The Adventures of (In)Fertile Frank

Four Bean Salad

2008-07-09T15:17:00.003-04:00

I know, I know, I never call, I never write, I am quite simply a bad blogger.

My only excuse is that I have 3 month old twins at home and my opportunities for prioritizing have been reduced to, "should I go take a shower or eat something today." Yes, the Beans twins have arrived, bringing great joy and chaos into our household. Unfotunately, the twins (a boy and a girl) came into the world 11 weeks early and spent the first 70 days of their life in the NICU. While other bloggers have admirably updated the outside world from the confines of the hospital walls, my writing capabilities were reduced to signing insurance papers and "informed consents."

Mrs. Beans and I have described the whole experience as a very unfunny version of "Groundhog Day", the Bill Murray comedy vehicle, in which he plays a weatherman living the same day over and over again. I canceled my classes for the rest of the semester and we basically spent every day in the hospital or at some hideous baby store retrieving all of the gear that we had convinced ourselves we had plenty of time to obtain.

The good news is that we have two happy and healthy little babies who are the center of our universe. This marks the end of my blogging efforts for the moment, but I may return in another format. To those of you who have traveled with us on this journey, I say "thank you," and to those who are just starting out or who must continue to fight long odds on your way to parenthood I wish you the best of luck.

Peace,

Frank N. Beans

Beans Family Update!

2008-03-20T23:00:00.003-04:00

So the goal was to have a glorious return to the blogosphere, Ph.D. in hand, and a tenure track position secured at Ivy U (after negotiating a live-in nanny for the little beans).

Alas, the dissertation is still a few weeks from completion and my job search now involves repeatedly hitting the refresh button on my e-mail with the hope that some search committee chair will contact me to profusely apologize because my application accidentally slipped behind the radiator and they simply have to meet me immediately so they can shower me with grant money and book contracts. Yes, that is the stink of desperation that you smell. Just one more "bitch" about an academic job search. They generally don't bother to tell you if you are rejected and it is considered uncouth to check on the status of the search. So, basically there is a lot of waiting and wondering involved.

Despite the stresses of jobs and living arrangements the babies are doing excellent. We just passed the 24 week mark and Mrs. Beans is doing fantastic. Both babies are measuring "singleton" size and it is hard to believe that they will continue to grow (tip for dads of multiples, don't let your wife see footage of John and Kate plus 8 on TLC). Our evenings involve a routine of heating pads, ice cream, and the dreaded maternity fashion show as Mrs. Beans tries to determine what to wear to work the next morning. Frankly, I don't get it. We have a lot of nice maternity clothes that we purchases or that was given to us by friends and family, yet Mrs. Beans insists on trying to squeeze just one more "wear" out of every outfit. I swear I heard her jeans cry out for help the other night. Now, I think that she looks beautiful and I tell her this on a regular basis, but she is only reluctantly starting to wear her maternity outfits with any regularity.

Actually, I might need to start wearing her maternity clothes soon. I have come down with a classic case of couvades (sympathy pains) and put on 15 lbs. This came as a bit of a shock because I had lost a ton of weight while we were doing the "healthy lifestyle changes" while preparing for IVF. You know, cutting back on the crack and trying to limit my exposure radioactive materials. It turns out that husbands who go through ART are more likely to get sympathy pains (and this must be true because I read it on google). Did this happen to any other fathers out there? In any event, I am running again and preparing for some serious car carrier lifting.

Speaking of which, we registered for some baby shower items recently... holy crap! We had no intention of doing a shower, but fell for the "everybody else is doing it, so why not us" argument, and thank god we did. Now, we are neither frugal nor extravagant, but I don't think we had really thought about the extra costs of twins. Even if you are trying to shop wisely and gently used, the baby "start-up" costs are astronomical. As someone joked on another blog, "I hope that come out ready to mow some lawns." That's silly babies can't mow lawns... but they can launch their own brand from a sitcom full of cheesy puns (and co-starring Steve Guttenberg)...

He's a struggling musician. She's a bounty hunter with a sordid past . Together they are trying to raise twins as they travel across the country in search of hot gigs and cool cons!

Look for "Double Trouble" coming this fall to UPN!

We hope that all is well out there, and we will be updating more frequently as we hit the home stretch. Thanks for you patience and I am looking forward to catching up with the blogs.

Time Out!

2008-01-14T00:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, I have been having a serious case of "the guilties" over the past few weeks for not blogging so I am calling an official time out for the next 4 to 6 weeks.

I don't believe that I have ever mentioned this before, but while my wife is carrying twins, I am gestating a dissertation and searching for a tenure-tracked position in academia. Unfortunately, I have yet to find an institution that will acknowledge the value of my vast knowledge of pop culture. Alas, I am left with no choice but to complete my dissertation immediately and go knocking on the doors of various ivory towers. This whole situation has become a huge source of stress as we try to plan for the arrival of the twins with no knowledge of where we will be seven months from now. That being said, I need to take a small break and focus on meeting some self-imposed deadlines.

I will be back to update the Beans family saga in about a month and checking in on your blogs! In the meantime, enjoy these pics of the twins at 12 weeks!

Celebrating a "Happy Ending"

2007-12-17T15:53:00.001-05:00

The past few weeks have been quite eventful for the Beans family. Last Wednesday marked the final day of progesterone injections and on Friday we had our first appointment with the new OB/GYN.

While the final shot has occurred, Mrs. Beans' butt continues to bear the tell-tale tracks of someone with a severe heroin habit. Apparently her poor little rump was a bit more damaged than we had anticipated, as layers of skin have started to peel and flake off. Yuck.

Frankly, we are both relieved to be done with this part of the process; although, our initial needle resentments primarily centered on the limitations that the timing of the shot put on our social life. That really isn't a problem anymore, since Mrs. Beans is now exhausted from playing the role of a 24/7 "hostess with the mostess" to our unborn children (now in fetus size!). Case in point, a few weeks ago we made a trip to Target and had an early supper (4:30) at a Friendly's in the mall parking lot. Let's just say we were a little out of place.

Seinfeld used to have a bit about the employees who worked at the movie theater. Something about all of the ticket takers being either 14 or 84 and that it took 70 years to move three feet. The same can be said about the clientèle of a Friendly's restaurant, everyone was either under 20 or over 80. And can we discuss the "Happy Ending" dessert? Who the hell came up with that marketing campaign? Is it a joke? Do they have a special training for the wait staff so they can practice asking customers if they want a happy ending with a straight face? Is there any estimate on the number of WWII vets who were disappointed after ordering a meal from the senior menu with the promise or a FREE Happy Ending, only to realize later that it is a clown shaped ice cream cone and not a sex act?

In addition to our outrageously exciting social lives we have also transitioned to a new OB/GYN. The atmosphere in the waiting room could not be more different. Imagine a world where it is permissible to make eye contact! We did get quite a chuckle out of our first appointment. First or all, we had never realized that the world is so rife with STDs! Of course, we had been screened during our fertility treatments, but we must have answered a dozen questions and this is also the first chapter in most of the pregnancy books that we have been reading.

The highlight of the exam was when the nurse asked me if I had fathered any other children.

"Ummm, have you seen my lab results?"

Glances at computer

"Oh. I'll just check no."

We were a little disappointed that we did not get another ultrasound (we were eager to check in), but apparently in the fertile world they do not monitor you quite as closely. However, since we do have twins and are technically "high risk" we are having an Early Risk Assessment next week, so we will get to take another peak. Apparently, they can get a much better idea about any developmental issues by taking a blood sample and taking some extensive measurements using the ultrasound. Based on the results we can decide if we need to do amniocentesis in the 16th week. Pretty cool stuff and we are excited at the prospect of getting more information and potentially avoiding a rather invasive test later on.

And finally we received our due date, July 9th! It really doesn't mean much since twins tend to go earlier, but we are still excited to have a target date in mind.

Please, Don't Feed the Beans

2007-11-30T20:34:00.000-05:00

I have not felt sympathy for an inanimate object since I read the Velveteen Rabbit as a small boy. I did feel some brief pangs of pity for some of the characters on the Island of the Misfit Toys in Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer, but it was fleeting, as claymation tends to freak me out.

Yet, the other day I found myself feeling sorry for the holiday cupcake that Mrs. Beans demolished in about 2.3 seconds. It is difficult to find an appropriate metaphor for the combination of pure efficiency and animal instinct that Mrs. Beans employed when she devoured that cupcake. Has anyone ever seen a calf-roping contest? They release the poor calf and it runs like crazy for about 10 feet until it is lassoed and hog-tied by the pursuing cowboy in about 3 seconds. You feel awful for the poor little calf, but at the same time a small part of you thinks, "Holy shit! I can't believe how fast that was!" I think this might best describe the experience and I literally stood there slack-jawed.

In any event, I found myself feeling sorry for the poor little cupcake. What did it do to deserve a fate like that? I know, I know, its the circle of life, and perhaps if the cupcake wasn't so darned delectable with its buttery frosted goodness and sassy holiday funfetti topping it could have lived a longer and fuller life, but it just seems wrong. I am strongly considering the purchase of one of those hand held catapults that you use to throw tennis balls for your dog. I mean doesn't the cupcake deserve a fighting chance?

I think part of the problem is the realization that I am now living with a full-blown predator. I am left to pick over the remains of whatever Mrs. Beans has devoured and I have taken to stashing a small package of Saltines in my dresser door. I break out in the chills when the packaging crinkles and makes a noise as I attempt to open it in the confines of my closet.

crinkle, crinkle

"What are you eating!?!?"

"Mmmm.... uh, N-n-nuthing." As I frantically wipe crumbs off of my chest.

Frankly, keeping the cupboards stocked has become a major priority for me. I've seen the way she eyes me when she thinks that I'm not looking. I'm just one false move from becoming an appetizer.

Man Seeking Minivan... Wood paneling a plus.

2007-11-26T23:35:00.000-05:00

There is an old proverb that goes something like, "A spoonful of honey will catch more flies than a gallon of vinegar."

And that old proverb is dead wrong.

Today was our final appointment at the fertility clinic and it could not have gone any better. Mrs. Beans and I were expecting some scowling faces, especially after we reiterated our desire that the doctor from our previous examine not be present. However, it was all kittens and rainbows down at the baby factory. Sure, the nurses and doctors were probably pointing and whispering behind our backs, but who cares!? Our face-to-face interactions were easily an 11 out of 10. The doctors couldn't have been any nicer and walked us through the exam in great detail. It is too bad that you basically have to raise hell to get what you need. But I digress. The results are in...

And....

TWINS!!!!The wand doctor had no more said, "Let's play a little game called 'just the tip,' see how it feels" when the babies floated into view. Yes, two healthy little Beans were spotted "spooning" in the upper reaches of Mrs. Beans uterus. They are both the same size (7 weeks, 2 days) and have heartbeats of 165 and 147 (I will assume that this is a resting heart rate since they didn't seem to be doing too much). Mrs. Beans is technically 7 weeks and 5 days, but according to the doctor the "size lag" is no big deal. One of the babies has a much larger gestational sac/apartment, but again we were assured that "size doesn't matter." I am feeling excited and Mrs. Beans is feeling tired and hungry! She is snacking for 3!

Bean Wolf!

2007-11-20T22:55:00.000-05:00

Over the past few days I have been trying to catch up on my blog reading and I have noticed that some bloggers have transferred me over to the "expecting" category on their blog rolls. This is totally fine (and accurate), but this came as a bit of a shock. Mrs. Beans and I still "knock on wood" about about every ten minutes. As previously mentioned, we are very nervous and continue to worry incessantly about the status of Mary-Kate and Ashley. I know that at week 12 the chances of "that which shall not be named" decrease significantly, but I think that I might continue to work over the ol' worry dolls until the birth... or maybe even high school graduation (side note: In 3rd grade I "shop-lifted" a worry doll on a field trip to an international fair in Minneapolis, and then in a fit of irony proceeded to use the worry doll to lament my crime and inevitable capture/incarceration).

It is a little awkward to shift identities. One day I am "Infertile Frank" and the next I am "Fertile Frank" (with 14,000 dollars worth of assistance). Strange as it seems, I had grown accustomed to the label of "infertile." It is a label that has brought so much pain to our lives, but at the same time it has become a part of my identity. Now I need some time to learn a new role, that of an "expecting father," but I am hesitant to try it on for fear that it might be stripped away. Okay, this is getting pretty deep, pretty fast... hmmm, I need an inappropriate and light hearted analogy.... Got it!

This transition from "infertile" to "expecting father" is not unlike the character transformation detailed in the 80s hit film Teen Wolf! As you may recall, the protagonist is Scott Howard (played by Michael J. Fox), an average Midwestern teen, who starts to undergo a series of mysterious changes (to him anyway, not so mysterious if you saw the movie poster). Initially the signs of the transformation are subtle, a long chest hair, rapidly growing fingernails, glowing red eyes, etc., but eventually he loses control and completely morphs into his werewolf alter ego.

Thanks to the help of his best friend "Stiles" and his prodigious basketball skills, he is embraced by the students and the town-at-large. Unfortunately, the rapid transformation triggers a minor identity crisis in Scott and he struggles to adapt to his new powers. Eventually, he comes to learn that the old Scott wasn't so bad and that the "wolf," while a significant part of him, does not define him as an individual. Perhaps it is the same way with my transformation. Certainly fatherhood will change me in some fundamental ways, but "Infertile Frank" is still an important part of who I am and always will be.

Also, some lingering Teen Wolf questions/observations:

The antagonist in the film is Mick, who competes with Scott for the girl Pamela Wells and on the basketball court (he plays for the Dragons). Yet, somehow they also attend the same high school? Can someone please explain to me how they can attend the same small Midwestern high school and yet play for different high school teams?

Next, is dribbling really an obvious "wolf" skill? If anything, I would think that the elongated hind legs would be a hindrance to an individual's hoop skills. Furthermore, I think that the immediate acceptance of Scott by the rest of the student body was a little too quick. I don't know about the rest of you, but "different" didn't exactly fly at my high school.

Finally, what kind of nickname is Boof? I looked it up on IMDB and the character's name is "Lisa 'Boof' Marconi," so it is not like Boof is short for Boofinski or something. "7th Grade Frank" always thought that Boof sounded dirty, but my 7th grade body also found algebra vaguely erotic (I also giggled that the team mascot in the movie was the "Beaver"). "Modern Frank" still thinks that Boof is a little suspect and frankly, it didn't seem like that was her first time "in the closet" if you know what I mean. I would be willing to bet that Boof's name is carved into quite a few bathroom stalls in Beacontown High School.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving everyone... and to our Canadian friends, well Boxing Day is just around the corner.

Revenge of the Beans!

2007-11-17T12:51:00.001-05:00

"Oh We're Not Gonna Take It!

No, We Ain't Gonna Take It!
Oh We're Not Gonna Take It, Anymoooooore!"

Ah, the harmonious sounds of Twisted Sister, now serving as the official Beans family anthem. In general the Beans are a peaceful clan. Our preferred form of aggression is "passive" (hence, my penchant for blogging). We are the type of family that leaves nasty notes when people steal our newspaper, rather than risk face to face confrontation.

But after our last doctor's appoint something strange happened to Mrs. Beans. I don't know if it is the hormones or if she is morphing into a mama bear before my eyes, but before I knew it she called up the doctor's office and went all Ethan Hunt on their ass!

Doctor: I can understand that you are very upset.

Mrs. Beans: Doctor, You've never seen me very upset.

Woo-hoo! I was very proud of her. She explained to the head of the clinic that she was very disappointed with her last appointment and that we left with more questions than answers. She explained that in the future we needed to have the appointment addressed to us and not to the supervising doctor. That it was important for us to have the ultrasound explained in detail. Very calmly she pointed out that she repeatedly had to take the initiative during the appointment to ask for clarification as medical jargon rained down on our heads.

To the credit of the doctor who runs the clinic (and who we like a great deal), he was very responsive and apologetic. While he was supportive of his own staff, he validated Mrs. Beans feelings and assured her that she would not have to see the same physicians for our final visit.

Overall, I think that it was a very productive conversation and that Mrs. Beans felt better afterwards. Now that we have had a few days to reflect, I think that what is bothering us is that the doctor seemed to be pointing out a number of "problems" (or at least we perceived them as problems since there was no explanation). Between the HUGE cysts, a seemingly empty gestational sac, and the large amounts of free fluid in the uterine chamber, we were left feeling that there was a lot of crazy stuff going on down below and this raised some alarms for us concerning miscarriage. We now know that these symptoms are common, but because of the nonchalant attitude of the doctors, e.g. "everything looks okay for now", we were sent into a bit of a downward spiral. I must say that even now that we know better, we are still feeling quite a bit of nervous tension. We want our innocence back! Or at the very least some reassuring statements following a lengthy, invasive, and expensive journey.

In the meantime, I am cooking up a storm for the ladies. Last night they devoured some bow-tie pasta with a lovely sauce consisting of sausage, onions, sage and cannelli beans. Tonight it is homemade potato and corn chowder (with some bacon bits for good measure). Bon appetit lil' Beans!

Poor Stirrup-Side Manner

2007-11-12T17:26:00.001-05:00

Today was our first ultrasound (5 weeks, 5 days), the great news is that there is a nice healthy sac/yolk in there and an additional gestational sac that was very difficult to see (so there is the potential that there is another, but he/she is just hiding at the moment).

Of course we are grateful, but at the same time feeling a little frustrated by our appointment. Let's just say that the "stirrup-side manner" left something to be desired.

The wand was being operated by a "fellow" (inexperienced rookie) and her rotund supervisor was hovering behind her.

We got off to a rough start when the rookie's first words were, "WHOA! You have a HUGE cyst on your ovary!" "Did you know that?"

I was very proud of Mrs. Beans who calmly replied, "Well, I have been feeling some pressure, but obviously there would be no way for me to know that it was a cyst."

This is where Mrs. Beans is a good balance for my acidic sarcasm. I was ready to jump down her throat, "Yes, we purchased a home ultra sound a' la Tom Cruise and Katie Holme's and we have been monitoring the growth of the cyst. She's a real beauty, eh?"

Next, she moved over to the uterus and saw "a pregnancy." We were happy to hear that the measurements were on track when she exclaimed, "OH! WAIT, there is something else in here? Is that a... what is that!?!?" Based on her tone, visions of an Alien bursting out of Mrs. Beans chest danced through my head. Mental note: As we begin the search for an OB/GYN "really panicky" is not a characteristic that we enjoy among medical professionals.

"Is that another pregnancy? How many embryos did you transfer?" she asked incredulously.

Mrs. Beans, "2"

ME: TRY READING THE FUCKING CHART YOU IDIOT!!!

"I don't know about this one. I can't see a yolk. Chuck can you see a yolk?" (Chuck being the attending who is hovering behind).

Chuck (not looking at the screen) replies, "Nope."

"Let's me try a different angle," says the rookie as she mounts Mrs. Beans. "Nah, nothing. Can't get a good shot."

Keep in mind that no one in the room is directing any conversation toward us.

She moves down the wand, "Oh wow! There is A LOT of free fluid down here! See all that free fluid Chuck?"

Chuck replies, "Yes."

Mrs. Beans, "Umm, and what is free fluid?"

The doctor looks up, startled to see Mrs. Beans on the table.

"Free fluid is... uh... Chuck, you tell her."

Chuck (exasperated with our stupidity), "Free fluid is just blood and left over medicine that has pooled together, nothing to worry about."

Right. We feel much better. Unfortunately, I can go on and on with more examples. I will simply leave you with this. After Chuck and the nurses left the room I asked about the chances for twins based on what they saw on the ultrasound.

Dr. Sunshine replied, "Well, hard to say since they were behind one another, but I would say very slim. I can't really give odds, but if I was a gambler, I wouldn't put any money on it."

Funny, but if I wanted a gambler's opinion, my wife would be splayed out naked on a craps table in Vegas. As it is, we decided to see a medical doctor instead. So how 'bout you just tell stick to what you saw and tells in scientific terms.

Arrghh! I apologize for complaining, but we have been looking forward to this day for a long time and the dehumanizing nature of our 15 minute appointment, literally drained all of the energy out of the both of us. Sadly they didn't even know that they were being complete assholes.

Okay, I had to vent. We are putting this behind us (and apparently on the blog for posterity) and focusing on how happy we are to have one and possibly two, healthy and beautiful sacs! I will try to write something lucid and less angry soon.

(Less)Fertile Frank Report

2007-11-06T17:01:00.000-05:00

Mrs. Beans had another beta yesterday, 1,307 so she seems to be doubling down appropriately.

Our pregnancy scan (Yikes! Why can't they just call it a regular old ultrasound) is scheduled for next Monday. The nurse said, "Schedule it for Monday or Tuesday, whatever you feel like."

Are you serious? I want to camp out in the hospital lobby on Sunday night and tailgate with mocktails and BBQ. Unfortunately, we had to settle for an afternoon appointment.

Finally, I just wanted to pass on a word of thanks from the both of us for your support and excitement. I know that thus far we have been very fortunate. I also wanted to give a special thanks to those who shared our cycle and were not as lucky, but still took the time to congratulate us. I thought this was exceptionally generous and want you to know that our hearts go out to you.

And the beta is.....

2007-11-03T12:42:00.000-04:00

674!

Holy SHIT!

We know that it is still early, but we are tremendously excited!

More later!

Like Beans Through the Hourglass, So Are the Days of our Lives

2007-10-30T22:16:00.000-04:00

In a mere two and a half days they will be drawing blood for our pregnancy test. Obviously we are getting excited and hope to be celebrating, but I also know that we will quickly be in wait mode again. If everything worked and we do get a positive than we need to come back 48 hours later for another blood test to see how everything is progressing, and next make an appointment for an ultrasound a week later. Are both Mary-Kate and Ashley holding on? Basically, I feel like Jack Bauer, walking around with one of those digital countdown clocks in my head. beep-doop, beep-doop, beep-doop. Frankly, I am not sure if I will really feel that we are out of the woods until January.

On a related note, I have been thinking lately that one of the more frustrating aspects of this process is that IVF robs you of your privacy with regard to telling people. Before IF, I always imagined having a few weeks to savor the news of nascent pregnancy. Mrs. Beans and I would nervously hold hands in the waiting room through our first doctors visits, leisurely peruse the advertisements for nursery furniture in the Sunday paper, make lists of potential names, and think about how and when we would share our big news. Now I have a list of phone calls to make after we get the results. Don't get me wrong, without the love and unyielding support of our close friends and family (many of whom read this blog), there is no way that we could have gotten this far. But selfishly, I wish that we had some time to digest the news, good or bad. I also think what really worries me is that there is a reason (which shall not be named) that people do not run around telling others about their pregnancies until the end of the 2nd or 3rd month (at least). My worst nightmare is having to make those phone calls. Yikes! Guess, I am feeling a bit anxious. Back to Norman Vincent Peale mode.

Other updates? Well, our 2 remaining embryos continued to develop and we now have two waiting in the on deck circle for FET. I know that it doesn't work this way, but I can't help but take their development as a positive sign for Mary-Kate and Ashley. We received a very lovely form letter from our clinic. "We at Baby Factory, Inc. Wish you nothing but the best on your journey to parenthood and wish to inform you that we froze _____ embryos from your most recent retrieval." I was feeling a little frustrated with this Hallmark moment so I called them up and asked for some more details. They assured me that the blastocysts were of high quality, although one was a bit more advanced. (Please note that the accompanying picture is Trot and not JD "Nancy" Drew, Sox fans will know this is important)

What else? Mrs. Beans is feeling very uncomfortable. She is being a very good sport about her injections, but I think that she is at capacity. Over the last four days quite a bit of the progesterone has been leaking out of the injection site. Of course, we called the pharmacy and the IVF nurses in a panic and they assured us that it was no big deal, but I am still worried. Has this ever happened to anyone else? Mrs. Beans, who incidentally would have made a fantastic Civil War doctor based on her medical theories (Headache soldier? Must be too much blood in your head, let's bleed it out!), has decided that her body, specifically her ass, is filled up like a giant progesterone water balloon, and the needle is simply springing a leak, cartoon character style.

Finally, I wanted to share this resource that I happened upon earlier this week while googling "IVF pregnancy tests, how soon is too soon?" This site gives the IVF success rates of the majority of the country's clinics. The data is from 2005 and obviously dependent upon a variety of different factors, but we still wish that we would have had this centralized info at our fingertips a few months ago. It even comes with a handy map! I will add it to my sidebar as well. Enjoy!

Please keep your fingers crossed!

Two Beans in the Oven

2007-10-22T11:07:00.000-04:00

Well, our transfer is complete and as of Saturday morning we have two little beans hanging out in the oven.

I must admit, there were several surprises in store for us this weekend. Somehow we had convinced ourselves that we were going to have a five day transfer, so we were in a pretty relaxed mood on Saturday morning. We were supposed to call in at 8:3o to see if we were on for Saturday or Monday, but much to our surprise the phone rang at 8:28. It was one of the nurses telling Mrs. Beans to go pee, pop a Valium, start drinking water, and get to the office by 9:30 for a 10:00 transfer.

Mind you, we had convinced ourselves that we were going to have a 5 day transfer, so we morning preparations consisted of laying in bed eating cinnamon rolls and watching DVDs.

Holy Shit! Thank god for the Valium because it was a not a low stress morning. We showered up, threw on some clothes, and raced to the clinic (all the while Mrs. Beans was downing her 32 oz. of liquid). We breathlessly arrived at the office at 9:33, but of course we were just told to take a seat.

10 o'clock came and went and we didn't hear a single word for any of the staff. All the while, Mrs. Beans is becoming increasingly uncomfortable because she is not allowed to use the facilities. She is on the verge of breaking down and heading to the can, when one of the nurses comes to get us at 10:10. I tell the nurse how uncomfortable Mrs. Beans is and point out that they are running late (despite the fact that we are the only ones there), but the nurse encourages her to hold on for just a bit longer because they are going to start any minute.

At this point Mrs. Beans is starting to actually sweat as a result of the effort that it is taking to "hold it." I put on the haz-mat suit that they use to make husbands feel important and we are ready to go, but still no doctor and still no embryologist. Finally, at 10:25, Mrs. Beans cannot take it anymore and she has to use that bathroom. The nurse, who now is being very sympathetic and has placed a threatening phone call to the doctor, tells Mrs. Beans to do a "five-count" pee. I had never really thought about this, but it is much harder for women to "hold it," than for men. After all, there is not really an "it" that you can hold to keep it in. But I digress. Mrs. Beans relieved herself (she later told me that she did a "10 count") and the doctor finally arrived.

We immediately went into the room and the embryologist joined us. They said that of the five remaining embryos, one had arrested at 3 cells, two were at 6 cells and needed further development, and that we had two 8 cell, grade A embies that they were going to transfer today. Now this was not exactly the consult that was described in the literature. So, much to their chagrin, I actually stopped them.

"Wait a minute, you have been telling us all along that one was the preferred number to transfer for someone under the age of 35. Is there something wrong with the embryos?"

"No, no, we generally transfer one on a five day transfer, because we have a better idea of the viability of a blastocyst. Since you are down to two embryos, we don't want to wait for the 5 day and we want to put them in right away."

All of this was fine, but it certainly came as a surprise to the both of us. We have basically memorized the IVF literature at our clinic and can quote sections chapter and verse. "And on the 3rd day, thou shall not transfer more that two embryos into a patient under the age of 35! Can I get an Amen!?!? Hallelujah!"

Anyway, they showed us the pictures of the embryos (I am calling them Mary-Kate and Ashley), and prepared Mrs. Beans. The doctor was brazen enough to comment, "my your bladder certainly is full!" Yeah, no kidding?

So, Mrs. Beans was pretty focused on not peeing in the doctor's face, but I got to witness the transfer and it was pretty awesome. There was a little flash and you could see them (or at least some small bubbles) being shot into the uterus (And that Tommy is how babies are made!).

We were obviously the only couple with a procedure that morning, as the nurse gave us our final instructions and asked us if we knew the way out!?!?

Umm, yeah, do you want us to get the lights and log off the computers too?

Anyway, we came home and all of a sudden the Valium kicked in (better late than never), so Mrs. Beans took a brisk 6 hour nap! She refused to be roused, even when I came into the room to inform her that J.K. Rowling announced that Dumbledore is gay. Under normal circumstances she would have shot out of bed at such explosive news, but on Saturday she simply said, "Howzistisns.... snooort... hasdsdu... gay?" and rolled back over.

The rest of the weekend was spent trying to convince Mary-Kate and Ashley to attach ASAP. My sister brought over a wide variety of magazines for Mrs. Beans, some friends made some homemade soup, I whipped up a batch of homemade meatballs, and my SIL and BIL brought over some fantastic Indian food on Sunday. Hopefully, plying them with gifts and home cooked meals will do the trick. So that's were we are at for the moment. The pregnancy test is set for November 3rd which seems impossibly far away, so we are trying to stay busy. Thanks for all of your positive thoughts! They really do make a difference!

IVF: A Week in Review

2007-10-19T09:52:00.000-04:00

A very busy week at Casa de Beans.

The HcG shot went off without a hitch on Monday night (I might have gone a little low, so Mrs. Beans was a little sore), but the nurses drew some new circles so the progesterone has gone much better.

Since we are doing ICSI we were the first couple on the docket for Wednesday morning. The nurses explained that I would "do my business" at 7 am (cause who doesn't want to do that first thing in the morning). And the retrieval would take place at 8 o'clock. This made a little more sense with regard to the possibility that Mrs. Beans could assist me. It lead to the following exchange:

FNB: So, I guess that you could come into the room with me.

Mrs. Beans: Yeah, well, it seems strange, I've never watched you masturbate before, not sure that I want to start now.

FNB: Watch? I think the idea is that you are supposed to "lend a hand." (me making 'air quotes' with my fingers)

Mrs. Beans: (laughing) Oh right.

FNB: Are you kidding me? What were you going to stand in the corner with your arms crossed and shout out instructions?

Mrs. Beans: (still laughing) It was the Lupron talking.

FNB: Seriously, what are you like a coxswain, "Stroke... Stroke.... Stroke.... "

Mrs. Beans: Okay. Stop.
So obviously Mrs. Beans was not going to be a lot of help in this department.

Tuesday night we both had a restless sleep, Mrs. Beans being haunted by visions of a needle in her va-jay-jay, and I put the following cycle of dreams on repeat.

1. Frank can't get it up to make the deposit and ruins $14,000 dollar cycle.
2. Frank over shoots the cup, ends up on hands and knees trying to rescue sample and ruins $14,000 dollar cycle.
3. Frank can't finish the deal and has to sweatily march back into a waiting room full or people (like nightclub full) to get Mrs. Beans.

Good Times.

So, neither one of us was feeling one hundred percent on Wednesday morning. I knew that I need to break up the sour mood, so on the drive to the doctor's office, I took out the i-pod and blared the Theme Music from Superman. I drove with one hand and thrust out my right fist in the Superman "flying pose" as we cruised through the early morning empty streets. On the way I snapped off salutes to the dog walkers and commuters and with a deep voice shouted "Good Morning, citizen!"

It was good for a few laughs from Mrs. Beans (but I think she grew a little tired of it).

We arrived at the office and I went into the "spunkatorium." There on the "nightstand" was a pile of movies and I kid you not, on top was a DVD entitled Asian Take-Out 5. Yet, I persevered. I discovered that the trick for me was to not touch anything in the gross little closet and to not utilize any of the visual aids. I felt like much less of a deviant. I finished up rather quickly, but waited an additional 3 to 5 minutes, "cause I ain't no one minute man."

It was Mrs. Beans turn next and she was a champ. After assuring that anesthesiologist that she was not on any "street drugs" they knocked her out and did the retrieval. I came back into the room as she was waking up. ME: "How did it go?" HER: "I think I bit my lip."

They retrieved 7 eggs which we thought was a little low, especially since they were raving about her ovaries and how well she was responding. This is where being an avid blog reader can be a bit of a detriment because I knew that many women were well into the double digits. Still, I didn't want to worry Mrs. Beans, so when the doctors said that it was a "good number," I let it slide. Later we casually asked the nurse why there were so many follicles and so few eggs. She explained that they triggered based on the most mature follies and the others didn't have time to catch up. So why didn't they wait for the stragglers? We are not sure, but we think it is because Mrs. Beans was on a protocol for women with high risk for OHSS.

Anyway, we declared to one another that it is quality, not quantity that counts and headed home. I set Mrs. Beans up with some Grey's Anatomy DVDs and snacks in the bedroom and I worked from home.

We didn't need to wait too long on Thursday for the fertilization call. Of the seven eggs all were mature, 1 failed to fertilize and another developed abnormally, leaving us with 5 strong looking embies. The nurse said that there was a chance that they would want to do a 5 day transfer with us, so we have an appointment for a 3 day on Saturday, but we need to call and we may get bumped to Monday. The nurse said that 3 vs. 5 is neither a good or bad sign, but we consulted with Dr. Google and determined that you can choose better embies if all of them continue to develop up through day 5.

So, we are pretty excited and nervous. It was quite a relief to know that the eggs fertilized and we have something to work with. We are patiently waiting (sans wine, I asked and it was a no go) for Saturday morning's call.

I leave you with this video that I have been saving for this day (show your husbands or significant others because this is how boys think)!

Ovaries are fully loaded... it's time to STRUT!

2007-10-15T10:16:00.001-04:00

Have you noticed a young woman struting through downtown? It may be Mrs. Beans.

Mrs. Beans had a kick-ass weekend, her follies are large and in charge and as a result they have moved up our retrieval day by 48 hours! Pending results from the blood test, the trigger shot will be tonight and we will be back in on Wednesday morning. Woo-hoo! The RE's have been gushing over Mrs. Beans ovaries. It's almost embarrassing, we think they might have a pin-up calendar of Miss Righty in their office.

It has made for a hectic weekend as we were in for an ultrasound on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Mrs. Beans commented that it feels like the movie Groundhog's Day, where Bill Murray keeps reliving the same day over and over. We (especially she) is not an early riser on the weekend, so two 6:30 am wake-up calls have made for some long days.

We are also going to ask the doctor if we can have a final glass of wine in between the retrieval and the transfer. We haven't had a drink in 6 weeks and hopefully we (she) will be on the wagon for another 10 months! On the other hand, everything is going so well that we don't want to jinx anything. This is how our neurotic minds work.

I am psyching myself up for the big shot tonight. I have taken over the Gonal/Repron shots so I am feeling confident. The only part that scares me is when I need to draw back a little to check for blood (to make sure that I didn't hit a vein or anything). However, I know that it goes much better when I am confident, quick, and efficient so I will be reviewing the videos this afternoon.

Okay, thanks for all of the support, I have been keeping up with everyone, even if I have been slacking on the comments.

Wish us luck!

Crazy Train

2007-10-10T18:50:00.000-04:00

Shhh! whisper! she hears everything.

i can't blog for long... she'll be home soon.

Mrs. Beans is 5 days deep in a Gonal-F/Repron fog... i've... i've noticed some changes.

it usually starts with a headache...

Wait! Did you hear something? Stay absolutely still. It can sense your fear...

Whew, okay, just the neighbors cat. Easy Frank.

Anyway, it started with the headaches, then she started forgetting things... stopping mid-sentence, going into rooms, but not knowing why...

Next it was... well the destruction. The drugs seem to have wreaked havoc with her equilibrium. Running into tables, knives being dropped, a bottle of nail polish on our carpet (I am calling it a Pollock).

But it's the emotions that scare me the most. The laughing jags for no apparent reason. Not a lilting girlish laugh mind you, but a deep guttural laugh... like the laugh of a scary, murderous clown out on parole.

Am I in danger? Yes, I think so.

For now I am fending her off with pints of Ben and Jerry's but my supply is running low. I am not sure how much longer I can last.

p.s. these shots are a real bitch. We are encountering a lot of resistance when we push down on the plunger of the syringe. In the video it looks like a smooth continuous motion, but in our experience it is more a series of jerky stops and starts. Are we doing something wrong?

The Pressure Cooker

2007-10-05T10:37:00.000-04:00

*** WARNING Very graphic and crass blog entry to follow!***

This morning we went in for our baseline ultrasound. Mrs. Beans ovaries are looking "robust," so we are on to the Gonal-F and Repronex tomorrow evening. The RE recommended mixing the Gonal and Repron together to make one shot. It's been years since we shut down our meth lab, so we are a little nervous about mixing up the drugs. Has anyone out there done this? Is it easy?

After the ultrasound we were able to sit down with the IVF nurse and asked a few questions. First, thanks to a tip that we learned from that treasure trove "the IVF Shoot Em' Up," we asked for and were given 1 inch needles instead of 1 1/2 inch needles for the progesterone shots, Yippee! As the designated "shooter" I was pretty excited about the reduction in length, as I was worried about making a Beans-ka-bob, out of my rather petite wife. We also got a better idea of when the retrieval and transfers will take place. They do coincide with some interesting football and baseball games, but I wisely kept this to myself.

Next, we asked if I needed to produce my sample at the doctor's office or if I could do it at home and bring it in. The back story being that I HATE going into the "spankatorium" and I have done my last two samples in the cozy confines of "Casa de Beans."

I have to admit that I am more than a little nervous about this final deposit, especially considering that there is now an element of timing involved. I feel like I am back in Little League. "Bases loaded, two outs, bottom of the ninth.... okay, Beans it's up to you. Drive in that run and win the game." I usually operate pretty well under pressure, but the nature of this particular situation is turning into a source of great angst.

Anyway, the IVF nurse said that I could do it at home as a last resort, but that it was strongly encouraged that I do it in the lab to provide the "freshest" possible sample. She knows that we are self pay and added, "it is quite an investment (emotionally, physically, financially) to get to this point, so you want to consider all of you options carefully."

Oh really? Thanks for clearing that up, I feel much more relaxed now!

The nurse went on to say, that Mrs. Beans could provide an assist, but frankly we are a little confused as to how that works and were too embarrassed to ask. Well, we understand how it works, but I mean with the timing and everything. Our understanding is that A. Mrs. Beans will pop some Valium beforehand and B. there will be some discomfort after the retrieval. We have talked about it, and envision Mrs. Beans, all groggy from the medication, slipping off the table and staggering over to the spunkatorium.

Mrs. Beans purrs, "Oh yeah, you like that, don't you Frankie?"

Frank replies, "Umm, that's a lamp. I'm over here."

A few minutes later we are in the Beansmobile going to work and we had the following conversation:

FNB: So, they really want me to come into the office for the sample.

Mrs. B: Yeah, well, you just gotta get in there and do it. Don't think about, just get it done. In and out!

FNB: But, that's the problem.

Mrs. B: What is?

FNB: Your looking at this like giving blood or having some other medical procedure done, but it's more mental than anything. You can't just grit your teeth and get through it. Imagine if the tables were turned. The doctor comes in and says, "Okay Mrs. Beans, now we would like you to bring yourself to a state of arousal and then climax. You can do it in this closet right over here." ***Banging on door*** "Hey, is everything okay in there? No pressure, but we need you to do this in the next ten minutes.... try small circles! Oh, and we have a TigerBeat and an US Weekly if you need it..."

Mrs. B: (laughing) Okay, stop. I get it.

Now, this entry is not a plea for sympathy, I am VERY aware that I am shouldering little of the burden in this process, that I have the easy part of the job, and that I have been practicing for this moment since the day I was thirteen and Cheryl Tiegs first graced the cover of Sports Illustrated. But I AM nervous, it is uncomfortable, and men do worry about these things! As much as we might like to project the "frat boy" image that we are ready "to go" at a moments notice, that we would love to have sex twice a day, every day, and that we don't need romance, when you are in a committed relationship you come to appreciate the candles and clean sheets.
Alas, Fac fortia et patere.

The Con is on....

2007-09-28T09:28:00.000-04:00

I find it quite discomfiting that we have not had any contact with our RE since late July. Wait. I take that back. We have received a number of bills.

Is it too much to ask them to pick up the phone? "How are the shots going?" "Do you have any questions?" "Thank you for the 14 grand." I know that we can call them, but it makes me feel like we are the only ones putting any effort in this relationship. We have needs damn it!

Honestly, there is a small part of me that thinks we could be the victims of an elaborate con. I imagine us anxiously riding up the elevator for our first ultrasound, the doors open and... nothing but an empty warehouse!

No ornery desk clerk, no "wand" machine, no fake ficus plants, no spunkatorium. Just acres of cold gray concrete.

Our footsteps echo across the room as we step out of the elevator, looking around in disbelief.

"But it was here" Mrs. Beans stammers as she absentmindedly rubs her most recent injection spot. "I know it was."

There on the floor a lone brochure. "Baby Not on Board: Coping with Infertility."

We fall to our knees, "NoooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOO!

Cut to Leer Jet flying over tropical waters. Inside are our RE, urologist, and IVF nurses, laughing maniacally and sipping Cristal. "Like taking candy from a baby! Muuwahhhhaahahahahaha!"

Yeah, so apparently it is possible for men to get the sympathy "Crazies" when their wives are on Lupron?

Beans is Back!

2007-09-25T11:34:00.000-04:00

It has been awhile since I have posted. There are two main reasons for this.
1. An absolute avalanche of work (back to school and all).
2. I promised a posting entitled "Are you there God? It's me Frank N. Beans."

I wrote about three versions, but it wasn't coming out right. I think the main issue is that I am having a difficult time distinguishing my thoughts between God and the Church and the roles that have played in our struggles with IF. Plus, I am always wary of the following:

The post still might come, but it may take awhile.

So what have we been up to? In celebration of my 32nd birthday I completed a "Fat Man" Race this weekend. The race was 4.8 miles and included 3 "aid stations." At each station each contestant had to consume a hot dog and a beer. I assumed that many of the other racers would be a little rotund, and in turn help my self-esteem, but alas, most of my competitors were tall and athletic helping them achieve the requisite 190 lbs. for official "Clydesdale" status. Still, I hung in there, and I did manage to finish the race in a respectable time, but I did not "finish strong", as Mrs. Beans pointed out when I chugged across the finish line.

I think that this is partly due to the fact that I haven't had a drink in almost a month as a part of out IVF training regimen. As a result I have rapidly dropped 8 lbs. and lost my capacity for devouring sodium enriched hot dogs and poor quality beer. I have not received much sympathy from Mrs. Beans (who is already in incredible shape) for my rapid weight loss. Still, I think that I could have performed much better and plan to tackle the race again next year. Hopefully, with a baby jogger!

In other news, Mrs. Beans did her first Lupron shot this morning and I couldn't be more proud. I had an early morning hockey game this morning that I offered to skip (in fact I wanted to skip), but Mrs. Beans said that it might be easier if I wasn't there to stress her out. I was very relieved when I received a text informing me that it went great and that it wasn't painful at all.

I have to say, she prepared for this day like it was the Super Bowl. She has been studying more film than Tom Brady and had created a pretty comprehensive game plan. Some thanks are certainly due to Bea for her excellent resource "the IVF Roundup". Between these videos and the help of the pharmacy, Mrs. Beans felt pretty confident.

I was grateful since I know that Mrs. Beans is a little needle shy! I had already considered that we might have to make the shots a game, where I would hide in our apartment with a Lupron loaded Blow-gun, quietly waiting for a bleary-eyed and unsuspecting Mrs. Beans to get out of bed. I was even prepared for a possible chase scenario.

So the meds have officially started. We will keep ya posted!

Just one of the girls!

2007-09-13T09:51:00.000-04:00

Despite my external sexual organs, several of you have been kind enough to dub me a "Rockin' Girl Blogger." So a special thanks are in order for Top Cat, Sticky Bean, and Mrs. Spock.

In the spirit of the game, I wanted to acknowledge just a few of the blogs that I frequent. There are three in particular that I feel are very well written and entertaining (I also think that they haven't been recognized yet).

First, I really like "Maybe Baby" by Matt M.F. Miller. A much braver man than myself, Matt actually writes using his real name! I appreciate Matt's openness and honesty about his feelings regarding infertility, marriage, and life in general. I think he makes a good role model for obsessives like myself who only focus on IF. He manages to gently remind us that the rest of the world continues to turn as we try to procreate!

Second, I love to keep tabs on Flotsam's blog. Her writing is incredible and she consistently makes me laugh. She is also a few weeks ahead of us in the IVF game so her blog has been particularly terrifying and helpful. She always has the perfect adjective to describe whatever invasive procedure is being done.

Third, I have to recommend checking out Offsprung's blog. He hasn't written in months, but he is still well worth the visit. His writing is so good that I actually read his blog from the beginning and followed his entire story. It is worth noting that his mother-in-law works at the clinic that he and his wife use, so when he has to produce his "sample" she is in the next room! God bless this poor man.

Finally, I wanted to recognize several bloggers who go above and beyond the call of duty with regard to commenting (I also enjoy their blogs a great deal). I consistently see the names Sully, Samantha, Rachel, Chicklet and JJ in the comment sections of several blogs, including my own. I know that many people write for themselves, but it is always nice to know that someone else is listening and cares about what you think. These ladies have a knack for offering their compassion and support, they really are the glue that keeps the community together.

Stay tuned. Next week I plan to offend half of my readers with "Are you there God? It's me, Frank N. Beans."

Vegas Baby! Vegas!

2007-09-07T11:18:00.000-04:00

First of all, just a moment to say thanks for all of the kind thoughts and comments on the last post. Despite feelings of queasiness, we are really excited about the next steps.

I must say that the 26 days on the pill that the doctor has prescribed does take the wind out of your sails a bit. I liken it to the scene in the movie Swingers! where Mikey and Trent decide that they are going to Vegas.

They get dressed up in suits, and spend the first 30 minutes of the trip talking about all of the "beautiful babies" they are going to meet, the money that they will surely win, and the comps that they will receive when the Casino recognizes them as high rollers. Each sentence is punctuated with a heartfelt, "Vegas Baby!"

One hour into the trip their energy is lagging and they can barely muster a "Vegas."
Check out this classic scene for yourself:

Very similar to the Beans family dynamic, with Mrs. Beans playing the practical role of Mikey.

It is a strange situation in that you are trying to strike a delicate balance between confidence/excitement and fear/anxiety. It is very emotionally taxing and we are only on cd4!

So speaking of Vegas. Let's look at the odds shall we. Under 35, with ICSI, our chances based on the clinics success rate is roughly 50% for one embryo. If there are two embryos available and implanted the odds of success increase to 52%. Something that is not clear to us (and we need to ask) is if two are put back what are the odds of twins? I am assuming that the 52% is with regard to one successful embryo. Also, what exactly are the potential complications that come with twins for both the babies and Mrs. Beans. We get the sense that the doctor will encourage up to do one embryo, but since we are paying out of pocket the 2% increase in odds does seem appealing. Thoughts?

And so it begins...

2007-09-04T12:07:00.000-04:00

Today we begin our little $14,000 dollar experiment. The process feels very real now. No more brochures, videos, and web pages. We are actually in the process of an IVF cycle. Day 1.

We both feel sick to our stomachs.

I have to admit that I was still holding out hope that we would beat the odds and get pregnant naturally. Alas, we find ourselves starting down an unfamiliar path. Obviously we are feeling anxious, nervous, scared, excited, hopeful, etc. No jokes today. Just a deep breath as we take our first steps toward the future.

The Joy of the WTF Pregnancy

2007-08-27T09:30:00.001-04:00

When facing infertility it can seem as though the entire world is gestating except for you and your significant other. This leads to a broad range of emotions with anger, jealousy, and guilt at the top of the list. It becomes particularly difficult when friends and family are expecting (usually after trying for a few weeks), and your feelings of excitement and happiness for them are tempered by envy. Of course, this is immediately followed with feelings of guilt as you remember that these are often the same people who have supported you over the past few months or even years.

Unfortunately, every protruding belly is a reminder of your own personal struggle. In an effort to redirect our vitriol many of us turn to what I refer to as "What the FUCK!?!" pregnancies. We know that we shouldn't be angry with our 3rd cousin, but we can sure as hell get pissed off at some drug addled, "C-list" celebrity. The most recent and famous WTF pregnancy is Nicole Richie. Who among us didn't want to put their foot through the television set as a "showing" Nicole walked into the courthouse last week to face charges of drunk driving?

In part, this is what makes WTFs such attractive targets. In terms of their preparations for parenthood they are usually the exact opposite of us. While we are subjecting ourselves to acupuncture, daily injections, and choking down wheat-grass health shakes, WTFs are getting pregnant on a steady diet of Red Bull, vodka, and lines of coke. While we are peeing on sticks, "propping our hips up afterward," and timing our encounters to the minute, WTFs manage to get knocked up by grinding their bony pelvis into some 19 year old Calvin Klein model in the middle of a club at 4 in the morning.

Up until now, the focus of the WTFs has been on young women like Nicole or Britney (what I wouldn't give of K-Feds motility and morphology). Now, I think it is time to expand the WTF designation to include the male professional athletes and celebrities who are "fathering" children across the country. While I am beating off in a cup to 1980s porn, these guys are producing children during a 20 minute layover in Wichita! WTF!

I am sure that many of the men out there play fantasy football. Check out these eye popping stats.

1. K-FED - Rapper? Dancer?
Two kids with Shar Jackson (and a rumored 3rd on the way) and two with Britney Spears.

2. Shaw Kemp - Professional Basketball Player.
Rumored to have 12 to 13 children with seven different women!

3. Evander Hoyfield - Former Heavyweight Champion of the World - Dancing with the Stars Participant. Rumored to have 9 children with numerous women.

4. Matt Leinart - NFL Quarterback
1 child with former girlfriend and USC basketball star Brynn Cameron, but apparently he hasn't done much diaper duty (check the link)! Hopefully, Tom Brady will fare a little better in this department.

5. Krusty the Clown - Entertainer
Rumored to have up to 5 illegitimate children (one who was voiced by Drew Barrymore).

The list goes on and on! So the next time you are feeling low because your 2nd cousin is expecting ("we weren't even really trying!"), just open grab a copy of US Weekly or Sports Illustrated and say, "What the FUCK!?!?"

Neither rain nor sleet nor gloom of night....

2007-08-22T14:58:00.000-04:00

shall keep your postal worker from delivering fertility drugs in a timely manner.

With the date of our first IVF cycle rapidly approaching, I just realized that our drugs are being delivered by the U.S. postal service. Perhaps I am a little naive, but have pharmacies always been allowed to ship drugs to local residences? I guess I have heard of baseball players ordering steroids from Mexico and the elderly ordering drugs from Canada, but I had no idea that you could get a prescription filled and delivered via mail in the U.S.

Frankly, I am a little concerned. We live in an apartment building in an urban area and our packages are frequently left unattended on the stoop. What if our shipment falls into the wrong hands? Imagine a poor groups of teens all strung out on Lupron and Repronex, ovulating left and right, spitting out triplets like slot machine.s Before you know it kids will be dropping out of school and stealing car stereos to support their "L" & "R" habits. Mrs. Beans and I can't have a population spike on our consciences! Furthermore, are they really going to send us a huge bag of syringes? Seriously, how are we supposed to dispose of 30 "dirty" needles?

Maybe we can just mail them back?

Minnesota! Land of 10,000 bad fashion trends!

2007-08-17T10:34:00.001-04:00

Motivated by Mel at SQ & SPJ I have decided to tackle the horror that was my middle school wardrobe. Unfortunately, a mere comment section cannot contain the atrocious fashions that I sported in the 80s, so I have dedicated a whole post to the topic.

First of all, in my defense, I had the unfortunate luck of attending middle school in a suburb of Minneapolis. Equidistant from the cultural capitals of Los Angeles and New York, fashion in Minnesota was a strange mix of dying fads from the East and West coasts, sprinkled with some independent trends inspired by the Nordic lifestyle (e.g. moon boots). Let's face it, when your local cultural icon is Prince (with his purple cars, motorcycles, and mansions) you are pretty much screwed. Especially, when you're a blond, white kid named Derrick or Angie. My fashion efforts in middle school where further thwarted my heroine addict-like frame. In eighth grade, at 4 foot 10 and 86 pounds, I looked like a more feminine version of Kate Moss, but with a larger head. My big sister lovingly referred to me as E.T. during this very difficult time. Obviously, I could be America's Top Model now with those measurements, but in a land of corn fed farm boys, my slight physique did little to enhance my social status.

Let's work from the bottom up. For footwear it was essential to wear a pair of Minnetonka Moccasins. I have been told that there has actually been a resurgence in the popularity of this trend. However, I have seen that the company has updated their style a bit to resemble the popular Ugg! boots. I owned the classic moccasins pictured on the left. Because they were so trendy, the moccasins were a bit expensive. My family did not have an abundance of means, but my parents did their best to allow my sister and I to keep up with some of the trends. However, in an effort to obtain a greater return on her investment, my mother insisted on "water proofing" my new moccasins, hence turning the soft suede into an impenetrable hard shell. Transformed into wooden clogs, my new moccasins did not afford me the level of coolness that I was so desperately seeking. Oh, and I would be remiss if I did not mention that under no circumstances were you allowed to wear socks with your "mocs." This was somewhat problematic in a state where the average wind chill is about 10 below zero!

For my pants I preferred acid washed Francois Girbaud jeans. I understand from my college friends that this trend came a little later (early 90s) to the East Coast, so I guess I was cutting edge. Many people will remember the pegged and rolled jeans, this was pretty cool, but I was also know to "pin" my jeans, achieving the same look, but with the help of safety pins. What can I say, Minnesotans are a practical people! When I wasn't wearing my pegged jeans, I could usually be found in a pair of Zubaz! (note: the exclamation point is a part of the brand name and not an expression of my excitement over the look). These baggy animal print pants came in cool neon colors; although, I preferred the far more subtle black and white prints. I guess I am just a really conservative guy when it comes to fashion. On the left is a picture of a handsome model sporting the classic red Zubaz! (and coincidently, my 80s haircut).

In an effort to mask my scrawniness I also attempted to "bulk up" by wearing extra large tees and sweatshirts. "Extra large relative to your small 4 foot 10 frame?" you ask. Oh no. I literally wore size extra-large. MEN's XL. Sadly I will occasionally run across an old sweatshirt and it is still a little too big for me. Except now I am 6 feet tall and 200 pounds! To make matters worse, I fell victim to one of the most ill-conceived trends of the 80s. The Gennera "Hyper-Color" phenomenon. Yes, that's right, I wore a color changing tee-shirt, sensitive to body heat. Do you have any idea what a bad idea this is for a middle school boy? The last thing I needed was to highlight my profuse sweating with huge yellow splotches on my blue tee-shirt.

As alluded to above I rocked a sweet mullet. That's right. Business in the front and party in the back. However, in Minnesota we did not recognize the mullet for what it really was and instead referred to the look as "hockey hair." The key was to keep your hair long enough so that it would hang out of the back of your helmet. The best "hockey hair" was somewhat curly (see pic of Jaromir Jagr to the right), mine of course was bone straight. To look at me in the 80s you might think that I owned a flat iron, but alas, I was simply genetically predisposed to very fine and straight hair. How did it look? Let's put it this way, I vividly remember attending mass one Sunday and having an elderly gentleman say to me, "Peace be with you, young lady." Son-of-a-bitch! To this day I hate old people.

Finally, for accessories I had a Swatch Watch where you could see the "inner workings" of the watch and a few shoddy friendship bracelets that I made for myself and then pretend that girls gave me. Don't worry, I was clever enough to make up fictional girls (Stacey and Chelsea), who I knew from fake summer camp (Camp Tall Pines). I am sure my friends never knew the truth.

So that is the sad truth of my adolescence. I will be in therapy if you need me.