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The Groups
smells like a convention
Since I am in the early planning stages of sorting out a trip to the Northeast I thought I would open the floor for some input.
You may ask yourself, why the fuck does Calliope need input.
One word: Convention
As in I want to have a zany, crazy, girl squealie, compare and contrast tales from the stirrups kind of pow-wow, clam-bake, shin-dig, meeting sort of thing. And if you can get your infertile ass to NYC you are invited. (well, maybe. I may have to do some screening of any unfamiliars. Not that I don’t love you, but well, you know. In order to get through the 4th wall with me there is a shit load of security clearance needed. & I may make you sign something.)
My trip will start in Boston, but I have decided that I just want to hunker down with my friend, her husband & their new baby.
Then I will be coming to NYC. Not sure when, or for how long. That is where you come in. If I say “first week of November” do you say, “available!!” or do you say, “holy shit- that is the ONE week that I will be away!” ?
And where is a good place to meet? (feel free to ponder that via an e-mail to me rather than in a comment) And are weekends better? Weekday nights? Anybody have any connections to a grade school gym so that we can have a sleep over? I just don’t know how I can only do just a lunch or dinner- I need MORE!
Let the planning begin!
Photo Friday & the new friend
See, now is where all of you can loudly proclaim, ‘I told you so!’. Meeting Sarah was just as awesome as you predicted. It was so great to move from computer friend to real life friend. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t get myself all worked up with worry and angst in the hour or so beforehand. It also doesn’t mean that I didn’t have a melt down over what to wear. And it doesn’t mean that I didn’t get lost on the way to the designated meeting spot.
But the funny bit is that Sarah said she was a bit angsty and she also got lost. Woo hoo. Dorks unite.
However I think the real, “she is just as cool as I thought she was” moment was had the instant she opened her mouth & the following sentence poured out “Look, I’ve just had a guy’s hand up my bum and I am sorely in need of liquor.”
(& before you start to worry your pretty little head, go over to Sarah’s blog to see exactly what she has been going through — all in the name of fertility. Seriously, if gold stars were handed out I think she gets at least 7.)
We took a scenic drive around St. Augustine. (scenic being the fancy & polite way of saying we drove all the fuck over looking for a good bar) We finally found a bar on a corner street that had just the right amount of ambient noise to buffer our fantastic and detailed conversations about ovaries and whatnot.
In a way it was like reuniting with an old friend from school. There was so much commonality and so much history after over a year of chatting on-line. & of course we had other classmates to discuss. (hell yes we talked about all of you! bwah ha ha.) We talked about the weird conversations that we have found ourselves in with other people when they find out that we are single women wanting to be Moms all on our own. It was that same comfort that so many of us have found on-line. That, “You’ve thought that too?” or the “I almost did that!” familiarity. We see each other mirrored back to us and in some way it validates that we are ok. I’m ok. You are ok.
My Photo Friday images were taken yesterday while we were in St. Augustine. The theme this week is WINDOWS.
Do not be alarmed. Harry’s head is only wax. I am sure he will be just fine in the final book. But you know those English do have a thing for beheading…
The 4th Wall.
For those of you past and present theatre geeks you know exactly what I mean by The 4th Wall. For all of you others I offer this from Wikipedia: “The fourth wall is the imaginary invisible wall at the front of the stage in proscenium theatre, through which the audience sees the action in the world of the play.”
In theatre, movies and novels- there is a contained world. A world that the writer, film crew, stage designers and/or a whole slew of others have worked very hard to create. While the goal, in most cases, is to have you, the audience feel as if you are there, usually you are not meant to BE there as an active participant. (exceptions are huge, of course, Tony & Tina’s Wedding, anyone?) The audience is kept apart, at a safe distance, to react and observe. You are then free to leave the cinema, theatre, or library and get back to your own life. Maybe the work of art seeped into your heart a bit, maybe some of the subject matter made you mad. Perhaps you became motivated to change the world.
In the 1930’s Clifford Odets wrote a play called called Waiting for Lefty. It was produced by and with members of the cutting edge Group Theatre. The play, a fluid series of scenes about a group of taxi drivers and their union meetings, was a breakthrough. When the play was first performed the audience was so moved that they stood up and began to yell and shout for a strike.
You may ask yourself, just where the fuck is Calliope going with this? hang in there.
Blogging is, to some of us, our creative outlet. It is our non-fiction story unfolding daily to a (hopefully) engaged ‘audience’. We choose what we tell, we choose how we tell, and some of us (via password protected blogs) choose who we tell. It is truth, but sifted, filtered and presented in the best light. I may speak only for myself here, but I really want you to like me. I want you to want to be my friend. I actually need it.
So I don’t really talk about some of the shitty things I do. Like sometimes I loose my temper with GM. And I harbor some weird resentment about being the family’s go-to caretaker. I also don’t always wear deodorant or brush my teeth before I go to bed. Sometimes I wake up and wonder what the fuck I am doing with my life. And other days I feel very blessed. I have one of the worst memories you can imagine. I pretend (or try) to be smarter than I am. Not only am I a horrible speller, but I repeatedly misspell the same words. I have huge gaps of my life that I can not recall. I pine for romance, but if a possibility ever presented itself I would run far, far away from it. I hate change and the unknown. I joke about the size of my ass, but it is honestly bigger than you think. I joke about my acne, but it is much more of a sensitive issue. (hence the joking) I have had the same polish on my toenails for so long that I can not even remember when I painted them.
So what I am saying is that I am ridiculously flawed. Damaged.
And today I am breaking the 4th wall.
I am meeting a fellow blogger for dinner tonight. We have ‘known’ each other for well over a year having ‘met’ on that charting site that makes us all roll our eyes. We have some very specific things in common. The single thing, the wanting to have a baby thing, the using donor sperm thing, the watching of everyone around us swell with pregnancies, banning inane terminology such as “baby dust”, being pissed at the universe…core commonalities.
For as long as we have ‘known’ each other we have had this massive subject to bond over. Sure we know glimpses of each other’s life, but there is a huge gap between what we present on line versus who we really are. And tonight that gap is going to grow a lot smaller.
I am terrified that she won’t like me. I am freaking the fuck out that she will take one look at me and cringe at this lady behind the curtain. However, as much as I am freaked out, I am also really giddy to meet her.
Then in October I am meeting two more fellow bloggers. And maybe (like early November) I can meet some of you Northeast bloggers.
And then the jig will be up. I will be exposed for the dork that I really am. Be kind.
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Speaking of breaking the 4th wall: Please be aware that now that google has merged with blogger you may inadvertently be leaving comments under your real name. For protection I know that many of us blog under initials or assumed names. Double check before you leave a comment. If you are logged into google, even in a different window, blogger may use your REAL name. If you are worried that this may happen I have enabled anonymous comments. But because I am very needy & contradictory I will ask that you ’sign’ your anonymous comments.
The timing was right.
How many times does it happen? You want to say something, talk about something important, but there never seems to be the right moment. Sometimes what you want to talk about is larger than life and in addition to never finding the right time you polarize yourself silly with the fear of how what you need to say will be heard.
So, in honor of Sophia from the Golden Girls…
Picture this: The kitchen table, GM & I have just completed our 3rd crossword puzzle of the day and we are being silly and laughing. I feel this push - an out of body shove, if you will- to start THE conversation.
So I tell GM that I have something that I want to talk to her about, something that I need her support on. She straightens up in her chair and puts on her best, “I’m all ears, kid” face. I tell her that for a long time there has been something that I wanted and that no matter how hard I pray for it it won’t happen unless I put some work into it. She begins to smile like a Cheshire cat and I immediately realize that she knows. On some level she just knew.
I dive in with, “I’m ready to have a baby.” And GM, thank fucking God (really), replies, “Can we name her Julia*?”
She then asks me all sorts of questions:
1) Do I have a boyfriend?
I tell her no but that some day I would like to fall in love. She doesn’t grill me about needing to be married or in a relationship - the things I feared most. She did remark that I wouldn’t have to deal with in-laws. ha! I explain about sperm donors & she nods as if she has heard it all before. I do wonder if some of those TLC shows she was so intent on watching months ago paved the way.
2) How much do I know about my sperm donor? (my GM used the words ’sperm donor’!!!!)
I had the laptop in the kitchen already so I pulled up Churchill’s photo & information and she said, “Oh I know him.” Which I took to mean he has a familiar look about him. Something that I will attribute to his having the same geographic ancestry.
3) Will it hurt?
I told her that some of it may be very, very uncomfortable and I will need lots of love. I also explained that if it didn’t work my heart would hurt the most. I did NOT let on that I had been down this road for over a year. Besides- not to start a fertility pissing contest- but from what I have observed- the emotions, energy & investment in an IVF cycle is a katrillion times more intense than an IUI cycle. This will be very new territory for me.
4) What does my Mother think?
She actually asked me if I wanted her (GM) to be with me when I told Mother that I wanted a baby. So cute. I told her that Mother was on board and excited and more concerned about what potential kid would call her as she is very anti many Grandmother names.
5) Will I have a boy or girl?
Not sure where this question came from. I think there might be some confusion about exactly what IVF is. GM would like me to have a girl and I told her I would do my best, but that if we got a boy we would love him just as much. And she said, “But we can’t name him Julia.” um, right.
6) Will you let me hold her?
Yes. of course yes. I told GM that she would have to help me take care of the baby- IF(I mean that as a capital if, the big IF- not some sort of garbled short-hand for IVF) I got a baby. GM mimed rocking a baby and my heart started to ooze this new emotion: somewhere between elation, relief and hope.
We must have talked for over an hour before she wanted me to pull down all of our baby books. We flipped through hers, Mothers & mine. Then we called Mom and GM yelled, “we are going to have a baby!”
It was at this point that I started to get a bit worried. I know that between now & IF GM will most likely forget this day and possibly this conversation. Or she may become very upset when it doesn’t work, because let’s be real, it sure aint a sure thing. I am pushing those worries out of my head as it seems like borrowing a kind of trouble that I don’t need at the moment.
For now I am going to stew & marinate on the wonderfulness of what happened. My GM supported me and will (hopefully) be there as I go through this ginourmous big deal. I can’t say that THIS is what needed to happen before I could get knocked up- but just being in a house of honesty feels peaceful. There is now a newness of hope in the fact that I can talk about things out loud.
*Julia happens to be one of my favorite names. Not only is it GM’s & my middle name, but it is also the name of one of my best friends AND the name of one of the cutest babies in Utah. In our family the Julia name has been passed down from Grandmother to Granddaughter for 8 generations (if I did the math correctly). & who knows, if there is a boy named Sue there could be a boy named Julia.
um, not that I am being ridiculously dorky and dreaming of baby names again. Nope. um.
Houston, we have an appointment.
The new patient coordinator just called me to set up my appointment at the Florida Clinic (FC). Here is a transcript of our conversation:
(after the hellos & establishing of who each other was)
Her: I need to get some information from you.
Me: (gulp) ok.
Her: I need your social, your date of birth, the correct spelling of your last name, your address, your insurance, your day time phone number.
Me: ok (& then I tell her all that.)
Her: Who do you want your RE to be?
Me: um, who has the best sense of humor?
Her: Oh they are all pretty human.
Me: Well who can deal with swearing and inappropriate jokes and the patient’s need to feel like the most clever girl in the universe?
Her: That would be Dr. D - I think you will like him.
Me: ok, sign me up.
Her: oh! One more question: are you married?
[deep breath, deep breath]
Me: no
Her: ok.
She said “ok” and moved on like it was no big fucking deal. woo hoo!
Now I knew beforehand (another Florida blogger actually called and asked the clinic in advance if they worked with single women- just so I wouldn’t have to be rejected on the phone) but having that moment of whatever-ness was pretty sweet. The clinic I went to in ‘bama was actually the ONLY clinic that worked with single women.
The appointment is in mid November in the middle of the day.
Now that brings us to a big question. To tell GM or not to tell her.
Some of you may not even realize that GM has not been privy to all of my attempts to become a Mother. Even when I had the lap I told her it was to fix some “female problems”. True, but not the whole truth. My plan was always to get knocked up, and once I knew it was good and real to fill her in.
Now, for some weird reason, I have this urge to share with her. It could be that ’sneaking’ an IVF cycle just isn’t viable. I was able to tend to GM and be there for her all through the other trying cycles. Even when I was a fiesta of bloat, or emotionally raw from devastation, or hormonally plumped like a thanksgiving bird- I never dropped my routine with GM.
But I think I will want to take it WAY easy when I do IVF. I want to be able to retreat to my bed and get away. But more than that- I think I want GM to be able to hold my hand.
So how do I break it to GM? Do I pretend like I am starting now or do I confess to over a year of withholding?
I know that whatever her 1st reaction is that her eventual stance will be one of support and the party line of, “whatever makes you happy”. I also know that her biggest issues will stem from my being single.
I’m going to brew on this a bit and see if an obvious, “how to tell GM” awareness happens.
Have any of you told older family members?
New Theme, Random Poll, & a heatwave
First, thanks for all of the cheers regarding my calling the clinic. I now just wish they would call me back so I can put the appointment in my schedule and begin counting down to the day. And, you know, doing all of that angsty stuff…
But I had something to take my mind off their not calling: a heat wave in my house. Yup, our a/c went kaput again. All the freon keeps leaking out. When the repairman came he declared that there were over 7 different leaks. Oh, & in order for him to even begin doing some work on it he had to turn the heat on high. It was already nearly 85 degrees in the house. Needless to say I was one cranky motherfucker yesterday. Luckily we are renting so all of the cost of repairs etc is being handled by the property manager. But UNfortunately there is all of this stupid paper work that has to be done before they can “condemn” the a/c unit and install a new one. To help them I forwarded this.
And now for the random poll. I am curious about what prompts us to post a comment. Personally I try to post a comment for every new post that you guys right. Some days I get behind, but that is my goal. However, there are some posts that I feel shy about commenting on. & then there are some posts that I feel like I have NO business commenting on. What do you guys use as your commenting indicator? If you choose other- please share that reason.
Also, I hear you on the Photo Friday thing. Yesterday’s whine was just that, a whine. Me, being a brat, and feeling like nobody was sitting with me at the lunch table. But the whole reason I started photo friday was personal. I was getting so obsessed with vagina & ttc shit that I needed something creative to work on. It’s getting to be that time again- where I am going to become freakishly obsessed with ovulation and medication and all the new shit that comes with encroaching the IVF world. So, like the nerd in the beginning of the 3rd act of a teenage movie from the 80’s, “I’m doing it for me!”
This week’s new theme is: Windows
(you know, just in case you need to do it for you.)
getting the ball rolling…
So. Um. Just called THE clinic. To, you know, become a patient. And go over things.
and start all over.
Well I don’t know if I have to start all over.
Really all I did was leave my name and number so that a new patient coordinator could call me back.
But in my head I am already gearing up for doom.
& trying to not take it personally that photo friday seems to have died.
Photo Friday & GM
Welcome back to Photo Friday! Woo hoo! Now go upload some photos, people.
Today’s theme is what you lug to or from work or school. Since I work at home as a full time Granddaughter I don’t have much to lug around…well except for GM & her accessories. Her biggest accessory is her 4 legged cane, Fred. We take him every where. If you ever wonder why GM wobbles but she doesn’t fall down it is all due to Fred.
This morning we took Fred to the beach with us. We had a bit of lunch and watched the surfers. For those of you with young kids that have trouble putting sunblock on them- try doing it to an 85 year old yelling, “I never wore this crap in all my life!” Um, yes. We know. Remember that hunk of cancer we took out of your arm 2 years ago? ahem.
After the beach we went to GM’s weekly hair appointment. I really love this new place down here in Florida. For starters GM isn’t the oldest one there. They also are much more like Steal Magnolias than the swank salon GM went to in ‘bama. Don’t get me wrong, the ‘bama place was very good to GM. But it was more a place for college girls and young folks. You know, the sort that don’t get that GM & her Fred are wobbling around.
Tonight I will make a quiche and green beans and, at GM’s request, serve her a glass of Sherry.
So how is your Friday going?
Just a Glimpse
Finally I managed to find all of the essential wires & doo dads that would enable me to upload some photos. Click on the photo and look for the newest set.
Protected: With these 4 words…TAGGED
I’ve been tagged by Katty over at Going it Alone.
The ‘game’ is to take the four words provided and then write something about them, which will miraculously reveal something about myself to you.
The four words given to me were: Passion, Doubt, Clear & Hallway
PASSION:
Well, because I am a sad, pathetic, single girl, my honest to God first reaction to this word was a combination of fruit and hair care products. The word feels kind of empty to me otherwise. Even though I know that one can have passions that don’t necessarily involve romance - the very look of the word evokes the need for me to pair off with somebody. Those two S’s sandwiched in the middle of the word seem so exclusive.
DOUBT:
Holy shit do I have tons of that. I will now confess something to you: I am a medical anomaly. The average person is comprised of 65% water. I, however, am made up of 65% doubt. I have doubts about every fucking thing I do, think, say, write about. You name it & I have doubted it. Right now I am dealing with some major fertility doubts. I have the number of the swank new (to me) clinic in town. I know I should go ahead & set up that first appointment. But doubt is keeping me back. This is likely the last stop for me on the baby train and knowing that has me pausing to climb aboard. I am worried that the clinic will deem me too fat, too messed up, too single, too unemployed. The longer I can delay going to the clinic the more I can sort of relax within my doubt. Yes, there can be comfort in doubt. Definite answers such as, “You are way too fucking crazy and fat to be doing IVF. No baby for you!” would kill me. But holding off on such a response is still letting me float in the “I am fine.” stream. (um, how many effing metaphors does a girl need?)
CLEAR:
The only thing clear in my life at the moment is my new anti-flake dandruff shampoo. (does stress cause dandruff? I can’t find my hair washing groove. I either do it too much or possibly not enough. Ah, the joys of being a thick haired gal.) My future life is unclear, my possibilities for finding love are unclear, how much time I have left with GM is unclear, & most especially- my skin is unclear. Like my scalp, I can not find the balance. It is either way too oily or way too dry. & zits? Dude. I have every kind of zit there is: cystic, blackhead, whitehead, ingrown hair, stress zits, hormonal zits and because the location of zits change as you get older they are migrating. I used to just get zits on my chin and forehead. Now land on my nose & cheeks are being claimed. & do I even talk about the bacne?
HALLWAY:
For this word I will share with you an insight to aging brought to you by GM’s ass. GM is an oblivious tooter. A lot of older people are. This is not to be confused with a silent farter or a private ripper. Toots are pretty much harmless. But they are oh so cheerful. Whenever GM gets up to go anywhere she toots. It’s like a little solo on a snare drum. This new house has some fun acoustics. So now when she walks in the hallway you can hear the sound of her happy toots a LOT louder. Yesterday afternoon she came and got me all concerned about a noise she heard. I knew the noise was coming from her, but (hee hee, thank goodness for the comma) I knew she would be embarrassed if she was told that. (or even shocked. Have you ever seen a dog shock itself by the sound of its own fart? I didn’t want to do that to GM.) So I told her it was the air conditioner.
Now, as the game requires, I am going to tag some people with 4 words of my choosing.
The words are: MAGIC, ELEVATOR, HUMBLE, & PERFECT
I am tagging: Sarah at Sarah Solitaire, Cat at House of Miao,
Brooke at Seeking the Stork, & J at Cheese and Whine
I am also taggging you if you have a vowel in your first name. Really, I am. I am just too lazy to link.
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