Flutterings #14

Wednesday night, I indulged in baked ziti with meatballs, a bottle of chianti, and a berry tart. That, combined with the many lovely people who gave me shoulders to cry on, really helped get me past the angst I had from the cycle cancellation. When something goes wrong for me, I tend to need a period of time, usually no more than a day or two, where I can wallow in misery with complete abandon. Once the wallowing occurs, I re-gather my strength and will and move on. That happened by the time I got in bed on Wednesday, so now it’s about the future.

It’s incredibly strange to be taking birth control pills while trying to get pregnant, but they serve their purpose. Now I just need to make it through the next two weeks so we can start this all over again. I think I’m going to refer to the next IVF cycle as IVF v1.1. It needed a bug patch.

From the Good News Comes In Three’s Department:

1. My mother announced her engagement about a week ago. I’m so happy and excited for her. Wedding plans are moving swiftly, and she’ll likely be getting married next month, in the islands. How romantic is that?

2. My oldest friend and sometime commenter here, F., announced her engagement just a few days after my mother announced hers. I was deeply honored and flattered that F. asked me to be her maid of honor – and pleased that she didn’t use the term “matron of honor,” which I hate, even if I AM married – so I’m really excited about that. One of the othe bridesmaids and I have already been in touch about the shower. So exciting!

3. And, of course, the aforementioned friend’s girlfriend’s pregnancy. I really am happy for him, and I’ve already begun plotting baby knitting for his child.

Is it possible that good news ONLY comes in three’s? Not four’s?

Houston, we have poop. Demon has pooped. And pooped. And pooped. He’s not really eating much again just yet, but I think that will come, now that we stopped the laxative thing. When I had to do bowel prep the day before my last surgery, I wasn’t very interested in food, either, because the medicine you have to take makes you feel nauseous. I think that’s how Demon feels now.

The downside of all the pooping is that, well to be indelicate about it, he’s covered in it. As Scott and I stood near the kitchen island the other night, with Demon perched upon it, Scott holding him, and me cleaning the shit off my cat’s ass with a wet washcloth, we reflected upon how ready we are for the messes of parenthood. I’ve had to clean him up several times since then, as well.

That washcloth was tossed, by the way. Another one will be sacrificed today, when we indulge in the fun pastime called Bathing a Cat.

Wish us luck.