Ruminations on lucky numbers

I don’t tend to be a superstitious person. Despite the fact that I am knitting myself some lucky socks. That has more to do with keeping my mind occupied, and less with me thinking that the socks actually posess something other then all the hope that I am channeling into them.

The one thing I do tend to be more superstitious about is numbers. One in particular: 311.

It all started when super husband and I were on a trip to Miami to see that delicious band that I have mentioned here before for a four night concert run over New Year’s Eve. This was back in 2003. We were still living in the big city and were starting to feel like we needed to make a big life change and move somewhere new. It’s all we talked about during that trip, and we were looking for signs everywhere.

Our tickets for the third night of the show were up in the top level of the arena, the 400 section. The sound wasn’t very good up there, so we wandered down to the 3oo section and looked for an unattended portal that we could sneak in to. During setbreak I needed to use the bathroom and I looked to see what section we had ended up in. It was section 311. This was easy for me to remember because our hotel room in Miami was room number 311. Ha!  Funny coincidence! Later that evening I realized that we were in row number 11, and super husband was sitting in seat 3.

The next night was New Year’s Eve and the band played until past 1am. After the show let out we wandered around a creepy Christmas village that had been set up in a park nearby, and then found a yummy all night Cuban restaurant where we had a delicious meal. When we finally stumbled into our hotel room (#311)  the clock told us that it was 3:11 am.

Freaky, no?

When I went back to work a few days later I told my boss that we would be moving away and that I would not be applying to renew my contract. I asked him when my last day was on my current contract. It was March 11. (or 3/11 for those of us in the US) That was the moment I knew that this whole 3-1-1 thing was a bit cosmic, and that moving was the right thing to do.

(As an aside, it was the right thing to do. Turns out that the Iraq war escalated, and my government job was eliminated to save money. I would not have been able to get my contract renewed, even if I had wanted to…)

So… in the years that followed we always payed special attention to anything with 311 in it. 3:11 pm -if we see the clock at this time and we are together we kiss… or super husband will text me “Happy 311!”  We decided last year that we would take the month off in March of 2011 and go on a vacation.

When we’ve been trying to conceive, three years have gone by where March 11 has rolled around and I have wondered, “is this it?” Maybe I’ll be ovulating on that day, or maybe I’ll test on that day. It hasn’t been lucky for us yet in that way… But we always call March 11th our cosmic anniversary.

Ok, let’s digress to another story…

At my visit to the RE yesterday they gave me an early birthday present.

A big bag of meno.pur and needles and alchohol swabs! I was mixing up my first batch last night when I looked more closely at the vial in my hand. And printed on the label, printed on all the labels of all the vials it turns out, is something that gave me more hope for this cycle then any lucky socks could have given me…

My meno.pur expires in March of 2011.

(ps – It is true what they say!  Ice really helps!  Tonight’s injection was much easier, a lot less like Harry and Dumbledore in the cave.)

Forward Momentum

Things are moving forward in First Comes Love Land. SuperHusband still has good days and bad days, but the good ones are starting to outnumber the bad ones, and he’s finding more constructive ways to deal with his sadness. He has started writing songs for an album he’s going to dedicate to his friend. They were bandmates “back in the olden days.”

I am finally settling into a routine where I don’t feel like school is sucking every last ounce of energy from my body. I am really enjoying statistics, despite a less than enjoyable teacher, and my health class isn’t too shabby either. We work out in class on Wednesdays, and inspired by Kate, I’ve decided to train for a 5k in November. So I’ve mostly been running on the indoor track. Running is not easy. But getting easier.

I’ve cashed in on that forward momentum and took my infertile-with-child-post-ivf friend’s advice and made an appointment with an RE. She was shocked to hear that after two years I was still wading around in obgyn land waiting for permission to move on to the specialists. She made some good points… after all, my insurance covers nothing so I might as well get more specialized treatment if I am shelling out the big bucks right?  I’ll be meeting with the only fertility specialist in my area in November.

Despite reading stories like this one, which make me fear childbirth a wee bit more, I am wanting to do the “child by any means necessary” thing more and more these days.  As time goes on without a pregnancy, I feel like my willingness to open my mind to the possability of the more invasive fertility treatments increases. I think the death of our friend had a lot to do with that. The idea that if anything were to happen to SuperHusband, that a piece of him would live on in his child. And that I love him too much not to try as hard as I can.

The first day of the seventh year

Six years ago yesterday I married my beloved… today was the start of the seventh year of wedded bliss.

To celebrate our anniversary we went canoing at our favorite lake. It was deserted… we swam and ate sandwiches and paddled in and out of coves. We had a good talk about our next steps for children, and for the first time I came away from a conversation with him on that topic where I feel good, that we are on the same page, and that it wasn’t a struggle to just talk about it. It was the best gift he could have given me…

One of the things we talked about was the possibility that my lady bits are creating a hostile environment for his swimmers, and that perhaps an IUI could help with that.  But it got me to wondering if there are other things I could be doing to perhaps adjust the pH of my female environment?  Foods I could eat or stay away from?  I was thinking about picking up a copy of “the Infertility Cure” or “Taking Charge of your Fertility” and see if they have any information for me on that topic. Has anyone read these and can recommend them?  Or any other books?

Ode to the furriest family member

I’m in the middle of the lovliest time of the month, the delicious two week wait. Except it’s really like a two month wait, because I know that if I haven’t gotten knocked up during the two year wait, it’s not going to magically happen now. I am counting down the days until October, with it’s IUI of love.

I don’t know how things have been in the other parts of the world, but here in the American Southeast? It’s been hotter and drier then what I imagine hell to be like. The yard is a crispy mess of death, and my walks home from work have been downright miserable. The upside?  I’ve lost about three pounds of water weight in sweat, and it makes the mojitos taste extra delicious.

Since talking about the heat is not all that entertaining, I would like to present my 2WW distraction, “The Furriest Family Member”

She’s golden and black
And she has a real knack
for licking our toes while we eat.

She’s doe-eyed and soft
and her furballs have loft
when you try to clean them up with a sweep.She’s loving and calm
snuggles her head in my palm
and she’s delicate, dainty, and neat.

Sunday Morning

One day a week I allow myself the pleasure of not waking up to an alarm. I even spare myself the 6:30 am wakeup to chart my BBT, unless I am waiting on an impending ovulation. In the winter I can sleep blissfully late – past 10 or 10:30 sometimes. But in the summer there is so much to do, and the sun is so bright that I still wake up relatively early.

This Sunday morning was no exception. A late night on Saturday had left me groggy and tired, and I rolled over on to my side and tried to hide my face from the sun beams sneaking in underneath the bedroom window shade. My stirring woke the dog, who quietly made her way up onto the bed, nestling herself in the crook of my legs – a treat we only allow her on the weekends.

I don’t know how much time passed before I felt my husband’s soft kisses on my eyelids.

“Good morning my lovelies…”

The dog and I stretched and yawned in unison as he wandered upstairs to make coffee. As I slowly slid out of bed I only had one thought in my mind,“I am so blessed…”