Two down! Two more to go!

I just gave myself my second HCG shot and it was not as bad as the first. I was in such a rush that I forgot to numb the spot on the left side of my belly with ice. I was so focused about getting the medicine into the syringe that I bent the first needle! It took me two tries to get the needle into my skin, but I almost didn't feel it going in (despite having to watch it go in! eek!).

I do have say that although my doctor said that it wouldn't hurt, I definitely have still have a very, very dull pain on the right side of my belly where I gave myself needle one and I do feel some numbness in the left side as well. I guess that doctors have to say that needles won't hurt even though they always do!

Although I feel very accomplished after administering my first two shots, but I am so glad that Mr. JB will be giving me needles three and four.

I had a good meeting today with the other Immersion teachers. We planned out our first week and I have a clearer vision of how things are going to work with the new class. I also adapted a first day activity that was given to me at a workshop and I passed it out to the others. I'm so glad that instead of worrying about every minute detail (like the other teachers) I'm actually doing something to help the situation. I have never been the calm one in most teaching situations, but I'm so glad that I'm an observer to their madness and not a participant!

I'm so looking forward to Wednesday when I head out to my best friend's family's cottage until Saturday. I'm so happy that I pushed myself to finish up my classroom set-up so I can have some downtime before I set off in my grade one adventure. Maybe getting the next two shots on the idyllic Shingwak (I think that's how they spelled it!) Island, won't make it so painful!

Infertile confessions

In the light of my first injection of HCG last night, I've had some interesting thoughts.

I'm a goal-oriented person, an obsessive list-maker and before all of the infertile business, I was very unfamiliar with failure. We've spent the past three years consumed with trying to make a baby. We went from temperatures, to charting, to Clomid, to a HSG then to an infertility clinic (where I had the joy of the dildocam and blood tests) and acupuncturist then to a NaproTechnology doctor. I have no idea how much money we've spent (I'm scared to do that accounting!) or how much time and emotion we've invested in making our baby JellyBelly.

After three years I've reached a point where I just feel numb. I no longer feel sad when AF arrives and I'm actually not even surprised. I take the drugs that my doctor gives me to lengthen my luteal phase without complaint. I visit the doctor and numbly take the diagnosis that certain drugs seem to not have worked. I even learned how to give myself needles despite my lifelong aversion and horrible fear.

But despite going through all of the motions of trying to make a baby, I can't seem to wrap my head around ever actually making one. I feel that my infertility has become such a big part of my life that it's become my identity (although a secret one to most). Have I gotten to this point as self-preservation? Or has the long road to making a baby distracted me from the end result?

I feel like I need a new distraction. Perhaps it's a good thing that school starts very soon...

One down, one more to go

I survived giving myself the first needle of progesterone.

It took three tries, almost hyperventilating and an ice pack, but it's done. For some reason I imagined the needle going in without any force so when I had to press the needle point into my skin I had to reset myself a couple of times.

I'm so glad that Shinejl suggested that I numb the spot with some ice. Instead of focusing on the pain of the needle entry I had the reminder of the cold of the ice on my skin.

I have to give myself the second needle on Monday night and I'll be on my own since Mr. JB will be in New York to see his beloved Yankees (he had to make the trip before the team moves to the new stadium). I think I'm going to need a lot more infertile lovin' then.

Now that the drama is over I'm going to have a drink.

Call me crazy...

I know I just lamented about hating needles, but I just decided that I just have to be a big girl and learn how to do it.

There it's in print. I can't go back on it now.

I figure that I've come this far in the infertile wilderness that I can stand sticking myself in the belly twice before Mr. JB gets back from his trip. I even volunteered to do the first needle while he's still in town, just in case I chicken out.

Please, please send me some good sticking vibes.

I'm so brave. I'm so brave. I'm so brave.

(If I say it enough will be come true??????)

p.s. A BIG thanks to My Reality for volunteering to stick me in the butt. You rock!

Where did the rest of my summer vacation go?

So I haven't been jetlagged for the entire month, I've just been so ridiculously busy trying to enjoy the month of August (which is basically impossible for any teacher!). I am so glad that we went away for most of July since I really don't feel like I'm in vacation mode at all.

I've spent the better part of the last two weeks attending workshops to get me prepared for the big grade change and getting my classroom ready. The only problem is that I am missing 75% of the things that I should have. I don't even have a piece of chalk! It's going to be pretty interesting starting the year off with only a quarter of my resources and most of my classroom furniture missing! I don't even have a desk! I can't even commandeer one of the children's desks since they're in grade one and they're too small!

Anyhow, before I melt down (and trust me, I'm trying to be as positive as possible at this point) we do have a few developments in the TTC saga. We saw our Napro doctor at the beginning of the month and I was told that since the oral progesterone didn't make any difference with my luteal phase and the brown bleeding that she's switching me to injections. Which made me almost throw up.

You see I am petrified of needles. When the doc showed Mr. JB how to get the needle ready I had to leave the room because I felt so nauseous. When he did the practice injection I had to hold onto the examining table so I didn't make a break for it. I know that it has to be done and that hopefully this will be the answer to my progesterone problem, but my fear is quite irrational (but even knowing that doesn't make it any better).

I'm pretty stressed right now since Mr. JB is going away for the last week of August and I have to administer the needles myself. My best friend is also going to be away so I can't even ask her to do it. I've been working up to it, but I just can't imagine sticking myself with a needle when I can't even look at one.

Does anyone have any advice or would like to come to my house for four evenings and give me the damned things?

I know that in the end when I have my little baby that the needles won't matter, but at this point I'm really thinking that adoption is a good option....

Fog walking

I'm suffering from extreme jetlag, even with taking melatonin and getting a full night's sleep. Hence I am a total crankbox and all I want to do is veg out and be grumpy. I was being very optimistic since when we arrived in France I adjusted so quickly and was ready to get into the sightseeing routine. I'm trying to avoid napping during the day and I'm also trying to get as much sunlight as possible, but I'm still hurting. Badly.

Being so out of it has gotten me a little stressed as well. Although I've washed all of our dirty trip clothes, my house just isn't in order. I'm pretty compulsive about the organization of my home, but I just haven't been able to think clearly enough to put everything back in it's place. It also didn't help that we went to my father-in-law's for the long weekend. I really wouldn't be stressed out, but our house is pretty small and anything out of place is pretty obvious (well at least to me and not to Mr. JB!).

I started the long weekend on the wrong foot -- I was supposed to have my progestrone levels checked on Peak +7, but it being Sunday we couldn't find a lab open anywhere. I assumed, wrongly, that my regular lab (since it's associated to a major hospital in my city) would be open. I expended quite a bit of energy trying to find a lab, but couldn't find anything open in the GTA. I decided after calling a couple of hospitals and my best friend that it would just have to wait until today. Thank God that my Creighton practioner called me right back to tell me that I didn't have to worry about it and that all I had to do was note the blood test date on my chart. Apparently I wasn't paying attention when she told me that I didn't have to worry about being a couple of days late with my bloodwork!

Also I think that I've started spotting. I'm on day 26 of my cycle (Peak +9) and I've been taking my progesterone since Peak +3, but it seems like my cycles aren't getting any longer. I was told that I shouldn't start my period until about three days after I stopped taking the progesterone and this isn't happening. I see my Creighton doctor on Friday and she's going to put me on antibiotics for the ureaplasma (a month-long course, hopefully it won't be as bad as the first course). I really hope that the antibiotics will stop all of the spotting before I get my period.

So I guess it's back to reality. The trip did a very good job at distracting me from all of the baby-making business, but we're not rich enough to stay on vacation forever. Wish me luck that my body starts to function in my time zone and that I can stop being so damn cranky!

Catalan Memories

The heat and the exhaustion of traveling for two and a half weeks caught up to me in Barcelona, hence the non-blogging. In retrospect, even though I enjoyed our time in Spain, we really should've just stayed in Biarritz. Now I'm trying to fight through jetlag and function like a normal human being (although I feel like I'm walking through a heavy fog).

So here's some memories of our five days in Barca:

We arrived late Saturday night after thirteen hours of train travel. The SNCF (the French train people) "forgot" to add ten cars to the first train that we were supposed to take to our first stop, Bordeaux. Instead we got on in Biarritz and were basically sardined into a first class car where people were trying desperately to sit and hold onto their bags. We ended up having to change in Dax about thirty kilometres away. It was a pain in the butt to say the least, especially since I paid for seats in first class! Needless to say I was very stressed trying to make our change in Bordeaux, although the conductor promised that we wouldn't miss our train despite the delay.

Our voyage continued as we changed to a train in Bordeaux to Narbonne. The train was quite nice and our car was almost empty which was good. Our two hour stop in Narbonne was extremely frustrating since the table service at the train station restaurant had the slowest server known to man. It took twenty minutes to get acknowledged and almost an hour to get a plate of charcuterie (honestly, a simple plate of a few cold cuts, some bread and a few lettuce leaves, you would've thought that we were getting served Beef Wellington!). Our first class car to Barcelona may have been first class about thirty years ago, but the bizarre train noises, itchy seats and strange conductor man that sounded like he was going to lose a lung all made for a strange ride.

We arrived in Barcelona absolutely exhausted and starving. After a relatively cheap cab ride we got to our beautiful hotel. And much to our surprised we were upgrade to a junior suite since they had no more double rooms! Woohoo! I was really excited about our stay in Barca since I booked a four star hotel knowing in advance that we would need some pampering at the end of our trip. I absolutely could not believe how awesome the room was. We had two bathrooms (Mr. JB and I don't share a bathroom at home so it was nice to have my own space again!), a living room area and a good sized bedroom. We also had two televisions so we didn't have to fight about what to watch. I loved that the hotel had their own toiletries -- not just soap and shampoo, but a shaving kit, shoe shine sponge, comb, dental kit, bath sponge and shower cap! I could've just spent the entire five days holed up in the hotel! We also loved the buffet breakfast. All of the places that we stayed, with the exception of the apartment in Paris, had breakfast, but the French don't really appreciate breakfast like North Americans. I was sick of eating baguettes and jam! When we had breakfast the first morning and saw bacon, cereal, fresh fruit and vegetables, three types of juice and three types eggs for Mr. JB (I'm deathly allergic). We ate so much that first morning and for the first time in almost three weeks we weren't hungry an hour later.

We spent our first day in Barcelona on the Bus Turistic -- the double decker tourist bus -- and basically took all three routes to see the city. The city is huge so it was great that the bus took us to all of the spots to see. I visited the city seven years ago with my crazy mother and we also did the tourist bus since she really doesn't like to do anything when she travels and it was the most passive way to see the sights. It was great that the bus had an audio guide that explained everything. I've thought more than once that I'd like to play tourist and take the same bus in Toronto so I could really see the city that I grew up in. Let's see if I ever get around to doing that!


We walked down La Rambla to see what was going on. There were some street performers dressed up in costume, musicians and dancers, and a TON of people! The funniest thing that Mr. JB thought that the sign above the newsagent said, "Ihola" not, "Hola." Needless to say he doesn't have a flair for languages (espeically since he took Spanish, and failed, in university).

Our third day in Spain we decided to visit Montserrat. Legend has it that St. Luke carved the Black Madonna and hid it in a cave to protect it from war. Years later shepherds found the statue and then the Benedictine monks tried to move it. When they couldn't they decided to build their church and abbey around it. The wait was over an hour to see the Black Madonna, but it was definitely worth it. A few years ago my father-in-law went to Montserrat but he refused to wait in the line! You can see the statue from inside of the church, but one the way to the statue there is so much beautiful artwork and sculpture that the wait wasn't too painful. The church and the abbey were beautiful and the mountains were spectacular. I can't believe that the monks had the tenacity to built the abbey on the side of a crazy high mountain!

We spent the last couple days in the city doing as little sightseeing as possible. I did get some good shopping in and we ate a lot of tapas. It's too bad that we went to Barcelona last since we had no more energy to be the thorough tourists that we were in Paris and Normandy. We had a great afternoon on the beach before we went home and although they have cleaned up the waterfront quite a bit the water wasn't as clean as it was in Biarritz! It was also pretty distracting to see a completely naked dude sunbathing! I think that I was pretty accustomed to the topless sunbathing, but the naked guy was too much!

Although we loved our hotel room and it was so convenient to have the tasty breakfast buffet, we were both so happy to go home. The ten hour plane ride was frustrating since the airline didn't have the meal that I requested (although I filled out paperwork and verified with the airline). I will never understand why it's so hard for airlines to fulfill simple requests. Since I have so many allergies I requested a kosher meal so there wouldn't be any risk of having any milk products. Instead the stewardess tried to feed me some vegetable stir fry that had milk ingredients! Then they offered me pizza. Now are these people dumb, or what? I ended up eating a crappy veggie sandwich and an apple that bruised.


So we're home and back to our normal, albeit, jetlagged life. I know that it's going to be a while before we can afford to spend three weeks in Europe. I do have to say that although I love traveling, especially to France, but I am so glad that we live where we live.

So I guess I'm going to have to start imagining where we're going next...

French beaches...

So I've been without internet (although it was advertised that we would! argh!) since leaving Paris and I've been going through a bit of withdrawal. Perhaps it was a good thing since my Facebook/Blogger dependencies were getting in the way of real life -- and who really wants to be on the computer when on vacation?

After leaving Paris we headed north to Normandy to visit the D-Day beaches and the war museum in Caen. Mr. JB is a total history buff and was really excited (and he was sick of Paris, he's a small town boy at heart). I'd like to think of myself as a pacifist, but it was hard not to be moved by the displays.

At the war museum in Caen there was a temporary exhibit on 9/11 that brought tears to my eyes more than once. I will never forget the day of the attacks. It was a beautiful day in Ottawa and I had just moved home from Europe and had started teachers' college. When a friend got the phone call that the towers had been hit she told her boyfriend that it wasn't a funny joke and hung up. When he called back and told us to find a television, we all knew that it was not a joke at all. I had never been so scared in my entire life. I didn't have a land line nor cable (which I think was a blessing in disguise). My cat hadn't even moved in with me yet so I was all alone.

Reading all of the information at the museum about World War II really brought things to life for me. I have a renewed appreciation for what the soldiers did, and are doing now. Standing on the various beaches -- Juno and Omaha as well as Cote de Hoc (where the Allied soldiers had to scale cliffs to get to land and were basically picked off by the enemy) -- I felt so grateful that people had come before me to make sure that I would live in a world that is safe.

After Normandy Mr. JB and I said goodbye to our travel mates to head south. I had already visited the Cote d'Azur and I wanted to go somewhere different. I am so glad that I chose Biarritz! As soon as we arrived at the train station (after a very long day of train travel) I could feel all of the stress melt away. Biarritz is a popular spot for families and it seems German tourists. It's not as expensive as the more touristy spots, the food is wonderful and everyone is so laid back (as one would expect at a seaside town known for surfing).

We decided that since we were already in the southwest that we should visit Lourdes, as any good Catholic should. Am I ever glad that we did. The day was cloudy and cooler and we got a little bit of rain so I wouldn't have been able to lounge on the beach anyway (a girl has to be practical, yes?). Mr. JB and I visited all of the important sites in the life of St. Bernadette (who saw visions of Mary on eighteen different occasions). The church was absolutely beautiful and all of the chapels on the site were phenomenal. We were most impressed with the underground basilica for St. Pius. I lit more than one candle for all of us infertiles and said many, many prayers. I was too hungry to wait in line to get dunked in the healing springs (and there were so many sick people waiting in line that I would've felt guilty taking a spot for someone in worse shape than I was). I was overcome more than once with the feeling that someone was hearing my prayers.

So tomorrow is our last day in Biarritz before we head to Barcelona. I'm getting pretty homesick. I've thought more than once that I would love to transport my house and all of it's comforts (like a bathroom big enough for me to comb my hair without hitting the door!) to Europe, but alas, that is not possible. I guess the best thing about vacations is that we remember what we've left back home.

But I do have to admit that a day at the beach tomorrow may take some of my homesickness away, even for an afternoon...

Paris Boulevards

So my love affair with Paris continues.

It's funny that I don't even feel like a tourist -- I know the metro, the good places to eat, and secret spots that only native Parisiens know. Like I've already said, I feel more at home here that I do back in Canada. How strange, since I only lived here for 18 months.

Yesterday, on my third wedding anniversary I took Mr. JB on a tour of my Paris. He saw my old neighbourhood, the outside of my old apartment building (which is being renovated so he couldn't really see my window), my bakery, my grocery store, my metro stop.... It seemed endless! My ever-patient husband was getting information overload, but he listened intently to all of my little anecdotes about each and every thing.

It brings me great pleasure that I could show him a part of my life that preceeds him. I know that if it wasn't for Paris toughening me up, I wouldn't be the person that he fell in love with. I arrived in Paris a very naive 25 year old. I'd been away from home for university, but I always had the (mostly dysfunctional) safety net of my family. In Paris I learned that I had to stand up for myself, to be assertive and most of all, to be true to who I am. Not only did I learn how to stand up and defend myself in all sorts of situations -- being called horrible names since I am a visible minority, being tough with students that didn't give a rat's ass about learning English, getting my work permit even though a French bureaucrat didn't feel like giving it me -- I learned that I could be good on my own. I didn't need anyone to make me whole and that I could rely on myself for what I needed. Don't worry, I'm not going to run off and become some bohemian blog writing ex-pat, I love my life back in Canada. But before Paris, I wasn't really sure of who I was.

I took Mr. JB up the Eiffel Tower (although all I really wanted to do was laze around at a cafe and watch people go by, but I couldn't take the poor man to Paris and not take him!) and it was so neat to be able to tell him what everything was. It's a spectacular view (although better at night) and it is quite romantic. I witnessed more than one marriage proposal while visiting the Tour!

Tonight we went over to a friend's house for dinner. When I lived in Paris I not only worked teaching English at a university, I also gave private lessons. It was a great tax-free way to make pocket money! I gave lessons to a little boy, A and also picked up his little sister, M, from school on Thursdays. I saw M the last time I was in Paris five years ago, but I hadn't seen A since I left in 2001. It was so wonderful to see them! A has just returned from spending a year in North Carolina and although he didn't really enjoy it, his English is great. His mom did mention more than once that it was because of my lessons, but I know I can't take all of the credit. A and M's mom also suggested that we do a house exchange -- our place in Southern Ontario for theirs just outside of Paris. Now that would be awesome!!!! Their place has a beautiful view of the Eiffel tower and is only 20 minutes from the centre of town. I guess I'll have to start saving my pennies as soon as we get back!

So tomorrow is our last day in Paris. I always get so sad when I leave this city. I always feel like I leave a part of my heart here. The one place that I had to take Mr. JB was my happy place. The photo above is the name of the boulevard in my old neighbourhood that I would walk on the way to the RER station to work. One day I was walking towards the station and the sunlight was peeking through the trees and as I walked along the boulevard I felt so at peace. I could hear birds chirping and kids playing the in background. Every time I feel sad or stressed I think back to that spring day when I realized that I lived in the most beautiful city in the world and that it was all at my fingertips to experience.

I will always carry the image of that perfect walk in my heart -- it's gotten me through so many painful things. If I could package my happy place I would be a millionaire and there would be fewer sad people in the world.

I'm sending you all big, big kisses in Paris. I hope that I will have internet in Normandy. If not, you'll have to wait until the south of France for an update!

Bisous!

Smelling the Sunflowers

One of the reasons why I love France so much is all of the history. Although I am a very proud Canuck, I just can't get over how everything in Europe is so old! Take for example the apartment that I lived in, it was 400 years old! Canada only turned 141 on July 1st, as a nation we're mere children!

Anyhow, today we visited Versailles. It was a beautiful day. We didn't get the rain that was forcasted and it was perfect weather for sightseeing. The four of us were pretty bleary eyed and we took turns having the sleepies, but we had an incredible visit. JY and I had been to the castle before, but our other halves hadn't. We visited today because the fountains were going to be on for their "eaux musicales" -- basically loud classical music plays while the numerous fountains were on (I know that my description doesn't give the spectacle any justice, it was truly beautiful).

We visited Marie-Antoinette's little retreat where she would go to "get away from it all" which I find hilarious since it was on the same property as the castle. Apparently when she departed the castle so she could have some alone time the servants and her attendants would have a big send off ceremony!

I was glad to see more of the grounds since the last two times I visited Versailles I did a tour of the castle -- which is breathtaking. Room after room of velvet brocade wallpaper, HUGE oil paintings taking up entire walls, beds topped with feathers and of course the famous hall of mirrors. If you haven't seen Sofia Coppola's movie about Marie-Antoinette you should check it out, although it doesn't do the castle justice. I absolutely loved the beautiful gardens. There were some crazy tall sequoias and all of the roadways were lined with perfectly manicured trees. I just wish I could have one of the gardeners at my house so my flowers and trees looked half as nice!

Unfortunately this morning AF decided to come on vacation with us. I had gotten a teensy weensy bit optimistic when we saw our Creighton practioner last week since she said that according to when we BD I had a good chance of being pregnant. I also had sore boobs for the first time in months which she said was a good sign.

Yeah right.

I also know that I have to go on the month-long course on antibiotics to treat the ureaplasma since I'm still spotting despite being on progesterone.

Oh well, at least I have Paris to distract me. Perhaps I can find some more flowers to smell...