baybeasts

Our delightful IVF company like us to pay our monthly bill before we have treatment.

They recently sent us our next bill. Their euphemism is ‘pre-treatment quote’ but there is a big stamp at the bottom of the letter which says:

THIS ACCOUNT IS PAYABLE IMMEDIATELY.
PLEASE SEND YOUR REMITTANCE WITHIN 7 DAYS

We are used to their bold demands. What freaked us out this month was that they increased their fee for frozen transfers by nearly 60%, completely without notice.

Well FRAK ME.

Apparently they employed some snazzy new business manager who did a ‘time and motion’ study which came up with the brilliant conclusion that they could charge A WHOLE LOT FUCKING MORE.

It’s lucky I get paid reasonably well for squeezing milk out of breasts as we’re now facing nearly a grand every 3-4 weeks.

My darling sorenson,

I had such hope that we would finally be starting on our parenting journey together. I am sad to announce that you are now a member, with me, of the ‘not getting pregnant right away club’. This is a strange club, with somewhat shy, sometimes embarrassed, often secretive members. You may fail to find satisfaction when discussing your woes with non-members. It can’t be helped. Non-members often find it hard to really understand, so please feel free to be woeful with me. I am trying to think of some advantage to being in this club, and struggling.
I can’t think of anything.
You are only a novitiate. Your official stay in the club will hopefully be a short one.
I love you so very much.

Some of you may remember Tatum. Well, Tatum lives on! We kept her around for a while, but eventually her face was green and her ears were collapsing in on themselves, so we planted her, with only the barest gesture towards ceremony. We thought that would be the last of her - after all, she wasn’t looking very healthy by then. But about month later, we noticed a happy young potato plant had sprung up over her grave. When it died down, we carefully exhumed, hoping to find a few potatoes to have with our dinner. Imagine our surprise, then, when we found not just a handful of potatoes, but also Tatum’s emptied out skin, preserved in her original shape.

Tatum’s babies are very tasty by the way, and we plan to replant at least one of them so that she can live on forever. As for her slightly creepy looking skin, we will keep that too - after all, she is precious to us.

Now I’ve been told most sternly that instead of feeling miserable about how little we sometimes have to say about the world in the midst of infertility, we should blog more about the garden. So today I went out with our trusty camera and took some photos of a selection of my current prides and joys (to put every single little thing that delights me about our garden into one post would just be overwhelming for both me and you, dear reader).

First, the roses. Roses are so english, so fussy and pretentious, that I never thought I would bother growing them. But they are something of a family obsession, and I have found myself to be a closet rose fanatic after all. The first rose we bought was in honour of my mum. My aunt had planted some Blue Moon roses as a tribute to her, and because I know that my mother adored roses, I thought I would do the same. We bought a climber, and it grew fast but unruly, so last year we tied it up properly and pruned it hard, and this year it has rewarded us beautifully.

When we created a whole new garden where once was only concrete, my secret rose obsession got really out of control, and I suggested we plant a rose garden. We chose varieties that both our grandparents love, along with a yellow rose for bean and an apricot one given to us by special friends of ours. The first rose to come from this bed was a Papa Meilland - the photo shows you the immaculate form and the stunning deep red but sadly the internet cannot transmit its glorious scent.

It reminds me of my thesis days - it looks just like one of the roses out of Shoujo Kakumei Utena.

Other garden joys at the moment are poppies:

sweet peas (note the use of screen doors for climbing frames - has worked brilliantly!):

and vegetable seedlings with all their promise of a bounteous summer harvest:

Truly, I think the garden and great TV shows (Battlestar Galactica and Deadwood in particular) are among our most effective sanity preserving devices (each other, great counselling, and supportive friends and family make up the rest of the sanity preservation suite).

Today is exactly half way through my first proper two week wait - only about a year to go.

(The Secret July Try [oops, not secret anymore] doesn’t count because we got the timing all wrong - me and my wacky cycle)

I have no symptoms. This is to be expected. It doesn’t stop me unduly noticing every lower belly gripe.

I cannot possibly imagine that this might work. Does it ever? And anyway, it is safer this way.

Stay tuned for more news later next week.

We have achieved a lot in the garden over the last two years. (The after shot is a bit like ‘Where’s Wally?’, hey.)
S is usually hiding in the vege patch. Sometimes I can’t see her from the back door, for the longest time.
And then she stands up.

We have a Japanese guest staying here for one week.
We were trying to explain to her why some people eat Vegemite. I was trying to think of a link to miso, to help explain the culinary context.
Yeast! It has yeast in it like miso, and that’s why it tastes um, yeasty, I helpfully explained…

We have met our new IVF doctor. We now have doctor kate. She has ordered a barrage of blood tests including a chromosome analysis of me and our donor.
I’ll also need (another) hysteroscopy some time soon.
I can say with certainty that taking a break from trying is not emotionally helpful. If anything, it is becoming more excruciating seeing the proliferation of pregnant bellies and small children everywhere I go.

Last week was Sorenson’s (second) try. We are back to the jar and syringe method of attempted conception.
We are not feeling terribly excited or hopeful, but fingers are crossed.

It seems I bring my reproductive incompetence to a variety of situations. We picked up the jar of semen (thanks R!) and drove to our friend’s house (thanks T!).
I did then put the syringe into S and I did squeeze in the semen. And it did come straight back out again.
Honestly, for pete’s sake…

thank god for battlestar galactica