Adjusting...

There is a lot more to absorb emotionally with all this pregnancy business than I was prepared for. I’ve followed dozens of bloggers throughout their pregnancies, and I definitely recall your emotional battle, particularly in the early weeks. But I have to say, I kind of assumed you were just trying to be nice.  Like a peace offering to those of us still in the trenches – “DON’T LEAVE ME, I’m still infertile at heart!!!”… But the truth is you suddenly feel like you don’t belong to the one place you hold dearest, and though you finally fall into the category you wanted the most, it’s not what you thought it would be... I’m 6 weeks 3 days today, but really all that means is two weeks ago some blood work suggested that I’m pregnant. It’s like I know it on an intellectual level, but my heart is still trying to catch up. I suppose our first u/s this weekend will make everything more real. Then again, maybe it's just the fog of fatigue that's muffling my giddiness.

Physically, I’m feeling less and less like my old self. Which is comforting. The fatigue is definitely there. The cramping has subsided, just a few pangs here and there, mostly at night. Bloating, oy the bloating. I had to cave and buy one of those Be.lla band things. Not because I’m by any means showing, but the OHSS bloat comes back with a vengeance in the afternoons and it’s really uncomfortable to have any kind of pressure or constriction on my abdomen.  Am I lame? Did anyone else need “assistance” this early??? And to tell you the truth, I’ve always been a big fan of elastic waistbands, now I have a really great excuse to wear one every day. Here’s to not sucking it in for the next eight months! The girls – they are still extraordinarily sore. A big thank you to Carli who text me about opting for a sports bra at night – holy hell that saved me… But I have to say the most difficult symptom is the slowed bowels. I am popping Colace like tic tacs over here…. Ugh. But I’m not complaining. I’m incredibly grateful for the reason(s) I have each one of those symptoms. Seriously, I smile through every trip to tinkle at 12, 2, 4, and 6am.

So our ultrasound is this weekend. It was initially set for Saturday, but we had some family stuff come up and I had to move it back one day. Even though it sucks to push it back, it’ll be better for everyone this way.  Brian and I are obviously pretty excited. As of right now, I’m thinking it’s just one. Actually I’ve always felt that way, but I suppose we’ll see soon enough. You’ve all been exceptionally amazing with your thoughtful and helpful comments. And I continue to be truly grateful.

Long Time, No ICLW

I've taken the last four months off ICLW because I couldn't honestly commit to getting all the commenting done. But I'm back now, and feeling better. I typically like to sum up my blog in the introductory ICLW posts, but I'm having a hard time describing my current status as anything but a loud, exaggerated fart noise.

So here's some history!

My husband and I started TTC back in the summer of ought seven. I say it all old timey like that because it literally feels like it was that long ago that our TTC journey began. And I now refer to that time as a completely different era. We were a happy-go-lucky couple that was completely clueless of the odyssey that lie ahead. I genuinely believed we would get pregnant on the first try, imagine that.

Fast forward to December 2008, we were diagnosed with severe Male Factor and told IVF w/ICSI or Donor Sperm would be our only hope. After much deliberation we chose donor because it was the most financially attainable, and because we were concerned about the implications that the severity of his diagnosis might mean for our future children.

Fast forward AGAIN to December 2009 when we had our SIXTH and final dIUI. All of them left us with straight up BFN's and a fair amount of credit card debt. My RE at the time, and the second opinion we got a month later were dumbfounded, and couldn't explain why none of the IUI's worked because my charts looked so great.

And that brings us to the present time: Infertile Purgatory. We're currently emotionally and financially tapped out - (Donor sperm is EXPENSIVE!) You can see our protocol for the IUI's in my timeline up above. Although, none of them worked so I wouldn't exactly say they were exemplary. Anyway. Back to the purgatory. We have no idea what the next step is. Possibly IVF using my husbands sperm and donor for back up, or possibly adoption... We just don't have a stinking clue, or any money to move forward anyway, so here we sit. This break is a blessing and a curse - depends on when you ask me.

At the moment I'm working on some loosing some weight. I went a smidge overboard with the comfort foods, and found myself 26.4lbs heavier than I'd like to be. I'm a Pisces. I love hockey, blogging and this IF community. I don't believe in butter or sugar substitutes. I look forward to getting to know all of you.

Eventually

Thank you all for your comments on my last post. We did end up making it to our friends house, and we did give them the Sharks stuff. I wish I could say it was because I found a new source of inner strength, but the truth is I really hated the idea of putting it off any longer. I'd been dreading this visit for months now, and the thought of it looming over my head for even longer seemed a worse consequence than suffering for a single hour. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be but it still sucked ass. Seeing the baby wasn't too bad (I remembered I actually like babies) it was watching the blissful grandparents and great grandparents shine over the newest family member. Just the thought of our grandparents not being around to meet our child(ren) breaks my heart. And in a way I feel like we've failed them. Seeing my friend (the daddy) all oowey gooey over his daughter was rough too. I don't blame him though, I'm sure Brian will be the same way. (SOMEDAY) It's just hard because this should have been us- two years ago.

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We still haven't made any progress with making a decision about our next step. My opinion changes on a daily and sometimes hourly basis, but I'm doing my best not to burden Brian with each of my newest conclusions. God knows he's put up with enough of my crazy already.

The only good news is that I don't feel pressured by time or the pure ache to be cycling/doing SOMETHING. I am somewhat content with taking as much time as we need to figure out what is the best option. Which helps me find peace when I start to get too deep in to contemplation.

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Several weeks ago I was reading a post by S at Misconceptions about Conception, when she wrote about a necklace she had purchased from Et.sy. When I saw it I immediately fell in love with idea of what it represented. And at the time was in dire need for a little retail therapy...

I love this necklace. And I wear it often. I feel like everyone still in the battle should have one to wear proudly. To rub between their fingers when they walk past a pregnant woman, or visit new parents in the hospital, or dodge the "when are you having kids?" conversation.

I wish I could give one to all of you. But can't. I can only give out one. When I made this purchase before my last failed cycle I decided that I would buy two. I thought that if I finally got my BFP that month I could share this with you to say: "See? It will happen, Eventually". And if I didn't get my BFP, I knew I could still hold my head up knowing that so many of you have dealt with failures, and that you can still say: "It will happen, Eventually".

I did not get any sponsorship for this. It's just something I really want to do. I tried to come up with some really creative ways to pick a winner, but the truth is I'm just not that creative. So I'm going to do a good old fashioned drawing.

To enter, please email me with your Name and Blog address at bloggyme027 at gmail dot com. If you are the winner I will contact you via email before I post anything here, to make sure that you're okay with me posting about you. My only request is that participants are ones who are still battling IF. Please make sure your entries are in by February 15th. I will pick a winner and post about it shortly thereafter.

Good luck!

Strong Enough

We're supposed to visit some good friends this afternoon. Their baby girl is a week old today. In anticipation of her birth I bought a gift about a month ago. So that I wouldn't have to handle shopping for the gift, and enduring a visit in the same period of time. It would just be too hard. I bought her some Sharks onesies. Something I had anticipated buying for ourselves for a very, very long time. Her daddy is a big Sharks fan, and I knew how much he would appreciate it. But since the day that I got them I've wanted to return them. It feels like a purchase I should have waited to make until it was finally our turn. Like somehow buying those clothes for someone else was a resignation or an abandonment of a dream. If I decide to get them something else, I will donate the Sharks stuff.

I can't keep it here.

We're struggling with the impending visit, and at this moment debating whether it is something we can withstand at all. And it makes me feel like an awful friend. It makes me feel weaker than I know I am, and also selfish.

But today isn't just Sunday, the day we're supposed to meet our friend's new baby. It's also my second Blogiversary. And I find that I'm feeling very conflicted about it. On one hand I can't imagine my life without all of you in it. The friendships I've made here are deeply cherished and more than I ever anticipated; imperative to my well being. I'm grateful for the history it has recorded. It's a constant reminder of how amazing my husband is. I truly believe that Brian is my soul mate, and he's made me a better person in every way possible. And as horrendous as infertility is, it's made us infinitely stronger.

While I continue to feel appreciative for all those things, today I can't help but regard this place as a potent relic filled with anguish, and despair, and failure. Sometimes the thought of how much I've shared here is overwhelming, and I feel embarrassed and ashamed. And all at once sorrow when I realize how much time has actually gone by.

I don't quite know how else to say it. Today is flooded with disappointment. Disappointment that another year has gone by and we still have an empty spare bedroom. And disappointment from letting a friend down. If we don't show, I'm sure they'll forgive us, but I know this is a day I will never forget.

Christmas Cardless

I have been dreading the idea of Christmas cards for about 3 months now. Giving and receiving...

After each failed cycle, it became more evident that we would not have happy news to share with with family and friends this holiday season. I'd dreamt of making a Christmas card that included an ultrasound photo. Instead I'm a little terrified about the cards that are heading our way.

I used to love sending out cards. But now I feel pathetic because after 6 years of marriage, it's still just the two of us - and the dog. I imagine the people who know about us shaking their heads with pity when they see just the three of us on another card. And the others who don't know wondering aloud whether or not we're ever going to have children. I do realize that's pretty unrealistic, so thanks to the tools I've learned in therapy, when I get too deep into that thought I'm able to stop myself now and think instead about how I'm actually am very proud of the three of us. I love my husband, and I'm proud to be his wife. I'm proud of the life and home we built together. But still, sending out a card with just the three of us?... I don't know.

As for my cycle, today is CD3. I was able to get my Letrozole dosage increased - woo hoo! I'd like to thank you all for your input on my last post about your IUI protocol. I'm planning to send an email to Dr. C regarding the crappy timing on my previous failed cycles, and inform him of my new strategy for the timing of my IUI this month. I'm curious to see what he'll have to say... I don't know when I'll see him next, I'll go in on Dec 6th for my follie check, which is a Sunday so I'm not sure who will be on call that day. Whatever.

For the most part I am feeling very hopeful about this next cycle. Now that I know our timing will be more accurate and that I might even have three follies to catch a spermie or two. (We're totally down with twins.) We've had a pretty nice weekend so far, just busy decorating the house now. It's been hard getting into the spirit of the season this year, so maybe cramming it down my throat at home will do the trick. Hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving.

My Great Escape

Have I ever told you how much I love and depend on music? There are several specific albums that have gotten me through pivotal times throughout my life, and I always think of them as old friends. I've mentioned it before, but when I get into a new album I listen to it incessantly. Literally, for weeks a time. I dissect the composition and lyrics of each song carefully and usually end up applying the words to some part of my life, which inevitably makes the song even more dear to my heart.

After my very early, and very crappy morning Saturday. I decided to get up and keep myself busy. I was still devastated, but I just wouldn't allow myself to stay in bed and wallow all day. We had plans that night. We were going to a concert. Actually it was a benefit concert for children with severe disabilities, and it always has an impressive line up. This year: She.ryl Crow, Chri.s Martin (from Cold.play), Jimmy Buff.ett, and No Do.ubt. It's completely acoustic, and absolutely fantastic. We went with some friends of ours, who know about our situation, but not about this blog. I told Brian in the car that under no circumstances did I want to discuss the earlier events of the day. He agreed, and we were on our way. It was the perfect evening for an outdoor concert, and the five beers that I ingested helped move things right along. (Which, btw, those five beers? Totalled more than I've had to drink in the last five months combined). It was so great to have something else to think of, to enjoy a night with no heartache, no looming appointments, or medications. I had escaped it all.

That is until this morning when the reality set back in. It failed, again. I have to do all this crap again next month. Fuck.

Saturday morning I cried harder than I have in a very long time. And my wonderful husband was right there with me. Held me and commiserated, and wiped away my tears. This sucks, and it's not fair. It's getting harder financially as well. These IUI's cost about as much as our mortgage, and we hadn't really planned on needing more than 3 of them. So we decided together that if the next two don't work then we'll need to take some time off, and save up for the next round. God, I hope it doesn't come to that. I know that in the grand scheme of things, four IUI's isn't that many. Especially since three of them were undmedicated. We had about the same odds as a normal couple would've. It's just hard to accept that when I know we're doing everything right, and the circumstances (supposedly) couldn't be better- blah, blah, blah...

Annnnnd no joke, AF just showed this very minute. I was about to ask how long it takes the bitch to show after stopping the Prome.trium, and BAM. Man, I hate her.

Anyway, I want to thank you for all of your incredibly supportive comments. I've been rereading them all for the past few days, and they continue to be very comforting. Hugs.

Nope.

I can't even begin to express my sadness and frustration. I don't know how fucking much more disappointment I can take. We are swiftly running out of emotional and financial resources to continue doing this. I feel helpless.

How could it be negative?

We had every odd in our favor. I had two giant follicles, perfect timing, and a decent motile count.

I'm so infuriated.

So defeated.

Well That Didn't Last Very Long...

I think I used up all my happy in that last post. That brief burst of jabbering about lucky numbers and signs was evidently the bottom of the barrel for me. Although it's seemingly more obvious now that I've reread all that four leaf clover, unicorn shit...

And I've got another confession to make. I spend more time online with the IF blogging community than I think I ought to. I say that because my social life is pretty much non existent these days. Let me first say that I have always been a homebody. I always enjoyed an intimate setting rather than a vibrant one. But it's gotten to the point where I'm leaning on you all a lot. Brian is a little concerned. He says it's all I ever talk about. He thinks my hopelessness is hindering our conception viability. He doesn't understand why I don't make much of an effort to hang out with our pregnant friends. He doesn't get why I would feel jealousy or resentment towards people we love just because they have something we don't. I wish I could help him understand. I wish he could see the guilt that comes with feeling this way. I wish he knew that I feel like it's my fault that we've lost two sets of friends, because I'm not strong enough to hide my baggage and pretend everything is okay while my girlfriends rub their swollen bellies and debate over strollers and daycare. Please don't misunderstand, Brian is a wonderful husband and for the most part very supportive. But the last few weeks have been particularly hard on us. He thinks I'm obsessed, I think he's insensitive, and the next thing you know we're fighting over dinner at California Pizza Kitchen.

We can't be the only ones who've hit these lows. Until recently I could honestly say that the challenges we've dealt with have truly made our marriage a lot stronger. I guess I need to start working harder on that. It's not fair that I have become so consumed with my feelings. Above all my marriage comes first. I hate that I've let this overtake me. But it is so difficult to ignore.

Usually around now, 6dpo, I would be feeling anxious about being that much closer to knowing our fate. But all that comes to mind is what our next protocol will be once this cycle is done... Case in point: As of today we are the proud owners of four new vials of donor sperm. I called yesterday just to check the inventory of our specific donor. Turns out it was all gone. His next batch of vials won't be released from quarantine until January. Each sample is tested for STD's, HIV and AIDS then remains in quarantine for about six months until all tests are conclusive and verified negative. When I originally ordered our first six vials in June, there were well over 25 samples in stock. Guess we have good taste. The woman I was speaking with was very kind, but I got a little upset and asked if there was some kind of waiting list I could apply for. She asked me to hold, and came back with great news. She said she was able to pull from a special inventory because I had already purchased from this donor. The most we could get was four vials, still much more than we could afford, but I had to make the decision right way because she said she wouldn't be able to guarantee they would be available next week. And if this cycle doesn't work we would be in the position of having to pick a new donor. She also told me that our donor has another pregnancy reported, so that's encouraging. At least someone is getting lucky.

As of right now I can tell you that if this cycle doesn't work I am definitely going to ask for Clomid or injectables. I can't fucking take this anymore. Bring on the drugs!

Begging and Pleading

CUTE BABY ALERT: If you're not in the place to see a cute baby today, this might not be the post for you.
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Nothing makes my uterus ache like an adorable baby. This is Sawyer. I was fortunate enough to be in the room when Sawyer joined this world. You can read about his introduction here.

His mommy brought him to work today, so here he is hanging out in my lap, at my desk. I was blowing raspberries on his oh-so-edible little feet, when a pang of sheer desperation swept over me. Please God, let this cycle work. I cannot imagine another month knowing that this might not be a part of my near future.

Forget about being hopeful, I am in full blown pleading-with-the-Heaven's mode. Talking to relatives that have passed on, begging them to pull a few strings for me. Anything to just get my foot in the door. I realize that there are a few people ahead of me in line in this blogosphere, but I swear I'll ask a favor for you, if you ask one for me.

Exodus

I feel listless. I don't want to blog. I don't want to comment on other peoples blogs. I don't want to read updates in the forum I belong to. I don't want to think about babies. I don't want to think about how we're going to get one, or whether or not we ever will. I'm fried. I'm taking a break.

Fear Factor

Things that I fear about creating a DI family.

1. That our openness about D.I. will invite unwanted comments or discrimination towards our child when they are older.

2. Whether or not they will have resentment towards us and their conception.

3. About how this will impact any future medical issues.

4. That our child will feel different from the rest of the family.

5. What they are going to look like? If they take completely after the donor? How is that going to make both of us feel?

6. Genealogy projects in school.

7. When they choose to look for their biological father.

From the time that Brian and I began considering DI over IVF, we worried that it was "taking the easy way out". HOLY CRAP was I wrong about that. While IVF clearly has the market cornered on being physically invasive/demanding, I personally think DI has the market on being emotionally taxing. This process so far has left me more unstable than dealing with infertility alone, except the side effects are the same. Just when you think you have a few answers and you dust yourself off a little, something comes out of right field to knock you down again. And I mean DOWN. Like we either need to knock off a jewelry store for some IVF money or resign ourselves to the idea of not having kids at all, because this is SO HARD.

We purchased a few donor profiles Sunday night, and were swiftly reminded that none of them will ever be as good as Brian. While for the last few weeks I'd been eager to read up on the extended profiles with Facial Feature Reports and/or Baby pictures. I suddenly found myself repulsed by the staggering amount of information we'd received. It hit us both hard. Almost like we'd rather flip a coin or let someone else choose.

I started to feel really unsure about the process, and over the next few days neither Brian nor I brought it up. I thought that I had made a little progress on the "loss of a biological child" front. But clearly I haven't. Still, when I start to get too far down on it, I think about the fact that I would totally adopt if it wasn't also out of our price range. I would gladly donate a kidney tomorrow if it meant I could leave the hospital with an adopted child. Like a good deed provided in lieu of payment. I mean that. We would adopt in a heartbeat if it wasn't more expensive than IVF. And adoption isn't with out its emotional baggage either. I understand that. Which only reminds me why we'll be able to come to terms with DI. Of course it's not our first choice, but it's better than the alternative - no children at all. I don't mean to sound callous. OF COURSE we are going to LOVE any child we are blessed with. I just mean - FUCK! - why does it have to be so hard to start a family???!!!

I've talked with a few different women who conceived through DI, after dealing with MFI. They've all said that once that baby is in your arms nothing else matters... I believe them. I just wish I had that confidence now. It feels like such a colossal leap of faith. 

The Easter Bunny Can Suck It

Easter sucks. Why? Because it's another holiday that's marketed towards kids. Did I ever tell you that we don't have any? Children I mean. I almost completely forgot, and then while I was hiding bottles of Chardonnay in my backyard I remembered that they should be colored eggs instead. Hard boiled eggs dipped in every pastel color that would match the variety of receiving blankets made for the babies that will grow up to hunt for them. Plastic eggs filled with chocolate and jellybeans, and coins that would surely generate a smile on the face every oshkoshbegoshed little body on earth.

I'm fortunate in that I didn't have to spend my Easter with young children to remind me of what I'm missing out on. Truthfully I drank Mimosa's on my Sister-In-Laws patio. It was lovely. But that doesn't mean I didn't think about it. 

Seeing pregnant women used to crush me, but now it's families. Walking through Safeway seeing a Mom tell her daughter she can't have the sugar booger cereal, or seeing a dad place pears in a produce bag, while contorting around a baby bjorn. It truly is torture on a whole new level. 

I still stick with what I said in my last post though, I'm actually in pretty good place emotionally. But the holiday's still get to me. Even Easter.

*Thanks for the "Easter Basket" Jenn*

Infertile Haze

It's odd, I usually don't loose my shit until after I ovulate. But looking at my last post it's very clear that I was a tad unstable. I'm not ashamed, nor do I regret what I wrote. My words and feelings were genuine. As was my delirium.

But its nothing new. I think a large portion of our circumstance has made me irrational. I've been thinking night and day about our options for conceiving, but the lines between our choices have only become more blurry, and more complex. Leaving me more uncertain.

You should also know that I had another long conversation with Brian and he confirmed what I mentioned earlier. That I am in fact crazy. And that I worry too much. He assured me that he thinks about it almost as much as I do, and that he really is fine with either option. We agreed that we both would rather have a biological child but aren't sure yet by what means we'll get there. And we're still both very okay with DI... I say we flip a coin.

So there you have it. We're no further today than we we're yesterday or three months ago for that matter. I'm just able to recognize my lunacy. Again.

I Feel the Need...

The need for speed. I've found myself becoming increasingly impatient with the idea of waiting until fall to make any plans for conceiving our bundle of screaming, pooping joy. So what's holding us back? Just a little thing called MAKING UP OUR DAMN MINDS.

We're still sort of on the IVF train, but I have to admit something. I am terrified. I am mortified by the thought of giving myself shots in the stomach for weeks at a time, and I'm greatly concerned for the hormonal fluctuations that come along with it. I am almost so completely frozen with fear at the idea of it not being successful, that in my tiny, scrambled, little brain you can hear me trying to talk myself out of IVF all together. I know that 15-20k, isn't a huge amount in the grand scheme of things, but right now it seems like a fortune. FIFTEENFUCKINGTHOUSANDDOLLARS. GAH! It makes me light headed just thinking about it.

I'm tortured by the fact that not wanting to do IVF makes me feel like I am taking the easy way out. LIKE ANY OF THESES CHOICES ARE EASY! Every time I begin to coo at the tiny, one thousand dollar invoice for DI, I suddenly remember why I don't want to do that either. And I wince while the breath is knocked out of me again. How dare I choose a stranger's biology over my husbands?! It makes me feel unfaithful, and lazy. Am I so weak that I will gladly side step the sacrifices and exertion of scrimping and saving every penny for instant gratification? 

I want a baby now, but I'm so torn by how to get there. Brian says he is still very open to both options but I can't help but feel like he's not telling me everything. And not because he can't or won't but because he hasn't truly explored all of his feelings himself. And I need to know everything. Every detail, every concern or reservation. Nothing can go left unsaid. Before I go any further, it's just something I need. 

Me, Me, Me

I came back to check out my last post. I usually reread them a few days later. There are always typo's that I missed, or sentence structures I end up changing. But this time I feel the need to explain a few things in the last post. Number one: I was having a bad day, childlessly speaking. Number two: There is almost no right way to tell an infertile couple that you're expecting. Maybe I shouldn't be generalizing, but what I'm trying to say is that you, the fertile, can't win. No matter where you tell me, or what you say, I am going to feel a loss. You know why? Because it's ALL ABOUT ME. I live in a far off distant land, where your pregnancy news makes me think about my empty spare bedroom. I don't like it here. I hate that my friend's joy only reminds me of what I'm missing. But I can't help myself. So when you tell me that you're pregnant, and I congratulate you with a smile. Please know that any sadness in my eyes has nothing to do with you. It's all about me.


P.S. There is an unruly double standard that also applies, I'm usually very excited for people dealing with infertility who finally become pregnant.

Compassion Vs. Candor

Is it Jealousy? Is it resentment? Or is it just the fact that I feel like we are being lapped on the race track to pregnancy? I know it's not a competition, but when I hear about another one of our friends becoming pregnant, I feel combative, and belligerent. I feel left out.

In addition to telling our friends about our situation, we also express how important it is for them to be open about telling us when they're time has come or come again. That they shouldn't worry or hesitate. But is a little sensitivity to much to ask? Am I being unreasonable, like someone who's short preferring to be called "vertically challenged"? I hate the idea of people walking over eggshells for me, but I'd also rather they not pour acid on the gaping abscess over my heart. I know the world at large isn't going to stop multiplying just because a certain percentage of us can't. I would never begrudge a friend the gift of a family, nor would I wish them the torment of infertility. I fully acknowledge that our situation is by no means hopeless, and that for right now we have made the decision to take some time before pursuing treatments. But that doesn't make it sting any less when a friend tells us they're pregnant. A part of me knows that I should just suck it up, I should be happy for them... So lets just call a spade, a spade here: I'm going to smile on the outside, while I crumble a little on the inside.

Undone

Have you ever missed someone you've never met? Or ached for something so much that its hard to breathe?
I'm down today. I should have seen it coming. I've been pretty even keel, since our first meeting with the RE. Calmly putting it all into some kind of perspective. Was I just fooling myself? How do you organize your feelings for something like this? I've calculated and plotted. But it seems as soon as some sort of conclusion is reached, it all comes crashing down behind us. And I feel lost again.

Complicated

We heard back from the RE regarding the genetic testing for Brian. The great news is that he does not have the Y Chromosome Microdeletion. Fantastic to know for the fact that it won't be passed down to our potential son(s), but unfortunately it doesn't change the fact that we will still need IVF.

While we discussed the possibility of Brian having a chromosomal error, the RE mentioned the idea of using a sperm donor. Brian and I had discussed this a while ago and decided it wasn't something we wanted to do. But when we were speaking with the RE he asked us if adoption was something we had considered, when we said yes, he pointed out that if we did use a donor, the child would at least be biologically be one of ours (mine). And that if we knew we could love and care for an adopted child, what would be the difference if only one of us would be related by blood? Thank you doctor, we REALLY needed to add another quandary to our situation.

So before we received the results to the blood tests, we let the idea of Brian having a chromosomal error sink in, and the more we thought about it the more we became concerned about what could be passed on to our potential children. And the more a donor sounded like a good idea. You're probably wondering how that could even be an option for us. Believe it or not, I have had a harder time with it than Brian, I couldn't let go of the idea of this baby not being half of my husband. Not having his eyes or smile or height, or bionic metabolism. But moving passed my romantic notions, there are dozens of other factors that should be taken into consideration. First of all we would never ask anyone we knew for a "donation". And despite the crude jokes that some of Brian's guy friends have made, I would not be asking any of them for "assistance". I digress. So. Should we use an anonymous donor? Or one that is open to being contacted after a child has been conceived. Not that we would want to keep in touch but for the childs sake. You can of course choose a donor that has similar physical features, but you also need to look at the quality of his sperm. We also decided that if we were to use a donor we would be open with our child. Which brings up even more things to think about... Even if you begin telling this child everything from a very early age and explain that they are very much loved and wanted and that they're special, will they resent us? Will they want to look for their biological father? How will that make us feel? Will they feel different from other kids or worse, different than Brian? Will they have the same connection with him?

One of the benefits of using a donor is that it would not require IVF. IVF is physically and emotionally a very taxing procedure with months of preparation. And it costs like a bazillion dollars. If we were to use a donor we could do an IUI, or Intra Uterine Insemination. The RE gave us up to an 80% chance of conceiving per cycle in the first six months with a donor IUI. That is excellent. It's also under 2k. But forget the monetary costs for a moment. What would a failed IVF cost us emotionally? Our chances with IVF are more like 40-60%. And the devastation of an unsuccessful IVF is something we still aren't prepared to deal with.

Our conversation with the good doctor took place via conference call, Friday night. Right before his two week trip to India. So we have some time to think of a few more pages of questions for him, we plan to bombard him when he gets back. Safe trip Doc, safe trip.

Rise n Shine

I wish I could say that so far this year things have been very different for us. Unfortunately thoughts of babies still keep me up at night. Or in this case VERY early in the morning. I can't help it. After and hour of pleading with myself to phase everything out and try to fall back asleep, I just get up. Its silly to lay there, when I could be so much more productive right here. I missed you Internet. Its not that I haven't been thinking about you - BELIEVE ME. But I haven't been all that inspired to write.

I've been able to push most of the baby stuff out my head during the day. But in the wee small hours of the morning I still wonder what our lives will be like in five years, and whether or not they will include a child of our very own. It really is still that much in the air. The second round of tests that the RE ordered were to look at Brian's genetic materials. The RE said that Brian's severely low counts were indicative of a chromosomal error. Its called Y Chromosome Microdeletion. Its caused by missing gene(s) in the Y chromosome. This can lead reduced sperm counts, low morphology, the shape of the sperm, and low motility, the sperms ability to move. So let me put it this way, the old saying of "It just takes one" isn't actually true. You need a good pack of swimmers to get one guy to the.. ehhem finish line.

On that note, I will continue to leave us all in suspense as this journey of the infertile continues.

History

Given everything that I've shared with you, I think we can safely agree that 2008 was most definitely on par with a raging case of herpes and a severe UTI. And Brian and I couldn't have been happier to celebrate its departure from our very own living room, with a few good friends.

I'm trying to stop thinking about how horrendous the past year was and starting looking ahead again to what might be. In the days following our initial decision to remain an Aunt and Uncle, I couldn't help but feel giddy dreaming of the potential freedoms that lay ahead. I thought about taking a few classes at CSM. I thought about planning some weekend getaways, and even about learning how to play the drums. I want to join a wine club, and finally do something with the spare bedroom. It's been that awful peach color for much longer than it deserves. And maybe, just maybe it will be a nursery one day. But I can't plan for someday anymore. I need to think about tomorrow. And what I'm going to cook Brian for dinner, and more importantly what kick ass bottle of wine I'll be serving with it. Maybe I'll take some cooking classes - improve my knife skills. I'm definitely going to start jogging again. I miss the clarity it gave me.

As pretty as that "plan" sounds it's quite possible that a month from now I'll be posting about how we're trying to sell both of our cars to pay for IVF. But as far as expanding our family goes - I'm not going to think that far ahead yet.