Extend the Life of your Paperback

As a literature teacher, I have a wide variety of books that look like this:

 

Ignore me in the background, and focus on the tattered and torn quality of this sad, sad little book. 

Pages are falling out, the cover is bent and ripped, and the entire binding is suffering from a major structural malfunction.

Being a public school teacher, I have little to no budget to replace tattered and torn paperbacks each year, so I've come up with some tricks to extend the life of my treasured books, leaving my meager budget available to be spent on new and different books, rather than simply replacing what I already have.

I thought that since many of my readers are mothers of small children, it might be beneficial to pass some of these tips on to you. I know how rough little ones can be on their favorite stories, and how frustrating it can be to have to replace them.

Tip 1: How to fix a broken binding

If the cover of your book has mysteriously become detached from the pages, you'll need three strong rubber bands and white school glue

Put a fairly thick bead of white school glue down the binding on the inside of the cover. Put another fairly thick bead of white glue on the part of the pages that should be attached to the cover. Let dry for about 45 seconds (until tacky). Carefully line up the pages inside the cover, and firmly press together. Put the rubber bands around the outside of the book to hold everything in place firmly. Let dry for 24-48 hours. Remove rubber bands. Voila'! New binding.

Tip 2: How to reattach pages that have fallen out of the book. 

Materials needed are white school glue and rubber bands.

Repeat the process described above for reattaching a cover, only use a thin bead of glue instead of a thick one. If you use too much glue, you can end up accidentally gluing the pages together.

Tip 3: How to prevent damage to the cover of a paperback

You will need scissors, clear, self-adhesive contact paper

This tip saved my life. I do this to all of my new books now, as soon as I get them. Measure and cut the clear contact paper to fit the cover of your paperback with the backing still on. Imagine you are wrapping a present, but cut out notches for the binding on the top and the bottom since you cannot fold the contact paper over the edge of the cover at these points. Carefully peel off the backing and apply to the book, making sure to smooth out any air bubbles that may form.

This one tip could extend the life of your paperbacks by literally years. It virtually eliminates tearing, bending, and water damage to the front cover. 

Tip 4: How to prevent theft

Materials, ID labels, clear contact paper

I always stick an ID label on the FRONT cover of my paperbacks before I cover them with contact paper. It makes it much more difficult to rip the label off, and if you use bold colors and a large sticker, it's pretty easy to spot. It's also virtually impossible to remove the label once it's been covered up by the contact paper.

Clearly none of these methods is fail-proof, nor would I recommend doing any of these things to valuable, antique, or collector's books. If you have a son or daughter, though, who loves their paperback books literally  to death, these tips can help you extend the life of your paperbacks dramatically.

As a side note, I have found a fantastic online library at www.shelfari.com you can put in your books and create a virtual library and it has cool tools such as a feature that lets you mark which books you have lent out, which has made my life much easier. You can add friends and compare libraries, which could be fun, too.

The Boy gets Baptized

This Saturday, the boy got baptized. It was really cool. We kept it low key. Around here since there are so many people who share the same faith as we do, it's easy to get carried away and turn something like a baptism into a major event, but I kind of feel like that detracts from the importance of the baptism and places the emphasis on the party. Plus, I'm the step-mom so it's not really supposed to be my deal anyway.
I left it up to his dad to arrange the details, and it was decided that we would have the baptism, and then a small get-together with cake at our house for family afterward to celebrate the boy and Luis, who turned 33 on Thursday.
The actual event was very intimate, as well. The only people in attendance were hubby's close family (mom, sister, cousins, aunt, nieces/nephews), Andrei's mom, and a few representatives from our congregation. Luis gave a small talk, as well as his cousin Hector (who might as well be his brother). Luis also performed the baptism, and afterward the confirmation. It was very sweet and emotional, especially since hubby didn't get a chance to bless Andrei as a baby. I wrote down the major stuff from the confirmation blessing since I think it will really be an inspiration to the boy as he grows older. There is something so wonderful about hearing what a man who holds the Priesthood says to his son while under the influence of the spirit. It was sacred to say the least, and I bawled like a baby the whole way through.
In my family we have a tradition that you get your first real set of scriptures when you turn 8. I had gone out shopping with the boy prior to his baptism and he selected a very nice set of black, leatherbound scriptures with gold leafing on the pages. It will last him for the rest of his life, I'm sure. I plan on getting them embossed with his name, and inside I will put a copy of the picture I took with him and his father dressed all in white, as well as a copy of the blessing.
All in all, it was a fantastic experience for all involved. I'm very glad that Andrei has a testimony of his own (albeit very simple due to his age), and he really felt that getting baptized was his choice, not just something his parents wanted him to do. I asked him several times why he was choosing to be baptized, what he thought doing so meant, and if he was willing to live up to the responsibilities of being a baptized Christian. He always answered that he believes in Christ, that he knows being baptized means that he is making a promise to live Christs' teachings, and that he is excited to be a full member of our church. I'm very glad, and proud of him.
Yesterday, we went to go visit his aunt at her apartment in Pleasant Grove. Last week when we were there he was running around outside and carrying on like a maniac. I had to ask him several times to settle down and eventually he was told he had to come in because he was just a little too out of control.
So before we got to Ana's, I reminded him that he was not to run up and down the halls screaming. He replied, "Oh, Nana. I don't do that anymore. Don't you remember yesterday?" I was both humbled and greatly amused at the sincerity in which he is honestly trying to live up to the covenant of Baptism. As usual, he ended up teaching me a lesson instead of the other way around.

Pho!

If you've never eaten Vietnamese food, you should. Like, today. Tomorrow at the latest. Seriously.
I had my first encounter with it tonight for hubby's birthday dinner (happy 33rd, babe!). We'd never been, and we noticed a newer restaurant across the street from our favorite Salvadorean restaurant (also another MUST on your ethnic food bucket list) about two weeks ago.
We got pho. With beef. And slices of heaven mixed in with some green onion. It may be the best soup I've ever had. Gahhh...

I also got summer rolls, which I was expecting to taste more like other Asian spring rolls I've tried (read: vegetarian wraps fried until crispy golden brown). I was wrong. They were fresh, wrapped in rice noodle, served cold with peanut sauce, and so, so yummy. I would have probably liked a little soy sauce on the side and/or spicey mustard, but otherwise perfection. They reminded me a lot more of the lettuce wraps at P.F. Changs than the deep fried goodness I was expecting. I was not disappointed.

Luis and I easily split one bowl of pho for a mere $7, and the rolls were only like $3.50. Nothing was greasy, oily, excessively heavy, or loaded with MSG. It was all light, fresh, clean-tasting, and full of fresh veggies, yet surprisingly filling.
If you live in P-town and want to go on a culinary trip to paradise, stop by Rice King Vietnamese Pho on 275 W and Center (across from Atchafalaya). The restaurant was sanitary, the service awesome, prices excellent, and that soup will haunt my dreams forever. I could go for some more right now, since I'm being honest.
We're SO stopping by there again next week on our "dinner out" night.
Mmm.......... pho.

Utopia

Maybe I'm going soft after so many years trying to beat perfection into my kids. Maybe I'm just too in love with my students this year. Maybe my kids really ARE the best group I've ever had the honor of teaching. Maybe it's a combination of things, but whatever the reason, I'm pretty sure my 7th period class is the Utopia of teaching. There are about 17 students. They are all quiet, well-behaved, hard working, bright, and they genuinely take care of each other.
I love them.
I have a hard time maintaining professional boundaries with them, because it's more like a community than a classroom, but don't worry. I am always professional. I do, however, let them go on long tangents about their personal lives, past experiences, thoughts, feelings, likes, and dislikes. I have a hard time telling them that I don't want to hear what's going on in their precious little minds. They are so tender and sweet I don't want to hurt their feelings. Not when they are so brave about sharing.
I really do love them.
Today they are doing vocabulary, but somehow it's devolved into sharing stories about their day. Granted, they were all working hard and most of them got farther on the assignment than any of my other classes. That's probably why I make allowances for them. I just can't be so strict with them. I can't make them sit there in silence when they have such funny, cute, innocent things to say.
Can you blame me?

Symptoms?

One of the hardest parts about ART (assisted reproductive technology) is the 2 week wait in between your procedures and when you can actually take a pregnancy test. When you know exactly what day and what time you ovulated, it's fairly easy to read WAY too much in to every little teeny tiny thing going on with your body, wondering if you're pregnant or if it's just the drugs and procedures.
I am not immune to this, despite my relative lack of concern about whether I'm pregnant or not. I would really like to know, either way, so I can get on with things, but mostly its just the drugs they have me on. They really do funny things with my body.
Today I'm wondering if the massive cramping I'm feeling is implantation-related, drug-related, or psychosis-related. I would love nothing more than to spend this day curled up in a bed with a heating pad, but alas. It is not meant to be. I can't take a day off of work because I've already taken WAY too much time off work to get up to this point, so I'm trying to be brave and I'm hoping the Tylenol kicks in soon.
Holding on until I can take a test on 10/4...

Blessed

I have an old friend who despite all odds I have kept in touch with for over a decade. She is the mother of one of the boys I dated in High School, and she was one of the most influential people in my life the first few years of college, despite the fact that she never realized it. Her nephew has started a blog about his experiences as a single dad, and today he posted about Perfectionism and how poisonous it can become in our own lives. Here's the link if you're interested.
As I was reading this post I was physically overcome with a sense of joy and gratitude for the experiences I have had over the past decade. 10 years ago, I was a lost, angry, confused young woman who could not see beyond tomorrow. Thanks to my dear friend whom I have mentioned above, I got some help with my issues, and started a 10 year long journey of self discovery which I feel has been most fruitful.
I'm not sure what the next ten years will bring, but for this moment I am perfectly happy. I'm sure there will be terrible trials, both physical and emotional. I'm sure that I will wonder what I have to be thankful for at some point. I'm sure that I will question my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ whom is the author and foundation of my happiness.
For all these reasons and more, I want to publicly state how joyous I am right now in this instant. I think we always talk about the hard times we are facing, and then when the good comes along we're so giddy with excitement that we forget to talk about it, too. I don't want to forget, so here are some of the things I'm grateful for:
1. My dear husband, who is the love of my life and my very best friend. We haven't always had an ideal relationship, and we're always working out the kinks, but he is the only man for me and I will be grateful for him until the day I die... and hopefully beyond.
2. My faith. My relationship with Christ has changed my life. It has made it richer, deeper, and much sweeter. My testimony of Christ is the rock upon which all my happiness is built, and he is the architect of joy.
3. My family. All of them. Even the ones I haven't met yet. I'm grateful to belong to a church that places the emphasis on family, and I'm so grateful for my dear family's patience with me as I discover what it means to be a sister, daughter, granddaughter, cousin, wife, aunt, and stepmother. I hope to add mother to my resume' soon, too.
4. My education. My patriarchal blessing promised me that I would find much beauty, happiness, and joy in completing my University education. I questioned that so many times over the years as I struggled physically and emotionally to complete my BA degree. I wanted to drop out after every semester, but that line in my blessing kept me going. 7 years after graduating I can say that I thank the Lord for giving me the strength and courage not to give up, because I am grateful every day that I graduated.
5. My material blessings. I know it sounds petty and unimportant, and it is, but I have been so materially blessed. For a little girl who grew up in the depths of her parents' leanest years, I sometimes have to pinch myself when I realize the great material wealth I've been given. In the long run, it doesn't mean a lot, but I sure don't take it for granted.
6. My physical body. My relationship with my own body is probably one of the most complex relationships I've had to cultivate throughout my life. I am at a point now where I can forgive myself for my imperfections and can celebrate what does work. I love to run, and dance, and climb mountains. I love to tend my garden and make beautiful things with my hands. I am so grateful for a body which is capable of doing all these things without limitations, and I'm so blessed that most of my severe physical limitations can be addressed and treated with modern medication.

I hope that when I encounter the next speed bumps in my happiness I can look back at this blog post and remember how full of love and life and joy I am right now. I hope to never forget how blessed I truly am.
Have you counted your blessings today?

Mis Quince

Last night hubby, the boy, little bro, and the rest of the gang went to a quinceanera with me. If you are unfamiliar with the Mexican tradition of quinceaneras, it's kind of like the American sweet 16 only to the tenth power. There's a catered meal, hundreds of guests, a multi-tiered cake, a choreographed dance show, dj's, damas (like briedsmaids) and chambalanes (like groomsmen, except there's no groom). It's a prequel to the girl's wedding, which in Mexican culture tradionally occurs only a few years later. It's crazy, beautiful, and always out of control. The birthday girl herself dresses up in a big poofy gown that usually looks like a wedding dress.
This quince party was pretty average. It was bigger than some I've seen, smaller than others. The fun part was going to a big Latin party with my little brother. He's new to Latino culture, and he was really quite amazed at the scope of the event. He was also amazed by the overabundance of really pretty girls. I kept teasing him all night that if he'd work up the courage to ask one of them to dance I'd give him the mini-fridge from my classroom and fill it up with Dr. Pepper for him. I must admit, I honestly didn't think he'd have the nerve. He's very shy and pretty girls usually make him clam up very quickly. To all of our surprise, not only did he finally work up the courage to talk to a girl, they chatted for nearly an hour, have tons in common, and he walked away with her contact info and an invitation to a pool party today.
Ha ha ha! Looks like I have to go buy some Dr. Pepper.

Mega Follicles

WARNING: This post contains WAY too much information about my ovaries, so don't say I didn't warn you...

So my follicles are finally ready to go. It's been 12 days since my first ultrasound. I've been tested pretty much every 3 days since then. At nearly $200 a pop, those ultrasounds aren't cheap, but it's pretty necessary because I'm on my first cycle of injectables. Since there's no precedent, they weren't really sure what dosage of meds works for me, so they kept playing around with my injections until they got it right. As of today, I have one follicle that's at 19mm, one at 17.5mm, one at 15mm, one at 14.5 mm, and 3 at 13mm. Then I have a whole ton that are smaller than 12. Follicles are not considered mature until they are at 17mm, depending on whom you ask. That means that I could possibly have an ovum that might be capable of being fertilized... one or two gross, scary, expensive eggs.
My RE has told me to go ahead and give myself the trigger shot, but since I have so many small follicles I should watch out for signs of Ovarian Hyper-Stimulation.
Symptoms of OHS are massive bloating, water retention, pelvic pain, nausea, and a lot of other disgusting things. Apparently I'm at risk because of the insane quantity of estrogen in my system right now due to the fact that my ovaries have decided to go into over drive this past week.
But, all things considered, I only have 2 that are considered mature so I should be okay. Should be. Cross fingers.
Fertility treatments so far have been better than I thought in a lot of ways- the injections don't really hurt, and they're kind of fun. I don't feel gross like I did with Clomid, aside from being super tired the last few days and kind of puffy. It's cost a lot more than I thought it would, but mostly because the meds are so crazy-expensive. They cost $56/bottle, and I've had to inject myself with up to 4 bottles at a time. I think shooting up Cocaine would cost less, in the long run, and be more fun... hmmm... something to think about in the future? It also stinks that I can't get an appointment during after-school hours, so I've had to schedule a sub to come watch my class for a few hours a day 4 times now. That costs money, too, and doesn't look so hot to my principal. Oh well. Not much I can do about that, except for shop around for a different clinic which I don't want to do because the people at Utah Fertility are AMAZING. They are nice, professional, quick, and apparently one of the top ranked teams in the country (according to them, top 1%). Worth it.
Anyway, between the drugs, the bloating, and the stress it sounds like it's going to be a fun weekend! Wish me luck!
I don't get to take a pregnancy test until 10/4, but if things work out right, maybe baby. Keeping my fingers crossed... and toes... and wishing on stars... and dandelions... and clovers...

The Play's the Thing

Yesterday I was baking cookies and the boy was getting restless. He has a bad habit of getting quite naughty sometimes when he's bored and wants attention. In an effort to preempt this cycle before it began, I suggested that he grab his puppets and put an a puppet show for me. This was to be a venture I would seriously NOT regret. It may have been one of the funniest things I've seen in months.
A brief synopsis of the play:

Act I. Bear gets kidnapped by Snow Leopard when he is lured into the Snow Leopards car with promises of free candy. At one point, as he is being devoured by a hungry Leopard, Bear cries out "please don't eat me! I'm so cute and cuddly!... I should have said no! Don't take candy from strangers!"

A little disturbing, but I'm glad he's paid attention to me when I tell him to not get into strangers' cars or take candy from strangers.

Act II: Moose and Owl are in a karate championship match. As they attempt to best each other in the arena, Owl declares a time out because "my peanut brittle is burning!"

Entre Act: Owl and Moose ask the audience to please turn off all cell phones, and to turn in all lettuce phones and peanut brittle phones to the actors because they need a snack.

Act III: It's the final round of the karate championship. Bear has magically survived the gruesome Snow Leopard attack and is now in the final round with Owl. As Owl delivers a mighty blow to Bear, Bear cries out "Exclamation! Exclamation point! Exclamation point!"
The entire play then devolves into a Indiana Jones adventure involving two ears of corn we picked from the back yard being used as light-saber-esque weapons in the mightiest of corn battles.

And no, the boy has never, to my knowledge, seen Indiana Jones or any of the Star Wars movies, but he does own the Lego Indiana Jones and the Lego Star Wars video games, which are what he is basing his knowledge of the movies on.

fin.

My boy is such a goof ball. I love hearing what crazy antics he is cooking up all the time, and I think that the puppet show was a great way for him to share his imaginative play with me. I highly recommend trying a puppet show out with your kids if you've never done anything like that before. I think they will surprise you and astound you with what their little minds are working on, and they will love having you as a captive audience for a few minutes.

When the theatrics concluded, we celebrated a successful opening night by sharing the coconut cookies I was baking during the show.
How I do love the theater.

Fancy a Run?

I decided to start running again. It makes me feel happy and I missed how much energy I had back in the good old days when I was running 5K 3 times a week. Good old days= May.
I went running today. It was tough, but I'm pretty proud of myself. I started around week 7 of the C25K program and actually made it! Woot!
I got a total runner's high. It's great. I feel so cleansed and relaxed. I totally recommend running if you ever have the heart to take it seriously.
I hope to be able to participate in the Utah Valley Marathon next summer if I don't get pregs. I'll be shooting for the half marathon. Today I did 2 miles in 30 minutes. That's 2/3 of the way to 5K, and I'm pretty sure I can get that up to a full 5K in about 3-4 weeks. That leaves me about 10 months to get up to a half marathon. Majorly ambitious for me, but I think doable.
So if you're looking for a running buddy, email me and we can compare programs and times, etc.

Bats in the Attic

I have bats in my Attic. Not figuratively. Literally.
My school building is really old. It's actually like the 2nd or 3rd middle school ever to be built in the state, and my room is in the old part of the building. It is 80 years old, and is starting to show its age.
For years I thought my room was haunted or something equally spooky/creepy/crazy. I'd be in there at night and hear these awful scratching noises and mysterious screeching. Really, really scary stuff. I'd hear banging on the pipes in my wall like something was beating really hard against them at odd hours of the day. I was seriously scared to death to be in there alone after hours.
It turns out it's just the bats. I found this out towards the end of last year. It was a major relief. What was not awesome, though, was that we found out about the bat infestation when they had some sort of health epidemic and starting dropping like flies in my room and several of the classrooms and the bathroom near me. Did you ever find a dead bat in your class when you were in school? Gross! Didn't think so.
I thought they had gotten rid of them until today. I had to leave for my Ultrasound appointment, so I had a sub come in for a few hours to watch my 3rd period class and my reading class. He said he was just sitting there in the empty classroom when he saw something flitting around. He thought it was a bird, until he noticed its erratic flight pattern. Not a bird. A bat.
Apparently he has a phobia of bats. He was not ammused.
I guess he thought the entire situation was a little batty. Ha ha ha. Get it?

Baby Hungry?

So I'm pretty sure it's the massive amounts of artificial hormones I'm shooting up on a daily basis now, but over the past week I've become seriously baby-obsessed. I tried to explain it to Luis, since this is a uniquely female ailment I think. Sometimes it's even hard to explain this stuff to other women, but I think it's good, too. Being a woman is hard enough without isolating yourself in the deep end. The closest I can come is comparing it to being really, really thirsty after a long day working outside in the sun, then watching everyone around you run around with ice-cold Coca Cola. You may not even like Coca Cola, but if you get thirsty enough, and the Coca Cola is cold enough...
Yes. I think thirsty is the right word. I'm thirsty for a baby, not hungry. I'm thirsty for taking cat naps in the afternoon because I've been up all night nursing a fussy little one. I'm thirsty for holding a small, chubby, squirmy thing in my arms. I'm thirsty for feeling a baby move inside of me. I'm thirsty for new life.
Boys really don't understand this. Not even men. Not even my man, who is really not much more than a boy (he's killing zombies with my baby brother downstairs right now). That's okay, though. He doesn't need to. It's almost like it's a secret that I don't want to share it with him anyway. There will be enough time for that if I do get pregnant.
The shots do strange things to me. It's amazing how just a couple of weeks of meds can make me feel so much better and so much more alive. It's hard to describe but I actually *feel* more fertile. Again, if you have a fully functioning reproductive tract, thank the Lord for it right now. I really guarantee you take it for granted and won't appreciate it until it's gone...
I also have weird dreams. Crazy dreams about big bellies and babies and breasts. Seriously. Weird dreams. Sometimes I can't remember if they're dreams or if they are real. I was talking to hubby for 5 minutes yesterday about the obscenely big bosomed woman we saw in Walmart until we both realized I had dreamt it, and that I don't even really shop at Walmart much anymore. See? Crazy dreams.
I go in for my ultrasound Wednesday morning. They will tell me if the shots are working and if I'm growing any new follicles. Hopefully I am. If so, I will take another shot of HCG to "trigger" the little gals to pop. If there are too many follicles they won't let me because I could end up with my own reality show like The FABOULOUS FARIAS FIVE! or Quints Gone Wild! or something like that (my reality show would have an exclamation point in the title for sure). If there are no follicles, then I may be out of luck and maybe the shots don't work for me. So I'm crossing my fingers and praying for 3... it's my lucky number, you know.
Will you cross your fingers for me, too?

Update: I went in for the ultrasound and follicles are growing, just not fast enough and not big enough. They've ordered me to double up on my injections for the next 3 days and come in for another u/s on Saturday. Sigh. This is hard work for someone who's used to being able to bulldoze my way through most obstacles. No matter what I do, I cannot force those little gals to grow... doesn't mean I won't try, though.

Festival Latinoamericano

Every year on Labor Day weekend here in P-Town we have a Latin Festival to celebrate the start of Hispanic Heritage month. This is kind of a big deal in the Spanish-speaking community of Provo since they close off part of down town for a street festival complete with carnival rides, vendor booths, and live shows.
This year is a little more laid back than previous years. I guess they upped the price of booths considerably. I know this because hubby and several of his compitas (that's slang for compadres) have booths. Being the only native Spanish-speaker in management at Wells Fargo in this area has pro's and con's for hubby. The pro's are that he gets a lot of business at his branch from other native Spanish-speakers. One of the con's is that he gets roped into organizing and working at the Festival every year. In 5 years with Wells Fargo, he's never had Labor Day off of work. Boo hoo.
In order spend some time with him this weekend (he's worked from 9 am-10 pm the past 3 days or so) we went over there yesterday. It was a lot of fun! The food was great (tacos de lengua, fry bread, funnel cakes, gorditas, aguas frescas!), the shows were pretty entertaining, and I ran into dozens and dozens of my friends, family, and work associates.
Luis and I joke around that between the kids I teach, their parents, his bank customers, and his old pawn shop customers, we know someone from every Spanish-speaking family in Provo, if not the entire county. Yesterday, I had that confirmed. I randomly bumped into multiple family members, tons of students, teachers, parents, friends, fellow church members, and random acquaintences. It was so much fun to see everyone, to bask in the laid-back atmosphere, and of course to eat the delicious food.
Viva la raza!
If you live in Utah county and haven't been, you should stop by on Monday. Even if you don't speak Spanish, funnel cake and Navajo fry bread is always worth the drive. And who could say no to a 7 pound corn on the cob? Who knows. We might even bump into each other!

Injectables

So yesterday I blogged a little about the emotional aspect of fertility treatments. Today I'm going to blog a little bit about the physical and financial situation we're in right now. If you're rolling your eyes thinking "can't you ever talk about anything else?" don't worry. This whole fertility treatements thing is a big part of my life right now, but it's not my entire life. I have lots of hilarious and akward teaching moments from the past two weeks to share with you this weekend.
There are many routes of treatment for couples who are unable to conceive, depending on what is preventing conception from taking place. Most infertility (like 40% or something like that, I think) is due to the woman not being able to ovulate. I fall into that category. As previously mentioned, my ovaries are in bad shape. The doctor actually used the words "brittle" and "hard" to describe them. Those are not good words to hear about your ovaries.
In my situation the first thing that most doctors will suggest is the Devil's drug, Clomid. Clomid is an estrogen blocker. It comes in pill form and basically it tells your brain to stop making estrogen. The theory is that if you stop making estrogen, you will start making FSH, then LH in larger and more regulated quantities. Side effects include hot flashes, massive weight gain, adult acne, and dimentia. I took the maximum legal dosage of Clomid 7 days a month for six months in 2007. I will never touch it again. Incidentally, if you don't have insurance it can also cost as much as $20 per pill (as many as 3 pills a day). Luckly, my insurance covered part of it. I only ended up spending like $250/mo.
My doctor does not recommend Clomid for me. Since I never appear to have responded to it, the next step most baby doctors will usually take is to prescribe a few rounds of injectables. That's where I'm at now.
This is much more hands-on than Clomid, though. First, the doctor gives you two weeks of birth control pills. The supposed purpose of these is to force your cycle to restart and put you back in neutral. Two weeks of pills is usually enough to do it. On Cycle Day 2 or 3 you start shooting up FSH subcutaneously. That is a very complicated procedure involving vials, powders, multiple needles, mixing, and stabbing. I have to take a mini class some time soon to learn how to do this.
After about a week-ish of doing that, I go in and have an ultrasound to see if I have any follicles that have been stimulated by the FSH. Depending on how successful the shots were, I may or may not be instructed to go home, give myself a shot of HCG to trigger ovulation, and do the baby dance. Maybe I'm preggers, maybe not.
If the FSH shots were not successful, or if they were TOO successful and I have way too many follicles to be safe, then we just cancel the whole thing, take pills again for 2 weeks, and start over.
Every step of this process is invasive, expensive, and a little bit painful. It's better than IVF, though. The doctor's visits, ultrasounds, lab work, and consultations are more or less covered by my insurance. Last time I went in, I only had to pay $250 for the visit. It could have been up to about $550. The super expensive part of this is the meds. I have two options- either pay full price and run up my INSANELY high deductible, after which they will pay 80% of the medication and 60% of the doctors bills OR take the pharmacy's discount plan and pay about 60% of the medication right now. It doesn't count towards my deductible that way though.
We picked the discount plan. I paid $550 for this month's medications. Otherwise, I would have had to pay over $900 for this month. I've heard that's pretty good, actually. I know multiple women who have spent in the tens of thousands over the course of a few months to get pregnant with injectables.
That, more than anything else, is why I've waited so long to do this. I feel so guilty paying that much money for a procedure that in any given month has less than a 20% chance of success. Luckily (or should I say hopefully?), though, injectables have about a 75% success rate after 6 months. I'm crossing my fingers that this takes the first few times around, just for the sake of my bank account.
This is pretty personal information to share, I know. But if you are contemplating doing this sort of thing, it's good to know up front how much it could cost. Plus, as I mentioned in my last post, I want to be as honest as possible about what I'm going through. Maybe it can help remove some of the stigma from the situation.
If you're one of the lucky ones who doesn't have to do this sort thing, again thank the Lord right now for your functioning reproductive tract. Feminine hygiene products and birth control aside, you are saving a LOT of money getting pregnant the old fashioned way.
As for me, I'm pretty okay with it, although obviously not super excited. Thanks to our financial windfall this June we have a bit of money in the bank to pay for these sorts of things, and thanks to my job I don't have to worry too much about scheduling in all the appointments. They give us 15 sick days a year, so hopefully (cross fingers) that will be enough to cover all of the appointments.
Hooray for science!

The Ins and Outs of Fertility Treatment

I have decided recently to be as open about my fertility treatments as possible. After all, anywhere from 1 in 10 to 1 in 5 women will have to confront this at some point in their life, so we might as well talk about it, right?
Hubs and I have been (kinda) trying for a baby for 6 1/2 years now. When I say kinda, I mean we weren't preventing, but really only about 2 1/2 of those years were we actually actively working with some sort of medical professional. Usually I get burnt out after about 6 months and I have to take a LOOONG break.
Our diagnosis is that I have poor quality ovaries. Because of this, I only sometimes produce eggs, and rarely to maturity. It is not classical PCOS, where the ovaries are pumping out immature follicles all the time and never releasing them. My ovaries just don't do much at all, ever, apparently. The "why" in all of this is a mystery. Could be poor medical care when I was a youngster. Lifestyle choices. Something that happened in vitro. No one is sure.
The good news is that I'm not in premature ovarian failure, and the RE I'm working with seems fairly certain that my bum ovaries will respond to injectible fertility drugs. The bad news is that when I'm not actively trying to conceive I should be in birth control pills forever so that I don't end up getting cancer. The chances of me ever conceiving spontaneously are slim to none. That's kind of depressing, but I guess it could be a lot worse so I'm okay with it.
Upon being presented with the option to either go on the pill or try our hand with the fertility stuff, we have decided that if we are ever going to attempt to have kids it should be now. We're relatively financially stable, we don't have any major job or personal related drama going on in our lives (for like the first time in many years).  We have the room. We have the moolah. I'm old enough to be taken seriously by the folks who do this sort of thing and young enough that my body still has a strong chance of responding to treatments and conceiving.
More importantly, I'm at the point where I emotionally don't really care any more. Infertility is difficult. I read somewhere that it is as, if not more difficult for most women to deal with emotionally than cancer. I have spent about 6 years feeling bad and being angry at my body for a defect that is not my fault and that I have no control over. A few months ago I realized that my feelings of fear, anger, and frustration were not directed towards being childless- they were because I am imperfect; and because of that imperfection I couldn't have what most women take for granted- a healthy body that is capable of making babies whenever you want. By the way, if you do have a healthy body that is capable of making babies whenever you want, say a prayer of thanks right now. Do it. Seriously. You probably take your reproductive tract WAY for granted.
But back to the case at hand. Once I realized that the baby wasn't the cause or solution to my body issues, it was like a tremendous weight had been lifted off of me. I am okay now with the idea of not having babies, and more importantly I've made my peace with my bum ovaries. It sounds cliché, but letting go and accepting that I am not in control really freed me to feel really good about myself for the first time possibly ever.
I also realized that I don't really want a big family anyway. I'd honestly be happy only ever having 1 or 2 children of my own, in addition to Andrei whom I will always consider to be a little bit mine since I've had such a big hand in raising him. If I don't ever get my 1 or maybe 2 babies, I'll be disappointed, but not devastated. And believe it or not I'm actually really ridiculously happy with my life the way it is right now sans child. I know that admitting that is the kiss of death and a refrigerator will probably fall on my truck burning me badly and paralyzing me from the neck down on the way home today, but so what? I really am happy right now so why not admit that?
Anyway, I figure that all things considered, now is the time to try. If it works, fantastic! If not, I'll be alright. I've decided recently that hard things are only hard if you let them be, anyway.
As far as the details about what I'm going to be doing, It's kind of long and drawn out, so I'll probably blog about that later today or tomorrow. I figure that even if you never have to go through this, it's probably good to know what your sisters/aunts/friends/cousins/coworkers are going through.
And if you DO have to go through the rigamaroll of Assisted Reproductive Technology, hopefully in reading this you'll realize you are not alone or some sort of weird, hideous mutant who should be placed in a colony with other barren women and left to die. I know that's crossed my mind a few times over the years, which is why I'm blogging about all of this in the first place.