Monday, July 28, 2008

I've Been "Retired."

Not me, but two of the blogs that I write for a certain online media company. D*mn.

I'm telling you because one of them was Fertility Notes, a little project that I was pretty proud of. And while I didn't have the highest number of readers on the channel, my readers were the best. I really don't think that (with a few exceptions) the other blogs had the kind of personal and, sorry advertisers, sometimes painful points of view FN had. We laughed, we cried. We shared free stuff.

But apparently, our wombs and what's (not) in them don't translate to big online ad money.

Which is a little shocking to me. I thought us infertiles were cash cows.

Part of me is a little relieved. While I turn here to cleanse my soul. To rant, to rave, to find you, FN was feeling more and more like a job, and that's really not what I had wanted. Not having that added responsibility gives me a lot more time and mental energy to dedicate to some other things abrewin' right now....

There are still a few more days of limping along. August 11th will be the official last day.

After that, I'm sorry, I think I'm going to have to bug you all here with stuff I would usually post over there (along with the usually b*tching and moaning, of course). I've got it in my system.

Maybe I'll add a special page or something. Can you do that in Blogger?

My Girl Wants To Ea-at All The Time....

I hope I've drilled the Eddie Murphy/Rick James song into your consciousness. I shouldn't be the only one to suffer with that stuck in my head.

Mean. I know. Sorry.

But honestly, I am eating like a fiend. Girl, I am hungry! Every time I turn around I am walking to the kitchen to see what else I can stuff in my face.

Despite this, I've dropped several pounds since pre-transfer. You could make a mention the high calorie count of high quality beer and suggest that I am enjoying some weight loss due to my weeks of teatotalling.

Or you could just keep that to yourself.

Let's be serious for a minute. Could this be a good sign? I hate speculating, but you really can't help it, can you? There will be no peeing. We went through that before. We won't be doing it again. So, we'll be good eager little wanna be parents and wait for the beta. But don't worry, we'll still over-analyze every feeling and non-feeling for signs of meaning. Relevance. Significance.


In the meantime, I am going to see if I have any tomatoes left. I needs me a mid-afternoon snack.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Four Days Post Transfer - Feeling Groovy

Thanks so much for your comments and good vibes. I swear I can feel them and they feel great.

Tuesday's transfer went smoothly. We were snarled up in traffic and made it to the clinic a few minutes late, only to find that they were running about 1/2 hour late. Plenty of time for my bladder to fill.

We shared the tiny, tiny waiting room with another couple who were much more somber than our giddy selves. When the nurse came out to let us know they were running late and then went to the woman, sat next to her and softly put her hand on her shoulder to say, "I am really sorry we are seeing you today," my suspicions were confirmed.

I found myself in such a strange place. Trying to stay positive and focused on the potential future for us, but at the same time feeling my heart get heavier and heavier for this woman, who was obviously going to have to terminate her pregnancy. Of course, it's not a long distance from that to thinking about how I would feel in such a situation, how I would act. Then I would start to inwardly mourn, thus pushing out all positivity and light that I had been trying to collect within me all morning.

But how could I sit there and not recognize a fellow sister in distress?

I decided that what I would do is close my eyes and practice some deep breathing and some compassionate meditation. It was the only thing I could think to do that might balance the emotions I was feeling.

Soon enough, we were retrieved and taken back to the room we've been in twice before. I was feeling apprehensive since the day before, when the nurse phoned with our embryo report (5 thawed, 4 survived), he casually mentioned they might decide to put in more than 2. This only came out after I asked why they had thawed so many. That in itself had bothered me knowing we have so few left and should we need more...

Sure enough, our doctor arrived and showed us the 3 embryos she wanted to use for the transfer. Two gorgeous 12- and 14-celled beauties and one little 7-celled guy. I think we caught her off guard when hubby and I both said, "um, sorry. we don't want that."


Hubby and I have discussed this time and time again and, for us, we never felt comfortable transferring more than two embryos at a time. I never want to be put into a position hoping that one or two make it and....More important, I don't ever want to hear the words "selective reduction" uttered around me, let alone given to me as a decision to make. Not if I can help it.

Understood three embryos do not necessarily equal one baby let alone three. Yeah, I got that. But our choice, since we had one here, was to put all of our thoughts and love towards two little ones growing inside me. Little #7 is hopefully still growing towards blastocyst stage where he will be frozen and hopefully ready for the future. It just didn't feel right to us having that large a crowd in my uterus.

So, I spent a little bit of the first day feeling bad about leaving one behind. Like I had abandoned him. I'm still not sure we made the right decision, but it felt like the right decision for us.

Once she understood where we were coming from, our doc was completely supportive of us and continued on with an incident-free, stitch-free, polyp-free transfer, supported this time by double doses of progesterone just for good measure.

It's day four post-transfer. My feet are up as often as they can be. Stairs are being avoided. Nothing more than 10 lbs. is being lifted.

Day four post transfer and we are feeling groovy.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Can Someone Please Fast Forward This Day

...but also take care of my work and that article I'm supposed to write and the grocery shopping I wanted to do and the trash that needs taking out and those calls I need to make...

Because I would really like it to be tomorrow.

24 hours and counting to FET. Third time's a charm, right?

Friday, July 18, 2008

A Change of Fortune

8.7 mm. Holla!

Since we last talked, I received a reassuring call from my Nurse, who again asserted that my uterus was lovely (blush, blush) and instructions to start taking 2 mg of my estrace vaginally. Yeah, just shove them up there. Being a good IF patient, I do anything my Nurse tells me. Stand on my head - sure. Turn around 3 times counterclockwise after drinking water - no problem. Stick pills up my cooch - why not.

So I did. The pill part, not the rest. And lo and behold, 4 days later (and a bit of bloating and cramping) my beautiful lining is now beautifully thick at 8.7 mm.


Nurse pulled me into a consultation room and we started mapping out the next few days right away. Progesterone begins tomorrow. Transfer is scheduled for Tuesday. Tuesday!!

Bonus: not only did I make the 10 am train, I had time to pick up some chocolate raspberry decaf and a chocolate muffin (don't tell hubby about that last one) for the ride home. AND made a few quick business calls (woo woo look at the multi-tasker....) that could result in some nice income for my employer.

Bonus Bonus: Since the FET is delayed, I actually can go out tonight to see my favorite local band with some of my favorite people without fear of smokiness and dancing affecting little ones newly placed inside. A last hurrah. Hurrah!

Monday, July 14, 2008

I Think I'm Done Crying

Alright, girl. Public place. Keep your shit together. I know you've spent time bawling at this train station before but that was ages ago and FYI, you didn't just break up with your boyfriend. This time's a little different and no, it's not the end of the world. Just completely baffling...

This is the pep talk I've been giving myself for the last half hour or so. Sitting here at the station since an amazingly packed waiting room and slower than usual lab at the clinic has caused me to miss the 9 am, the 10 am, the 11 am trains back home.

Actually, I can probably place the blame squarely on my crying fit between the clinic and here, which probably amounted to the 5 minutes that would have put me on that 11 o'clock departure.


What's my deal? Here's the deal. After weeks of acupuncture, positive energy, yoga, abstinence from all things caffienated or alcoholic, hell, even a vacation, my lining measured in this morning at a whopping 6. A 6! What the fuck?

Sorry. Sorry. Apologize for the potty mouth. But really. What the fuck?

This is the lowest yet. I'm too bothered to link back to all of my previous posts but they go something like this: first cycle 7.8; first FET 10.1; recent mock cycle 7.1. And now this.

Please note that the mock cycle saw no acupuncture, nor good thoughts, nor abstinence from me. And yet that somehow yielded better results than today.

Text from hubby: Hey, that just means we get a few more days of estrogen and super pretty you, as if that is even possible.

Ok, that made me feel a little better. Until I met with the financial advisor to show her a recent statement from my insurance which said I owed something around the tune of 5 grand to the hospital for the hysteroscopy, biopsy, mock transfer and the anesthesia I so adamantly demanded to go with those procedures.

She gave me some phone numbers. There are still a few options. But here's what threw me: after previously assuring me that they would code creatively and try to get it through my insurance (despite the fact that I have no coverage for infertility), today she says, frankly, I'm surprised that they covered anything. Fertility is fertility no matter how you code it. I tried to tell the doctor...


Really. This is a great frank and open conversation to be having now, miss advisor. Since if I were sitting here with the full $10,000+ bill after your assurances otherwise, it would be a very different, much louder discussion.

She then goes on to assure me that this time will work, she's sure it will. And then gets all sympathetic and kind. Christ, I must be looking bad. On my way out, she mentions what a long and drawn out process this has been for us and that I should be keeping a journal.

At least there's no need to worry about that.

Next text from hubby: Hey, the last time your lining was 10 and that didn't work. Maybe this time it will. Why not try something different, right?


Waiting now to get a call about the lab results to see what they say. Not expecting anything terrible but I wasn't expecting a "6" either. I am guessing I will be returning to this spot either Friday or Monday for another ultrasound.

Hey, I am really sorry for the frustration emitting from this post. You know I usually don't spend too much time dwelling on the negative here. But this morning has simply thrown me. And I have time on my hands. And my computer. Think of it this way, writing this has probably saved you from hearing my rant against Oprah, who seemed to be going for a marathon of fertility-themed shows last week. God I hate Oprah.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


For some reason, I had in my mind that I had the entire month of July to get ready for the next FET. A full month to lose weight, get all yoga-fied and fit, fall into an acupuncture routine, visualize a big belly, you know, get ready.

It seems my calendar skills are off. Way off.

Got a call from our New Nurse yesterday afternoon (sigh, we finally had to say goodbye to Nurse, whose skills are needed for the "fresh" egg donor recipients that seem to be flooding the RE) to tell us that all systems were go and that we were ready to begin the routine - have some estrogen, have a little more estrogen, ok, now double that, now come over so we can wand your woo woo and see if your lining is responding. If so, pull out the big guns and begin your new and improved double dosage of progesterone, complete with, drumroll please, suppositories!

Ok, I'm making fun, but we really are excited about this cycle. Only, it's going much faster than I anticipated.

What?!?! Is that a woman trying to conceive who is actually complaining about something going too fast? Will the irony cops please respond? (and while you're at it, call in the italics police, this lady's going a little crazy...)

Luckily, I meet with my acupuncturist this afternoon. I am hoping we can ramp up our appointments to coincide with the shortened time frame. I have a whole week of vacation to look forward to next week, which seems fortuitous given that we are now looking at a transfer as early as the 18th?!?!?

My gosh. That calls for some beach time.

I originally scheduled the vacation to help prepare for this other big thing in my life that I'm trying to accomplish. (I'd link to something here if I weren't paranoid). Let's just say it involves a series of exams, government employment and the ability and desire to travel. A lot.

And yes, I do think that can happen with a maybe baby.

Plenty of time to talk about all of this later. Right now, I have some meditation to do.