Call Me, Dammit

While I am sitting here waiting, waiting, waiting to hear if our donor has started to respond to her hormone cocktails (1 in 20 do not), I can fill you in on our yesterday.

First of all, why didn't any of you tell me the "ultrasound" was not at all the put-the-gel-on-her-belly-and move-a-little-scanner-over it ultrasound that I was thinking of? No! It is just a big ole dildo-looking contraption. Its a good thing my inhibitions have left long ago. I had no idea.

Friendly reminder: this whole trying to get pregnant thing is all new to me.

The ultrasound went fine. My lining is just a wee thinner (7.9) than they would like (8.0). Nothing that an increase in estradiol won't sort out.

During my mock transfer (mapping the course to my heart, well, at least my uterus, with the help of a thin catheter), we learned that my inside is just as curvaceous as my outside. With the help of a small clamp to pull my cervix on down (yowch!), doc had a clear path. Smooth sailing he said.

We are scheduled to return on Tuesday for another ultrasound and to place a small stitch into my cervix so doc can pull it into a preferable position for the transfer. That way, no trauma of a clamp or anything so intrusive on the day of the real deal. I appreciate that.

Give me a minute while I consider that someone is actually going to reposition my insides like a puppeteer with a marionette in order to insert embryos inside of me. Is that not amazing?

All of this, of course, hinges on the phone call that I am waiting to receive. Right about now. Any minute now.

If my donor has not responded to an increase in her meds, odds of calling off this attempt are high. If the clinic sees even an inkling that she has started to spark, we will continue down this path a little longer, only slightly delaying retrieval, transfer, all that good stuff.

My doctor was much more optimistic than we were yesterday. He reminded us that all women are variable and that it was unfair to use pie charts or lab percentiles to try and gauge how a woman would or wouldn't react. Just because our donor didn't have the average response doesn't mean that she won't respond at all. He suggested we wait a little longer before calling the whole thing off. At least until Tuesday.

Roadblock

Nurse just called with an update of sorts.

It seems they are a little concerned about our donor. Her estradiol level is still around 30 where they had hoped it would be somewhere between 100-200. 7 tiny follicles are present now. That's normal. What's not is her low estradiol after about a week on medications. In nurse's words, they are "disappointed she's not doing better."

Well, that makes a few of us.

Not like I know what any of those numbers mean. I just know that I asked if there was any possibility of having to call off this cycle and Nurse said, "A possibility. Yes."

They are increasing our donor's Gonal F injections and bringing her back in on Friday for another ultrasound. Us, we're just gonna hang out and wring our hands. We have an appointment at the clinic tomorrow for my ultrasound and mock transfer. Nurse promised we could spend some quality time talking then.

Hubby hasn't given up hope. I'm feeling a little deflated. This beautiful, giving woman. So cool in so many ways. If she doesn't respond to the treatments and stimulation, will we ever find someone like her again?

Ohmmmm....

I am in serious need of an attitude adjustment.

My eye has almost completely healed; vision is restored. The scab on my shin from my first (and only) encounter with the treadmill has faded. My outside is returning to normal. My inside is what feels rotten. I am trying for some inner peace here (remember: happy home, happy home...) but EVERYONE ELSE IS MAKING IT VERY HARD.

For example, I just got an email saying that we are celebrating a co-worker's birthday during our already interminably long staff meeting today. Instead of saying to myself, "oh. yay. cake." My first response is a grumble and a groan, thinking, I don't have time for this. I have things to do and this means my afternoon will be totally consumed by this frigging meeting.

What the hell is wrong with me? Every email I open this morning generates some sort of snarl or snarky internal comment from me. And it's not just work-related. And it's not just this morning. I think I have been scowling (in between squints) for at least a week now. If I make this ugly face for much longer, will it stay this way?

Ok, if the phenomenon is so widespread, perhaps its not all of humankind that's the problem here. Maybe, just maybe, it's me.

Sweet, sweet hubby finally laid it out for me last night: "You have got to stop thinking about your parents. Just stop it. They are adults, right? They can make their own choices, right? Have you ever, ever in your life made a decision that they thought was foolhardy and/or ill-advised?"

Well, yes. (friends reading this post can just take a moment and chuckle thinking back to some of my many ill-advised moments. I did.)

Did they let you? Did they trust that you would work it out?

Yes.

Would it be so hard for you to grant them the same respect?

Well, no but.....

And here is where I start pointing out all of the errors in their thinking and how they could be making a huge mistake and here is where hubby says,

Do you even realize how condescending you are being right now?

Ouch. No. I guess I hadn't.

So, as of today, I must be nothing but positive and affirming for them. The decision has been made. The house is sold. The movers are arranged. I have said my peace. But now I have a panicked mother filled with second thoughts. There is nothing for them to do but look forward to their new home (wherever that will be) and try to enjoy their old age. Sure it's sad leaving a home you built 40 years ago and some tears are definitely allowed, but they are not the only people in the world that have sold their house. If I am a semi-decent daughter, I will help them come to these conclusions.

So, that brings me to affirmation #1: I WILL not worry about my parents.

And the rest follows in no specific order:

#2: I WILL get pregnant. My donor will be ok. (she came in a little low for her reading yesterday)

#3: I WILL write at least an hour a day, finish our book and that book WILL get published.

#4: I will be positive in my outlook and my thoughts. I will greet each person with a smile.

And in the case of my co-worker, wish her a very, very happy birthday.

Great News!

It's official: I'm an auntie!

Hubby's sister gave birth to a healthy little girl just about an hour ago. She is 3 weeks early but initial reports say all is well. Yay!

While she hasn't shared many details with us, I know her journey towards this moment hasn't been easy either. Her medical history is just about as thick as mine and includes things like rods in her back which couldn't have made a natural delivery sans epidural too fun. But: mom is well. Baby is well. And we are taking some much relieved grandparents out to lunch today.

Hopefully their vision will be blurred by tears of joy and they won't have to look at the mess that is me. Hubby took me to the emergency room around 4 am Wednesday night because I felt like someone was slicing my left eyeball open. Yeah, I know. Graphic. Sorry.

Diagnosis: a corneal abrasion most likely caused by something getting caught underneath my contact lens. Since I have been spending the last few weeks digging through dusty bins and cleaning out my parents' shed and basement, that explanation made sense to me. The ER sent me home with a tube of some goopy goo to stick in my eye every 3-4 hours and a little bottle of Vicodin to ease the pain.

Hubby tells me I am a sight for sore eyes. Or a sight of sore eyes. One of the two.

Really? Are You Sure???

Read this today as I was digging into the french vanilla ice cream I made a few days ago:

Full-fat dairy foods like ice cream may help you get pregnant, a study from the Harvard School of Public Health in Boston finds. A fat-soluble compound in dairy may up your odds of conceiving.

-Self Magazine, July 2007

Well, hell. Who am I to argue with Harvard?

.....

I couldn't find anything on the HSPH website that directly linked to the study but I did find this BBC article which also found the report dubious. You can read the study here, but its not free.

Still, my ice cream was delicious.

Time

Sorry, sorry for the delay. Here's a look at our busy July:

• Thursday, July 12th - ultrasound and bloodwork (to make sure my womb is a happy home), mock transfer (practice run)
• Friday and Saturday, July 13th and 14th - round two of my parents' moving sale
• Thursday, July 19th (approx) - egg retrieval from donor, sperm retrieval from hubby
• Sunday, July 22nd (approx) - one of our best pal B's birthday and embryo transfer
• Monday, July 23rd - chilling out at home; Mandatory 24 hrs. bed rest. yes!
• Wednesday and Thursday, July 25th and 26th - mega meetings at work; practice pretending a potentially life-changing event hasn't just occurred.
• Friday, July 27th - Tuesday, July 31st - finishing touches on my parents' move and closure on their house. Next steps...finding them a place to be.

So, that's the news.

Last night we were out with some friends, one of whom knows the deal. Once we were alone, she couldn't stop talking about how excited she was for us and how she couldn't stop thinking about us and the future. It was really lovely and affirming. We have spent the past week so stressed about changes in my parents' lives, we really haven't had time to be excited about our own. Our focus has been timing and when/if to tell, logistics, pros and cons of parents in another state. (Pros: they're not here. Cons: they're not here.) It was nice to just sit back and dream about some what ifs with people we love.

Say What?

In one part of my life (the one that pays the bills) my days are filled with acronyms.

I work in the field of mental retardation (some prefer to say intellectual or developmental disabilities) and more recently, autism. In my notes and scribbles, these words usually shrink to MR/DD and ASD.

Add to that ICF/MR, ISP, IPP, SIS+, CH, SD, SC, 4300s, 6500s, CMS, HHS, 2380s, DPW, ODP.... the list of nonsensical letter combined to somehow make sense to somebody is unending.

Say what?

That's what self-advocates (people with disabilities who represent themselves and their community at policy workgroups and committees) have started to say. "You're not speaking my language." They say. "You are creating a dialect that purposefully excludes me and that's not fair."

"Nothing about me without me." They demand.

That's fair. And to be honest, I don't think my brain can retain any more anyway.

That is why I sometimes have trouble reading other blogs, particularly those surrounding issues of infertility and parenthood. I don't know the language. I don't know the code. I think it took me a few days to figure out what IVF meant. Oh yeah. Duh. I get it now.

I'm a newbie to all of this. I have never NOT known that I am infertile. It was stated matter-of-factly before my boobs even finished growing. Sure, I had moments of hope and delusions that maybe if i just stop taking my pills, my period would magically arrive and my body will have healed itself back to normalcy, but for the most part, this whole possibility of pregnancy is a very, very new thing to me.

I am fairly certain that my cycle will be in sync with a lot of other cool female bloggers out there. But I haven't responded to some queries, because I'm not sure. Coincidentally, my cycle also corresponds with yet another life changing event - my parents selling their house and moving to another state. It would be exciting and happy if it weren't for financial reasons. We can talk about that saga later.

I'll be posting my schedule later today.