In Style

I caught sight of myself in a department store mirror today at lunchtime. Good lord, I am in desperate need of a makeover. My skin is pale and washed out. My hair is too long and shapeless. My clothes all seem to be too big or too small, and I have these very definite piles of "work clothes" and "play clothes," rather than some overarching sense of style. Frankly, at my age I think a woman should have style. Yet, here I sit in a tshirt and yoga pants, and my weekend wear doesn't stray far from this.

I would love to hire a professional stylist to shop for me and show me how to put everything together. Polaroids for my closet would be nice. I like to look good, but I don't like for it to be any effort, and it feels like such an effort, in the midst of everything else. Of course, I can't afford to hire a professional stylist.

The baby dropped my favorite eyeshadow and smashed it, I smashed my blush, and in a moment of supreme grace managed to drop my mascara in the toilet. It is so clearly time to start over.

Where do you start, when you need new hair and new makeup and new clothes (or at least, a healthy infusion of fresh pieces) and a style makeover? Sigh. And if I can't find a doctor I like, how will I ever find someone to cut my hair?

PS CD18 and no sign of ovulation. Double sigh.

Baby the Second

I am having a challenging time identifying a doctor here, or really even navigating the healthcare system at all. It's so confusing, and it's clearly not patient-driven, because there is essentially no information online about physicians' practices and hospitals. Someone gave me a list of "recommended" doctors, but it's completely outdated. One of the hospitals on the list has closed, and at least one of the doctors isn't practicing any more. It was hard enough for me to decide on a doctor and a practice in a healthcare system I was familiar with and confident in. It's exponentially more difficult in a foreign country. Also, all of the OB's here seem to be men. I am soooo not into that. I have had bad experiences with male doctors and my nether regions (painful ones), and my rule is that if you don't have a hoo-hoo, you shouldn't touch mine.

I have found one that seems like a good fit on paper. She's practicing at a hospital I think I could live with, not too far from my house, and I found a few newspaper articles which seem to reflect a philosophy close to my own. I wish I could talk to some of the women in my office who are pregnant or have recently given birth so I can find out what their experiences have been like with various doctors and hospitals in the city, but there is no way to do that without outing myself, and I don't know any of them well enough to know if I can trust them. It's hard to commit to a hospital, in particular. It's hard to choose without feedback from someone you know and trust, and without being able to ask questions. I will have to troll message boards to see if I can come up with some personal experiences.

(As an aside, Little House on the Prairie happens to be on right now, and it's an episode addressing infertility. The female character, one I'm not familiar with--Ann?--is furious that everyone thinks she should consider adoption, because she is just so sure she can get pregnant, no matter what the fancy city doctors tell her. Huh. Ohhhh, there is a sad little boy that needs adopting, and she's resisting because she wants her own kids, and her husband wants to adopt him. Who knew LHONP was so in tune with reality? I'm in tears watching how badly her husband wants to adopt. And now, she has decided she wants to adopt him. I love a good old-fashioned happy ending. And bacon. Which I can smell. Yummm. . .T. must be cooking me brunch!)

And don't even get me started on the labyrinth of health insurance. I have American insurance, and we generally have to pay out of pocket for care, then get reimbursed. Ouch. The flip side, though, is that healthcare is more affordable here. Tests that costs thousands in the U.S. are only hundreds here. But still. . .ouch.

I was also just reading about Clo.mid, and it looks like it really isn't recommended for women my age, due to it's negative impact on the lining, which the RE had also mentioned last time. I've noticed that the skin on my hands and neck is thinning and looking kind of crepe-y if I don't keep it well-moisturized. It looks ancient, and it is weird to see it. I don't feel like I'm old enough to have skin that looks like that, and I certainly have never been a sun goddess. Aging is so odd. I guess you never feel as old as you are, or you look. Dr. Google tells me that thinning skin is a result of dropping estrogen levels. Another warning sign, I suppose. Argh. I feel old today.

As an aside, I am launching a new project on Tuesday. Stay tuned!

On Being Famous

I am a little bit sad, because I have to work on this glorious Saturday, and can't spend the day with T. and Miss M. They just left the house for an adventure with a friend. I am going to meet up with them later, but I am still sorry to be missing out on the intervening hours. Since I don't have to go to work for a little while, though, I'm going to use the quiet time to do some things around the house that I've been blatantly ignoring for far too long (like, folding laundry, and packing away baby clothes that no longer fit. . .oh, and blogging!).

Cycle-wise, things appear to be craptastic once again. I have to say, even though I knew it probably wouldn't be different, I was oh-so-hopeful that two years down the road, things had somehow improved with my body. I'm on CD16, and still no sign of ovulation. I would like to think that either the fertility monitor isn't working, or the expired test sticks I'm using aren't picking up on it. . .but all of the other signs of ovulation are clearly missing, as well. One of the OTHER things I have to do while I have a few minutes of quiet time today is research doctors. I still haven't found a new OB here, and that is high on my list of priorities. I suspect we will are going to need a little help again this time around.

And now that we've dispensed with the preliminaries, it's time for the top billing. . .

My job is weird, in that I often get to meet very well known and successful people. Sometimes they are industry leaders, sometimes politicians, sometimes Hollywood types. This week, I met three people that easily qualify as famous. One was a well known government figure, and two were Hollywood types. I was struck, as I often am, by how vastly different they were.

The government figure, who I'll call Doug, was kind and decent and smart and funny. He engaged with everyone in the room. He was patient, even when the situation was trying. He was thoughtful. He treated everyone as his equal, even when they clearly were not. He made eye contact. He is a very, very successful and very, very powerful man, but he was comfortable in his own skin, and it showed. He didn't rub your face in who he was, but rather related to you as a human being. I heart him.

The Hollywood stars, who I will call Arse and Arsier (you can see where this is going), were the inverse. They were, the pair of them, both very, very successful in their respective fields. But they were not thoughtful or kind or even comfortable in their skins. They were dismissive, looked through people, were unwilling to engage, and frankly, were downright rude. They were, so to speak, on MY playing field, there to work with my colleagues and I, but they treated me as though I were somehow invading THEIR world, as though I were imposing upon them. (I was simply doing my job, by the way--not looking for a photo or an autograph or anything like that.) I came home from work completely dispirited. It's been a long time since I've felt so invisible. They are meaningless to me, but it was still shocking to see that they clearly thought they were somehow beyond basic human decency, as though common courtesy simply wasn't required of someone famous.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine after the fact, and she has a theory that is a good one, I think. She said that Hollywood fame is hard to achieve, and even harder to maintain, so that when people DO get there, it's almost as though they behave like jerks to show how different they are from people who aren't famous. As though, breathing the rarified air of fame and fortune truly makes they a different animal altogether, beyond the social niceties of the rest of humanity. And, they are incredibly insecure, because it could all evaporate in an instant, so they are paranoid about how they will be perceived, which causes them to be intemperate over the most minor things, and utterly unable to engage, lest they manage to say or do something that is less than uber-cool. As far as I can tell, being famous has never done anything to improve a person's character.

Arguably, Arse and Arsier have had so much professional success, they should almost be beyond such behavior (it's not like anyone doubts their ability, at this point), but I could also clearly see that my friend was right. Both of them seemed insecure to me, during my discussions with them. Which struck me as odd. In the same situation, I would have been comfortable and secure and not thought twice about engaging with me. I would have seen it as simply part of what I was there to do, had we exchanged places. Instead, they hemmed and hawed and were ultimately rude to me, each in their own way. But they were rude because inherently, they were afraid to engage with me, and rudeness was their way of avoiding the situation altogether.

When you achieve a really high level of fame, there must be so many people who want a piece of you that you must end up getting burned over and over again. It's almost inevitable. You trust someone just a little bit, they take what they want, they cash in on you. I can see that, and I can see how much that must suck. By contrast, it's struck me that people like Doug are generally more secure in their success, because they are capable of something that has a bit more substance. They know they have a skill, and if their current job doesn't work out, there are loads more opportunities available for them, because they are smart and successful and accomplished. If you are a successful political figure, you can go on to become all sorts of other things. Hollywood success is more of a one trick pony. If movies, tv or theater don't work out for you, you are basically washed up. There is a confidence and stability in a Doug that isn't there in an Arse. It makes me really prefer working with the Dougs of this world.

As for Arse and Arsier. . .I feel a little sorry for them, but the pitfalls of fame don't excuse their behavior. Everyone gets taken advantage of in life, and if more is asked of them because they are successful Hollywood stars, perhaps more is expected of them given what they've been given. I think you can be careful of being burned, and still be kind. You can watch your own back, and still give back.

It hasn't changed what I think of them in their professional capacity, I suppose, because I've never really been starstruck. I see famous people as simply people. I still think Arse and Arsier are accomplished. I still think they produce good work. But, my interaction with them this week does change how I feel about spending money on projects that I know are theirs. I know that my entertainment dollar won't go to their projects from here forward. I don't patronize the restaurant down the street where the waiters are rude to me, even though the food is good and the atmosphere is great. I don't buy things from shops with rude shopkeepers, no matter how cool the shop may be. Why would I go to a movie when the director has treated me poorly in person? They may be talented, but there's a lot of talent out there, and since I don't have time to see every movie or television show out there, anyway, it's just as easy to choose one that involves people who haven't treated me as though I were something less than gum on the bottom of their shoes.

More Thoughts on Number Two

I was reading this post yesterday about another blogger's thoughts on having a second child. She complied a list of all the reasons why she won't consider another biological child, and on it she put "I never want to even create the chance to experience pregnancy loss again."

When I read that, I realized that I am in a place where I not only am willing to take that risk, but I sort of expect that will be a part of this journey ahead of me. After all, I'm two years older than last time, and well, that didn't go so smoothly. It was interesting, though, to realize that I've so internalized that risk, that until I read that, I wasn't even consciously aware of accepting that risk as part of the potential path ahead of me.

The other thing her post brought home for me is how good I have things. I mean, I do KNOW that, but sometimes it's easy to get busy with life and overlook how incredibly good our lives are. I am blessed not only with a wonderful, loving husband, but a wonderful, loving husband who is psyched to stay at home with the kids while I go to work and indulge myself by nurturing my brain. He is ready, willing and able to stay home with a second child. We can afford to do this. He is really great at it, too. He's been completely managing the household--he cooks all of the meals, does all of the cleaning, does the grocery shopping and other errands. He is awesome. We also live in a great place, and have room for another child. We are really, really blessed. If ever there was a perfect time in our lives to have a second child, it is now.

As I go through my day with Miss M, I have started to imagine what it will be like to have two children. I try to imagine meeting the needs of two, and the sibling rivalry. I am still a little scared of making it all work, truthfully. But I am also really excited about having those family bonds. I can see them, feel them, and I so look forward to expanding our family, even despite the anticipated chaos.

What Was It Like Before This?

T and Miss M met me at work, and we walked to this gorgeous park that has a wide expanse of grass and trees. T had made a picnic for our dinner, and brought wine and plastic wine glasses and a blanket to sit on. Miss M refused to eat, and ran around instead, pretending to drink out of the (empty) wine glasses. She would go far, far, far away from us, turning and laughing at us periodically. She is so bold. Then she'd come running back, and make off with T's hat or her bag of snacks or some other little thing, giggling as though it were the most hilarious thing ever. As the sun set, it was warm but not too warm--perfect picnic weather. She was dressed in a ridiculously cute outfit, too--a white short sleeve bodysuit, a denim Oshkosh overall dress with a patchwork skirt, a Gap jean jacket and baby Frye harness boots. (Thanks to her grammy and many aunts and friends, she has a large and stylish wardrobe!) As we sat there sipping red wine, joggers went by with their dogs. Other families were out and about, kids with scooters and balls and jump ropes. It was just the most perfect, magical evening, and yet so entirely ordinary. As we sat on the blanket and watched her and talked, we tried to remember our lives a couple of years ago, and we talked about what we would be doing if she hadn't come into our lives. Everything would be different, we agreed. We would have made different choices about things. But it's all so much better now. She is such a joy. This life with her is so amazing.

Taking the Long View

When you first start trying to have kids, you think it will be quick and easy. Then, if it's not, you get so bogged down in the details that it's easy to lose sight of the big picture. Sometimes you are painfully aware of time passing, and other times, it slips by unnoticed.

These many months we've had Miss M with us, time has flown by. I've seen how fleeting her babyhood, her childhood will be. Every day feels like a gift to be treasured. It's been both easy to see the big picture, and easy to ignore it.

So, it was with a start that I dug out my charting software password, and realized that I started charting four years ago. FOUR YEARS. It seems impossible to believe (hi Manda! Can't believe I've "known" you for that long, either.). Number of cycles charted before Miss M: 19. I missed so many cycles during those years, had such long cycles. . .19.

Then there's the data: it reflects an average cycle of 33 days; average ovulation on CD21; average LP of 12 days. Then there are the outliers, the minimums and maximums of my cycles: At its shortest, I've had a 24 day cycle; max cycle was 41 days. My absolute earliest ovulation date was on CD14, and my latest was on CD28. At its worst, when I was dealing with super short LP, my LP lasted just 8 days; then there was that max of 17 (a brief flirtation with chemical pregnancy). Somehow, raw data makes me feel like I'm in control.

As if.

My Personal Olympics

All of a sudden, summer is here. It's warm, it's sunny, and every time I step out my door into the sunshine, I am greeted by the sweet perfume of armfuls of tea roses. I had no idea there were so many rosebushes in our yard (we moved in during the fall). It is glorious.

And with summer came my period.

I had wondered what it would be like. Between being pregnant and breast feeding, I haven't had it in more than two years. TWO YEARS! Crazy. I knew it was coming, from how I've been feeling of late. And you know what? It was exactly like it used to be, really--not heavier, not worse, nothing different. I got it on Thursday night, and it was gone by Saturday night. I had been afraid that it would be big and long and awful, but it wasn't. It just seems so weird to be having it again.

So, Friday is Day 1 of this cycle.

T is beside himself excited, because he wants to get going on #2. He is really, really excited to have a second child. I am. . .excited for a second child, not necessarily looking forward to being pregnant again. It's stupid and selfish, I know, but it has been really nice having my body back to myself. I can have as much coffee as I want, and eat sushi when I feel like it without worrying about mercury and other contents, skip lunch if I feel like it, stay up late, drink mojitos. . .all things I DON'T do when pregnant or nursing. I know I put too much pressure on myself to be behaviorally perfect when I am pregnant/nursing, but I am neurotic, and I need to know that I've done everything I can to have a healthy baby. THAT, in turn, has led to what I'm going to call my maternity fatigue. I'm totally into being a mother. I'm totally into having a family. It's fun to fantasize what it will be like to be blessed with a sibling for Miss M. But. But. Pregnancy feels like a lot of work right now. The last year feels like a lot of work. And I really, really like where we are with Miss M right now, who is learning all sorts of new words, obsessed with animals, and just so aware and chipper and fun. It is a BLAST.

But with each tick of the clock, I inch closer to 39. The statistics are scary. Time is not on my side if I want a second child. So, in we wade.

I'm excited about trying again, actually. I pulled out my old fertility monitor today. It's got some weird purple goop on the bottom, and the batteries are dead. I've got a box of expired test sticks (January 2010!), too. I figure this will be my "test" cycle, to remember how this stuff works, get a feel for my cycle, kick the tires, etc. Oh yeah, and get a pap smear and check out a new OB. I'm in a new city, and healthcare here is as yet untested. I know a few women who have had babies in recent months, but not well enough to quiz about their prenatal care. At least, not if I don't want my office knowing that I'm thinking of trying. Which, I don't. I have a list of doctors that are "recommended" though, and I'm going to start to sort through them today. Really, only one practice has all women, and unless the internet tells me they have four heads, I will see them. I need to ask their opinion on Clo.mid (we used it the cycle we got pregnant with Miss M, as well as the one before that that resulted in a (very early) m/c. And also about progesterone suppositories, which we also used with Miss M.

I'm going to venture out now in search of new batteries for my monitor, and maybe a BBT thermometer. Maybe some Preseed if I am feeling really peppy. Because nothing says "all in" like a pile of equipment on the nightstand. Oh, and I should dust off my charting software. . .let the control freak games begin!