You're Fired.

Well the appointment I had yesterday sealed the deal. I’m done with my OB. Nothing explosive happened, but the in-depth conversation I had with him regarding childbirth plans pretty much gave me all of the ammunition information I needed. 

O.V.E.R. 

He’s a lovely doctor, and I’m sure that our baby would be delivered safely in his care, but I evidently wouldn’t have much of a say in it. So here’s the first part of what you should know and where things went wrong. 

I’m hoping to deliver this child naturally. With no epidural, and minimal medical intervention. 

What my dinosaur doctor heard was: I hate Doctors and hospitals and I plan to be as uncooperative and insubordinate as possible during my delivery, so good luck with that. 

He started off by suggesting I stay away from reading materials. Explaining that they can be quite dogmatic and contradictory to other sources, and that my body will really know what to do because it’s programmed into our DNA. Okay, I get that school of thinking. I can appreciate the theory of the power of suggestion, and I just so happen to agree 100% that delivering a baby is probably built into my DNA. But I also believe that you can prepare yourself for something like this. I will be experiencing a level of pain to which I have never known. Not even after sitting through the entire showing of Sex and the City II. I think I should know what’s coming. And the more I sat there listening to him, the more it sounded like he was saying “This is what can happen if you let women learn how to read…” 

When I say I want to deliver with no epidural and minimal medical intervention, I do not mean: in a barn. I am not Anti- Doctor, or medicine. Obviously, we did IV-fucking F. I’ll do whatever means necessary to get my desired result, savvy? And I am also not stupid. I realize that I can make all the birth “plans” I want, and things could end up 180 degrees differently. (Hi Murgdan!) So aside from preferring a completely natural delivery, our other plan is to know our options. So in Scenario A, B, C, or Q, Brian and I will have some kind of idea of what my preferences are so I won’t have to deliberate a life changing decision in the midst of a contraction. Or if I’ve checked out completely, (not dead, but incapacitated) Brian and I will be on the same page. 

When I mentioned this to him a few months ago, I’m guessing he yes’d me on the au natural part. But today when I talked to him about studying The Bradley Method, the mood all changed. He told me that the Bradley Method was somewhat “Anti-Doctor”. Which is interesting because so far what I’ve gotten out of the book, is that it’s really about husband/partner coached labor. When I explained that my main idea’s behind using this method is that it took so much medical intervention to get me pregnant, I really like the idea of giving my body back the control. Not to mention taking some of the work load off of my poor kidneys. On top of that I think this could be a really amazing experience for Brian and I as a couple. I don’t believe that labor has to be scary and dramatic. I know it will be painful and hard work, and potentially very long. (that’s why they call it labor, no?) But I also believe that I am capable of doing it without much involvement from medical technologies. 

I asked him how many of his patients delivered naturally, he said 20-30%. And then he said the percentages were lower with his Bradley patients, and that I might want to consider getting a doula to assist us. (Which I’m totally not opposed to, I’m actually trying to find one that will take my insurance) And continued on that ‘no one really wants medical intervention, but sometimes it’s just necessary’. I interjected with: I actually know women who would sign up for an epidural now, if the release form came with their hpt kit. True Story. And then what I should have said but wasn’t quick enough to think of is: Odd though that if no one really wants medical intervention, how come 70-80% of your patients end up with

 it???? 

Please know, I am not against Medical Intervention. Epidurals. Hospitals. Doctors. Nurses. Vaccines. America’s Got Talent being renewed for yet another season, even though I truly believe it is a crime against humanity. DO WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU. To each, his own. All god’s children, yada yada... I’m just saying this is my preference and I’m going to find a licensed medical practitioner who will do their damnedest to help us prepare for it, and hopefully see us through a delivery the way we’d prefer, while in a safe and legal nature, resulting in an insanely healthy live baby being born. If there are one hundred and forty two things I've learned from Infertility, number two on the list is being your own advocate. Good day to you, Sir.

Wordless Wednesday

I Haven't Read The Baby Books

I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but I’m saying it here to remind myself yet again. That I. Am Pregnant. It happens several times a day, whether it’s when I’m bending down to get something and my body reminds me that I’m not able to fold in half like I used to. Or I pass by a mirror or window and catch a glimpse of my exaggerated silhouette. But I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant. I giggle each time I remember and I’m constantly grateful, but it’s a little bizarre that at this point,  I still kind of forget that this is real. That I’m not making it up. That the soft kicks and rolls I feel are from the child growing inside of me. It’s kind of insane. 

In my dreams when I thought about this point in our lives coming, I imagined I would have read every book, been halfway through my Prenatal Yoga class, and had the nursery painted and ready for furnishing. 

In reality I haven’t finished or really even more than glanced at the books about pregnancy (that I bought so naively four years ago.)

None of the yoga classes I’ve looked into seem to fit my schedule, and I haven’t done much to make them for that matter.

And the nursery still looks like the cleanest room on an episode of “Hoa.rders”.  And is still peach. 

So for as much as I have been inadvertently dragging my feet, I’ve suddenly been given a swift kick into the “this is real, your days as just a couple are numbered and you haven’t done a damn thing to prepare for it you lazy whore”, reality. Sunday night Brian and I were getting ready to wind down for the evening, when I remembered the dvd I had ordered about Child Birth was still sitting in our living room. I checked with Brian to make sure he was game and popped the video in before snuggling up with my husband Snoogle. The moment it was over, I felt a fog of panic come over me. Not for the impending, contracting and dilating. But because it suddenly feels like we have SO MUCH to do. But the panic was short lived and I’ve found myself hardly being able to wait to get started. 

I signed us up for Birth classes, which deserves a post of its very own. And boy will that be a big one. Next week I’m going to look for a new OB, and/or Midwife. (Cue foreshadowy music) I already have my next appointment set up with my OB and the specialist for our 20 week u/s, so I’m just going to get through that and make appointments with the new options afterwards. Next on the list, tackle the bottomless pile of crap in what will be the nursery. (Cue Sanford and Son music)

And with almost ironic timing, ever since my epiphany that we're actually going to be parents this year (HOPEFULLY), the baby has started moving like CRAZY. Instead of just feeling the occasional flutter or tap here and there, I could feel it moving almost the entire day yesterday, and most of today so far. It is extraordinarily distracting and so, so fucking cool. 

My Horizon's

Warning: This is a super TMI pg post, so if you’re not in a good place, yamight wanna skip this one and I promise I’ll still love you anyway.

Lots of new developments in the last week or so. None of them extraordinary, but a few of them have taken me by surprise. I’m not going to sugar coat this first one folks, but holy crap my jugs are getting HUGE. You might remember that I usually refer to them as “the girls”, but dude, that reference is no longer applicable. They. Are. Jugs. Gozanga’s even.  A few weeks ago I noticed that I was starting to outgrow my regular bra’s so I was like, “Okay, cool, this is normal…” and I switched over to my “fat bras”. Read: Bras I had kept from before I lost 36+ lbs last year. Saved myself a little quiche right there, I did. However, not three weeks later, I am already muffin-topping out of them! Gah. My jugs are so full and heavy, and my veins read like a Metro Map. I could create an app based on my chest that would probably rival g.oogle maps. It’s out of control, really. 

THEN, the other day, I was walking through the house scratching my stomach when my finger found its way into my belly button, and cheese and crackers folks, it’s… it’s getting shallow. I used to be able to fit an entire fingertip in there, now it only goes about halfway. FREAKY. But cool. 

Oh, good news! I got my last NK Assay and TH1/TH2 follow up test. They came back: NORMAL. My favorite nurse called to tell me personally that everything looked great and I am officially released to my OB. RELEASED TO MY OB. She told me how happy she was for us, and asked that we keep them posted. I told her how very much we enjoyed working with her, and how grateful we were for all of her help. I was actually in the middle of shopping at Trad.er.Jo.es for my lunch when she called. I had a hard time staying composed in the frozen section while taking in exactly what our conversation actually meant… This is all really happening. And it’s going by so, so fast.

We’ve started looking at baby stuff. CRAZY. Brian is going to build the crib and changing table, so we went to a couple of fancy-shmancy boutiques to pilfer designs.  I know you might be picturing Brian with a glue gun surrounded by a pile of kindling, but this isn’t like a DIY project that I would get great “I told you so” satisfaction from. He is quite capable I assure you, and I can’t wait to show you how amazing his woodworking skills are…  And we’re going to choose a design that will convert to a head and foot board, so it’s something we can keep for a long time. Which makes me smile. It’s nice to feel excited and not quite as scared. I’m slowly letting my guard down, and this new world is just amazing. If you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you join me very, VERY soon. 

The Sum of All Parts

Alright, I’m starting to feel a little bratty about my last post. Especially because not more than two posts ago I was bitching and begging for boring...  


I want to thank those of who validated my difficulty in transitioning, it’s really nice to hear that I’m not alone there and please know really and truly am grateful to have had an extraordinarily boring appointment. I look forward to many more of them. Really. I think the reasons for my reaction yesterday are twofold. One – I really was used to the super intense, and very goal oriented appointments that were part of seeing an RE. Two – I like the fundamentals of how this Doctor runs his practice, but I just don’t mesh with his personality. Or maybe I’m being too uptight. Expecting too much. Maybe being with someone who is so low-key is the best thing for me. Knock me out of my tightly closed shell. Or maybe I’ll start shopping for a new OB. Stay Tuned. 


So yeah, this last appointment was fairly uneventful. At the end of the appointment the nurse gave me a flyer with the name of a specialist that they wanted me to see for my 20 week scan. Twenty-flippin’-weeks. I am almost halfway through this pregnancy and still in denial. Sometimes when I say it to myself, it feels as new and as foreign as the day I saw a positive test. It’s just bananas. Anyhoo, lots of people have been asking about this scan and when we’ll find out what we’re having, and for a surprisingly large amount of people their heads are blown clean off when we tell them: December. We’ll find out in December, when I give birth. 


I’ve never really given much thought to gender prediction when it came to pregnant women. If you think about it, it’s as arbitrary as trying to guess hair or eye color. There’s only a limited number of things it could be, so why speculate based on how someone is carrying, what they’re cravings are, or whether or not their asses got fat. My best friend has three boys and each of her pregnancies were entirely unique. I know, I’m no fun right? True story, my friends. I’m kind of a curmudgeon when it comes to stuff like that. I guess I can see the harmless fun it throwing out guesses, and I’ll admit I’ve participated in more than one baby pool. But hell, I play the in the office Superbowl pools, even though I despise football. I just have a soft spot for illegal sources of gambling. 

When people hear that we’re not going to find out what sex of the baby is, some think it’s great, but some act like we’ve deliberately chosen to disappoint them. Like it’s a plot against them or something. That usually segues into their next question of whether or not we have a preference. I usually respond with a smile and laugh about not really caring. Brian is diplomatic as always and says he sees the joy in both genders. But when prodded I usually end up cutting them off with a sentence like “ It took us four years to get pregnant, we just want A. BABY. So do I hope it’s a boy? Do I hope it’s a girl? No. I hope IT gets here safe and healthy and that Brian and I have a significant role in making sure it turns out to be a caring, sensitive, productive member of society. So go ahead and buy IT something yellow already and leave me the hell alone.” 

Okay, I don’t really say any of that.  But I think it while I smile and nod, and try not to head-butt them. The truth is I've never wanted to find out what we were having. Even back in the day when I thought sex made babies, and it would be easy for us; I always figured we'd find out when they were born. I'm more intrigued by the element of surprise than having the knowledge to plan bedding choices based on gender. That said if we ended up with twins, I probably would have caved and found out. Just seems like good common sense, no? 

So I’m looking forward to the big 20 week scan, but only because I’ll always want to have a peak at the baby before it gets here, it's seriously ridonkulous when I repeat that to myself. Twenty week scan... Also, since I have three more weeks before said ultrasound, I put up a belly pic in the Photo Gallery Tab. (Cringe) It's not a great one, but I took like 30 and posted the least awful one. Please don't laugh. 

The Whole Three Day Old Enchilada

I’ve always been one to err on the side of caution. I’m a just-in-case, kinda gal. So it seems only natural that during a pregnancy I struggled four years, endured countless needles, exams and spent tens of thousands of dollars (that we don’t have) to achieve, that I would fall into the “you-can-never-be-too-careful” category once finally in the family way. However, I think my OB thinks I’m ridiculous. And it’s not settling well with me at all. 

I had an appointment yesterday, which in retrospect seemed like, Well - A big fat waste of my time. My OB was 45 minutes late getting in to see us, and when he did finally sit down with me he made me feel like a complete moron. He wasn’t mean about my questions, just over explained (complete with family anecdotes, I should mention) about why it’s fine for me at 17w2d to sleep on my back. And have three day old homemade leftover enchiladas. I half expected him to show me a flashcard with a picture of a wheel of imported Brie with a circle and a line through it.  I guess I should be happy that he took his time answering all my questions, but that’s probably why he was forty-fucking-five minutes late to a 10am appointment when they open at 9am. I would expect the afternoon appointments to run a bit behind, but don’t overbook your patients then waste my and the next patients time because you’re busy rambling on to me about how your daughter won’t even consider leftovers while your wife eats three day old salads regardless of the wilted lettuce.  This is only my second appointment seeing my OB, every other time I’ve seen the head Nurse Practitioner, whom I love – but obviously won’t be delivering me. 

Important note: He runs a solo practice, and assured me that he won’t be going anywhere for Christmas this year. Which really appealed to me. He seems great on paper - agrees with my request for minimal intervention during labor, has a low forceps and c-section rate, and seems to have an educated staff, all of whom work well together. 

So maybe I’ve been in ‘the system” too long. Maybe I’ve just gotten too used to the formality seen in the Fertility Clinic industry. And all that comes with being closely monitored. I suppose that was because I was more of a client than a patient, since we were paying everything out of pocket, not just going where an insurance administrator told us was the closest proximity to our home address. But I want that environment back! I want a doctor who is meticulously on time, and asks relevant questions, whilst dispensing useful information. I’m not asking to be coddled, hell the first word I would use to describe Dr. 3 (after awesome, that is) would be: Cyborg. Fantastic. Efficient. Warm and fuzzy, he was NOT.  My OB seems more like a cross between a Surfer and an amateur standup comedian.  Also, he has white hair and glasses with bifocals that he looks down over when speaking to me, and it makes me think of Benjamin Franklin. But I got there, they took my vitals, the doctor made sure both me and the baby were still alive, then left.  

Am I asking too much? 

After speaking to a mom, apparently aside from the personality flaws,  the monthly appointments are pretty routine. Not a whole lot of action. Which honestly, is what I should want. Not a lot of fuss, or probing. Just the basics, like everyone else. 

I guess I’m just getting used to what being on “the otherside” is really like.  And it’s still nothing like I thought. 

Holy Crap, She's A Lazy Whore

Oh wait, I’m talking about me.  Sorry it’s been like, a millennia since I updated. While rereading through my last couple of posts I realized I’ve left quite a few things open ended. So here are a few bullet points to ease your back into your seats.

• Progesterone – I was finally able to stop my suppositories. 13w6d as my last round. I had my P4 checked four days later and my level was 19, up from 17. So no more weekly blood tests!
• Immunology – I had another NK Assay follow up, they checked my TH1 and TH2 as well. Bad news on this front, all of my levels spiked even higher after my last infusion, so I had to go back for two more weekly infusions. This kid is definitely going to Junior College. And wearing mine or Brian’s hand me downs.
• NT Scan -  I decided not to go in for the test after all. I just really didn’t like the idea of a Ratio Diagnosis. Or that fact that a false diagnosis would lead to (potentially unnecessary) invasive testing. No judgment for those who go, it just wasn’t for me.
• Commenting – I signed up for Goog.le Ch.rome, and for the most part it’s working. Although randomly now Safari is giving me trouble. WTF blogger?

As for my overall well being I am, despite the crappy NK news, feeling much more confident and comfortable with myself and this pregnancy. I think making myself talk more about the pregnancy and acknowledging here just how much I was really struggling with it all has helped me feel less like I was an impostor. Or that talking about it will make something bad happen to the baby – having had the Doppler handy hasn’t hurt things either. One other really cool thing? I’ve started feeling movement – so bananas. Last Sunday afternoon (15w1d) I was waking up from a nap *(see post title above) when I felt what I can only describe as a cross between a tapping and bubbles popping, distinctly on my right side… It happened again a few minutes later. It was a very unique feeling, but it still took me about a day before I acknowledged it, or even mentioned it to anyone. I did some reading on it, checked in with some ladies on forum (cause that’s what IF bloggers do) and sure enough, they confirmed what I’d thought (knew) I’d felt. It’s not terribly consistent, which is kind of a bummer. And it's so subtle that half the time I don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s over. 


Food is still a bit of a battle. Still can’t do the spicy stuff, though I am able to do desserts again. Not sure that’s really a good thing. Meat. A little over a week ago, meat all of a sudden became an issue. Particularly when I had to prepare it. It didn’t make me yak or anything, I just suddenly found it profoundly vile. But then last night I was shopping at Costco and picked up a Rotisserie Chicken on a whim. Thirty minutes later I found myself talking dirty to it and eating it out of the pan on my kitchen counter… That said, I’ve eaten nothing but fruits, veggies, and carbs today. 


I’m getting closer to not being able to wear any of my regular clothes. Shopping at Maternity stores has certainly made me branch out with my style choices. More patterns and colors than I used to wear, as well as having bought a few skirts. I’m a fan of black, and earth tones, but evidently maternity stores think jewel tones and floral patterns are more appropriate. I suppose that has to do with it being summer and what not as well. 


So that’s it for now, I should try to at least make it look like I don’t agree with my title and get some house work done. I’ll check back in soon, folks!

Just Easin' the Tension, Baby.

Telling people that I’m pregnant has been a strange experience. Not only because it feels like I’m lying, but also because I concurrently battle a voice in my head that says telling people means certain doom for our baby. Totally irrational, I know.

We’ve gotten a lot of love and support from family, mixed reactions from friends – some more than thrilled, some congratulated us like we told them we bought a house then followed their respects with how much work we were in for (and yes, they knew what we’d been through)… That was a little disheartening. But none of that matters when I think about my second home here. Even with all the praise we’ve received from our families, none of it compares to the support we’ve gotten from all of you. It’s just breathtaking to think about.

Telling people at work has also been interesting. I was so filled with anxiety about how and when I should say something that I more less ended up blurting it out. (My bosses already knew)

Nice lady from Bookkeeping: Well Good Morning Melissa, how are you today?

Me: Pregnant, and you?

(Squeals from two other ladies ensue)

There were only a few of us in the office at the time, I figured I’d let them gab about it and everyone else would catch on rather than me making one giant announcement during an Operations Meeting and risk being the center of attention. I’ve also gotten a few “It’s about time!” comments from older male coworkers. Which makes me wish I could live out this clip:

In addition I’ve started coming out about our Infertility. It’s scary to be honest about it, but it makes me feel proud at the same time, because we've come so far. Scary also since I’m the sort of “leave your home-life at home” type of employee. But coming out about in now also makes me glad that I was so secretive about our IVF cycle while we were going through it. I don’t think I could have responded quite as tactfully to the ignorant responses I’ve gotten regarding fertility treatments. None were made with ill intent, they just came about by being severely misinformed. I’m doing my best to diplomatically educate people without sounding too technical/condescending/know-it-all-ish. No easy feat for me.

I’ve made some progress in my head without the help of my therapist – yay me! I stopped therapy temporarily because I was too damn tired in the evenings to even try to complete a coherent sentence, so I’d rather not waste my deductible or my therapists time. Plus I’d prefer to spend that time eating and falling asleep sitting up in bed. Where was I going with this. Progress, right. I’ve decided to use my blog as aversion therapy. You may remember me telling you all that I had been feeling unsettled about talking about my pregnancy here specifically because I wasn’t sure I wanted this place to be about pregnancy as opposed to just IF. The other side of that is just feeling plain unsettled about this pregnancy in general. It’s not just hard to talk about it here, it’s hard to talk about it period. I feel… Guilty. Unworthy. Self-conscious. Conceited. Phony. Terrified. Which has no doubt made me a pleasure to be around, I probably sounded like I was telling people I had Cholera, instead of just being pregnant.

So. I’'m going to power through it.

I’ve decided that documenting this pregnancy is more important to me than my baggage. I worked really fucking hard to get here and I don’t know if I’ll ever be here again. Plus I have the memorization capacity of a gnat, so somebody needs to chronicle all this crap.  And I’m going to do it right here. In the place and with the people I feel most comfortable spilling my guts too: Complete strangers living in different states most likely under assumed names.

I love you’s guy’s. More to come.

12 Weeks, But Don't Get Too Comfy

I’m twelve weeks and four days, deep breath now, yes? Well, “BWAHAHA!!!” says the universe. Not so fast Melissa, here’s a little curve ball just in case you were getting a little too comfortable shopping for maternity clothes and thinking about colors for the potential nursery. Oh and don’t pick out any names just yet either!


I got a phone call today. My Natural Killer Cells are elevated again. Not to an exceedingly dangerous level mind you, but elevated nonetheless. And yes, aside from them being normal last time I had a blood draw, I was very aware that this could be an issue. But my friend Denial and I had made up our minds that this problem would just go away, and we were quite content with that. Let me just say, that I’ve planned to do, and will do everything within my power to keep this baby safe, but sweet Jesus am I so overwhelmed with the constant stream of having things to fear in regards to this pregnancy. Please know that I’m so grateful to have gotten this far, and for the fact that I have access to such specialized care. But oh my gawd I am just exhausted from all of this –  all the ups and downs, and feeling pushed and pulled by being so aware that having gone through four years of infertility has changed me, mostly for the good. And I’ll never be the same, I’m not a regular pregnant person - and for so many reasons,  I am proud of that. But now, in this regard, I want so badly to be a regular pregnant person.  I’ve read so many blog posts about the women who hate graduating from the their clinics (save the fact that it usually means they are pregnant)  because they are sad to leave the safety net of their RE’s monitoring and guidance. Which makes plenty of sense. But for me, I am just so fucking over the constant monitoring. I can’t wait to wrap things up over there. Don’t get me wrong. I love Dr.3 and the fact that he made our biggest dream come true (so far). But DAMMAT am I ready to be done with them. I don’t want to see another alcohol pad, or syringe of any type, or a fucking cotton ball covered by paper tape on my arm... I’m tired of weekly blood draws and hoping I get my favorite phlebotomist – I DON’T WANT TO HAVE  A FAVORITE FUCKING PHLEMBOTOMIST! It’s been six months now of regular monitoring and I’m starting to feel more like an inmate that a fucking patient. 


But back to the NK issue. All I have to do is have another Intralipid infusion. Piece of cake, right? Sure, except that my clinic and the satellite office for the Beers Center totally screw you on the cost. My clinic charges $700.00 per infusion, it takes about 90 minutes and they are 7 miles away from my office. The Beers Office charges $550.00, takes about 3.5 hours (including travel time) and is 30 miles away from my office. The kicker? A bag of the Intralipid mixture, cost roughly $50.00 US dollars. Which basically means I'm taking it in the tuckus to pay for their overhead, because they basically have me and everyone else, over a barrel. They might as well say “Take this, or your baby will die. Cash, Check or Charge? ” 


I just want to scream ENOUGH ALREADY!!! 


After I caught my breath a bit I sent an email to Dr. 3 with a few questions. 


Hello Dr.3, 


I was wondering if you would be able to explain a little bit about what the recent increase in my NK cells could mean. I understand that the level is fairly low, does that still mean the Intralipid infusion absolutely necessary? Also, how likely is this to be an ongoing issue during the rest of my pregnancy? 
Thank you in advance for your time 


Sincerely, ProbablynotgoingtobeabletorelaxuntilI’mwritingacheckforthiskidswedding


His response:


Hi Melissa, 


90% of the patients who require immunology treatment are done by twelve weeks. You fall into the 10% where your NK is still a little elevated and the reason to treat is because of the possibility that the Natural Killer Cells could attack the developing placenta. 


As the placenta gets bigger it is better able to defend itself and that is why most people are usually done by twelve weeks. In patients with severe elevations, it is sometimes necessary to treat them up to 20 weeks, but not beyond. I think it is very likely that your levels will be normal after one more treatment, but the body is not a machine, so one cannot say with certainty until we test again. 


Warm regards, 
Dr. 3 


And my progesterone levels are still stupid – in my opinion. This week came in at 15. I have another 11 days of the suppositories that melt and drip out shortly after I go to bed, mostly because I’m up peeing every two hours. So I have to wonder if I am even getting the benefit of them. Sorry for the rant. And sorry if this sounded like my complaining is unreasonable. Deep down I am grateful to have problems like these, because I am all too aware of the alternative. Thanks for listening. 


Reading. 


Whatever.

The Inbetween

So I haven’t been a total slacker since last week. Blogger has been doing some wacky shit, and I am still not able to comment at all. It just keeps asking me to “Select A Profile” and no matter how many times I enter my username and password it won’t let me get anywhere… So if you haven’t heard from me, it’s not because I stopped loving you!

Things are still going well with me, as far as I know. I’m 11 weeks, 4 days today. My progesterone level is only at 17 even after starting the suppositories back up, so they want me to stay on them until 14 weeks as opposed to 12. Which blows, but I am more than happy to do it. Supposedly my last Heparin shot is this weekend, I say that with trepidation because of how things went with my P4. But holy crow will it be nice not to take any more shots. I’ve been giving myself shots in my stomach daily since JANUARY. I’ve racked up over 290 injections in that time, from Humira, to Lupron, Follistim, Menopur, Novarell, to Progesterone in Oil, and finally Heparin. And I’m on my sixth Sharps container. Good times.

As for the pregnancy, I’m starting to feel a leetle more at ease. Especially thanks to the Doppler that was loaned to me by the too fabulous for words Shelby, over at The Great Big IF. I know a few of you had suggested getting one after my last post. I had it then but was too chicken-shit to use it. I was just afraid to try it too early and not find anything,  thereby inducing an aneurysm. Though I did finally get brave enough to give it a whirl a few days ago. I found the heartbeat within about five minutes. I could seriously listen to that All. Day. Long.

I’m starting to have a day here and there where I’m not exhausted and can eat semi normally. Still can’t really do any desserts or spicy foods. I bought a few pairs of Maternity bottoms, I LOVE THEM, except for one pair which I stupidly did not try on before I left the store. They just happened to be my size and I figured great – they’ll be fine. For some reason they are really snug in the legs, but seem to sag and slide in the butt region. So I’m constantly having to hike up the waist. They are the same style as the other pair I bought, which fit fantastically, just a different color… Go Figure. So, I have a small bump, which is more predominant at night time. Right now, my regular shirts are starting to get pretty snug, but I just look like I’ve let myself go a little. And any of the maternity shirts that I’ve tried on look like I’m trying too hard to seem pregnant. Which is still not a label I’m entirely comfortable with. It’s been unseasonably cool here in Northern California, enabling me to wear lots of layers and cardigans, so I’m pretty sure my co-workers are still in the dark. But as soon as the summer actually hits, I know I’m screwed.  What else… I have my Nuchal Translucency Test scheduled but I’m starting to question whether or not it’s something I want to do. Whatever the test results show isn’t going to change our minds about keeping this pregnancy.  And I’m a little concerned about the percentage of accuracy in the test results. But then part of me is like “A two hour ultrasound??? Sign me up, bitches!” … I have another OB appointment before the NT test so I guess I’ll chat with the NP a little more about it – unless you folks care to share your experiences/input. That is, if you can comment. Hopefully blogger will clear things up SOON.

Tom Cruise May Have Been On To Something...

That is probably the first and only time you will ever hear me say such kind things about Tom Cruise, but when reports leaked that he was considering getting an ultrasound machine to monitor Ka.tie Hol.mes' pregnancy, (which may or may not have been BS) I kinda get where he was going with that. Oh, the sweet relief of seeing that flicker of a heartbeat on a monitor. I'm thinking about selling my Honda to buy one of those bad boys, if only to keep the men in the white coats away for just a little longer. (I'm pretty sure Brian is considering having me committed.)

Thanks for your thoughtful, and helpful comments on my last irrational post. I felt like the only reason my P4 would plummet like that was because there was something wrong with the pregnancy. I was really genuinely, terrified. It blew.

So my appointment went well this morning. (she recounts sheepishly.) I told the NP (nurse practitioner), about my P4 drop, and she said as long as I'm on the supps, she has no concerns. Levels bounce a little after stopping supplementation... Which sounded familiar. For my last two u/s' the baby was measuring a day behind, which they told me was no big deal, but today the baby was measuring a day ahead! That made me feel a whole lot better. We got to see and hear the heartbeat again. I told her that I had been worrying, and that this part is so much scarier than I had imagined. She smiled and told me there was no reason that I should torture myself with panic and that they are more than happy to do a "Peace of Mind" ultrasound between appointments. Then on that note, she told me to schedule my next appointment in two weeks. God Bless her.

I have a few more posts a'brewin'. I'll try to make them somewhat coherent in the near future, as well as get the latest pic up.

Thanks again folks.

Progesterone Dip - Freaking Out

I was pretty thrilled to take my last PIO shot last week, but I'm panicking now, because my weekly blood draw showed a substantial drop from 31 to 16. Umm, yikes. My Nurse from Dr.3's office told me they weren't super concerned and that they typically see significant drops after progesterone supplementation stops. But she also said they would prefer to see my number more in the 20's.  They are going to have me restart the suppositories. I had originally stopped them because I was having a bad reaction to them. She said if I have another bad reaction that they'll want me to get back on the PIO shots until 12 weeks. Which is 11 days from now. I know that 12 weeks always sounds like a decent safety net, and 11 days isn't that far away. But right now it feels like an eternity.

I have to be honest, I'm pretty much completely terrified right now. I've been really struggling over the last few days, and have had some not so great dreams about Dr.s Appointments.

I have a previously scheduled u/s with my OB for first thing tomorrow morning, but I just don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight.

I'm really scared.

Here

If I had a nickel for all the draft posts I’ve written over the last two weeks, I could probably help pay for an IUI cycle. But I’m in such a weird place, I’m having a hard time finding the words. And I’m feeling really strange about posting pregnancy related stuff here for a few reasons. 1. In all my day dreams about actually being pregnant, I imagined starting a new blog for just pregnancy stuff, while keeping this an IF place. 2. This whole pregnancy thing? Still not very real to me. I have accepted it on an intellectual level, but it’s still kind of difficult to wrap my head around. I had another u/s last Friday and part of me wondered if they were just playing a tape on the monitor. No joke. And even as we drove home I stared at the little gummy bear like figure in the shaded photo, and could hardly grasp the concept that it was a picture from my insides. It’s just so bizarre.

I’ve had several breakdowns feeling like things were over – triggered by fluctuating or lack of symptoms and just plain fear. We told Brian’s parents two weeks ago, because his Mom is going through Chemo and we felt like she could use a boost. They are over the moon, and it most certainly did lift my MIL’s spirits. It was fun to tell them, but pretty surreal, and it prompted an influx of irrational thoughts. Superstitious thoughts. And I’m not really a superstitious person. Telling them is sort of what prompted me to wait to tell my family. And I still can’t put my finger on why. It’s like I’m afraid there is a quota for happiness and we’re getting close to the end our allotment. Which I know makes no fucking sense at all.

So the whole 'start a new blog' thing… Part of me felt like starting up someplace new would be my show of respect to those still fighting the fight. They could still “know me” and count me as a sister without being bombarded by the evidence that I was lucky enough to get to the other side of all this after just one IVF cycle (not that I’m completely on the other side). Please know that I realize how fortunate I am to have fallen on the right side of the 60% success rate. Truly, I do. But another part of me thought about how much I’ve come to love this place, and how much history it holds. Albeit a mostly painful history, but in a strange way I’m proud of all the crap we’ve been through. I also thought about the many blogs I continued to read even though they had crossed over to pregnancy and even parenthood. I still loved them as sisters. They still know the hurt, they’re just in a different phase of life.  So the jury is still out on whether I’ll start up some place new, but for now I’ll keep posting here. If you’re not up for reading anything pregnancy related I’ll suggest you stop reading now. For the immediate future I will be using this place to document my transition from infertility to pregnancy. Weird.

So today I am 9 weeks and 4 days. When I look back to the day we first saw our positive test it seems like so long ago, though each individual week passes like molasses. Symptom wise, the fatigue has finally kicked in full gear. Yes, I was a bit tired before, but not to the extreme so many other women talked about. I was tired by the end of the day but by no means exhausted. As of about four days ago I am officially wiped by about 1pm every day. Boobs are still tender but much more manageable, I am now able to forgo the sports bra at night. I’m using the bell.aban.d with every pair of pants I own, and last week after my second u/s I allowed myself to order some maternity jeans online. I have to get them online for two reasons. 1 I am entirely too paranoid to go into an actual store because A) I’m just not ready for that. B) I’m terrified to be seen by someone I know. C) In the very back of my mind there is the irrational superstition that buying something could mean the worst for our little one. Yes, I’m aware that I’m insane. And 2. I’m 5’10 with a 34 inch inseam. I usually have to buy most of my jeans/pants online anyway, so it’s no biggie. I still doubt that I’m showing but I’m a little doughy and bloaty and it’s really uncomfortable to suck it in or have any kind of pressure on my abdomen. So maternity pants it is, however premature that may be. Food wise, the nausea has let up a bit, though I am prone to a sour stomach. The only aversion I have right now is to anything sweet, which seems moderately blasphemous because I’ve had a pretty big sweet tooth my entire life. Part of me wonders if this is really my kid. (KIDDING). Dairy, I heart dairy. I’ve been plowing through 1 gallon jugs of 2% milk since about 5 weeks. I drink it as a snack on a pretty regular basis, it’s also very good at helping to settle my stomach. I’m looking forward our next u/s which will be next Thursday (the 26th). I’ll do my best to get the pic up from my most recent u/s before the next appointment. 

I guess the last thing is just to thank you all again for your amazing support, and the sincerity behind your congratulations to me. It’s been overwhelming, in such a very good way.

Try

Now that I’ve had a little time to compose myself and really take in all of what we saw Sunday, I can fill you in on all the details. And of that, there are a’plenty.

The appointment itself went really well. Dr.3 was running behind, but it’s not like we had better things to do. Actually we did give up Sharks playoff tickets to keep the appointment.  Obviously worth it, just saying. As Dr. 3 got to work with the probe and the nurse dimmed the lights, I closed my eyes until I heard him settle. “Okay, there’s the sac and a tiny heart beat – can you see it?” I opened my eyes to see him pointing at the monitor and underlining the spot where the flickering shadow could be easily seen.  Brian squeezed my hand tightly, and my tears began to fall. I have never been so in awe of something so tiny. Dr. 3 continued the exam, taking measurements and giving notes for the nurse to write down. As he moved the probe over a little further to one side he noted it a tiny dark circle about an eighth of the size of the sac our little one floated in. The other embryo had implanted, but didn’t take. To be honest I wasn’t entirely surprised, and I’m not sure I can explain why. I feel a connection to the little one who wasn’t, but I also hold a great understanding that it wasn’t their time. And I’m at peace with that. The rest of the measurements went fine, my ovaries were nice and quiet - just what he hoped to see.  He closed things up and went over the rest of my protocol, asked if we had any questions then congratulated us with very sincere handshakes. As he walked out of the room, he let out a comically dramatic “Whew!”.  We laughed pretty hard about it then, but I realize now that it was kind of cool to see how much doing the first u/s weighed on him. If he doesn’t do that out loud every time, I’m sure he does it internally.

They asked us to go back to the waiting room so that we could wait to speak with one of the nurses about some other formalities. There were two other couples there and we did our best to keep our composure so as not to flaunt our amazing news in front of them. They seemed like newbies. The nurse, one of our favorites, let us know that we’d need to set up our next u/s with our OB, and she gave us a copy of our records to provide to them. We haven’t been released by Dr. 3 but we’ve chosen not to do any more Out of Pocket appointments with him. She also gave me another prescription for the last round of meds. I have 20 more days of PIO shots. 34 more days of Heparin and Metformin.

In addition to the u/s milestone we had yesterday, I experienced one more. My last Resolve meeting, for now.  In the group that I attend, they invite you back for one last meeting after a confirmed pregnancy. I didn’t realize it was going to be so difficult. Each member sits in the circle and tells you their name and as much about their situation as they are feeling up to.  I began to explain my situation; Trying for four years - as of next month, six failed donor IUI’s,  a yearlong break before IVF. As I wrapped up the details of our cycle, I heard the words “it worked” come out of my mouth and I promptly fell apart. I apologized to everyone and explained how grateful we were, but that acknowledging it – especially there, was overwhelming. The ladies in attendance were nothing short of gracious and congratulatory. But I had a hard time chiming in with information or personal experiences after outing myself.  I always thought that asking the pregnant people/couples to come back for one last meeting was mostly in consideration for those still in the battle, but I can see now that it’s inappropriate for both sides. Listening to heartbreaking story, after heartbreaking story wouldn’t be beneficial. They weren’t comforting anymore. And I’ve heard too many as it is. It’s time for me to accept that, and move on.

Taking the time to step back and analyze my reaction to everything, and just how I’ve processed the existence of this pregnancy so far has truly cemented the fact that I am damaged goods. I’ve had every reason to believe that things were going fine, decent symptoms, decent numbers, no history (thankyougod) of loss. But yet, I couldn’t even acknowledge the simple fact to myself without throwing some caveat up in front of anything that would resemble a statement about our immediate future. It was too scary. 

It still is.

But I'm going to try.

One.

One Heartbeat.

No words...

Baby is measuring right on track. Heart rate is 129.

So, so many grateful tears.

Pictures on the new tab above.

I'm really pregnant.

Insecure

Our ultrasound is in two days, and I'm feeling insecure.

My first substantial bout of morning sickness hit yesterday, and though I consciously followed a remedy to combat it, offered by a trusted souce, I'm feeling decidedly alarmed that it worked. And I feel better.

Despite the fact that my best friend assured me that I looked like death for the better part of my day, I have to wonder if it was all in my head.

What if we see nothing on Sunday?

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.

Killing Me Softly, Via Delayed Results

It appears as though my twelve grand is up, so Dr.3 is making me go to a regular lab with regular people, and boring nurses lest I stay with him and pay out of pocket for all future blood work. Or any work for that matter. My u/s at the end of the month is OOP, as well.  But I’ve come to love my clinic. My nurses are great, and they’re sweet, and good at what they do.

But, the lab; It’s full of the sick people. And the techs; They seem to be much less discrete about asking people for urine and OTHER samples. Which shouldn’t weird me out, but it does. And holy crap did my phlebotomist SUCK. I have very easy veins, I’ve been told this many times. And while this chick didn’t actually miss my vein, my only guess is that she was very, very angry with it. At least that’s all I could come up with. It felt like she was jamming a chopstick into my arm. And I’m thinking, 'WOMAN, this is ALL you do – ALL day long… How could you not be at least decent at it???'

Any. Way. The last week has gone by pretty well. Meaning I haven’t made myself too crazy. I stopped POAS Wednesday because it was making me more neurotic. But I did decided to use the last one in the box Sunday morning, cause well, it was just sitting there. All dry and clean…. I was thrilled when the test line appeared to suck up most of the dye, leaving the control line pretty faint. And actually the control line took a while to even be visible.  In the way of symptoms there is still not a whole lot going on. I’m getting a little tired in the afternoons, my girls hurt so bad that it wakes me up at night. I read an article that suggested wearing a bra to bed, but that sounds about as appealing as wearing a studded belt with my nightgown. But the pain is kind of getting kind of ridiculous, so I might give in. The cramping has quieted down a little which seems scary, but I’m doing my best not to completely over analyze the lack of twinges. Because the bottom line is, I’m just so grateful to have gotten this far.

So I'm guess the suspense must be killing you, because I'm already dead from waiting forever and a day for Beta#3 results. I got my blood drawn at like 9 am (after waiting 45 minutes) and silly me, I asked the lab tech when the results would be available. She said they'd be to my clinic by NOON. Which meant every second after 11:59 am Pacific Standard Time, went.........by........like........t.h.i.s..... So I called to harass them around 3:30 but chickened out of opting for the emergency line and left a breezy voicemail, like I was just wondering if they might happen to have an idea. By any chance.... At 4:30 still no call back, and I know that they kick the night mode on at a quarter to five, so I hauled ass out to my car and called them again. This time choosing to speak with an operator. They finally got me to a nurse and she politely explained that the results must be seen by Dr. 3 before they can call the patient.... Then she said "Your results were great. 4,873"... Progesterone dipped a little to 43, but she said that's normal, and they're happy with it. They want to see anything between 9 - 50, at this point in the pregnancy.

Holy fucking shit.

I really am pregnant.

I Love You, Man.

Holy Crow, where do I even begin? You guys. Well, you Just. Fucking. Rock. I can’t tell you how amazing it’s been to read all of your incredibly thoughtful and supportive comments. And hearing the personal experiences has been a big, BIG relief. Thank you, thank you for the bottom of my progesterone saturated heart.

I’ve been doing my best not to freak out about the Beta results. I realize that the number was by no means a harbinger of the worst possible case scenario, but for a minute, that’s what it felt like. I think the hardest part about this is the fact that I’ve seen too much. I know what possibly can go wrong, and I’ve seen it happen to way too many really great people – so why should I be any different? Please, please understand how grateful I am to be here. And I’m happy. And excited.  But this part of being pregnant is really scary. And I did not see it coming.

I felt a little better Wednesday because I had read, and reread all of your fabulous comments three or four times. Also I was consistently mildly crampy the entire day. Then yesterday I felt SO bloated and tired – exactly the same way I felt during the worst day of stims, which I am praying meant that my Hcg, E2 and P4 were all blowing up. But today – I feel nothing. No different. I know, I’ve heard symptoms come and go. But well, that just sounds like a cop out. I’m so hopped up on PIO shots, and Progesterone and Estrogen Suppositories; I should at the very least being seeing spots by now… I don’t get it.  This is hard. Not harder than being infertile – but hell, at least I know how to do that…

So here’s where I am treatment wise. I had my Intralipid infusion Wednesday. Even though my follow up NK Assay came back a 0 out of 5 (normal), Dr. 3 prefers to follow up with at least one infusion right after a positive pregnancy test.  All of the nurses who were there for our retrieval and transfer were in the area where they do the Infusion. It was nice to see them all again, but weird because they kept giving me hugs and offering congratulations… Which was cool, but very surreal. Our first ultrasound (gulp) is scheduled for April 30^th, I’ll be 6w6d. Seriously – so weird to say that.

I just want you all to know how insanely grateful I am for all of your support through this – and especially from those of you who’ve delurked.

I'm really just so, so thankful for each and every one of you.

Counting the minutes till Tuesday.

A Watched Pot

The last few days have been kind of a whirlwind. I go from busy and going about my routines to suddenly remembering my extraordinarily good fortune and my breath catches in my chest and a little snarffle-type-whimper/laugh escapes my lips as I picture those positive pee sticks still sitting on my nightstand. I pretty much carried them around the house all day Saturday, and if I didn't think it would have been obnoxiously inappropriate I probably would have made a necklace out of one. And then all at once I feel like it's happening to someone else.


I also go back and forth between feeling SO ready to move on with the rest of my life (See: potentially recklessly over optimistic), and feeling like I'm still in limbo. Like I can't make certain plans for the next few months, only instead of wondering if I'll be cycling, wondering if I'll still be pregnant. And then maybe I will be cycling with our frozen embie (pleasedon'tletthathappen, pleasedontletthathappen). I'm going to be a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding this September and we're going to have to pick out and order the dresses ASAP. What if next week I order a dress for me at six months along and then two months from now I dont' need it? Yikes. That also means I'm going to have to spill the beans to my future SIL (whom I adore, btw) and at the very least the other bridesmaid. Hmmm.


So I FINALLY got a hold of my nurse, I told her I was about to go into a meeting and didn't want to miss her call. I went in this morning at 9am, and got through to her at 4pm! That was really frustrating. So the news is not bad, but it's not fantastic. Dr. 3 wants to see AT LEAST a 60% increase for Beta #2. My increase was at 62%... Putting my number at 233. My nurse said neither she, nor Dr. 3 are remotely concerned. She warned me about Dr. Google and also said that it's possible one of the two embryo's in arresting. Or she said sometimes the second Beta is just wonky - She's seen much stranger beta's result in babies, and then reminded me that IVF is rarely cut and dry. Physically I'm feeling fine, still really no symptoms to speak of which freaks me out just a little bit especially knowing my second beta number now.... I have some minor cramping, and towards the end I of the day I feel bloated. But that's about it. They want me to do another Beta a week from today, as previously planned. (This is where my nurse stressed that if they were concerned they would have me come back Thursday). At that point they'll want to see a number no less than 954. And that's going by the 60% range again.

So. I wait. I'm trying to keep the faith in the unseen, and not freak out too much. Do me a favor and send a prayer or two my way when you get a sec. Thanks in advance.

A Sight Unseen

The first thing I should tell you is how convinced I was that this cycle had not worked for us. I had no symptoms. At least nothing that screamed "Successful IVF cycle". There was nothing that couldn't be a potential symptom of the PIO shots. My boobs started getting sore the day after I started the Progesterone, which was before the transfer had even taken place. I had some lower back pain - but that is not an uncommon occurrence for me. I also had some minor cramping, but again that could have easily been the PIO shots or suppositories, or the left over enchiladas I kept eating for lunch. And what I considered to be the kicker was the fact that by Thursday (7dp5dt), my jeans were fitting normally and my weight was back to pre-IVF. I thought "Shit, no influx of OHSS - we're screwed". Oh, and did I mention that I came down with a cold the day after the transfer? No fever, but a sore throat, congestion, runny nose, yada yada. I figured we were doomed and I had all but uncorked the expensive bottle of wine I'd picked out to be my 40 ounces to freedom.


Though there had been a slight bit of wavering on his part, Brian and I had agreed to test together Saturday morning. Friday night we stared wide-eyed at each other before we kissed goodnight and did our best to get some rest. Which went surprisingly well until about three am, when the dog wanted out. From three am on we vainly tossed and turned until about four, when Brian leaned over and asked if we could watch TV already. I laughed and we decided to watch the Top Chef Reunion Special. It was really good, and very funny which brought some much needed comic relief. When it was over we knew it was time - we both wanted to get it over with. Just before we walked into the bathroom together I confessed that I didn't think it had worked. Something I hadn't told him because I didn't want to ruin his week just yet. I sat down, peed in a cup, then dipped the test in, put the cap back on the test and handed it to him. We both wanted him to deliver the results. We took the test and went back in to the bedroom where I collapsed on to the bed, bracing myself, and feeling guilty for making him be the one to have to give me the bad news. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at the test, then cover it up and rest it back on his knee like he was still waiting to see something. I said "it's negative, right?"... He then, ever so nonchalantly mumbled "well there's a line, but it's really faint..." I bolted upright and grabbed for the test - he said I blurted out something along the lines of "Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?", but I remember no such thing... All I remember was seeing the test and screaming that even if it was light, a line was a line and it was positive!!!!


We're pregnant. 


We hugged and cried and laughed hysterically. I don't think I've ever experienced such unfettered bliss. I sobbed and giggled and shook my head. I thanked god aloud, and when it finally occurred to me that a positive hpt doesn't always equal a take home baby, I thanked god aloud again for letting us at least get this far. 


Two lines. 


We have two lines. 


We looked up our due date. It's mid December. I have a due date, how bizarre is that? We each sent out a few texts to the select group of people we'd let in our our little secret, (those who don't know about this blog, anyway). And really and truly just enjoyed the day. I know that it's a possibility that we may not make it to the end of this journey happily, but I am so incredibly grateful that at least we know something can stick, and for these fleeting moments we know what it's like to be on the other side. And however long we're here I'm going to do my damnedest to revel in every second of it. 


My Beta draw was at 9am this morning, they just called back and my level at 10pd5dt is: 144, Progesterone 56.


I go back Tuesday for a second check.


I can't begin to thank you all enough for your support and enthusiasm on my last post. I cried while reading each one. Hard. I've been offering those same words for so long, it's remarkably strange to realize they are for me. 

This Is Only A Test

Wherever we go; this is further than we've been.

Talk About Your All Time Backfires

At some point in late February while still delayed in this IVF cycle by the Whore-bag Cyst, I began to feel a little restless. So I made the decision to look into the Foster Adoption program within our county. I signed us up for the April 5^th Orientation which was less than five miles away from our home. Since at that point I had no idea how long we would be delayed by the cyst, or if we would even be able to move forward with this attempt, I felt really good about taking the first step toward something we’d been discussing for a while anyway.  And in the days leading up to this meeting I continued to look forward to getting more information on what might be our path to parenthood. But this is where I have to make a confession. Though I had drafted a post about this, I never made it far enough to actually get the guts to publish it... 


Umm, IVF is fucking hard. And I don’t know if I ever want to do it again. Aside from hoping for the reason I’ll never have to do it again – I seriously don’t know if I want to. And yes, I know it’s early and I could change my mind. And that’s fine. But as of now, I can’t say it’ll be my first choice in moving towards being parents. The ‘feeling like a pincushion’ cliché could not be a bigger understatement, my stomach is black and blue from the heparin shots, my ass is KILLING me from the PIO shots, I’ve missed a lot of work due to monitoring appointments and recovery and acupuncture. Doing three shots a day takes up a good hour of my time, drawing up the meds,  icing before and after the Heparin, applying pressure. Heating whichever given side of my ass in prep for the PIO shot, laying there while Brian massages the injection site, then walking around after, then sitting with the heating pad again… Granted my cycle lasted a little longer than most - an extra two and a half months to be exact - and I’m not saying that all this won’t have been worth it if we wind up with a baby at the end, but damn it it’s fucking hard. I really don’t know how so many of you have done multiple cycles. I mean, I do. But…. If I feel like I deserve a fucking metal for all this, you guys deserve like, royal titles, and towns named after you. Cause, shit. This was really hard.  And all of that made one more giant reason why I was looking forward to the orientation for Foster Adoption.

We arrived promptly at 7pm, and by the time the County Worker got started there were two other couples, what appeared to be a single guy – I’m fairly certain he was a cop. And one woman, who was married but her husband was at home looking after their daughter. We signed in and grabbed a packet and began listening closely as the County Worker started her Power Point presentation.  I can’t remember what precisely changed for me, but all of about 15 minutes in I felt a noticeable shift in my comfort level. Substantial enough that I scribbled a sentence on the outside of the envelope packet and pushed it toward Brian.

“I’m not ready for this.”

We glanced at each other, but slowly gave our attention back to the County Worker. Well maybe Brian did, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It felt so surreal, at some point I felt like I was watching myself from outside of my body knowing I was about to have a breakdown. I’m very aware of the fact that childrens circumstances in Foster Programs aren’t the same as kids in standard adoption facilities. These are not all infants with unwed, or incapable mothers – these kids have been removed from their homes. Due to abuse and/or neglect. Occasionally there is a Voluntary Surrender, where the parent(s) concedes that they just can’t care for their child(ren). But it’s less than 1% of the time in our county. I don’t know if it was the fact that she had to describe all the different types and severity as well as what exactly constitutes abuse or neglect, or if it was her emphasis on the fact that the County’s main goal is Reunification with the Biological Family. But it all just became too much. And I suddenly found the tears falling down my face faster than I could catch them. I discretely excused myself to the bathroom, and did my best to pull myself together. But the moment I sat back down in my chair I started to lose it again. Brian made a quick scribble, and pushed the envelope back to me. “Just go, I’ll take care of it”. It took me another minute to get the courage to walk out, but thank god we just happened to be sitting right next to the exit. I don’t know what Brian said to the room or the County Worker, but I’m sure they figured out that I wasn’t just bored. I got about three steps from the door and the second I heard it click I began to sob. I’m just not ready for that. I thought that I would just go and be proactive, and get some information. But holy crap, I’m not ready.

And I’m suddenly reminded of how little control we have over all of this. And just how very open-ended things are for us at this moment in time.

T minus four days until Beta.