The Party That Wasn’t and The Letter That Was

Despite being a social person, I’ve been pretty damn anti-social this year. There are people I’ve managed to keep in my inner circle that know everything that’s been going on but there are many I’ve avoided. I’ve avoided some because I know they are going to ask me when I’m going to have children. I’ve avoided others because I know they are going to tell me they are pregnant and then, there’s a bunch of people I’ve avoided simply because I don’t have anything positive to say when they ask me what’s new.

Of course I know that that’s what friends are for; to listen and support when you need it. And yes, I’m sure people will like me no matter if I have good news or not but lately, when people ask, “How are you?”, my answers have ranged from, “You might not want to ask me that question” to “How am I? How am I? I suck! That’s how I am!” to “I’m beginning to understand Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining”. It has not been pretty.

I should just lie and give the standard, “I’m fine and you?” but I’m not fine. I mean, I’m functional and there have been great days sprinkled through out this past year of suckage but if I’m being totally blunt, if you asked me how I am, I think the best answer is that I’m hanging in. I suppose that’s the best response for anyone who has been trying to conceive for awhile. You hang in there and do what you can to maintain. Some days you win, some days you don’t. And then there are the days when comfort food, crying and mindless movies are a form of Prozac. Hey – whatever gets you through the day.

It will be my birthday next week. Since I’ve not been a happy TTC camper, I thought I would get over my recent anti-social behavior and invite a whole bunch of friends over. I should never have done this. It’s 2010 — the year that will go down as the one that has consistently worked against me. Why did I possibly think I could pull off a birthday party? I can barely figure out what the f*ck to wear in the mornings. Really – it’s a miracle every time I show up to work in any out fit remotely coordinated.

I had invited about 20 people. 15 couldn’t make it (one of the problems with having so many friends in the creative world is they are often on tour or have a show, etc.) and 5 never even got back to me. As of right now, my birthday party will consist of my husband, my gay best friend and myself. Although this sounds like a great title for a sitcom and although I know we’ll have a great time no matter what we do, I can’t help but feel like quite the unpopular infertile.

If I think about it objectively, I know this isn’t personal. I sincerely have many amazing, wonderful friends. If anything, I’m just being a brat as they have all been there so often for me and the fact that this particular day doesn’t work for most of them shouldn’t make me this whiney. Also, do you ever notice that there’s always that one day or weekend of the year where everyone you know seems to schedule something at the same time? It’s this one magical date of the year when you seem to know someone getting married, a holiday party and a friend visiting all on the same day. I guess this year, that magical date is my birthday… and everyone just happens to be busy. Such is life.

Underlining my already bad mood, my period again arrived this morning. These days, when I see Aunt Flo’s dramatic appearance, I always think, “Fifteen thousand dollars”. This is how much another InVitro will cost and every time I don’t get pregnant the natural way, the more I think about how much it’s going to cost me. Is that terrible or what? My period used to be for free. Now, it’s literally costing me money. Fifteen thousand dollars to be exact.

Anyway, while in the process of bleeding and redefining how to celebrate my birthday, I got a voice mail from my first reproductive endocrinologist regarding the letter (see my previous post: http://the2weekwait.blogspot.com/2010/10/its-great-infertile-charlie-brown.html). His message was basically this:

Of course, I’m glad he called and acknowledged my letter. However, being told by a doctor (albeit maybe not the best doctor) on yet another cycle day one that he can’t figure out why you’re not getting pregnant isn’t what I would describe as a good feeling. He genuinely doesn’t seem to think it was the polyp and if that’s true, then what is the problem?

Also, it’s true that there was no polyp when he did the first test in February 2009. I get that but the fact remains that there was one found a little over a year later so it was there during my three inseminations and one IVF. I mean, it didn’t just grow in the month of May for crying out loud. It’s not a zit. It’s a polyp and polyps don’t grow that quickly. Besides, the second doctor saw the polyp on a boring old regular sonogram in June 2010, so I can’t help but wonder how it got missed through out all my sonograms and tests in April 2010 when we did the invitro.

*DEEP BREATH*

I’m frustrated, pissed off and soon, I’ll be another year older with less money and no child. Now, more than ever, I must remember the good things or I seriously believe I may go on a murderous rampage this birthday. I’d invite people to join me on this rampage but odds are no one is available to join me.

I’m still glad I wrote the letter. I know we have our IVF 2 – Electric Bugaloo in the works and I know hope is not dead. If anything, hope is just bound and gagged and being held hostage in a closet somewhere.

So, yes; it would seem my birthday party is becoming a bit of a pity party. I’ll just have to pick another time to be social. Any which way, at least I’ll be surrounded by cake, a few loved ones and I get to wear a pity party hat. It will be combination of a party hat and tissue box.