2dp5dt: Transfer tales

We arrived at the clinic just before 10, as instructed. The waiting room was more crowded than I think I’ve ever seen it. At one point, there were two small children (one well behaved, one annoying - I think the well-behaved one is about to become a big brother). We sat, and waited, and waited, and sat. There seemed to be another transfer ahead of us (judging from her bloated, scruffy, water-bottle chugging presence). All well and good, but it was after 10:30 before we even met with the embryologist and at least 12 before the transfer prep (my transfer was scheduled for 11, of course). Due to a mix up with the nurses and my acupuncturist* (who was fantastic), I didn’t get my valium until after I was in the proceure room with my legs in the braces. It might have been nice to have been relaxed before that point, but whatever.

Transfer was fine. There was a bit of a thing with my bladder - we waited so long I had to pee like 5 times before we actually got in there, and just before it was time I had to, um, poo (and as the nurse politely acknowledged, “There’s no delicate way to say this, but I find it hard to go to the bathroom one way and not the other”) and then they decided my bladder wasn’t full enough and made me drink more, and then by the time they were ready to do the transfer, it was too full and they had to drain it a bit. Not the most fun ever, but more comfortable in the long run, I think. But otherwise, transfer apparently went very smoothly. Never having attended a transfer before, I have nothing to compare to, but Dr. Piles and Nurses Sweetie and Bruiser Positive (who I like loads more now that she took excellent care of me at both retrieval and transfer, and then mentioned that she went through IVF treatments herself, plus the thing about the poo) all seemed very positive.

And the best part was the embryologists report, which I think I’ve hesitated to share until this point due to some preliminary variation of survivor’s guilt. We transfered two 5-day blasts - one “perfect” and one “near-perfect” - and had 11 blasts to freeze. Yes, eleven. Even the embryologist was impressed. I am bowled over. This is better than even my fantasies of a good outcome for this cycle.

And now we wait, and hope that our ability to make lots of hardy embryos will translate to an ability to make actual babies. I mean, I’ve heard there’s a connection, but I’ve also heard you can get pregnant from having sex, so...

* The clinic usually works with this one local acupuncturist. Not my acupuncturist. I’ve been seeing my acupuncturist for about a year - starting after I gave up on my first clinic, all the way through the second, and now into the third. I think it’s great that the clinic has someone they like to work with, but the system shouldn’t rely on it. Apparently, the usual acupuncturist gets the gown and robe for the patient (from the nurses area, so I don’t really see how mine would have thought to do that) and somehow arranges the Valium (or tells the nurses when it’s time?). My acupuncturist (actually not my regular one, but another from the same practice who I’ve seen before) was just trying to go with the flow. If any of them had bothered to talk to each other, it would have been fine. But instead there was a bit of confusion. Oh well - it all worked out in the end.

A tale of two clinics, finally

I think I may give up on ever finding the perfect nickname for my RE. The closest I’ve come is Dr. Piles of Files, so named because when we had our first meeting with him (while we were in the process of choosing a clinic) I noticed that his desk was piled with files, and articles, and journals. It looked a lot like my office looks - cluttered with projects and ideas and research. And then we met with the second clinic and the RE’s office looked like it was straight out of a designer magazine - spotless, and beautiful, but with the air of being a showplace rather than a functional office. It was a lot like some other features of the Clinic That Wasn’t - Dr. FancyPants and the whole Fancy clinic were shiny, and pretty to look at, but it wasn’t clear how that would translate to my experience as a patient there. (The final straw, though, was a perky but completely clueless medical assistant/nurse who I learned would be our primary contact. Um, no thank you.) So back we went to the Clinic That Is - which is much more humble. No fancy pants decor, no shiny surgical suite with separate entrance, no staff of millions. But it means that I know all of the nurses, that my RE did all of my wandings (except once when the other RE did a baseline - but I haven’t seen him since), that I chat with the receptionist, that I don’t get lost in a maze of hallways or staffing issues, and that he actually reads articles, and journals, and patient files. In my current state of optimism, I’m pretty sure I made the right decision. I didn’t have a cookie cutter protocol. I had close monitoring. I saw my actual RE regularly. He waved at me on days when I was just there for bloodwork. The other clinic is very highly regarded, and proposed a totally different protocol that might also have worked well. Who knows? But I know for sure that I’d have had less direct contact with Dr. FancyPants than I have with Dr. Piles.

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On a totally unrelated note: I’m getting sick of G.atorade. I stocked up on what used to be my favorite flavor of G.atorade, and I’ve been faithfully staying hydrated. But it’s pretty much the only flavor I know, and I’m getting sick of it, and I have no idea what to get instead. The G.atorade labels can be so daunting - “Frost” and “Fierce” and “Xtreme” (oh my!). So, anyone have a favorite G.atorade flavor I should try? I’ll do a taste test and report on my findings, if you’d like.

Gratitude

Out of 20 retrieved, there were 15 mature, and 14 fertilized. We’re set for a 5-day transfer on Monday. I’m feeling better, though still a bit achy and bloated. Mostly, though, I’m just feeling incredibly thankful that we’ve made it this far.

Yesterday, when they came to take J back to contribute his part in all this, I was still pretty drugged and emotional. I said, “it’s not fair” which he took to mean it wasn’t fair that I was lying in a recovery room and he was going to jerk off. But really I meant it wasn’t fair that we had to do this at all when so many other people just get drunk one night and magically become pregnant. But when the embryologist called today I felt a huge wave of gratitude - that we were able to do IVF, that J’s parents were able to help us pay for it, that we had access to fertility clinics in our city, and schedules flexible enough to allow us to go through with it, and that we might actually have something to show for it. Every so often we look at each other, or hold hands for a moment, and whisper “fourteen.” It’s the magic number of hope, promise, potential. And I am incredibly thankful to have that to hold onto today.

More information than I can process

20 eggs retrieved. 12 are probably mature. The others are various categories of over or under maturity, but I couldn’t really tell you. J wrote it all down so maybe later I can make more sense of it. They also gave us some stats on his “specimen” which I completely ignored. For a girl who always wants all the info, all I wanted to hear was how many retrieved, and that the sperm were fine. So 20, and they are.

Soup, then bed.

Stims Day 12: Green light

Lining: 11mm
R: 20x20, 22x18, 16x16, and a bunch more that Dr. Smiles (hmm, maybe) didn’t measure
L: 17x15 and a bunch more

After what feels like forever, we’ve been given the green light. Circles have been drawn on my ass for the trigger shot tonight. Retrieval will be Wednesday (pending today’s bloodwork, of course). My body is looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow, and having one precious needle-free day. My left ovary was being shy, as usual. I asked if they were going to have trouble getting to it at retrieval and Dr. Jokester (nah, doesn’t have the right ring) said they’d charge extra. But then Nurse Sweetie admitted I’d probably feel the effects of the digging. Yeah, I figured.

Also, I have a cold. Dr. NoDrugs (just for this) doesn’t want me to take anything - not zinc, not Benadryl, not Sudafed, nothing. Oh, except Tylenol. And fluids. And rest. As I expected. It’s just a mild cold, but it’s the final straw in how crappy I feel. I spent the entire day yesterday lying on the couch, drinking liquids and napping, but I have to go to work today, since I’ll be out for a week after this.

Nurse Bruiser was incredibly perky and positive when she heard I was triggering. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked. I had to think about it for a minute - probably a minute too long. I guess I’m excited to be moving forward with this whole process, but I’m scared of the physical aspects of retrieval, and scared that my eggs are crap, and scared that J’s sperm will have a bad day, and just scared all around. I’ve heard that excitement and fear are two aspects of the same emotion, and if that’s true then sure, I’m excited.

Strap me in - the next phase of the roller coaster is beginning. Please keep all hands, arms, and syringes inside the vehicle at all times.

Stims Day 8: On the rise

My E2 has finally gotten with the program - it was up to 66 yesterday, and 159 today. I still have no idea what it’s supposed to be, but I know it’s supposed to be going up steadily - and it is - so I’ll just be happy with that for now. And this all almost makes up for the fact that I’ve suddenly become a hard stick - it took a couple of tries, a juice break, a heat pack, and a more skillful nurse to get blood today. Apparently I only have one vein in each arm - the right was bruised from a bad stick a couple of days ago, and the left was feeling okay but apparently felt the need to stage a revolt (and then I got dizzy and nauseated like I used to when I got blood drawn before it all became so commonplace).

I say all of this like it’s my body’s fault, but really I feel entirely comfortable blaming Nurse Bruiser, who gave me that first bruise a couple of days ago, and then tried and couldn’t get blood today. I have now reached the point in this process where I will demand that only certain nurses be allowed near me with needles - Nurse Bruiser is very nice, and she did a fine job of writing down Dr. StillHasNoNickname’s notes on my follicles (he’s still only measuring one on each side - at about 10mm each - though there are others that are a bit smaller that he’s not measuring), but she’s absolutely not going to do my bloodwork again. Nurse Fantastico, who finally succeeded (with little trouble, once I had some juice and felt better, and after she warmed me up because I was so cold my veins were constricted), can poke me whenever she wants - I’ll wait for her to be available, no matter how long it takes. And while I’m introducing (and naming) all the nurses, there’s also Nurse Coordinator (well, that’s what she is!) - she’s organized, and skilled, and businesslike - who is probably the only other I’d allow to stick me at this point, and Nurse Sweetie, who is very good at phone contact, and calling my meds in to the pharmacy, and answering questions. As long as they each get to do the thing they’re best at, it will all work out.

Did I mention that there’s something living in our attic crawl space? I know I wanted to hear the pitter patter of little feet, but this is not what I had in mind.

Stims Day 6: Low and slow

Six days of stims and my E2 finally broke 20 - now it’s a whopping 21. Talk about slow. Geez.

I seem to lack the focus for narrative, but here are the things I’m thinking about anyway:

Thing 1: My E2. Yeah, it’s low. But we’re hoping that now that they’ve ramped up my dosage I’ll start moving along. It does make my anticipated cycle calendar a lovely relic. No idea what the schedule will be at this point. This really is the most draining aspect - I anticipated mood swings and physical discomfort, but the emotional roller coaster of stims is something else entirely. And not particularly pleasant at this point (though better today than yesterday).

Thing 2: After waiting forever for instruction callbacks yesterday (I called 4 times, but the lab was slow, and then they had the numbers but didn’t have instructions, and then the doctor was on the phone so they still didn’t have instructions) I checked my email and found, of course, a birth announcement. I actually suspect there’s a story here, since the birthdate was mid-October, and the announcement just came yesterday? I think mid-October was maybe a month early. Who knows? All I can think about this right now is how it’s not fair that the lesbians were able to have a baby before me. (Disclaimer: As I’ve said before, I don’t have any problem with gays and lesbians and single people and whomever else having kids, but it’s really a kind of slap in the face that the lesbians who between them have two uteri but no penis managed to conceive more easily than us.)

Thing 3: I was reading over some of my past blog entries (somehow #100 came and went and I totally missed it) and I think I used to have more to say, and say it better. I’m just not feeling so satisfied with my ability to express myself.

Thing 4: I have been working on these papers forever, and they’re still not done, and I’m not getting a lot done because I’m trying to keep my stress down and the papers are stressful. Though really, it’s the not-being-done that’s stressful. But I just read that article on infertility and stress in Psychology Today and it reminded me that it’s really okay for me to try to keep my stress level down - at least the parts I can somewhat control - while we’re doing this cycle. But I don’t know how I’m ever going to finish my papers at this rate.

Thing 5: I am trying to come up with a nickname for my RE. I have a contender, but I have to see if it still resonates next time I see him, or if it was something specific to today’s visit. I’m sure you’re all anxiously waiting for this news, right?

Stims Day 3: At a snail’s pace

Today’s E2 was still under 20, so I’m off to a very slow start. They’re upping my Follistim to 75 and dropping the Lupron to a more normal 5 units. As long as the E2 goes up tomorrow, I think it’ll be fine - just slow. (Better slow than too fast, though.)

I’m going up to my grandma’s house tomorrow - my mom will be there and I thought it would be nice to just hang out. J is working a bunch this week (not the best timing, but he should be free next week between retrieval and transfer, which is what I was really worried about) and the other day I thought, “I want my mommy.” I suspect this won’t be as supportive as I’d hoped in that moment, but if nothing else I’ll get to show off my injection skills to my mother, who I think can’t quite believe that I’m actually doing this. Me, the one with the major needle phobia. So I’m strangely looking forward to doing an injection as if there’s nothing to it. I might even bring the mixing stuff for the Menopur, even though I won’t need it, so I can show her what that’s like (because the FolliPen, while a cool contraption, isn’t so iconic an image as a good ol’fashioned needle and syringe - if that makes any sense).

I read an academic article about IVF once that pointed out that while we use the phrase “IVF” to refer to the whole process, the actual aspect of in-vitro fertilization is just a tiny portion of the larger experience, and one of the few parts that doesn’t involve the woman’s body. The rest of the process - the blood draws and ultrasounds and injections - make up a large portion of the experience of going through an “IVF” cycle, but are largely invisible or unacknowledged in the medical perspective. I think my desire to show-off my injection skills is part of an attempt to get some recognition for this part of the process. I think people who don’t know anything about IVF end up focusing on the sexy medical aspects - the frankensteinian medicine, cutting edge technology involved in using donor eggs or gestational surrogacy - and largely ignoring the personal experience of the process. Like me, stabbing myself in the gut with three needles a day, for example.

Stims Day 1: Let’s get this party started - updated

Not that I feel like partying, mind you.

Baseline yesterday was fine. They were training a new nurse (she was just observing) so there was a bit of extra explanation from the doctor - why is it called E2 (the experienced nurse said, “Because it’s shorter than estradiol” which was cute) and the like. The injection training was also useful - I was worried that it would just be a description, but they had a fake cartridge for the pen, and they showed me how to use the Q-caps that came with the Menopur (only after I asked - initially, she showed me how to do the mixing with the needle). So that was good. And those Q-caps are very cool. Initially I scoffed - I’m not afraid of the mixing needle or anything - but they’re really nice to use. (See update below!)

Here’s the protocol: I’m staying on 10 units of Lupron (higher than their normal protocol) and adding 75iu (one vial) of Menopur and 50u (whatever those units are) of Follistim. I asked for an explanation of the Gatorade thing, and whether I should just stock up now (it’s on sale this week, y’know?) and Dr. HasNoNicknameButWillSoon chuckled at me like I was some cute paranoid freak and told me they’re trying very hard to keep me from needing it. Which is all well and good but given how crappy my response ever was to oral meds, and given that I have no history with injectables, I’m scared they’re going to end up being too cautious.

In any case, the shots today were okay. The Menopur hurt a bit going in - I think it’s just the volume of fluid. The Follistim really did sting as I’d heard about but forgotten. But I didn’t ice for the Folli so maybe that will help for next time. Getting the pen all set up was a bit daunting, but once it was all assembled I can see how it’ll be much easier to use.

Nothing much else to report. Though maybe tomorrow I’ll share what Dr. Groovy had to say about my current state of mind.

Updated to add: Here’s a link to instructions on using the Q-cap, since I didn’t seem them in the package with the Menopur. Basically, the device screws on to the syringe - so you screw off the big mixing needle that probably came attached to the syringe (at least mine did) and screw on the Q-cap. It has a sort of poky-needle thing in a kind of collar. You push it down over whichever vial you’re working with, and it pokes through like a needle and the collar sort of clicks over the rim of the vial to hold it on. It looks weird the first time, but I think I like it - not for any fear of the mixing needles, but it’s easier to hold. Let me know if you need more guidance (and the link above lets you download instructions with pictures, too.)

Anticipation and anxiety

Tomorrow morning is our baseline scan (Again. I had what I thought was a baseline before starting the BCPs, but I guess this one checks that I’m actually suppressed now?) and injection training (hopefully) and then I’ll probably be starting stims on Thursday. At least according to the original cycle calendar, though I’m trying not to get very attached to it, because it could change and all that.

I tried to recreate the clinic’s calendar in a better format, so I could have a space to write the dosage for each day and check off when I’ve taken various meds, but I couldn’t make it work. Which is unfortunate, since this morning I almost left the house without doing my Lupron injection, and at bedtime I always have to double check that I’ve taken my evening meds. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when I add in all the injectables.

I opened back up my big box of needles and potions, and maybe I’m weird, but I’m not sure I like the Follistim pen. Sure, it comes in a snazzy case and all, but it’s hard to pull it out of those elastic straps, and I don’t really understand the needle-in-a-cup thing, or the spinning dosage thing, and I’m sure I’ll be convinced with how easy it is later on but right now it seems far more complicated than just mixing the powder with the water the old fashioned way.

Apparently, over the past couple of years I’ve developed a fear of the unknown. Sometimes I get really anxious about finding my way someplace I’ve never been, or calling someone I’ve never met, or knowing how to inject the medication properly. (Okay, maybe that last one would happen regardless, but otherwise I didn’t used to be so fearful.) You can imagine how great IVF is in this regard - one big bundle of unknowns. Most of the time I cope pretty well - I think watching this process through so many other blogs makes it feel much less unknown. But when I confront something and don’t already know what to expect, I get anxious.

Also, while I really like that my clinic knows that I’m a control freak (Hi Heathers!) and is willing to give me the numbers instead of just telling me that things are “fine” - I’m worried that they’re being a bit too lax sometimes. It’s fine right now, because I take good notes and I follow up on things that don’t match up (the prednisone I’m on, for example, didn’t make it onto my cycle calendar until I asked when I was supposed to start taking it - maybe they would have noticed in time, but maybe not), but what if I slip one day and forget to follow up on something that they really should be taking care of? At some point I’ll have to let go and trust that they know what they’re doing, but that’s so hard to do.

Basically I’m feeling overwhelmed. And a little bit dazed. And my heart is racing. And I think all this general anxiety has rendered me unable to write anything more substantial than this mindstream of a post. Hopefully I’ll have something more coherent (or even, dare I hope it, prosaic) soon.*

* Maybe I’ll even be able to get some of my actual academic writing done, since I’m supposed to be finishing a draft of one of my papers this week. Ha!

I really missed you guys too...

...only this had nothing to do with Disneyland.

I went to a screening of a film about menstruation. It was interesting, I guess. I’ll hold off on critical analysis for a moment, but I’ll start with an observation - people in the “real world” are not used to talking about the nitty gritty of their bodily functions in public. The number of times I had to restrain myself from saying things like “I need to run to the bathroom and see if I’m still spotting” was boggling. (Actually, I was restraining myself from having any sort of deep conversation - I was trying to be in small-talk mode. Didn’t completely work, though I only shared my deeper analysis with a tiny group of people, two of whom I don’t even know that well...)

The film is, as I said, about menstruation. Specifically, it centers loosely around the question of menstrual suppression - using Depo Provera or continuious BCPs to reduce the number of bleeds. My first bafflement of the evening was the realization that lots and lots of women don’t understand how their bodies work. Women don’t realize that the period they’re having when they’re on “regular” BCPs isn’t really a period at all, but just withdrawal bleeding. They don’t investigate the future health ramifications of Depo. Many of them wish they could just stop getting their period all together.*

What I found most disturbing was the absense of attention to the concept of fertility. I don’t just mean that they failed to mention the potential after-effects of something like Depo on a woman’s fertility, but that the notion that menstruation is tied to reproductive functioning seemed like it was missing from the film. How do you talk about menstruation without acknowledging its link to fertility and reproduction? Many (most?) women use BCPs and other forms of monthly or longer menstrual control/suppression not to rid their bodies of menstruation, but as contraception.

Another angle on the same point: Getting a period means (in most cases... there are exceptions... standard disclaimers apply... blah, blah, blah) that you’re not pregnant. If you’re 17, that period after you missed a pill is probably a big relief. If you’re 27 (or whatever) and TTC, that period is like a punch in the gut. Both mean you’re not pregnant, but not being pregnant signifies different things to different people.

Obviously, I don’t expect the filmmaker to have incorporated every aspect of menstruation in the film. That just wouldn’t be feasible. But I do think that some general reference to the notion that periods are inherently linked to women’s reproductive functioning might have been in order. I’m just saying.

Now I need to run to the bathroom and see if my period is really starting so we can get this show on the road.

* I certainly understand that there are circumstances (fibriods, endo, and the like) that would warrant menstrual suppression. But lots of women just don’t want the bother, which seems very different to me. Not inherently bad (though I fought so hard to get my body to have periods that it’s a bit foreign) but very different.

Didja miss me?

Okay, so I wasn’t gone that long. But it was fun and relaxing and just what we needed. Plus, I’m back and I still have a bit of weekend left...

Disneyland was great. We went for the full day on Friday, arriving just after opening and staying until just before closing. (The picture is actually from our brief side-trip over to California Adventure. Yep, that's us - or at least, our backsides!) We rode Space Mountain twice (it would have been more, but the ride was closed for a while). The second time we sat in the front and it was fantastic and fun and exhilarating and I still hope I can’t do it again for a while. But, you know, it was good. We also really enjoyed the fireworks show - they’re running a special show for the park’s 50th Anniversary, and it incorporates bits (sound and otherwise) from some of the attractions. Hard to explain, though it included fireworks being volleyed back and forth like cannons in Pirates of the Carribean (which seems longer every time I ride it, and not necessarily in a good way - though that could also be attributed to the gaggle of teenagers on our boat) and lasers and a big explosion from Star Tours and the castle lit as if it was part of the old Main Street Electrical Parade... like I said, it’s really hard to explain, but it was really fun. And we did lots of the smaller rides, too (including the Teacups - that's us trying to make the cup spin before the ride even started!)The whole trip was great, actually. We found a good deal on a nice hotel a bit removed from the Disney chaos, and we had a comfy bed and it was clean and we ordered room service and it was just really nice. (And I managed to transport the Lupron and the needles and all that smoothly and without too much fuss, and I took the last of my BCPs, so we're really close now...)

Like a kid on Christmas

I got a big box in the mail today full of all the things every kid dreams of - vials and powders and pills and, best of all, lots and lots and lots of needles. Oh it was just a swell package! If you don’t have one, you should run right out and order your own. (And then I promptly boxed back up everything that doesn’t need to be refrigerated, so I can get the joy of opening it again next week when I’ll actually get to play with use it all.)

In other kid-like news, we’re off for a quick getaway to Disneyland to ride all the rides that I will hopefully soon be unable to ride, and to see all the fun 50th anniversary special events and displays and the like. A last hurrah, if you will. (Also a last hurrah before I start stims next week.) We managed to find what’s turned out to be a really nice hotel (I’m using the free wireless internet in the lobby!) and we’re going to order room service and relax. And maybe watch some HBO (since we only have basic cable at home).

I’ll update when we get back...

Like butter

You are all very very wise, and wonderfully reassuring, and I thank you. As predicted, I did freak out when it came to the needle aimed at my skin, and I had to try a couple of times to actually do it. And then, of course, it was fine. J was hovering the whole time, because really, what could he do (besides take over the shot giving, which I didn’t want him to do).

Things I am pondering now:

The cap on the Lupron vial said “Flip off” - what are they trying to tell me?

I need to go to the Container Store to get a nice box for all of my supplies. I thought I had it under control, but I think more shopping is in order.

What am I going to wear today?

Is it wrong to be so focused on this when my father was in the hospital twice this week (he’s fine now, though) and my grandmother was in the ER yesterday? All of my “maybe I need to go up there” plans are laced with logistics and cool bags and calendars and appointments. And, you know, work stuff. Hopefully things will sort themselves out today so I won’t have to figure out the logistics. (And yes, I know people travel while on Lupron all the time - I just didn’t plan on that being ME.)

No really, what am I going to wear today? It’s Halloween, and while I liked the idea of the mad doctor costume in concept, I think I need something a bit less involved, but still identifiable, or else people scratch their heads and say, “uh, what ARE you?” (a question to which there are many answers, but few I’d want to share at work!)

Should I switch to Typepad? I love the idea of categories, but I’m not sure about getting everything moved over there smoothly.

10 Hours and Counting

I am numb. No, seriously, my fingers are so cold they’re numb. But I can’t bring myself to turn on the heat, because that would be admitting that it’s cold, and here in the tropics where I live, we like to think of ourselves as being above the whole notion of seasons. Plus, we haven’t been able to get anyone out to inspect the chimney, so I can’t use the fireplace, which is what I’d rather do instead of turn on the heat anyway.

This is another of the many ways I’ve been trying to distract myself from the fact that (like so many before me, I know) I will be aiming a needle at my belly tomorrow morning and taking the plunge (get it? plunge? ha ha) Unlike many, we skipped from oral meds (Clomid and Femara) straight to the big guns. So, while J has given me a shot of HCG in the upper outer quadrant, I’ve never jabbed myself. Oh sure, I suppose I could have him do this, too. But honestly, it seems like that would make a bigger deal out of it than just doing it myself. Plus I’d still have to see it, which is part of the problem. Plus, our schedules being what they are, I can’t really expect him to be around for all of my shots, which means I’d better figure out how to do them myself at some point, so why not tomorrow?

I’ve been acting very blase about the whole thing - it’s a small needle, so many people have been through this before, it’s no big deal, did I mention how small the needle is? And yet I suspect I’m going to freak the fuck out tomorrow morning when faced with the prospect of actually poking the small needle into my not-so-small belly. Have I mentioned that I’ve had a needle phobia for most of my life? I’ve been tackling it bit by bit with all of the blood draws over the past couple of years, and the acupuncture (it’s a totally different kind of needle, of course, but I still had to deal with the needle phobia to start seeing an acupuncturist), and the HCG, and the tattoo. I can even (usually) watch a shot on TV without turning away like I used to. So I put on a nice little show about how fine I am with all of this. Except when I actually think about how I’m going to be poking myself with a needle. Tomorrow.

And my hands are freezing.

Better late than never

I met J early in my freshman year of college, and fell in love -- with his apartment, his roommates, his grown-up lifestyle. They had a kitchen, after all, and I was living in a dorm. The guys became like my big brothers, at first (though initially I dated J’s roommate!). Midway through the next year, after becoming very good friends, J and I had our first kiss, and the relationship grew from there.

The summer after I graduated from college (and after a year of our living together), I went with J’s family on a trip to Disney World. I pretty much knew I’d be with him at that point, and I half expected him to propose with a Mickey Mouse ring someplace on that trip. (I was picking up on the vibes correctly - he was thinking about it, but didn’t do it!) [It was on this trip that I bought my first piece of contraband - a small, classic Pooh-bear that rattled.]

When it finally happened, the proposal was nothing like I’d pictured. As we were getting ready for bed, we both realized that we’d forgotten to celebrate our anniversary the night before. And then, totally anticlimactically, he proposed. I think we both already knew, so the proposal itself was a bit of a formality. I wasn’t sure it was coming at that point, because we hadn’t really talked about rings. Sure, he knew that I didn’t like yellow gold, and that I liked the idea of the diamond having some company on either side, but otherwise we hadn’t really talked specifics. So, while I wasn’t all that surprised when he asked, I was bowled over that he had a ring. My ring. A beautiful ring.

My engagement ring was originally given to his mother as a pinky ring to mark her graduation (from high school, we think), and was made from stones originally belonging to J’s great-grandmother. So it is full of history. The ring is almost exactly what I would have picked if I’d designed my own ring from scratch, and coupled with the idea that his whole family was supportive of our engagement made it incredibly special.

As it turns out, he’d been carrying the ring around, and had almost asked me at least a half a dozen times, but didn’t think it was the right time or place or moment. I think in the end it was more special that he let go of his plans for the perfect proposal in favor of just taking the leap and moving forward.

On our 2nd anniversary, we went to Disneyland, and he bought me the ring I’d expected in the first place - a Mickey ring.

(My little piece of the 2nd Annual Infertile Bloggirl Engagement Ring Fashion Show...)

Starry starry list

I’ve been following, with interest, the various discussions about pregnant infertile bloggers. I get the whole survivor’s guilt thing. And the not knowing how to talk about it. Heck, I'm not even sure how to talk about my impending IVF. But I also get the desire to follow the story, to maintain the connection. Pregnant infertiles (and infertile moms) are like little rays of hope - reminding me that pregnancy and motherhood are possible, and achievable in many ways, and that’s encouraging and inspiring. It’s also painful, sometimes. And that’s okay, too. I want to know that the stories are there. Most of the time, I want to keep up with the details - the news, the progress, the ups and downs. Sometimes, when I’m not feeling particularly strong, I want to take a break from those stories. But even then, knowing the stories are out there when I’m ready to pick them up again helps me envision a place beyond where I am right now.

You may have noticed that I’ve recently annotated my blogroll. I know this sort of reorganizing is sometimes contentious, but in the interests of self-preservation, it was something I had to do. I didn’t want to break up the blogroll, but on those days when I’m feeling really fragile, I wanted a way to remind myself to tread cautiously. Some days, I’m fragile hearing about pregnancy symptoms. Some days it’s baby stories. I don’t want to stop reading these stories. I feel incredibly invested in their outcomes. But I need to be able to control how and when I catch up. Hence the star system. [I’ve indicated pregnant bloggers with a * (generally waiting until well into the pregnancy to do so, as much for superstitious reasons as anything else). I’ve indicated blogs that are largely about babies with two **. ] It’s rough, and it may change with time (hearing about babies - at least those whose conception was not taken for granted - is sometimes uplifting, actually) but for now it’s my imperfect attempt to buffer the world I’m in from the one I long to join. It’s also my way of putting a warning on blogs so those bloggers don’t need to warn me each time a post contains mention of pregnancy. Because, really, once you’re pregnant it seems reasonable that many of your posts would contain mention of pregnancy.

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Oh, and the pregnant friend whose impending delivery I mentioned in my last post? She delivered a healthy, HUGE (really, majorly huge) baby by c-section a couple of days ago. I was fine, initially. Caught up in the sheer size of the infant. And then I went to look at the pictures, and found a chronicle of the whole pregnancy, and comments from the adoring grandparents (this is the first grandchild on either side) and I lost it. Sitting in my office, sobbing quietly because I didn’t want to upset J, I couldn’t help but think, again, how unfair this all is. I don’t begrudge these friends their joy, at all, but it’s still So. Damn. Hard.

Countdown: 8 days until Lupron.

Random updates

The saline sono and trial transfer went smoothly last week, save my tremendous difficulty with the whole full-bladder thing. I had only vague instructions about what constituted a full bladder, and after Lindy’s experience with a not-full-enough bladder, I was a bit freaked. So I think maybe I overcompensated. And then they were running late (they had a couple of retrievals that morning and had tried to bump my appointment, but I really wanted J to come with me in case it was terrible, and his schedule wasn’t flexible) and then they did the trial transfer (needs a full bladder) and the saline sono (doesn’t need a full bladder) all at once, which I guess made for quicker work overall, but meant I had to try not to pee on the good doctor for even longer as he poked and prodded. So it was not fun, but not due to pain or anything. The other problem was that I felt really exposed (moreso than usual) - the RE had the speculum and the catheter and whatever else up the ol’ vag, and the nurse had the abdominal US, and J was just standing there holding my hand and looking around, and I don’t know why they even bothered to give me the little paper sheet since it wasn’t even in the picture. So that part wasn’t really fun, either. And after the doc and the nurse left, I had a bit of a meltdown (maybe the fluid had to leave my body, and my eyes were the only way?) before I was able to get to the bathroom. Oy. Note to self - next time, the bladder doesn’t need to be quite so full! (Do I have to lie there for the 30 minutes or whatever it is after transfer with the full bladder? Because I could really see the merits of a bedpan at that point. Really.)

J went for another SA last week. Results are still pending (part of the test has to get sent out so it takes longer, and then I couldn’t call AT ALL today, so I’ll try tomorrow) but I managed to eke out a brief report on the “collection room” since it’s the first time he’s done an onsite “collection”. He didn’t say much, but when pressed reported that there was a loveseat (me: “Did you sit on it?” him: “Yes, but I spread out a towel.” me: “Good.”) and a big TV and he made use of the video materials. Which makes sense, since he doesn’t get a lot of that at home. Pictures and stories are easy to store under the bed or browse in a store or on the internet, but movies are a bit of a rarity, and automatically more exotic. I didn’t ask what kind of movie it was, and I think I’ll leave it that way. I was really fascinated this time around, but it’s already a bit creepy to think that this little room will be part of our babymaking adventure, so if I have to think of it at all, I’m going to concentrate on the towel (hey, we use towels to clean up after sex at home, too!) and leave it at that.

Things yet to do in the preliminary stages:

Check on the results of J’s SA. (He’s been on an acupuncture/vitamin/herb regimen that hopefully has helped his morphology. A teeny-tiny voice in my head thinks this will somehow get us out of the ICSI camp, but really, any improvement will be good and increase our chances, even with the ICSI.)

Tell the clinic which pharmacy I want to use. (I think I’m going with the Apothecary Shop in AZ - they had great prices, and the pharmacist was really nice and knew people at my clinic by name, which seemed reassuring.)

Order up the first round of drugs. (Or all of the drugs? I’m not really sure how this works.)

Schedule a massage and mani/pedi for the weekend before I start Lupron. (I’ve been holding on to a gift certificate from the holidays last year because I couldn’t figure out when to go or what to do.)

Add some items to my “comfort box” which currently contains nothing but reading materials. (I’m not sure what else to put in there, but I really like the idea. Any suggestions?)

Get up the nerve to start Lupron on Halloween. (I’ve been instructed on the use of Lupron, and I won’t get any more info about stims/dosages until my suppression check - November 9.)

Brace myself for the birth of our friends’ baby - because it will probably happen the day I start Lupron or something. (Of course, I’m happy for them blah blah blah but within this particular group of friends, we were really supposed to be next. And we’re not. So it sucks just a bit.)

In the meantime, I’ve been working on the story of how we chose our clinic, because I think the RE’s nickname will come from there, and because other than the very (very very) long brain-dump above, I don’t have much cycle-related news. I'll try to be more interesting in the future (I know, I know, the point isn't for me to be interesting, but it seems like that would be nicer in the long run) but for now I guess I just needed to catch up with all of this.

bad blogger. no cookie.

Yes, I’ve been a bad blogger. Thing is, I don’t have much to say.

Baseline appointment was fine. Having blood drawn with a butterfly is worlds better than having it drawn with the regular needle like they do at the regular lab, so that was good. The other RE (who REALLY doesn’t have a nickname yet, since is the first I’ve seen of him) did the scan. Greater than 10 follicles on each side, which he seemed pleased with. My ovaries looked about the same as they always look, so it was funny for that to be a good thing. I did manage to keep him in the room for an extra 5 seconds to ask a question, but then I was back with the nurse, who seems good so far. I think I’ll call her Nurse Good Humor (or, you know, HumoUr for all you folks across the various ponds) - she actually laughed when I made some side comment, which was a nice change of pace. E2 < 20, FSH 6.8, DHEAS 269. (That DHEAS is high, and they’re going to put me on prednisone with the Lupron. What little Googling I’ve done has freaked me out a bit, so I’m holding off trying to hold off on further Googling until I get to ask the RE about it on Monday.)

I got my calendar - going to have the full month of BCPs as originally planned, so I’ll start the Lupron (and the prednisone, I guess) on Halloween. Maybe I’ll dress up as a mad doctor and go around scaring people with needles (though the Lupron needles aren’t so scary - J suggested using a mixing needle left over from the last round of HCG instead). Or maybe I’ll stay home and eat (sugar-free) chocolate.

I go in Monday for a trial transfer and a saline sonogram (aka saline HSG or SHG or... that thing has too many names!) I’m planning to take a bunch of advil in anticipation, and I guess drink a whole bottle of water on the way, but any other tips would, of course, be most welcome. J is going with me, but I hadn’t planned on taking the day off - will I need to? (He might also do his repeat SA then - he’s always done collection at home, but for the actual IVF he’ll probably need to do it onsite, so I suggested that he might use this as a trial run, so to speak. We’ll see.)

I feel like I should have some exciting story to tell, but nothing so far. Just the boring cycle update. But I’m trying to come up with good nicknames for the doctors, and Monday’s appointment will probably generate some stories (though hopefully not like Lindy’s experience) so maybe the next post will be more exciting.

so it begins

Obligatory cycle update: CD1 today. Called the clinic to set up my CD3 stuff (labs and ultrasound, with saline sono and trial transfer next week, I think). I should get my calendar at my appointment on Tuesday and then I’ll know for sure, but it’s looking like ER the week before Thanksgiving, with ET over the holiday weekend. Unless they change my protocol before then, which is quite possible. (Current plan calls for 30 days of BCPs to help prevent hyperstimming, but I was just on the pill for 3 weeks, so maybe the extra 30 days is overkill? Don’t want to be oversuppressed, either. Will talk to RE on Tuesday. Also will try to find nickname for RE very soon.)

I think taking this cycle off (with the help of meds) was a good thing, though I wasn’t sure about it at the time. But this is the first CD1 in almost two years that’s been met not with depression, but with optimism. This is the start of something new. Something we haven’t tried. Something that could work. I’m trying not to be TOO hopeful, but I have to think it could work, or why bother with the tests and the needles and the bloating and the stress? So, I’m hopeful. Still trying to keep it reasonable, though. No conversations about the nursery or baby names or any of that crap - I can’t see that far ahead even on my best days. (Okay, I lied. I sometimes think about that stuff, but I know it’s dangerous. It’s too hard to talk about it. Too hard to admit it. Too hard to keep it from J, so I don’t make him sad too.) Instead we’re talking about trying to make it to Disneyland before I’m a walking pincushion, in case it’s my last chance on the big rides for a while. Because even if it’s not, it will still be fun.

Other Sunday tidbits
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I feel better about the crappy tv show now that I realized it’s just a soap opera, and not even a good one. Makes it easier to stomach the preponderance of surrogates, the risky illegal procedures, and the general angst. Also helps me get over how the show isn’t even trying to tell an accurate story. If it were a drama instead of a soap opera, then some story lines among the central characters would carry over, but otherwise each episode would deal with one or two infertility storylines, and would wrap them up within the episode, as most of the crime shows do with their cases. I’m sure it would still suck if they did it this way, but for different reasons. But I think I’m over it now. Even without the infertility angle, the show is pretty lame and has to be sitting on the cut list right about now. Darn.
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I did a bit more reading about the infertility musical, and I think it might actually be good. Or at least, it has potential. It’s based on actual experiences with infertility (as Jenn and Thalia both pointed out!) and they’ve just put up a song from the show on their website that seems appropriately snarky and poignant (and a bit cheesy, but I’ll take it). So now I sorta want to make a trip to see it. Seriously. Maybe in December.
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I was flipping channels while I made lunch, and determined that Sunday afternoons on TLC seem to be the time for medical freak shows: Face Eating Tumor, 101 Things Removed from the Human Body, and When Surgical Tools Get Left Behind. Good lunchtime viewing, no?
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Apparently, my attention span is such that I can only pull together a post of mostly-unrelated points. Sorry about that. I’m working on getting a draft of one of the papers to my advisor today, so I’m trying to focus my coherent sentences over there. Sorry to leave you with the leftovers of my writing abilities. But I’m hoping you’ll be more understanding about it than my advisor would be if I sent a draft that looked like this. (Though given how interested she is in my fertility process - and yes, she knows a fair amount about what’s going on - she’d probably find this interesting, too.)
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Whoever came to my blog wondering if stealing sperm can get you pregnant - I guess that depends on what you do with it. And why you’d think I might have an answer is beyond me.