A new chapter.

So. Life has been... full.

Puppy licks. Interspecies interaction. Neighborhood strolls. Showers hosted. Work events. So much support from my loved ones that I walk around in a constant state of humble gratitude. Because life has also been... weird.

Hospital visits. Anesthesia. So.many.injections. Ultrasounds. Side effects galore. Crazy-science-magic. The weight of my own body on itself only barely equalling the emotions of it all.

Right. I haven't mentioned it here yet.

We started IVF.

And because the best place to begin is probably the most surreal place, I'll offer the following:

This is what $3,743 worth of medication looks like.

That's a lot to put in your body over the course of a month. And when the docs later realize they forgot something and tell you it'll be another $380, you don't even bat an eye, because that's actually cheap compared to the stuff piled on that table.

IVF is a lot like IUI, actually... on steroids. And we should know, after three IUI failures. The promise of IVF is bigger, though. There's more certainty, more knowledge, and yep, more money. Lots more.

A dear friend of mine asked me what I felt like the worst part of IVF was. Did it represent a failure, a scary next step, the feeling of wasting time, the amount of medication, or was it the money that got to me most? And without skipping a beat, I said money. Our health insurance is fantastic for everything except this. We are 100% out of pocket for IVF, which is how we ended up spending $4k in meds. Add on the actual cost of treatment, monitoring, procedures, and high-tech lab work? We basically bought a car at our fertility clinic.

The bottom line, though, is what we'd rather have in our lives more than a child. The answer, of course, is nothing. Not a new deck, a landscaped yard, less student loan debt, or more savings. Not any of that. Yet still, it burns. I wonder why our cost to conceive is so high, when other people's is, say, the cost of a wine cooler. In my worst moments I whine about the inequities. Especially since even now, after doctors have watched T's sperm successfully fertilize my eggs in a lab, we don't have any more answers than we did before. "Unexplained Infertility," still.

So these days we're laying low. We're eating at home, playing with the puppy, watching baseball, and reading books. Outside of the side effects, it's not a bad place to be, really. Our days are quieter than before, but in a nesting way rather than an empty way. We're full of hope, because our chances are better than ever.

Is hope worth the cost of my beloved old Subaru Forester? I doubt it. But is a child? Absolutely.

To be continued.

Labor Day lemonade

Lots of ladies in my life lately, which I adore. They're helping to take my mind off some less-than-awesome medical developments in my world. Great ladies will do that for a girl.

My pals from graduate school spent the weekend here, walking the monuments with me and remembering all about that thing we have here on the East Coast called humidity. It was a sweaty, wonderful weekend. We planned Marjorie's side business, planned Mikaela's forthcoming son's middle name, planned the trashy fictional series I will write to make my millions. We do know how to plan, the three of us. I love those two with all I have, and Albuquerque is a lucky city to have them.

The girls approved of Eleanor, of course. She continues to amuse us with her scruffy self and charming antics.

She's such a little squirt right now. I keep wondering aloud to T if she's ever actually going to grow (a weekend parasite certainly didn't help matters). She's sort of a miniature old lady right now with that beard of hers. I can't get enough of that funny face.

See that collar of hers? Girl is decked out for election season. She's feeling it, too - I'm pretty sure after Tuesday night she was angling for a name change to Michelle. I get it - my love for the First Lady knows no bounds. 

How are the cats hanging in there, you might be wondering? Differently. Switters is more eager to be pals, and Fanny is occasionally bitchy for no reason whatsoever. In other words, they're being themselves. But ten days in, we're feeling pretty good about interspecies cooperation over here.

Puppy kisses, kitten purrs, good politics on tv, good friends visiting me from too far away... this is me making the best of this month. Bring it, September.