H*ll, that's not so bad.

PrideFest took over our city this weekend. We drove past the riverfront celebration on the way to my parents house. It was rocking! Of course, there were the predictable protesters perched across the street, but not nearly as many as years past. One particularly pinched and angry looking woman held a sign with an arrow towards the laughing and amiable rainbow-swathed crowd. It said:

This Way to Hell.

Well, hell, hell looked pretty fun. And if hell has a beer tent and live music, I don't feel so bad about skipping out on church for the past, oh twenty years.

Hey, but what about...

My friend sent me this article the other day on long-term childhood cancer survivors. Not bad, but other than a fleeting mention on page 2, it is missing one critical piece. The "probably sterile" one on page 10.

I'm not angry. I'm not bitter. I am just hopeful that as the circle of survivors grows and becomes a powerful demographic and social voice, those of us with the fortune to survive and the misfortune to do so before freezing eggs was even a possibility will be more than a footnote or one sentence in an eight page article.

Occupational Hazards

Things to remember when working from home:

1. When you are writing an email and fuming over yet another last minute assignment/deadline that your boss has just given you, make sure you hit "forward" and not "reply." ***
2. Shades or curtains in a bathroom really are necessities. This is easy to remember when you are dashing to the bathroom and find you have to hold your pee because workers are waving hello to you as they fix the drainage pipes (har har) on your building.
   
3. Phone headsets should be removed before attempting said dash to bathroom. Failure to do so could result in toppled computer equipment, headsets tangled in hair and potential damage to earrings, clothes and other jewelry.
   

***Luckily, I was able to reach my co-worker who has access to my boss's inbox before the offending message was read. (we think). Thank you, L. You are the bomb.

Moving Forward

This weekend started at 4 a.m. Saturday morning when hubby woke anticipating the 5 a.m. alarm. We drove in the dark to meet my brother and a ridiculous amount of stuff strapped down to a huge pick-up truck and flatbed trailer that we three had loaded the night before. We waited in a long line of cars, got ushered to our spots and then began to unload, praying that we would at least sell the larger or more unwieldy items so we wouldn't have to figure out how to get them back on the truck again.

Ah yes, friends. It's flea market time.

It's one more week 'til closing on my parents' house and my brother thought we'd try to lighten their (and our) load and get them a little more cash to use towards movers, storage, incidentals, etc. Brother and I were the main wheeler-dealers. Hubby, a few of my brother's friends and even mom and dad stopped in and played supporting roles. And as shocked as I am to admit it, as reluctant as I was to spend my weekend at this task, here is where I say,

We had a great time!

Hell, we even made some money.

My brother is a pro. A sight to behold. He can sell anybody anything. We were all awed watching him in action. Dad even remarked he was in the wrong business and should take up sales. Hubby had his weekend crossword and coffee so he was fine. Mom brought a little lawn chair and stuck it on the flatbed so she wouldn't be in the way. She struck a pose as some sort of redneck queen lording over her possessions. At least in my mind. Dad, it seems, LOVES flea markets. He said it at least five times. We calm him down when he starts talking about making it a regular thing because yeah, meeting crazy people is fun (I guess) but he's not the one doing the loading and unloading of all this gear. Let's not get carried away.

So a good time is had by all. We half the amount of stuff we started with and find a neighbor to hold the rest until brother and I can do this again (ONE more time and that's it. I swear), we come home sunburned as hell and start to count the money. Just as we are getting ready to leave my parents house my cell phone rings and I know who it is. The clinic. I casually saunter back to the bathroom to take the call privately. Remember, folks don't know boo about this. I try to be casual and friendly to the nurse but I am dying to know, did she say yes??

She said yes.

She said YES! Our fabulous donor is willing to give it another go. So, we wait out a cycle to clear both of our systems out and then start our regimens again in about a month. Hubby knew the good news as soon as I emerged from the bathroom. We said our goodbyes and quickly drove home to celebrate. We popped open a beer, made some burritos, stuck a movie in

And promptly fell asleep on the couch.

But this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light.
- The Tempest

News and Next Steps

The good news is I didn't have to jump out of bed this morning and give myself a shot.

The bad news is, you guessed it, this attempt is officially canceled.

After a day spent consulting with our doctor and nurse at the clinic and lots of soul searching we have decided that we are going to try again in a month or so with our chosen donor. That is, of course, if she agrees.

She did begin to slowly respond to higher doses of her meds but our doctor felt that at this rate, she would have 3-5 eggs tops to use. Could this be a fluke? Could she be the one out of twenty women that simply don't respond to artificial stimulation? Would starting at a higher dosage of estrace and then Gonal F solve the problem?

We'll see, won't we?

But why not just choose another donor? You ask. And here is my response.

Back in March, when we had our first consult with this clinic, it was strictly an exploratory visit. We wanted to see what our options were. If they felt good and we we happened to find a donor that knocked our socks off, we would proceed. If not, we would go home, mull it over and decide on next steps after a few glasses of wine.

Well, we found that woman. She knocked our socks off. We knew from the bottom of our hearts we wanted to proceed. With that donor. With this clinic. So we did. We read and reread her profile and felt as if either of us could have written it. We laughed at her responses; we appreciated the time she she took to be so thoughtful in her answers. We felt like she could be one of our coolest friends. She was the reason we went down the egg donor path.

Our doc gave us the info and what he called the "traditional wisdom" that others had followed when faced with our decision. That would be to select another comparable donor, decrease the risk of another cancellation and increase the odds of getting a higher number of eggs. He said he wanted to remove as many uncertainties and "what ifs" from the process as possible. Fair enough.

Our chosen donor already has two children of her own. Which is another reason that we are inclined to think that a.) this cycle was a bit of a fluke and b.) she has some quality eggs, perhaps just not as many as the average person.

Who wants average?

When our doc said he wanted to remove as many "what ifs" as possible, both hubby and I immediately felt that there would always and forever be a "what if" if we settled for a donor that we felt was inferior to the one we have now. Looking through the big book of donor profiles confirmed that. We compared timelines and additional financial obligations with our doc and they are both pretty much a wash. It comes down to, do we want to take a 30% chance of success with someone we feel 100% about or do we want much higher odds with someone that we feel about 30% ok with?

If our donor declines, then we'll reassess the situation. We'll have a look at new donors that have come in. Maybe we'll even pay a visit to another clinic. Maybe we'll wait. We refuse to feel rushed or desperate. There is no reason to be. As far as having a baby, it doesn't have to be right now, it just has to be right.

No Fat Ladies Singing....

....Yet. But they are warming up in the wings.

Our donor responded, just a bit, just a little bit, to the increase in meds. They are going to keep her on them until Monday and then bring her in for another ultrasound and some blood work. We are supposed to stay the course as well. Nurse said she is not hopeful that we can continue this cycle, but on the off chance that miracles happen over the weekend, we need to be ready.

What makes me optimistic and keeps me from jumping over my balcony ledge is that they are continuing to collect information for a possible future cycle with this same donor. Would starting at a higher level of hormones solve the problem? Do we need a different protocol altogether? I so appreciate that they see the strong connection we have to this woman and want to learn everything they can before telling us that we need to move on.

I also got the go ahead to have a glass of wine (or two) with dinner tonight. I moaned to Nurse that we've been living a monk's lifestyle in preparation for the retrieval. But then hubby reminded me that monks drink.