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.

Sigh.

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?

Sure.

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.

Already?!?!

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.

Lemme Tell You What's Going On

Because I just found out.

Sorry for the delay. Nurse is on vacation (fair enough) so there's been a little phone tag between me and the clinic. I am connected with a new cool nurse for the interim and she's done her best to get me up to date on findings and next steps.

Biopsy came back clean = yay

BUT my endometrium wasn't "in phase," meaning, it should have appeared to be in the 23-25th day of my cycle. It was lounging around 18th or 19th. Slacker.

So, we are gearing up for BRAND SPANKIN' NEW FET CYCLE starting with lupron injections on the 23rd. We've got a NEW and IMPROVED protocol which consists of double doses of PIO and oh I can't bear the anticipation progesterone suppositories.

Eww.

None of this is surprising. I was kind of guessing that was where it was all headed - towards the ickiness that some of you have described oh so graphically (which, frankly, I appreciate). But hey, the good news is, nothing was found that feels insurmountable. We are back on the baby-making train again. We are starting something new, doing things a little different. And I have been working like a MF to get my Qi (chi) and my mind right and ready for babyness.

Now if only my acupuncturist would call me back....

Am I a Weenie?

If the comments on the NY Times article starring the beautiful and brave Pamela Jeanne make me cry?

Because they do.

Part of me is compelled to speak. To add my voice to the din. The rest of me wants nothing to do with the conversation. Wants nothing to do with this "lifestyle choice" called infertility and the drama and the angst and the anger it creates. Not to mention hostility. Since when was wanting to have a child an offensive and egregious act of selfishness? Since when was adoption this simple, cheap and only morally correct way to build a family? And more importantly, why is medical intervention absolutely applauded in every other aspect of our bodies and our lives.

Except this one?

Look.

I am just trying to make a baby without no drama.

Well, why don't you just adopt?
-I am an adoptee and I don't want to adopt. I just don't want to.

Well, why did you wait so long to try to have a child?
-I didn't wait. I waited until medical technology caught up with and was able to deal with the fact that my ovaries and eggs were destroyed by medical technology 20 years ago. So, unless you wanted me to try to pop some kiddies out at age 12, (which would have brought out a whole different set of condemnations) waiting ain't the issue.

How can you mourn/be sad/bitch about something you never had?
-How can one ask such a ridiculous question? We ALL mourn things that we don't or can't "have." And define "never had." Ask when life begins and you will receive very, very different answers from different individuals. To judge when and how someone should mourn is almost as offensive as judging their desire to be a parent and the path they choose to take.

We could all add to this list. It goes on and on and on. And you know what? For every query or accusation that is thrown my way or in the direction of another woman wanting to conceive, we have answers. A response.

I wish someone would grant us the same courtesy.

Jimmy Ain't Here

No Jimmy Hoffa. No E.T.s snarfing reese's pieces yearning to go home. Here's what the little camera saw:

• 1 pesky polyp found. Removed. Out! Damned polyp.
• A little fibroid in an upper right corner - nothing worth removing says doc.
• All else looks good!

We will no longer insert a stitch for future transfers. Doc did another mock transfer (why not? while you're down there....) and saw no need to irritate my cervix next time since the catheter went in smooth as silk without it. The sedation was wonderful. I nearly kissed the anesthesiologist when I saw him walk in. He asked me if my palms were always that sweaty. I said only in anticipation of seeing you, buddy.

It will take 7-10 days for the biopsy results to come back. But Doc seemed very pleased with all she found and did not find. Even hubby noticed it.

Her optimism is contagious.

Tonight, hubby is tired (it was a long drive and a long day for my patient and waiting partner). I am a little crampy, but happy.

And hopeful? I think we are both feeling hopeful for the first time in a while.

Leaving Right Now

For my coochie photo shoot.

And can I just say, that I love you guys. Really, really love you.

I was chained to my computer yesterday, trying to get ready for a few days off work (I have like, a million sick days, why not take them, right?) and I was totally amazed by the number of texts, emails, and my gosh, phone calls that I received from friends and co-workers just saying they were thinking of me this week and just wishing me well.

Well shit. At first, I was like, oh my gosh - how does everybody know?

And then I remembered. Like by birthday, I have spent the last month talking about it.

Oh. Right. Sorry about that. I'm guessing you are pretty tired of the subject by now, hey?

At any rate, we're heading out. It takes about 2 hours to get to our RE so I'll have a nice long drive to dwell on things. With the rest of the week free from work obligations, I am hoping to catch up on NaComLeavMo and blog like a woman possessed. That might happen. It might not.

At any rate, thank you so much for your well wishes. I know so many of you have already been through these procedures. And I so appreciated your words of advice and your shared experience.

Did I mention I love you guys?

Evening Funnies

"So, are you ready to play Sid and Nancy?"

"???????"

"I am shooting you up tonight, right?"

Hardy har. Thanks hubby. Meanwhile, I am perplexed with this question: How am I supposed to be a good earthy crunchy when I need to purchase an entire package of saran wrap for the sheer purpose of wrapping the corner of my ass with it? Hmm?? Oh sure, some of you hearty ladies will tell me I can forgo the emla cream (and its requisite wrap) and go bareback for my PIO shots...

That's not gonna happen.