchy and not even cute looking pregnant. When we were TTC I yearned for this; now I’m just feeling so blah and then feeling guilty for not embracing every nuance of being pregnant. I mean, part of it is the whole “not feeling pregnant” thing. Then a part of it is how I get dressed every morning, check myself out in the mirror, give myself a B- or C+ and go to work. But somehow over the course of the day I deteriorate and I’m not sure how it’s happening. By the time I leave my hair is frightful (either limp and dead or up in a ponytail), my pants have crumbs/dribbles, my shirt clings oh-so-unattractively to my stomach fat, my T-zone is oily and I feel like a total slob. I just don’t understand. It’s not like I’m trying to impress people at work, but I don’t want to be regarded as the “hot mess” of the office either. I’m just getting sick of looking like shit for no apparent reason. OK, I promise this is the last time I mention it because any ladies who are currently TTC are probably like, “Shut up bitch, at least you’re pregnant,” which is exactly what I would be saying to me three months ago.

In other news, I’m still sans-symptoms except for a weird yet intense craving for tuna. Is it because I know I can’t (shouldn’t?) have it very often? Maybe. But I could legit eat tuna for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I just had tuna for dinner. It was glorious.

Well friends, I’m off to book club. We read Life After Death by Damien Echols, which was interesting because this month’s host promised a “light, beach-y read” and then chose something absolutely opposite of that. It was pretty nuts… not very well organized and had no flow, but I guess he’s an OK writer. It was also about 200 pages longer than it needed to be. I may have missed my calling as an editor.

Posted by amanda 4 Comments
Filed Under: IVF, pregnancy Tagged: appearance, book club, first trimester, frumpy, tuna