29 + 2014 = Still Not Pregnant

(JF Photography)

I thought for sure I'd be 28 and pregnant. Hell, I'll be honest, I imagined being 26 and pregnant. As the days from the calendar peel away and fall to the floor, so do my unused eggs. Haha, is that too dramatic? No, but for realsies, as my birthday came and went this month, I swear I heard some of my eggs blow away in the wind as I blew out the candles on the cake. 2014 is creeping in I am sickened by the fact that I will be babyless AGAIN this coming May on Mother's Day. It really has to work this next time or I'll be babyless the whole friggin' next calendar year. Dare I turn the big 3-0 and still not be a mommy? I can't stomach the thought.

Eddie and I went to see his wrestling team wrestle last Saturday. One of his teammates has a girlfriend and we usually sit next to each other. We routinely buy ourselves glasses of wine(schorle) and watch our men toss other men around in extremely tight uniforms. It's quite amusing, to say the least. Well, the one weekend in October I told her that this might be my last glass of wine for the season because I was going in for the procedure the next day. We cheers'ed and sipped away! I saw her again some weekends after that and, at that time, I already knew the embryos didn't take. I saw her sitting next to an empty seat, that I assumed she had saved for me, and felt a feeling of dread come over me. Soon I would have to retell the story and explain it all to her...but no, she didn't ask. At first I was relieved but then I was like "WTF, I shared something kinda big with you and you don't even care for an update? Psht, whatevs!" In her defense, maybe she figured I would share when I was ready?

I saw her again last weekend and this time she remembered to ask. I told her it didn't work and added "but it will next time!" to not be such a Debbie Downer and ruin the mood. My negativeness just didn't match the mood of the screaming fans around us. She told me "Aw, I thought we could come to the matches together next year with strollers. I'm pregnant!"...

...

...you know how in another blog I described this as God striking a loud rim shot on the drums? No, this time it was like God took a big, stinky fish (you know, the kind they're always throwing around at fish markets in Seattle somewhere) by the tail and smacked me across the face with it. "Ouch, God," as I rub my cheek, "that one hurt! Didn't see it coming at all!" I wish I had a picture of what my face looked like. Was it pale? Did I flush? Or have I finally perfected the look of joy for others while swallowing and suppressing my own pain? I pray for the latter. I hugged her...maybe a little too tight and a little too long. I pulled back, while still having a grip on her shoulders, looked her in the eye and gave her my sincerest congrats and well wishes. Then I hugged her again. I don't know if it was because I was afraid the look on my face was changing and I didn't want her to see but she said that I won for the "Best Reaction of the Year." Really? That's kinda sad. I can only imagine Eddie's reaction when we get our first positive test results. I picture my father-in-law literally falling over. I bet the day I tell my mom I'm pregnant I'll hear her scream for joy - not through the telephone receiver, but out her front door, across the Atlantic, echoing off the Alps, and in through my window.

I saw Eddie chatting with some old acquaintances across the hall. I waved for him to come over to hear the "good news" (Rachel, be nice, delete those quotation marks, it is good news...I can't) but he was in the middle of a conversation. I just wanted him to come be next to me, to take my mind off of it for a milisec., but he put up one finger and mouthed "one second." And then I knew I would be alone with pregnancy talk for the next half hour or so. My mind drifted during convo. I tried to focus and be polite but I think it's a defense mechanism that my brain does. Things get blurry around me and I go to another place in my head.

Her - "We weren't even trying. I stopped taking the pill in July and we were pregnant just 3 months later! Blah blah blah go eff yourself Rachel blah blah blah"
Me - "Mmm." ::polite nod::
Actual thought - "I should probably call my grandma tomorrow."

Her - "It's just so weird being here and not drinking but I know it's the right thing to do. Blah blah blah blah is it ok if I keep smacking you in the face for the next 30 mins, Rach blah blah blah"
Me "Right, right, of course." ::smile::
Actual thought - "I should have went grocery shopping today. The stores are closed tomorrow. Europe is irritating."

As we left the wrestling match I told Eddie the parking lot looked icy and I needed his arm and I linked mine in his. The parking lot was slick but I actually needed him to help me because the tears were starting and my vision was getting blurry. Not a good combo in heels. I focused on his arm. How strong it felt and how, even through a sweater and thick winter coat, I could feel his bicep. I love when he wears cologne. I thought about how tall he is and just in general how much I love him. It was a cold night but next to him I always feel warm.

I managed to keep the snot in my nose as we walked to the car. I did a three second ugly cry face as I turned to reach for the seat belt but managed to get it together again once I faced forward. It was night so I hid in the darkness and let the tears stream down as we drove home. At some point, I accidentally sniffled and I felt Eddie look over. Shit. I froze and looked out the side window. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing." I lied. I saw that we were entering a village and the streetlamps would soon illuminate my face. I knew he would see me crying in a few short seconds. He kept looking from the road to me, to the road and then back to me again. Aaaannddd...the waterworks started. My lip and voice shook as I told him someone else was going to be a mommy before me and it just feels so lousy. I tried to keep the hard crying to a minimum because I knew I needed to be conscious of his feelings too. I told him I was sorry but I need to be really sad for just 5 minutes.

I said other mean things like "They're not even married!" and "She's 12 weeks already so that means she drank during her pregnancy!" They were the only negative things I could think of even though they're not that bad at all. Those happen all the time but I was searching for something to make me feel better. I wanted to verbalize the injustices of it all but to whom? I don't know. I did some quick math and stated "Oh, well, good, at least I won't have to see her growing belly throughout the months. Next season the baby will already be here."

Ed told me not to be upset and rubbed my shoulder and hand. He said "It doesn't make me feel good to see my woman cry." I focused on his words and smiled. No other guy could say the things that Eddie says and still come off so adorable. If I heard someone call their wife "my woman" back home, I would be like, weirdo! But it's Ed, and he is an angel and he still has an accent in English and when he says it I swoon. I didn't talk much the rest of the drive and just focused on his words and his presence. "I like his thumb, his thumb nail is so wide. Why does he push the buttons on the radio with his middle finger and not his index finger?" I closed my eyes. Ed woke me when we arrived home and told me to hurry up to bed. He said he will walk the dog and meet me upstairs. I was thankful to have some time alone. I have to make this man ("my man") a dad in 2014. I just have to.

Germany vs. America

241.   Garbage disposals do not exist in Germany...I can not even BEGIN to express my frustration!

242.   If a German ever asks you for "mirror eggs" just say ok, and make them sunny-side-up ones.

243.   As everyone knows, "Speedo" bathing suits are a lot more popular in Europe but mainly/unfortunately for older generations. The young, fit guys wear swim trunks like American guys. I recently bought Eddie Nike swimming briefs and he looks great in them! Now if only the fat men with the big hairy bellies can stop wearing them...

244.   At some pools the men are highly encouraged to wear such bathing suits. They absorb less water and the pools lose less when the people get in and out...allegedly!

245.   I have yet to see a lightening bug while in Germany. How said is that?

246.   Cars that are popular in Germany that I never see in the States:
Peugeot (French)
Skoda (Czech)
Opel (German, now US owned?)
Fiat (Italian) ok I saw that on occasion back home.
Citroen (French?)
Alfa Romeo (Italian)
Renault (French?)
Dacia (No idea)
Seat (Spain?)
Etc. etc. etc., I'm missing a lot and Eddie is still sleeping and can't help me.
Seat and Skoda are sister companies of VW.

247.   Eddie's family was amazed by all the "big" cars on our roads. We don't think anything of it back home, but a Ford F150 actually turns heads in Germany!


248.   I already touched upon the radio stations in Germany in another blog and how the censorship level is low. To reiterate, I once heard Akynele - Put It In My Mouth on the radio...eeek! If only the Germans knew what was being said! Nicht gut!

249.   Sometimes I can't watch YouTube videos because I now live in a "restricted country?" I don't know what that means but I've never seen that message come up while I lived in the States. GEMA needs to back up off of me.


250.   Chemo patients are not instructed to flush the toilet twice in Switzerland. Hm, thought that was Chemo 101? Oh well. We all lived.

Home

(Early work of JF Photography - 2006)

While flying high in the sky my tired eyes meet a very welcoming view. It's not the Lady Liberty, like my ancestors, but close. It's land, land with a bunch of evenly spaced, rowed houses. "Cookie cutter houses." Same design, same roof, same driveway. After 8 or so hours of flying over only water, it's a wonderful sight. As the wheels of my second flight touch down I sigh with relief. Everyone else hurries to get their cell phones from their bags and powered on but I don't bother because I don't have service here anymore. I file along with the other people in the terminal to passport control and patiently wait my turn. I people watch until I'm summoned forward. The customs officer flips through my passport and checks my customs declaration form. He asks about the "food" I have with me and I explain I have some Swiss chocolate with me. He "Mmmmm's," stamps my passport and hands it back to me. As I take it from him I pause and look him one more time in the eye.

"I'm sorry. Can you tell me 'welcome home,' please?" I ask him.

"Welcome home." He replies and gives me a genuine smile.

As I pass through to collect my baggage I start to cry. I'm home. Right? This is still my home, isn't it? The officers usually say "welcome home" or "welcome back." It's corny but it gives me a small rush. I feel almost invincible because this is where I'm from. They get me here, and I get them. I am home and I am free. No matter your political stance at the moment, I bet we can all agree America is pretty great.

It's a weird feeling coming back after being gone for so long. I find myself eavesdropping on conversations...just because I can. I understand everything. Every single word I hear around me, my brain can fully and instantly process. You all might take that for granted but it is a wonderful feeling to be able to respond instantaneously when spoken to. I no longer have to cognitively translate, conjugate, and form sentences. I just listen, comprehend, and respond. I understand conversations going on around me even though I'm not being directly addressed. The TV, the radios, the signs I understand them all! How glorious. I could spin around in a circle with my arms wide open...but that would be weird. This feeling takes me about a day to get used to.

The feeling of home comes slowly but surely back to me. My fingers dial phone numbers from memory even though I haven't dialed them in years. As I drive around in my mother's car I instinctively avoid potholes that are, for some reason, still in the exact same spot as I left them years ago. I still remember which lights take the longest and shortcuts to avoid them. The buildings and streets of Boardman, Ohio are slightly different, but still the same. I can turn right on red! Oh, how I missed that!

One morning, I left through the front door of my house, well, my mom's house, my childhood house. I was just about to round the corner on the porch towards the driveway when I heard the screen door close. It literally stopped me in my tracks. How many years did I hear that sound and never paid attention? I actually turned around, pulled the door open, and let it close again. I know it sounds dumb but the sound is heartwarming because it means "home."

Other things that caught me off guard with my last visit:

-What the heck is Duck Dynasty? It has its own section in the Christian store and has items all throughout Walmart.

-My mom changed where we kept the cereal. Since when do I find the Honey Nut Cheerios with the mixing bowls? Cereal was always kept in the Lazy Susan. Don't mess with me, mom!

-When did Matt Lauer get so old? Jenny McCarthy is on The View? George Bush's daughter is on GMA?

-Is Kim Kardashian pregnant again? I didn't even know she was pregnant the first time until after she had the baby.

-What happened to the Abercrombie and Fitch in the Southern Park mall?

-What is Cheddars and is it any good?

-We have DSW now? They moved the Dicks Sporting Goods?

More nostalgia:

I was able to visit the NICU at the OSUMC. Oh, sorry, the Wexner Medical Center? I saw so many old faces...and too many new ones! It was weird walking around the floor because it all felt so familiar but simultaneously foreign. How many years did I walk that path and not think twice about it. I was excitedly peeking in the bathroom and break room. 

I also went to my 10 year high school reunion. That's a blast from the past for anyone. I had some good trips down memory lane.

It's always sad when I have to leave America. I always wonder if that was the last time I kissed my grandma or hugged our family dog. Again, the only thing that helps me is Ed. He wasn't able to come with me this trip so it felt a little better knowing I was flying back to see him. I need him. It's crazy to think we did Germany-America long distance for 5 1/2 years because I was at my limit with just 2 weeks. I couldn't do any longer. It's just not natural for me to be away from him. It was time to go back to my new "home." Back to our house, where everything is where I put it, with our dog, in our bed.

You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden, even though you have some place where you put your stuff, that idea of home is gone. You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place. - Garden State

America vs. Germany

(I didn't post "facts" on my last two entries so here are 30 more for your reading pleasure.)

211.   I can’t find a chicken parmigiana meal at any Italian restaurant in Europe…probably because it’s not authentically Italian.

212.   Dancing is not allowed on Good Friday in Germany. We went to a club the Thursday night before and there were signs posted everywhere…of course the DJ still played music and people kept dancing, I just thought it was weird.

213.   That same night I almost got in a fight with someone that spit in an elevator…yes, spit in an elevator, right by everyone’s feet! I asked Ed if that was normal and he said no. I learned in my orientation class that in other places in the world, it is socially acceptable to spit...often and indoors! 

214.   Eddie’s mom made ostrich one night. Yes, grilled ostrich. I couldn’t tell you how it tastes, I didn’t try it.

215.   Eddie’s friends thought it was funny when he told them that I never go into a gas station back home. In America we can do everything right at the pump; there is no need to go in, am I right?

216.   If you run out of gas on the Swiss highway you will be fined. That’s a good idea. Running out of gas is highly inexcusable these days.

217.   I always see stickers of black birds on windows in Germany. It took me a minute but then I realized it’s so that the birds know something is there and not to fly into it. But it makes me wonder how much of a problem it really is to see it so often here…I’ve heard about it happening but I’ve never been a witness to it. I never see the stickers in America.

218.   Their loaves of bread come without the heels. They call this form of bread “American Toast.” This can be good or bad. I personally don’t eat the heel so it can be a waste, but I’m sure some people do and they might feel cheated…

219.   You can be fined in Germany if you get pulled over and your dog isn't secured. I thought that was cute but Eddie explained it’s to protect you from not being hit by the dog in a sudden stop. Eeeek! Never thought of it like that. They need to be in a cage or in the back of the car that has a caged in “trunk.” (Remember: We’re talking about Europe here so when I say trunk you need to picture a hatchback car or station wagon... not the typical separated trunk like we have in the States).

220.  Let’s take a moment to discuss the lax HIPPA regulations in Switzerland. Eddie and I walked into a room where someone left up the CT scan results of…let’s call her “Frau Meyer.” I’m no CT scan doc/tech but I can tell you right now, Mrs. Meyer is not doing well.

Similarly, I had to often snap my tongue to get Eddie’s attention at the chemo clinic. Everyone is in one open room and you can hear EVERYTHING that is being discussed with other patients. I had to scold Eddie for listening in on other people.

221. I've touched on this in another blog but let’s talk about the medical staff dress code:

I saw them wearing jeans…eh, ok, not so bad…

But hoodies, chunky necklaces?

Open sandals with springs in the back! Umm hello! You’re dealing with chemo drugs!

Purple streaked hair, piercings…

Cowboy boots!

In the States, we could get in trouble if there is a strip of light blue on our dark blue scrubs!

222.   When you go shopping in Switzerland, you pay to park in the parking garages. After discussing this fact with Australians here, we both agreed that this would not be acceptable in our home lands! People would boycott the store and not shop there! At Tower City mall, in Cleveland, you don't have to pay if you bought something.

Also, Eddie had to pay to park when he went to get chemo. That’s just adding insult to injury if you ask me. Not only do you have cancer and you come regularly to get poison injected into your veins, we’re going to charge you! I made him ask about parking vouchers…nope, no such thing!

223.   Every few kms on the highway there will be a phone in case of emergencies. On the side of the phone it says “SOS.” I asked Eddie if he knew what it meant and he said no. I had to teach him. I just think Europeans walk around day to day and don’t realize how many English words are all around them. His parents could really learn a lot if they were just aware.

224.   Our washer and dryer are in the bathroom (difference number one). Secondly, the dryer has a littler drawer where the water has to be emptied after each cycle. We don’t have this in America. I don’t know where our water goes when the clothes are in the dryer…I just thought it evaporated? I don’t know…anyway, Eddie’s grandmother asked me to bring her the water from this little drawer so she can put it in the iron. I said ok and just did it thinking maybe it was because the water would smell good, like clean clothes? When I asked Eddie about it he told me it is because the water in that drawer no longer has “calc” in it. 

“Calc? What’s calc? Like Calcium?”

He said yea, still confused I kept asking:

“Wait, like the element on the Periodic table?” 

Eddie said yes. Still not satisfied, I google-translated it to be “lime.”

Apparently they have trouble with lime in their dishwasher, tea/coffee machines, irons, washing machine/dryer tubing.

Someone please help me, is our water filtered for this? Why have I never heard of it being such a problem back home? I know about fluoride but I never heard of anyone being so conscious of lime other than a shower head and maybe an outside hose spigot.

225.   Once, Eddie’s youngest sister was riding on the handle bars of a friend’s bike. Someone in the neighborhood yelled at her to get down or they would call the police…come on, Germans! Relax! Stop being such rule followers and take a chill pill…man!

226.   Wo (pronounced voo) = Where

Wer (pronounced ver) = Who

People just learning the language confuse the two, understandably, but it makes for some pretty funny mistakes. i.e. “Who is the toilet?”

227.   Eddie had to slightly argue with an ice cream parlor worker when I told him to ask for hot fudge on my ice cream. She didn't want to put it on there because it would melt the ice cream. We had to repeat it and explain it. Even right before she put it on she looked at us hesitantly. Listen, lady. Here is my money, now just please do what I say with MY ICE CREAM!

228.   Germany has fields of flowers that you can go to and, for a small fee, cut your own fresh flowers and take them home. They leave scissors/knives on a small stand and just trust you to drop a few coins in a tin can when you're finished. I think it's sweet.

229.   I see a lot more mustaches in Germany. I even know TWO people that have the curly handle bar mustaches too!

230.   Americans are way more welcoming and open. It took me a while to find friends here. My closest ones aren't even German, but Russian. According to a book I read about Germans, once you break through the barrier you have a lifelong, loyal friendship. Same goes for the Swiss. I've worked in Switzerland since March 2013 and have yet to get close with someone.

231.   Everyone takes off their shoes when going in people's houses. Not quite like the Asian style tradition, you just do it when you get inside the door. We do it here but it's not always as assumed. Someone will probably offer you slippers if you didn't wear socks too. Always wear socks in Germany to avoid awkward exchanges... :(

232.   The highway exits/on ramps are different in that if you get off the highway in America, you can almost always get back on immediately in the same area. That's not the case in Germany.

233.   Our highways are labels N, S, E, W which can be confusing, especially in Columbus. They just number theirs or something.

234.   Self check out lines are way more popular in the US. I only saw one in Germany and Eddie's sister was pretty excited to show me.

235.   "Corn hole" in German is "Maiz Loch" and Eddie built us a set. The Germans like it too.

236.   According to my grandmother, "Hallelujah" is the same in all languages and is the only word understood by all around the world.

237.   Eddie's younger sister says our underwear is different. I had a lot of "Pink" ones from Victoria's Secret. She said theirs are more lacy with black, nude, gray, or white colors...hmm...BORING!

238.   Victoria's Secret is a big deal to Germans. I've even seen some chicks hold the Victoria's Secret bag up next to their head and take a picture with it. I guess I never thought much of it. We've got three stores in Easton alone!

239.   When you see this "^^" typed by a German, it means they are laughing. I don't know why? Maybe it is supposed to represent the squinted eyes of laughter?

240.   When you need someone to be quiet in the US you say "Shhh!" In Spanish, it's "Chst!" In German, it's "Psht!"

Bathroom Breakdown

Have you ever cried so hard you thought your eyelids were going to flip themselves inside-out? No? Hm, ok, that probably means you're normal. As I sat on the cold, tile stairs leading up to the bathtub in our bathroom crying, I momentarily thought I might cry my eyes out. That's not a figure of speech either. The morning my questionable spotting turned into full blown bleeding, my eyes bulged from my head as I doubled-over in emotional pain that turned physical. "Crying" doesn't accurately describe it. No word in the thesaurus ever will. The pressure from bending over and crying from the deepest part of my gut had me convinced my eyes might literally pop out of my head. With all the sorrow I was feeling at that moment, I wouldn't have cared if they did but, in hindsight, I'm glad my eyes are still in their sockets.

Teddy, our rottweiler, came charging into the bathroom as soon as he heard me start to howl. As many times as he's seen me cry, it still creeps him out. He stares and me and tilts his head from side to side. He tried licking my tears but then he just rolled over on his back in a really awkward position and waited until I was done. You know how I said I don't use tissues or toilet paper to wipe my tears anymore but rather hand/dish towels? As I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, I didn't even grab the hand towel that was within arms reach. I just let the tears drip straight from my eyeballs onto the floor. I was folded in half so the tears didn't neatly stream down my cheeks, they dripped like faucets onto my socks. Do you ever cry so hard that you drool uncontrollably from the corners of your mouth? No? Yea, I figured I was alone on that one too. I had a snot mustache that eventually strung itself to my yoga pants...but I didn't care. I didn't care that the window was open and our old-lady neighbor, Ute, could hear my wails either. (Yes, "Ute" is a name here.)

Like I said before, this was just attempt ONE, people! What kind of a nutcase will I be by the end of this cluster-f? What will I do if attempt two doesn't work or if it does and I lose it later? God help us all. Seriously, reserve a room for me in a psych ward. I'm telling you now, I - will - need - sedated.

Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself again. The funny thing is though...I probably won't be admitted into a psych ward. I cried for a good 30 minutes on the bathroom floor...but Ted and I got up. I put my hair in a ponytail, blew a few snot-rockets into the sink (sorry, I'm my dad's daughter), splashed water on my face, and walked out of the bathroom. Eventually, I turned the lights off in the bathroom when moments before I was convinced I would never get enough air back in my lungs to breath let alone walk. How crazy is it that? No matter what comes at us, with the help of my faith, family, and friends...I'll heal. Maybe never completely, but I'll at least function again somehow. I guess that's the wonder of the human spirit.

Don't get it twisted now though. It's not like I kept it together ever since the bathroom breakdown. I still cry daily but I'm back to hiding it again. My breakdowns aren't nearly as dramatic. Even though those little embryos were no bigger than a period, they were mine...they were still ours. I miss them and feel sad that they didn't become more. I searched for reasons within myself why it might not have worked. Did I not take the hormones as I should have? Should I not have taken that headache medicine on Sunday? Did I stress myself too much? Is there something else wrong with me?

I prayed hard and often that day but by the end of the afternoon it wasn't a usual prayer anymore. I didn't thank God for anything and I didn't ask for anything either. My prayer went something like this -
"Dear God, I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...aren't you tired too?"
I don't know how else to say it besides I'm just so tired.

I appreciate all your support too. Your messages of advice and encouragement truly help me. I hoped for it to be implantation bleeding too but as it evolved throughout the day I had to accept the fact that it just didn't work this time. I slept horribly that night. I woke up at 3:30 AM to take a pregnancy test. (You remember, the one I cried over as I plucked it from the shelf?) Through tired eyes I watched it develop. I was alone again in the bathroom as Eddie slept peacefully in our bed. (How do men sleep so soundly?) I saw it skip the first line and only produce the one test line. After that, I watched about 3 hours of German TV before God let my mind rest again.

(A cheap German pregnancy test...correction, a cheap German NEGATIVE pregnancy test)

I've talked about hope before in another post but it amazes me how much it fights to stick around. I still had a little bit of hope before I took the test. After I took it, I thought, maybe, just maybe, it's wrong. It only cost 4 Euros, it could be faulty. On Friday, I still hoped that the blood test would show something different. I had imagined making that 1 hr drive to the clinic that day with a completely different feeling but instead, I was headed there with mostly dread and a little speck of hope. After I parked the car, I took the stairs up to the clinic. I thought about taking the elevator up but then I saw it had a yellow sign taped over the button that read "In Service."  "Good one, God, wouldn't want to make any part of this trip just the slightest bit easier on me."

That trek up the stairs could be comparable to climbing Mt. Everest. It was emotionally and physically taxing for me to climb the stairs. The higher I got, the more I was convinced that there was less oxygen. I felt dizzy, my mouth got dry, and I started to hyperventilate. "Rachel, do not have a nervous breakdown in the stairwell...again." I told myself. "You're fine. You'll be fine. Keep climbing."

I hated every second of that appointment. Having to give more blood and wait an hour for the outcome...when I was pretty sure I knew the results already. I hated the awkward silence after I sat down in the doctor's office. "How are you?" She asked. "You already know how I am, don't you?" She confirmed my feelings that it didn't work and my hope officially died. Our 6-celler and 3-celler just didn't make it.

Again, thank you for all of your support. I'm doing ok. The thing that helps me the most is Ed. (Cheesy, right?) The moment I see him walk into the room, it cheers me up. It's sickening, I know, but he lights up my world. Whenever he rubs my back I can't help but look dreamily into his eyes and tell him "When you touch me, I feel like I could fart rainbows." When I cuddle with him on the couch, it's like I'm recharging my battery. When he hugs me, my whole world blurs and I look up at him half cross-eyed. He always tell me "Oh no...you're getting that drunk look in your eyes again!" and quickly lets me go. He calms me and comforts me. I need him.

It's been asked "How do you know when they're the one?" Well, I'm not sure what the general consensus is on that one but you want to know how I know it with Ed? (Besides the fact that he could make me fart rainbows.) I could/would kill for him. I would commit homicide, with my own bare hands, if anyone tried to take that man from me. Perhaps that's a brutal description and doesn't fit with my Christian claims but he's all I need in this world...well, him and his babies would be nice. Hypothetically, if someone told me there was another woman that would take Eddie from me...there is no doubt in my mind that I would destroy her. No weapon needed. Hypothetically, if someone pointed out a man and said that he was about to kill Eddie, I would get him first. Put me in a cage with a lion going for Eddie...I'd crack my knuckles and say "Let's do this, lion..." This just took a weird turn but these are the thoughts in my head at the moment. In case you didn't know, Ed means a lot to me. I don't want to commit homicide...so don't make me. Sometimes I feel like my love for Eddie is so intense that I can hardly imagine that my heart will ever expand to love something else just as intensely...if not more. God help the people that ever hurt my future children.

On that creepy note, I will leave you with just one fact.

Average life sentence in Germany: 21.5 years
Average life sentence in America: 29 years.
In both countries, prisoners are eligible for parole in 15 years. I'm pretty sure I'd get out early for good behavior.

In case the Feds are reading this, I'm totally joking about all that the "killing/homicide" junk.

A Long Two Weeks - An Even Longer Two Days

It’s been about 2 weeks since my last post and I apologize for leaving you hanging. I know many of you are curious how it turned out. To those that called/texted/or sent personal messages asking because you couldn't wait any longer, thanks for your concern. I took some time off to just...chill. I just tried to relax and grow some babies! The procedure went ok…not optimal, but ok.

I did not receive any phone calls - from any of you (thank you) or from the doctors (thank God) - for the remainder of the time so my appointment went on as scheduled. For the replacement of the fertilized eggs, they ask that you come with a full bladder. A full bladder aids in the visualization of the uterus and placement. Sounds easy enough, right? Um…wrong. Let’s just say that it could be filed under cruel and unusual punishment. I chugged a bunch of iced tea on the drive up. I peed about an hour before we left the house so I was worried it wouldn't be full enough. And you know darn well when you arrive for any doctors appointment you don’t get called back immediately. Oooh no, no, no, no, no…they make you wait in a waiting room for at least 15 minutes before they move you into another waiting room to wait for another 15 minutes (at least)! Ughhhhh! I was pacing back and forth because if I sat, I thought for sure I would burst. I went to the bathroom FOUR TIMES during this waiting period. It was complete torture to only be allowed to empty my bladder "halfway." Eddie was laughing at me the whole time but I was so uncomfortable. I was laughing too...but it wasn't funny.

(This was the only position I found semi-tolerable. I'm smiling but I assure you, I am painin' here!)

By the time they called me back for the procedure, my bladder was full to the brim again and I couldn't concentrate on anything. Luckily, Eddie came with me this time and was able to come back into the procedure room. (Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of him in his scrub gown, hat, booties, and mask.) He listened intently to what the doctors and nurses were saying while I chanted to myself “Do not pee on the doctor’s head, Rachel. Do NOT pee on the doctor’s head!” Especially when she put in the speculum. When they handed me the weird, mysterious phone I didn't even greet the woman in the lab this time. "Rachel Frick!" I blurted and handed the phone away. Let's get this show on the road, people, or we're going to have a big mess!

She told us (more Eddie than me) that of the 3 eggs they took out, just 2 fertilized. At that point (3 days after the retrieval/fertilization) they like to see the embryos with 8 cells – 1 of ours had 6 and the other only had 3. They put both back in, regardless. The doc seemed pretty optimistic about the 6-celler, and said “You never know!” with the 3-celler. She was pointing things out to us on the ultrasound but at that moment, I didn't care, all I wanted to do was take a piss.

(Strange to think this could be the first picture we have of our “babies.” Note: These are magnified pictures, they are only the size of a period ---->  .  )

On the left is the 6-cell and the one on the right is the 3-cell. We nicknamed the one on the right “Hannes,” after my brother-in-law, because it’s a little slow/behind. ;) Everyone roots for the underdog so "Go, Hannes! Grow more cells!"

It was weird to know they were back in there. It was now my responsibility to grow them. For almost 4 years our sperm had been frozen in Switzerland and for days the embryos were multiplying in a petri dish. Finally, FINALLY!, they were where they were supposed to be, where they belonged…in me. It was a strange feeling marked with a little bit of comfort. No scientist can grow my babies like I can. "Thanks, but I got it from here, guys!" As we left the clinic, we made another appointment in 2 weeks where they will do a blood test to see if I’m pregnant!

I prayed every day after that. I always pray but I prayed hard and on my knees. I can't remember ever wanting anything more than for those embryos to stick. I searched for signs of pregnancy. Twice I had a headache so bad I started to gag and I hoped for morning sickness...even though it wasn't even morning...and they had only been in there 2 days. I jokingly asked Ed if he thought my belly or boobs looked bigger. I immediately stopped drinking caffeine/alcohol and tried to eat healthier.

Some days after, I went to the store and bought a pregnancy test. Eddie and I said we would take a pee test 1 day before the blood test just for S's and G's. It would be nice to find out ourselves that we're pregnant rather than a bunch of doctors telling us. I stood in front of the pregnancy tests and cried. Anyone else in the aisle probably thought I was nuts but I was finally buying a pregnancy test with a REAL chance of being pregnant! The tears weren't ones of joy...I was crying because I was scared.

Today is October 16, meaning just 2 days until my next appointment on Friday! What a long two weeks it has been...

only yesterday...I started my period.

Please God, No Phone Call

The procedure on Tuesday went well. Thank you all for your prayers. We have gotten so much support throughout this whole ordeal that I doubt I'll ever be able to express the extent of my appreciation. I hear daily that we are part of prayer chains and people are lighting candles for us. I've received messages from people I've never even met. It's almost as if you all want this just as much as we do! Dankeschön!

It was my first time being put under anesthesia and I tried really hard to be a good patient. I swear. Before we went in, I told myself that I wouldn't talk a lot before they put me under or when I woke up. I said I would try not to tell them where to start my IV. I wouldn't mention anything about the sip of tea I had that morning, even though I was supposed to be NPO after midnight. Ooops! ;)

My mother-in-law ("Mama Frick," as I like to call her) accompanied me and we giggled a lot. She especially liked the fancy footwear she was required to wear.

As we arrived, the nurse asked me if I had my long T-Shirt/nightgown with me... 

"Umm...no? I didn't know I was supposed to bring anything with me...besides my ovaries."

"The doctors usually tell you to bring a long T-Shirt."

"Hm, no. I feel as though I've been poorly informed this whole procedure..."

...awkward silence...

"Ok, Mrs. Frick, I'll bring you something to wear."

And off she went to fetch me my makeshift nightgown.

I read on a little sign in the changing room that I'm allowed to keep on my underwe....no, sorry, "undertrousers" and jewelry. They didn't mention anything about a bra or socks but I made that decision myself. I didn't realize that morning that my socks would be visible to everyone. Hell would freeze over before I walk barefoot in any public place, plus my feet were cold, so I left them on. I was (am?) a bit behind on the laundry so it was slim-pickin's that morning. I came out of the changing room like this:

Tada! XL purple scrub top, no pants, complete with bright pink and purple leopard socks. I figured, what the hell, this isn't a fashion show...I'm just here trying to get pregnant, people.

They showed me to my bed, which had a little post-it note stuck to the foot - "Frau Frick." Eventually, the anesthesiologist came and talked to us. Random thought as she was jibber-jabbering:

"I wonder if she thinks Mama Frick is my lesbian lover..."

She placed an IV in my left antecubital (typical) and asked me some questions. 

"Have you eaten or drank anything after midnight?"

"Nope." ::poker face::

Some time later they came and wheeled me back into the operating room. I was instructed to take off my undertrousers and put them under my pillow. I laughed thinking that it's like some sort of twisted tooth fairy thing. Maybe while I'm asleep, they'll exchange my underwear and leave me a baby under my pillow! I walked from my bed to the table/chair-looking apparatus. There were three women around me preparing machines and tools. At some point, someone put a telephone in my hand...

...???...I answered it.

"Uh, hello?"

"Guten Morgen!"

Then I noticed the big glass window in front of me. I assumed it was the laboratory because I saw a bunch of computers, monitors, and microscopes. I could see another woman with a phone to her ear inside the lab smiling back at me.

"Guten morgen..." I replied.

And then there was silence. With the phone still to my ear I looked to the other women like "WTF, a little guidance would be nice!" Then they decided to tell me what the heck is going on. I'm supposed to say my name into the phone. Oh, um, ok?...

"Mein Name ist Rachel Frick?"

"Ok, Dankeschön!"

And then someone took the phone from my hand. Weird...

I "assume the position" and the women start to strap in my limbs. The anesthesiologist is there and tells me that I will feel weird for a moment and then "the dreams will come." I see her push the syringe of milky, white liquid into my vein..."Propofol" I state to myself. I look down at my legs in the stirrups and smile at my neon leopard socks right next to the doctor's head. As I stare at the ceiling and wait the anesthesiologist asks, "Are you an English woman?"

"No, I'm American." I reply.

...and that's the last thing I remember.

My nose got a little tingly and then I slept. It was peaceful and easy. I hope that's how it was for our pup, Tyson when we had to put him to sleep.

The next thing I hear is Mama Frick digging through her purse. It feels like a Sunday morning. I'm so tired and I just want to sleep a little bit longer but someone is already awake and making noise. All I want is for her to be quiet so I can sleep some more but I'm waking up slowly. The nurse in me counts my own respirations...they're about 5/min. (Mama Frick later told me she thought I wasn't breathing at all until she saw my eyelids flicker.) At some point, I reluctantly open my eyes and notice, for the first time, that there is a stork above my bed.

Yea, I look drunk and the XL scrub top makes me look like a sphere but that's as good as it gets. Again, I'm just there trying to get pregnant. I feel like we just got there but hours have passed and I can tell Mama Frick is getting antsy from sitting on that uncomfortable chair. I remember I'm not wearing any underwear and find them right where I left them. I slip them on under the blanket and start to take out my IV (see picture). Suddenly, the doctor comes around the corner and sits on my bed. I pretend like I wasn't just removing my own IV. She's talking and I'm trying really hard to listen but I'm only about 70% awake at this point. I try to wake myself up but it's useless.

She informs us that they took out 3 eggs. That's not very many but "hey, it's better than 2!" I tell myself. Things are still a bit hazy but she seems optimistic. She asks me one more time about "assisted hatching." With assisted hatching, they laser off a small part of the embryo membrane in hopes to increase the chance of it implanting on the uterine wall. I told her it's up to her. Eddie and I already signed paperwork for it and I told her money isn't an issue. I told her that we will go with her suggestion and not do it unless she sees the need.

She said that they will fertilize the eggs that afternoon and I am to make another appointment for Friday for implantation. She told me that they will call me if, for some reason, the embryos do not develop to cancel my appointment. She told me to make sure the phone number they have on file is correct. There were more instructions but I assumed Mama Frick was in a better state of mind to absorb the information.

In order to leave, Mama Frick had to accompany me on one walk so she escorted me to the bathroom. I was a bit wobbly but I made it into the stall. No one mentioned anything about bleeding (?) but I assumed that's normal. I went back to my bed and the anesthesiologist came to check on me. I asked her how I got from the table back to my bed and what happened to my hair net. She said two of them helped me walk.

I've been drunk before...pretty schwasted at times...but I've never blacked out. I've always been some-what conscious of my actions. It's weird to think that there is an hour of time that I don't remember. People were talking to me (in a foreign language, at that!) during that time and I was doing things that I have no recollection of. Again, it was my first time under general anesthesia and, for some, this happens often, but to me it's still creepy.

After what feels like eons of waiting, we figure out that we're free to go and that the nurse will take (finish taking) out my IV at the front. I make another appointment for Friday and double-checked the phone number they have saved. I resisted the urge to give them a fake number.

I've never not wanted a phone call so bad. I remember in middle school hoping for a phone call after cheerleading try outs. I would wait by the phone for hours...but this is the opposite. I walk around all day with my phone in my pocket. I double, triple check to make sure the volume is as loud as possible. It comes in the bathroom with me. When I shower, I hurry out and check if there are any missed calls. I don't want a phone call. Please God, don't let them call me. I routinely check the clock. I try to calculate what time the people in the lab probably get to work. When the clock strikes 6 PM I exhale because I assume they have gone home for the day. That's one more day that our embryos survived. Each night, Eddie and I give each other a triumphant smooch because our "babies" made it another day.

I don't know what I would do if I got the phone call canceling my appointment. I'd probably puke. No, seriously, I'm almost certain that I would vomit into the phone, on the ground, and all over my feet. Maybe I wouldn't even answer it at all. If I ignore it, maybe they will still grow? Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I just looked at the clock. 12:15 PM Germany time. That means in exactly 24 hours and 5 minutes until the embryos will be placed back inside of me. Tomorrow afternoon at 12:20 PM they will place, depending on how many developed nicely, 2 of the 3 embryos back inside. The one left over will be frozen. Then the worrying will stop...

Hah! Yea right, then I'll be worried whether or not they'll implant. Ugh, so much stress. As sick as I am with worry, at least my worrying is evolving and changing. We're nowhere out of the woods yet but it's nice to no longer worry when we will be able to start this process. It's been a lot of waiting. I feel like they do one small thing and then we wait. One more appointment and then more waiting.

Mama Frick and I went to KFC (yes, I said KFC) after the appointment and I talked to her about how I'm tired of waiting. She said when we get pregnant we still have to wait 9 months to meet them. And then I joked and said,

"Yea, then we'll probably be waiting 18 years to get rid of them."

And then she said "Maybe, but then you'll wait and hope that they come back around and visit." And I realized she was talking about herself.

"...yes, but when they do, hopefully it will be with lots of grandbabies!" I added.

So, not that any of you ever call me, I am ordering complete radio silence on my phone until about 1 PM tomorrow. Don't call me...if you do, I'll probably have a heart attack and not make it to my appointment at all tomorrow. Keep up the prayers! All your extra praying squeezed out an extra egg! :)

Germany vs. America

201.   They have Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in Germany but, much like all American products, it is ridiculously overpriced. Oh, and might I add, that at times, I pay it because, well…a girl has cravings!

202.   German cars (Mercedes, BMWs, etc) are cheaper in America. Someone please explain the rationality behind that.

203.   Eastern Germans : Germany :: West Virginians : America, you followin’ me?

204.   Once, on a long boring drive, I brought up a random detail about the Holocaust I remembered learning in school. After explaining the tragic fact, Eddie responded with “What’s the Holocaust?”

…

I was momentarily stunned and we figured out that they call it something different. I’m interested in knowing what the German history books say about it.

205.   On the same note, I had to travel to Germany and proof read Eddie’s younger sister’s English paper to learn that during the years of segregation, white bus drives would make the blacks pay to ride the bus but then get off again and enter through the doors further back. But while they were walking to the back door, the bus drivers would drive away after they paid!

206.   It goes without saying that, dating someone from another culture can be difficult at times. Sometimes I just want to make a simple statement about something but end up explaining who/what something is and the original statement loses it’s meaning.

i.e. Eddie doesn’t know who Jimmy Buffet is…

“You know… ::breaks into song:: Cheese burger in paaaradise. PARADIIIISE!”

“…no.”

“Ok, nevermind, forget it.”

It’s not a huge deal but sometimes we get stuck on small details like that, and it reminds us we come from different upbringings.

207.   The cost of living is high in Switzerland. Eddie lives in Germany but works in Switzerland. Our plan is for me to do the same. Ideally, one lives in France and works in Switzerland.

208.   Our grocery carts typically go front to back. Their carts can go from to back and left to right. Something small I noticed while grocery shopping.

209.   Speaking of grocery shopping and carts…you have to pay for yours in Germany by putting in a 1 Euro coin and then unchaining them from each other (like at Aldi stores in America). During one of my earlier visits to Germany, Eddie's sister, Elisabeth and I went grocery shopping. After loading the groceries we bought in the car, Elisabeth, asked me to take the cart back and she would pick me up at the front of the store. I said ok, happy to help out further! However, while I was walking the cart back, an old woman came up to me and (in German) asked me if I could just give her my cart and in exchange for the 1 Euro coin in her hand, so I did! I got in the car, happy that I understood what the old woman wanted and thinking I did a good thing. I handed Elisabeth the coin and…her face dropped, and in turn, so did mine.

“What? What’s wrong? What did I do?!?”

Apparently, it wasn’t a coin in our cart, but rather a little token Mama Frick had given Elisabeth years ago that she uses every time she shops. She told me it was ok and we didn’t have to get it back but what am I supposed to do? Jip an old woman out of 1 Euro and lose a gift from Mama Frick to Elisabeth? Bravely, I told her I was going in to get it back!

Once I bought another cart, I went in the store and I realized that the place was packed with little old Omas (grandmas). I finally found the right one and tried sneaking by to see if that was the cart with the coin. Finally I just explained to her, in my horrible, broken German, what happened. I was so embarrassed, I think my cheeks where so red. She put her groceries in mine and we switched carts. FYI I said “Kart” when I should have said “Wagon.” Karte = card/ credit card. Great. Needless to say, I don’t make eye contact when returning my grocery carts now…ugh!

They just need those areas that take up a whole parking spot where we just push the carts into when we’re done and pay a young lad to come out in the rain to collect them!

210.   America has a much freer attitude more along the lines of “Live and Let Live.” Germans are much too into each others business, "nosy," if you will. For example: I often catch Germans looking in my shopping cart! ?!?!? Why do you care what I’m buying? Back off!