Okay, so pregnancy can be kinda boring in the beginning. There was literally nothing to report. I went for an u/s every two weeks for a while. The RE released me and there were tears. I had a minor panic around 11 weeks. The RE's office was primarily responsible for weaning me off PIO and the other drugs and around 11 weeks and I spotted a teeny tiny amount. I freaked out and they saw me for one last comfort u/s to reassure me that all was well. It's been obnoxiously smooth sailing. No morning sickness to comfort me. My sister who had such a horrible case of morning sickness asked me if I had been sick at all and I enthusiastically said yes. I told her that I had to throw something away outside and opened the big garbage can and the odor of the cat litter wafted up and I ended up gagging in the front yard. She hung up on me. Can't say that I really blame her. She lost 20+ pounds the first three months of her pregnancy.

Two weeks ago I had a nuchal translucency test. It was so fun, but Paul had to travel so I took my mom. She was so happy. We have great pictures of the baby moving, sitting with crossed legs, a fist, and lots more. The u/s tech was cooing and saying what a beautiful baby we had. Then my mom started oohing and aahing over the baby saying what a cute baby it was and my honest reaction was "are we looking at the same baby?" It was starting to look like a baby indeed but I don't know that I can call it cute. I certainly love that baby more than I ever thought possible but not quite cute. Not yet anyway. As a result of that u/s I have officially named the baby. As s/he still looks like an alien and I live in New Mexico I have named this little one Roswell. We're awfully excited about Roswell's arrival.

I have been getting increasingly cranky and my poor mother and husband have been so very confused. Fortunately my mother has been pregnant and was more easily able to decipher my crankiness. It was the tight pants. I have been a little disillusioned about this pregnancy and what to expect. I expected because I am tall that I would start to barely show at 7 months along and have an adorable little bump by the time it came to deliver. Upon delivering I would wear my regular clothes home. Yeah. Go ahead and laugh. Unrealistic I know but a girl can hope. I'm getting thick. No bump, just a muffin top when I put on my jeans. My official word is that I have a burrito belly and am lacking a baby bump. Hopefully, this muffin top will turn into a baby bump sometime soon.

The news that I have been neglecting to write about because I was afraid it would jinx things is we have decided to move. We are building a new house and started the process a few months ago. We are watching the new house go up and getting more and more nervous about selling our current one. As I'm sure you've heard, the market is not the best. After three weeks on the market we sold our house this past weekend. We are scheduled to close in January and the new house will be done in February. I feel like I can start to be really excited about the new house now.

We're heading out to the Midwest for the holidays and I'm sure I'll have plenty to say about the family that will hopefully provide some entertainment for all of you.

An Anniversary of Sorts

Today is 2Nov. And it is the 3rd anniversary of my very first appointment with an RE. I remember the feelings so vividly surrounding that first appointment. It had been a rough few months. We had been fighting a lot. I was ready to call it quits and move to adoption. I was ready to get off the rollercoaster. We still didn't have a diagnosis. And we fully expected to be able to conceive by having sex. I think about this now and I laugh. In what twisted world does sex make a baby? Babies are made in doctors offices. Or come from adoption agencies. My expectations were so very high. I was 24 and healthy. Why shouldn't I be able to make a baby? I had been trying to make a baby for almost two years, month after month, all to no avail. It was so disheartening. August was the worst month. I was so ready for a baby. I started doing adoption research and Paul was not on board at all. He was still so filled with hope which felt like a slap in the face to me. I don't know if he couldn't see how much I was hurting but I felt so very alone. In September things started coming together. We stopped fighting and started talking about how to move forward. We agreed to move forward with both. I would agree to see a specialist. And he would attend an adoption class. I don't remember the exact day but my uncle died sometime the week of 4October. I was so very torn. His funeral was scheduled for the day of our adoption class. We elected to stay in Albuquerque and go to the adoption class. The adoption class was scheduled for 16October and going was one of the best decisions we have ever made. We left that class so much more in tune. So much more connected. And as luck would have it I happened to be ovulating. Fast forward a week and a half. Our appointment with the RE was scheduled for 2November. That was an overwhelming appointment if I've ever had one. In September, I had seen my new GYN. She felt something "cystic" in my abdomen and the decision was made to just keep an eye on it the next few months via u/s. The first u/s confirmed a cyst on my ovary 7mm across. Not insignificant and the woman was silly enough to think it was just a just an ovulatory cyst. HA! At my appointment the doctor ushered me in, sent me back to an exam room and did an u/s immediately. Not five minutes later, we had a diagnosis. And fifteen minutes later we had a plan. I had endometriosis. This was NOT an ovulatory cyst. I needed to schedule surgery. And I needed to do it quickly. By this point the cyst was now 10mm in diameter and was in danger of twisting and cutting off the blood supply to my ovary. I called my GYN on the way home, left a message for her that we needed to schedule surgery. I happened to be in school this semester and Wednesday I made all the arrangements to miss two weeks of school. And Friday night I started thinking about the lack of my period. And like all good infertiles pulled a HPT out from under my bathroom cabinet. And to my very great shock it was positive. I will never forget running into the other room, shouting at Paul, "There are two lines! There are two lines!" And him asking me if that was good or bad. Oy! We lost that pregnancy five very short weeks later.

Three years later I look back and reflect on that week with new appreciation for my husband, amusement at my lack of knowledge and the sense of relief that I had to finally know that the infertility was not some figment of my imagination. If I were to really dig deep I knew that it would be some time before we would experience success but looking back I wouldn't change a thing. We needed each and every one of the obstacles that we have overcome the last five years. And we are better because of them. Thanks for bearing with me through this very odd post.

And if you thought the 2WW was bad...

The waiting that comes after a positive blood result is even more terrifying. Because my initial beta draw was on a Friday I had to wait until Monday for a repeat beta. Okay, that wasn't a big deal. Not even I want to drag my butt out of bed on a Sunday morning at 6:15am to be at the lab so I can get results back on the same day. Monday we went for a repeat beta which was good. Betas generally give most folks some form of comfort. They don't really do that for me. I've had three m/c. All with appropriately rising betas. But it doubled. My progesterone was a little on the low side so they added prometrium and I've been doing five pills, one injection, and two suppositories a day for a few weeks now. The waiting for that first u/s is hard. I honestly think it's worse than the actual 2WW. We've been here too many times before. The anticipation building. Knowing what we expect to see only to be disappointed. My last miscarriage dragged on for weeks before throwing in the towel. Equipped now with more knowledge I felt with some surety that the disaster that was my previous pregnancy would not be a reoccurring situation. This was complicated slightly given that we had travel plans for the week that my first u/s would normally be scheduled. But there again with that handy dandy knowledge. Beta 10dp6dt was 79. Beta 13dp6dt was 317. And beta the Thursday before we departed should have somewhere in the neighborhood of 13000. Heartbeat should be visible when beta reaches 6000 So I felt justified in begging them to allow me to have my u/s before our Pittsburgh trip.

All of those same feelings that preceded my beta returned. In full force. After the transfer I was full of hope and optimism. As beta day drew nearer, the optimism was sucked out of me only to be replaced with the worst defense mechanism ever...pessimism. Then, upon receiving the joyous news, the cycle begins all over again. We were filled again with hope and optimism. And then it starts to fade as the reality that the rug can be pulled from under us at any time sets in. This time however, Paul was nervous too. I could have scheduled first thing in the morning but Paul wasn't flying in until the afternoon so I waited for him. I begged my mother to let me call and reschedule the appointment and lie to him, telling him that the office needed to reschedule. She didn't approve. Yes. I know it's mean. He's just as much a part of this as I am. But again, I felt the same way I did as the day of my beta. If the news is bad, I want to be alone. All alone. To deal in peace and quiet. I didn't. We waited until our appointment and walked in and took our seats. Every minute of waiting seems like torture. Fortunately they never torture us for very long. Now, because my previous pregnancies were not under the care of an RE I was used to being sent to an radiology tech for an u/s. And so far, I've not been impressed. They take forever. They can't diagnose anything and they won't ever talk to me. I know. I know. Liability. They're not doctors. They're techs. Blah. Blah. Blah. I've just become a little spoiled. But for this u/s things were instantaneous. Immediately, the doctor utters, "And we have one perfect heartbeat." The relief was immeasurable. Every previous u/s I've gotten the, "well it's not what we'd like to be seeing but it may still turn around..." It never did. And we never saw a heartbeat but this...this was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. He turned the screen around and pointed to the tiniest little flickering dot. And my eyes filled with tears. He turns to answer a few of Paul's questions and I continue watching the screen. Suddenly there is no more flickering. I interrupt them, and in a complete panic, blurt out, "Excuse me, but did my baby just die? The screen...It's no longer flickering." They both laughed at me. I can't really blame them. I was just too preoccupied to notice the doctor printing out copies of the u/s which in turn froze the screen. He was kind enough to make it go live again. I was sent away with an appointment to return again in two weeks and with hope renewed once more.

By tomorrow, I meant at the end of the month

I'm sorry. I've been here waiting for the other shoe to drop. It hasn't. So, I think it's time for an update. The 2WW was harrowing. It always is, isn't it? And given that we ended up doing IVF I really believe there was a greater purpose in doing years and years of natural cycles and wasting time on IUIs. And I believe that purpose was to teach me to how to deal with the 2WW.

The first week wasn't so bad. We were busy. At this point, because it's been nearly a month, I don't remember the specifics of what we were doing. Oh wait...yes I do. And I've blocked it. We were preparing for the most obnoxious Enrichment Activity ever! For those who are not LDS, it was a church thing. We were preparing 72 hour kits for use during emergencies. And I got stuck with...uhh, I mean volunteered for the hygiene kits. And people signed up for 175 kits. And in the days after my embryo transfer when I was supposed to be on bedrest, Paul went to every WalMart, Target, Walgreens, and a few others to purchase supplies for the blessed activity to the tune of $1100. And then we assembled. It was ugly. You can see why I blocked it. Paul deserves the husband of the year award for this alone. It was my responsibility and I neglected it because it was annoying. And because I hate Enrichment. And he took care of everything. Seriously, husband of the year should go to Paul. You have no idea. This wasn't supposed to be an Enrichment rant, so I'll stop now. And after the Enrichment stuff I don't really remember what we did for the next few days.

But then Paul had to leave town. And things got a little hairier after that. First of all, on Sunday, I gagged while brushing my teeth. You see, these are the evils of the 2WW. Suddenly, we want to give meaning to each and every symptom, if you can even call them symptoms, our body creates. Or rather, the hormones that we are being pumped with makes. I never gag while brushing my teeth. I had braces for five years. And very painful oral surgery. Things in my mouth don't make me gag. Ever. Except for the Sunday prior to my beta. Now, my beta was on Friday so this is still quite a bit of time to go still. And hope began to creep in. Now, I should mention that the 2WW crazies were multiplied a bit. A friend cycled with me, and her beta was the same day as mine. And we fed off of each other. But I would like it noted for the read that she caved and POAS earlier than I did. She did it on Monday. And I didn't do it until Tuesday. And as a result after Tuesday I felt like garbage because it was glaringly negative. It was too early. And for crying out loud, I know better. Wednesday we went to Hobbs to return only to return late Thursday night. And I spent the better part of the next two days losing all hope. We were driving back into town on Thursday night at midnight when I insisted that he take me to WalMart for some more of the evil pee sticks. Because apparently I don't torture myself enough. And even though, I should have been exhausted enough to sleep for two days, I couldn't sleep.

There is a scene in "Sex and the City" where Carrie is anticipating her big first date with Berger. And she says to one of the girls, "I think we're going to be very happy together." She then follows that statement with, "I love that time before the first date, when you can make statements like that and almost believe them." This is how most of the 2WW felt. In fact, my whole cycle felt like that. The hope that builds is a strange thing. You don't even realize how much it's growing until it's almost over. And I've never felt such desperation in my entire life. Pleading with the powers that be to not let my dream die. There was no way this was going to work. Why would it? Certainly others are more deserving than I. It was like I was just sitting, waiting, and forced to watch the death of the most pure, righteous wish I've ever had. So sleep eluded me. I won't ever forget the feeling of anxiety that I had prior to my beta.

I slept lightly. Again, a huge rarity for me. And woke promptly at 6:45am without an alarm. I crept into the living room where the WalMart bag had been dropped and dug out the box. Like the eternal pessimist that I am, I had purchased the three pack. I always do. I know they'll get used. And somehow my trembling hands managed to open the box and tear the package all without waking Paul. I needed to deal with the BFN that I was forecasting for myself. All alone. I certainly couldn't do it on the phone when the nurse calls to deliver the news. I was able to do that with my IUIs but this time the stakes were so much higher. So I sat in my bathroom wide awake staring at the wall for the obligatory two minutes to pass. And much to my shock, when I turned to accept defeat and failure once again, there were two lines. Two glorious lines staring back up at me. There are those that have been tortured by the evil HPT's. This day, it couldn't have been clearer. There was no denying it. It wasn't an evaporation line. It wasn't a ghost line that faded later. It was a real true second line. I can't begin to describe the surprise so, I won't even try. I crept back into bed, cuddled around Paul, and whispered to ask if he was yet awake. There is something magical about telling your spouse that you're pregnant. And I'll save the details. They're too raw and too personal to share but I can count the times on one hand I've ever felt such joy.

We ran into the lab for bloodwork and sat to wait again. What would the bloodwork reveal? All hopes now are for a strong beta. The call came at 11:26am. It was Trish. I was nervous. My heart was pounding. And there was too much of an echo. Until I realized that the whole office staff had been gathered to call me so they could all congratulate me. It was another powerful, wonderful moment. I love my RE's office. They've held my hand. And listened to me cry. And explained procedures. And they called to deliver the good news about a strong beta of 79. Relief washed over me.

The journey begins...

Time with Melba

Yes, I'm one of the strange people that names their belongings. Melba is my computer you see. Violet is my violin. Trixie is my car. I spend far too much time with Melba as it is. And as a result I have a husband that can get a little jealous of her. And we're extraordinarily busy but I'll get to that in a minute.

I suppose I ought to record the events of my embryo transfer. It was harrowing. I've never been one to have a great deal of bladder control. I try not to stray far from a clean restroom at any given time. And I worried and fretted about this embryo transfer. My clinic does an ultrasound guided transfer. In order to do an ultrasound and be able to see my uterus they need my bladder to be filled with liquid. And so I fretted. I was instructed to drink 32 ounces of fluid a half hour before my appointment. I got about 24 ounces in before I was full. I hoped that this would be good enough. We got to the doctors office and it wasn't long before we were called back.

Now, if you will humor me as I reminisce a bit about my wedding day. I am normally an outgoing, chipper person. I am bubbly and can be quite talkative. I had worked quite a bit with my favorite makeup girl, Teri and she and I had seen lots of each other prior to my wedding day. And when we had meetings I would entertain her with the latest wedding planning drama, tales about my infamous MIL etc. And then the day of my wedding day arrived. And my appointment was for ten am. And I walked in quietly and said hello and sat in my chair. And Teri attempted to make small talk with me but I really wasn't into it. I sat there and quietly smiled. Nodded where appropriate. And when she was done, I thanked her and got up and left. I was by no means rude but I was certainly not quite myself. Teri later told me that she was afraid I was going to freak out or blow up or fly off the handle or whatever else one does when losing it. I wasn't. I was eerily calm. The gravity of the day was weighing heavily upon me as I considered what we were embarking on. I was only 21 when we got married and I, by no means understood what all marriage would entail but I understood that this was a magnificent and grave undertaking. And all of the nonsense that I am usually yammering on about was on the back burner. It was replaced with a calm reverence worthy of such an important day.

I expected that same quiet serenity to exist for my embryo transfer. It didn't. It's difficult to be that tranquil when you want to do the pee-pee dance. I was antsy. Once brought back to the transfer room, I laid down and one of the techs did a quick ultrasound. She deemed that I had enough fluid in my bladder. Dr Caperton was called in. He didn't agree. Water was brought. I drank. I nearly cried. Another ultrasound was done. Another assessment of not enough water. I did cry. I didn't cry much. The longer we wait the more uncomfortable this is going to be. I drank again. And it was awful. My embryo transfer was supposed to be at 2:30pm. It was now 3:15pm. I needed to go when we arrived at 2:15pm and it has been an hour. I wasn't comfortable. I had one nurse, two techs and Paul in the room all the time. Another nurse, my favorite receptionist and my doctor floating in and out. It's hard to exist in a state of peace and quiet when you feel like your room is a train station. I wanted everyone out! But it's only now that I realize this. Hmmm, remember this moment. It may come in useful later. Finally, after ultrasound number 3 it was agreed upon that I was ready for the transfer. Speculum in. Lots of pressure. Catheter in. More pressure. Mike, the embryologist is waiting in the doorway. It's almost time. And I start to panic. I've needed to go for over an hour now and they are pressing on my bladder. I begin to whimper. Paul looks at me and tells me that I can do it. But I know better. I tell them I can't do it. They assure me we're so close to being done. Paul tells me I can do it. I am trying desperately not to move. I am clenching my gown. I am digging my nails into my arms. And then I heard Dr Caperton say, "Mike, go put the embryos away. She's urinating." The pressure was relieved. The ultrasound probe was removed from my belly and it was the most welcome feeling I've ever felt. And then the shame set it. The nurse got me up from the table and walked me to the restroom. I cried all the way there. As we were leaving the room, Dr Caperton called out to only empty my bladder a little. Just enough to create relief. Sure. Relief. The only thing that was going to grant me relief was an empty bladder. Have you any idea how difficult it is to stop urinating mid-stream? It isn't easy, I assure you. Somehow I managed. A few more tears and back up onto the table I went. Mumbled out apologies to my doctor. And tried to calm down. Calmness still eludes me as I still have to pee. I'm so embarrassed I want to crawl under a rock and die. And now I'm starting to freak out. The heavy panicked breathing. I just want to escape. I can't do it. Paul wouldn't quit talking to me. The doctor is still telling me to sit still and quit squirming. I still have to pee. I've failed at round one and I am creating failure for round two. I know that I just won't be able to do it. I order them to take everything out of me. I am practically shouting at everyone. They are trying to calm me down but only one person in the whole world has ever been successful at calming me down and it's just not appropriate to bring your dad to your embryo transfer. Dr Caperton tells me that he'll be able to be done within two minutes if I can just hang on. I start to whimper that I can but back down and tell him he needs to get everything out of me. NOW! He heaved a big heavy sigh and agreed. Poor Mike is once again sent back to the lab with the embryos. I couldn't have the babies enter me like that. It's like trying to have sex when you're angry. Trying to get pregnant while having an anxiety attack just didn't feel right. Back to the restroom we go. This time I'm instructed to just empty my bladder. He tells me as I'm leaving that we'll just figure things out. How I don't know but he seems confident. Which begs the question if he can do this without torturing me why has he put me through this. I don't know and at this point I don't much care. More crying and are we really surprised? Back again up on the table and I just sort of went somewhere. I don't really know where. No longer having to pee, I laid on the table and let my body go limp. I don't really remember much of the transfer. I looked to the side and didn't acknowledge anyone. Not Paul. And only barely responsive to Dr Caperton and the nurse. I responded to their instructions but didn't give any indication other than my obedience. It really was over pretty quickly. The embryos were brought in. There was much concentration and some tension but I felt very removed from it. Once again everything was removed and blankets were laid over me and I was instructed to lie perfectly still for ten minutes. Easy enough. I think Paul felt a little abandoned because I still didn't want to talk much so we sat mostly in silence with me occasionally turning around to glare at him when he asked me for the 18th time in 60 seconds how I was feeling. I know. I can be be a talker but please sometimes silence is golden. It really is. Especially when I'm newly pregnant. We went from an exam room that felt like a train station to an exam room that felt like a quiet empty church in the space of two minutes. After the obligatory ten minutes were up I was excused to the restroom once more and then we were sent home. We arrived at the RE's office a few minutes after 2pm and we left almost three hours later. We were walking out the door at ten minutes to five. They all congregated around the front desk, reminded me that at that one moment in time that I was indeed pregnant, to adhere to my bedrest and wished me luck. Beta was scheduled for 9/28. I hate the 2WW. But it's a necessary beastly process when one is TTC. And then we were sent home to wait. The transfer certainly didn't go as planned but I felt better than my embryos came home into a non-clenched happy uterus rather than a stressed and constricted one. And then we waited.

More time with Melba tomorrow.

Blogging as a form of distraction

Okay. I can deal with this. I am trying not to fall into crisis mode. Trying really hard. Paul called last night and his flight leaving Philly was delayed due to weather. Okay, weather delays happen. Deep breath. I had no idea that all of this was happening until late last night because he couldn't get in touch with me while I was at work. So, all evening I worry and fret and stew that he doesn't care at all. It was a stressful day and the dramatics make their appearance once the stress kicks in. And finally, I hear from him. And he's cranky. I hate it when he's cranky and I can't do anything to help. He ran gate to gate only to watch his flight to Albuquerque pulling away. I've been there. There is no worse feeling. Getting a hotel was no picnic either. He got a room (the last room) in a hotel close to the airport. He was scheduled to arrive this morning at 9:45 this morning. But when my phone rang at 6am this morning I was awakened to more bad news. He missed his flight. He flight was supposed to leave Minneapolis/St Paul at 6:30. And he woke up at 5:50a. Even if he is close to the airport, that's bad. Panic sets it. Cabs were called. Terminals confused the cab driver. Cab driver didn't take credit cards. And the like. Needless to say, he was attempting to check in as his flight was leaving the gate. Man, two missed flights. I believe that's a record for us. And it's happening the day of our embryo transfer. Of course it is. I didn't sleep much after a wake up call like that. Please don't let there be mechanical problems. Please don't let there be mechanical problems. Please don't let there be mechanical problems. This is not the end of the world. I can hold it together. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

And then there were...umm, 16?

I only had one inch 25 gauge needles. I need inch and a half long needles for my PIO. So, I called the RE's office this morning and asked if I should use them or if I should seek out inch a half long needles. I, of course, had an ulterior motive. I don't want to be the kind of patient that calls all the time and needs lots of hand holding. I've got friends for hand holding. But I wanted to know how my embryos are doing. I can't stop thinking about them. I love them. I've never even seen them. But my heart is so attached to them I can hardly describe it. So, I asked the Wendy how they were doing. And when I showed up at the clinic this afternoon my wonderful doctor came out to deliver the good news. Out of 21 that fertilized we have 16 that are cleaving. They are of varying quality and won't be officially rated until Tuesday or Wednesday. 16 is still really good folks. Please continue to thrive. Please, my little babies.

Just a quick rhetorical question. What is with the unsolicited assvice? Why do people feel the need to offer this to someone they do not know at all. My friend Marlene invited me to the zoo this morning. I was an absolute zombie. I guess we know which hormone we can attribute to early pregnancy exhaustion. I was seriously practically sleep walking. During lunch I told her that I was sorry that I was so tired. She knows some pretty basic information about the treatment that I am currently on but doesn't know specifics. I told her they changed some of my drugs and they zap me of any and all energy. Marlene's friend that was with us, interjected and said that she knew lots of people who had done what I am doing and while saying this, made the gun shape with her hand and pointed it to her ass as if to confirm what treatment I am doing. Ummm, could she not? Is that too much to ask? Not to mention, please not eavesdrop on my conversation. She followed this by saying, "well, the best advice I can give you is to just be patient." All right, I know I am tired but I think I would have at least recalled asking for her advice. I just stared at her. As if to say, you didn't just say that to me, did you? After five fucking years of trying to have a baby I think I'm kind of getting the hang of patience. I had not been whining about my sad situation. I had not been dwelling on what it might be like to have a healthy happy family. Not to mention, why does this stranger think that this cycle isn't going to work for us. This woman doesn't even know my first name. Much less, what our diagnosis is. What treatments we have done. What the stats at our clinic are. What type of cycle we are doing. And every other detail that pertains only to us. But don't forget that patience will solve our problems. She had dreadfully behaved children. I wonder if she would have liked my unsolicited advice as well.

The irony about infertility

We are continuing to move forward with the prospect of moving into the new house. We are going to be doubling our current mortgage payment which every time I think about it makes my stomach jump into my throat. In order to fork out the money for this DE cycle we pulled some money out when we refinanced the house earlier this year. The house we are currently in is 1306 square feet. And we are literally bursting at the seams. Well, we have more clutter than I prefer at any rate. There certainly isn't much room for a baby here. And there really isn't room for two. We could absolutely make it work if we had to but I'd really like a bigger house. The likelihood that I can have a baby naturally is almost nil so if we want to have children we need to come up with the big bucks. Prior to the refinance we had about $70K in equity in the house. We pulled $20K out in the refinance and now we're looking at having only around $30K to put towards the new down payment. Damn realtors fees and upgrades to the house! That is a big chunk of change! So, if I have a baby I need to move. But in order to have the baby I have to spend money that should go towards the house. But in order to get the new house I need more money. Which I spent trying to have the baby in the first place. Sigh. It's a sad little cycle. It's time to be grateful. At least we have the opportunity to even try for a baby. I'm grateful for that.

More irony. My friend Shari and I were looking at baby stuff online the other day. We were looking at extravagant thousand dollar strollers and I recommended www.poshtots.com for giggles. It's obnoxious celebrity type stuff that real people can't afford and would never spend money on. I'm probably overstating here but look at the name of the place for pete's sake. I had seen this bed before and was shocked at the time. Now, I just think it's hilarious. Looking at this bed brings out the inner princess in all of us until we see the price tag. Click here for the link. Her first remark when she saw the bed was that she wanted that bed for herself. Well, who wouldn't? We were talking about the outrageous price when she suddenly stopped. "I spent more than that on infertility treatments last year. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing! I should have bought that stupid bed." We laughed still but we were a little saddened too.

Yes, it's been a week filled with irony.

Our adventures with PIO

I think I forgot to blog about our mini adventure with PIO with our canceled cycle. I shall recap because I think it's funny. As previously noted I am doing all my own injections because of Paul's travel schedule. I conquered the sub-q's. In fact, after doing them for almost 12 weeks straight, they've actually gotten a little dull. So, when I was to do my first PIO last time I was just as nervous as I had been when I had to do my first lupron injection. I drew up the PIO and changed needle tips and just stared at that giant needle. It made me shiver. I was terrified. I would take off the tip and aim. And then I would shrink away in fear only to recap the needle. This went on for forty five minutes. Yep, you read that right. Forty five minutes I paced back and forth in my bedroom. And every five or so minutes I would yell at Paul to come in and tell me how to do the injection. Again. He's so patient. And then I would banish him. Actually, more like scream at him to get out of my bedroom. He was stressing me out. And then call him back. And then banish him. It's really pretty remarkable that he spoke to me at all after that. Now, more than an hour after this process had started I finally got up the nerve to poke myself. Such an idiot, I am. An inch and a half needle is not any bigger deal than a sub-q needle. Only the initial poke hurts. I should know this by now. So, after the initial shock of sticking a giant needle in my backside wore off I decided the purpose of this fun little exercise was to actually get the drugs into me. And I reached around to attempt to push the top of that little syringe down. It wouldn't budge. At all. It felt like I was pushing against a vacuum. Wait! I thought the hard part was over, right? Apparently not. I tried and tried all to no avail. Damn! I was going to have to ask Paul to come in and save the day. You see, this is why you shouldn't bite the hand that injects you. Or whatever. Thankfully because this needle is so freaking long I didn't have to stay contorted into a crazy position in order to leave the needle in. It stayed in all on its own. When Paul came into our bedroom to investigate the problem, and discovered me with my pants at my ankles, tears of frustration on my cheeks, and a sad little smile of defeat. This should hopefully demonstrate what a wonderful husband he is. He did not laugh. He did not smirk. He did not tell me to get over it. He just smiled, gave me a kiss, and told me sometimes it just takes a while and that he was proud of me for doing it. Good man, don't you think?

Last night was our first PIO for this frozen cycle. And I was a little nervous but that first shot is always the hardest. And we had already done that. So last night was only about ten minutes of pacing and panicking and avoidance technique behavior before I got around to doing it. And I even was able to push the medicine down. We have victory, my friends. Yeah, I know. I'm not the first person to do PIO and I certainly won't be the last and many others have done this and so much more but it feels like such an accomplishment. Especially doing it myself. I wonder if I can learn to draw my own blood. Hmmm.

Never without drama

Okay, it's only minor drama. My lining was 13mm. But my E2 was only 24o. So I begin estradiol tablets tomorrow.

On a sweeter note though...

So back in July I went to go see my sister so Paul could bless her baby in church and just for a visit. It was a hard visit and I thought I was going to lose my mind, but alas I didn't. I ended up having a pretty good time after I got over the initial shock of being around my sister. I also ended up really bonding with my niece. I didn't know that I could feel such love for this perfect little baby. I digress.


Okay, so my sister calls me today just to chitchat and she asked me about my cycle. I told her that my transfer date is next Wednesday and she started squealing with excitement. She had to confirm that it meant that they were going to put the baby back inside of me on Wednesday but it's sweet to have her taking an interest in this process for me. So, we continued talking about my cycle and she was putting my niece Savannah to bed. She breaks our conversation and says to Savannah, "Okay, Savannah when you go to sleep tonight I want you to tell the angels that are watching over you to make sure to bring you a cousin...in a week." My heart just about melted. Her little pause before she added 'in a week' had me in stitches. But maybe you would have to be there.

Pretty sweet, huh? Well it gets better. My sisters husband, Jason can be a real turkey. He can be really obnoxious and he really rubbed me the wrong way at first but my mom just called me to tell me that my sister called her a few minutes ago, after she told Jason when my transfer would be. After Abby told him when it was going to be Jason announced to Abby that they were going to church on Sunday so they could pray for us that this cycle would work. I wonder if they know that you can actually pray outside of church. Abby told my mom that she was so impressed that Jason came up with that all on his own. She just kept reiterating that he wanted to do that all on his own.

Sometimes I wish I could divorce my family but sometimes they just make me melt.

finally! something to post about my cycle.

Well, I had another u/s today. And of course more bloodwork. Because this just wouldn't be fun anymore if we weren't able to do bloodwork all the freaking time. I went back to the same lab and again got the pokey girl. It's the main lab and there are some definite positives to attending this lab. One is we get the bloodwork back quite quickly. And as I wasn't able to get up there until after 2pm this was important to me. Besides, I was right there. But they are starting to know me. This can't be good. Well, the u/s went wonderfully. My lining is already 13mm thick. Woo hoo! We're looking for 7 or 8mm. Now, we're just hoping that my progesterone is low, low, low and for my E2 to be high, high, high. Well, greater than 300 anyway. I have been sleeping like crap the last few days and when my doctor came out and said hi to me he asked me how things were going. I told him that things were excellent and my uterus was at 13mm. He laughed and said he hoped not. He hoped my LINING was at 13mm. Right. I feel like a complete dork. I looked at him sheepishly and told him I only got 4 hours of sleep last night. Turns out that was all he got too. I guess I have no excuse.

You see this is why I don't believe in living near family

Oy! I'm not Jewish. Am I allowed to say oy?

We want to move. I have quite a small house and in a wildly optimistic move that this cycle is going to work I went and looked at new homes a couple of weeks ago. I rarely find a floor plan I like. I'm just a bit picky. I want a real entry way. I want all the bedrooms together. First floor masters and the rest of the bedrooms upstairs simply will not do. And a plethora of othIter obnoxious requests make me a rather picky customer. But I found one I liked. I really, really liked. It's 3000sf. Like I said, wildly optimistic. I thought Paul was going to tell me to dream on but he was kind of into a new house. Actually, really into it. I took him to see the house. And he loved it too. So we started talking seriously about moving. And the decision is in. If we can sell our house, we are going to do it. We are going to build a new house! Together. When we moved into our current house it was Paul's and we didn't pick it out together. This would be so much fun. But, as in much of the country the real estate market is less than desirable here. Which brings us to the family drama. Have I mentioned that my life parallels "everybody loves raymond"? Yes, indeed we live across the street from Paul's parents. Sigh. Which is the cause of 99% of all arguments that we experience. It's tough. We need more space. Now, a bit of information on the family tree. Paul has a half sister S that has a daughter J. J has procreated and lives with said bastard child and the boyfriend. I'm sorry for the judgment on the lack of marriage but when people make a clear choice to not be married I'm really all right with it. But this just seems like they don't care whether they're married or not. And I hate the attitude. Oh well. It's a bad infertility day. Please forgive me.

Ok so J, the kid, and the boyfriend are living in an apartment. Well, why live in apartment when you could live in a house? I deducted what the commissions would be and told Paul to call her and offer her the house. We'd have a quick sale and wouldn't lose any money. Seems like a good deal to me. She spoke about our proposition with her mother and her mothers response pissed me off. Sorry for the vulgarity. S called my FIL and said that we were insane for asking that amount for our cracker box house. Paul is the most upstanding, honest person I've ever met and for her to act as if we were ripping her daughter off got under my skin. Just a little bit. First off, our home is small but it has been perfect for us. It's got a huge lot. With five fruit trees. On a corner lot. A month ago Paul was offered a position at NASA in Houston. He ended up declining the position but while we were considering it I met with a realtor to discuss how much we could sell our home for. He suggested a significantly higher amount than we offered J the house for. I don't know why I am justifying my very nice home to you all. You didn't insult me. But still. She hurt my feelings. Oh well. I'm glad I don't have high expectations for this family thing only to be disappointed. We're hoping to be on the market by 1Oct. And this, my friends is why you should never mix family and money dealings. Or just move far away.

baseline u/s

I had my baseline u/s and bloodwork yesterday. It's funny how what we hope for changes. In the past when I would have an u/s we would always be on the lookout for ovarian cysts. Always on the lookout for that evil endometrioma. But after ovulating on my last cycle now we're keeping our eyes peeled for cysts that might be filled with clear fluid warning us perhaps that I'm not responding as nicely to lupron as we hope. In the past during an u/s we would hope for no cyst of course but a fluid filled cysts is always better than an endometrioma. Now, a clear fluid filled cyst is bad news because it means hormones are being released. And hormones are now bad. Apparently. Sometimes, I can barely keep up. Later, hormones will be good. I'm still not sure when the switch happens. Either way, we're hoping we can keep ovulation at bay. Ovulation=bad. Not sure when that happened either. They sent me for bloodwork also and I've gotten a little particular about which phlebotomist I prefer to see. Yesterday, I got the one that pokes. Most of the time during a blood draw the person who is drawing my blood will slide the the needle into my arm. Not this girl. She pokes. It's like she's throwing a dart into my vein. Not particularly painful but definitely strange. Yesterday, she poked and when she pulled the needle out I bled. And bled. And bled like I have never bled before. She also wasn't shy about noticing that I have plenty of scar tissue built up on my vein. Yeah, it's time to find a new phlebotomist. Or at least a new location.

the most obnoxious display of fertility i've ever seen

I am so cranky today. I slept horribly last night thanks to a very barky dog which always scares the crap out of me. Especially when my car has recently been broken into. And I remember at 2am that I left Paul's pay stubs in the car. And I can't remember whether or not I've locked the car. So take this gripe about the fertiles of the world with the proverbial grain of salt.

I was out driving today and saw this cholo driving his pimped out Ford Courier. And on the back, proudly announcing his daughter painted on his back window was "It's a girl 8/23/07"

I wanted to vomit. A display announcing his ability to procreate. Yeah. Just what we are all dying to read. I wonder if he knows that he didn't invent procreation. Ugh!

I can't wait until this weekend is over

I went to pick up Paul from the airport on Friday night. He hadn't been feeling well. I always forget how much I despise having a sick husband until I have one. The pathetic noises. The whining. The neediness. We stayed in most of the day Saturday and there are few things I hate more than being unproductive. It was the most unproductive day we've had in a long time. Around 7:30 I couldn't handle it any longer. I needed to run to the mall to try and have some pictures printed and to the grocery store. Something, anything just to feel productive. Our neighbor is outside and tells us that her dog has been killed. I would have more empathy for this woman if she wouldn't let her dogs roam the neighborhood. Supposedly the dog has been killed by pit bulls that live down the street. This wouldn't be a problem if she kept her dogs in her own yard but I digress. We are talking about the decline of our neighborhood when I look down into my car to discover the contents of my glove compartment all over my front seat. Great! Someone has been in my car. Tragically this is not the first time our car has been broken into. Fortunately nothing of value was taken. I am still listening to my whining neighbor when I look down at my ignition and yelp. Apparently it wasn't enough to disrupt the contents of my glove compartment but the idiots have to attempt to steal my car as well. Here's the thing that pisses me off the most. If you aren't sure you can steal a car don't even bother attempting. Now, I just have to pay to replace the ignition. Nobody gained anything. Sure I would have been extraordinarily angry had my car actually been stolen but I feel like this is an even bigger waste. The obnoxious idiots that have no idea how to steal a car got nothing. And now I'm out at least $500. The best part is I have only a one car garage and driveway so my car was parked in the street. Actually, to be entirely accurate my car was parked directly behind my driveway blocking my other vehicle. Now, they have done such a number on my ignition that I can't turn the key at all which means I can't even put the car in neutral to push it out of the way. We are stuck at home. We are now both sick. And if it's possible even more cranky than before. When the police officer shows up the neighbor who is upset about her dead dog comes out, interrupts us and rants, raves, and vents to the cop about her poor dog. Yeah, thanks. Don't mind me. What does she expect? She has no proof. She doesn't even bother apologizing about interrupting us. We manage to escape and file our police report without any other drama. All in all a pretty uneventful event. We're supposed to leave for Hobbs tomorrow but unless Paul miraculously heals overnight I think that is going to have to wait at least a day or two. Well, at least it will give us time to get the car into the dealership. Ugh. Is it Monday, yet?

A child's faith

There is a family at church that I enjoy a great deal. The father, J, is an FBI agent. He's recently agreed to serve in Afghanistan. This, of course is quite concerning to everyone who cares about him and his family, especially to his wife L. He left for Afghanistan on Tuesday. L was fretting about him leaving when her son, K walked up to her, put his arm around her neck and said, "don't worry Mom, Dad is the ultimate soldier." He's eleven years old and the faith that he has that his dad will be all right astounds me. Yeah, J will be all right. After all, he's the ultimate soldier.

And then it comes all at once

Sorry for the lack of an update. I've been a little too bummed out to go back and rehash everything.

Paul and I showed up at the clinic bright and early so he could make his contribution. We left. It felt a little weird to be so removed from the process. Here we were leaving half of our babies genetic material at the lab, leaving everything in their control and we were just expected to go home and what...grocery shop. Yeah, that was strange. They said the egg donor was supposed to show up at 10:30am for her retrieval. I asked when information would be available and they said how busy they were and to call the next day in the afternoon for fertilization rates etc. So imagine my surprise when my doctor calls. I missed the call on my cell, knew it was my clinic and called them back. When my wonderful doctor hopped on the line I couldn't even figure out what was up. He started talking and I could barely keep up. My brain just couldn't absorb what he was saying or why it was important. I ovulated. On lupron. Who in the hell ovulates on lupron? That is bad. Once ovulation occurs one's body starts producing progesterone. Hence our problem. Once progesterone enters the picture there is a small window when an embryo will attach to the uterus. This I didn't know until my cycle started falling apart. My poor, poor doctor who had to explain this to me, not once, not twice, but three freaking times before I finally got up to speed. God bless him. There is no way to confirm when I ovulated so putting embies back didn't seem like the best idea. We decided to freeze the embies on day 2 and try again next month. Now, for the good news. Wait, scratch that. Great news. 21 eggs retrieved. And 21 eggs fertilized. We don't have any idea on quality because of how early they were frozen but since we're focusing on the positive I will repeat again. 21 frozen embies! Awesome! It's an odd feeling I tell you, to have my embryos sitting in a lab. All I want to do is sit in the lab with them 24 hours a day and hold their little petri dish. I love those little embryos like I have never loved anything else before.

I sat around and thought about the beginning of our TTC journey. Our first pregnancy was conceived that exact same weekend that I might have ovulated. And then hope started creeping in that I might magically conceive on a natural cycle. It's all that "meant to be" crap. What a load of crap is my current standing on the theories of "meant to be". I started my period on Fridayish and mostly Saturday.

So, we are back at square one. Currently we are back on BCP's and iron and colace, and baby aspirin. And on Sunday, we start lupron. Again. At least we're doing a higher dose. Here come the hot flashes. Again.

information comes in little tiny pieces

So, I haven't updated in a little while. Information is coming in very small insignificant bits at a time. It seems silly to write two sentences of an update. So I have collected all relevant information and this is my attempt to keep the internets up to date.

My donor is having her ER right now. As I type this. I am hoping for her. I am praying for her. I am praying for my doctor that the procedure can go smoothly and his hands be guided to the perfect eggs that will make a baby for us. Paul and I made our appearance at the office so he could make his contribution. As of yesterday, she had around ten follies on each side. They are going to use ICSI to fertilize so hopefully we'll have lots of quality embies to choose from. My lining is thick and fluffy around 13mm. My E2 was 381 as of Friday. Not sure what it was yesterday but they said they would call if there was an issue. Lots of deep breaths for me. One minute I am full of hope and optimism and the next my heart is in my throat and I am on the verge of tears. Everything is so beyond my control. I hate that. I just want to sit at the clinic and be with my embryos. I can call the clinic tomorrow after 2pm (MST) to get details on how many eggs were retrieved, how many fertilized, and whether we will be doing a 3dt or a 5dt. Lots of pacing and deep breaths until then. Tonight we are doing a temple session. I spoke to my friend Miriam yesterday and she dropped the bombshell on me that she is moving. On Friday. Wah! I invited her to do the session with us tonight and she is going to be there. Her brother is going to the temple for the first time tonight because he is going on his mission in a month or two. I can't wait to see her and hoping that this evening will help me to feel peace and calm as we wait out these next few day. Have I mentioned how stressful cycling is?

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

looking good

I had an u/s yesterday morning. My usual doctor didn't do my u/s which was fine because I like the other doctor quite a bit also. He said I had a beautiful 3 layer lining just like a salami sandwich. I told him most of the time I like to hear that I have nice legs from a man but in his case I would make an exception and I was extremely complimented to have someone tell me I have such a nice lining. And then I blushed. Actually, we all did. I am producing copious amounts of discharge which is less than desirable until I realized that was making me produce such a nice lining. Things are moving right along.

i didn't die

Turns out once you've mastered lupron injections a DE cycle can be a little boring. Actually, wait! I can think of one thing that happened that was mildly interesting. Last Friday, we returned from Hobbs. I have been so sleep deprived that I intended to take a nap, wake up at midnight, go out to purchase HP and go back to bed. I hit the pillow at 7:30pm and I didn't emerge from my bedroom until 10am the next day. Have I ever mentioned that there are few things I love as much as sleep? I love my bed. I love my favorite sheets. I love them all the more when I have been sleeping on a twin air mattress, or sleeping in a bed with my sister with her 8 week old baby in the same room, or just not been in my own bed for two weeks. I slept, and slept, and slept right through my injection. I called the clinic in the morning but they told me they were busy and would get back to me later. They did. I got a teeny, tiny lecture about missing my shot. But now, things are back to normal. Well, whatever normal is for a person in the midst of their first IVF cycle. So, to sum things up I went to go visit my sister in Ohio and had both a stressful but wonderful time. I love my niece. I love her more than I ever thought I could. I have mastered my own lupron injections and will NEVER again allow Paul to do my shots. I missed a shot. It was no big deal. I got HP and read it for 2 days straight. I neglected all duties to husband and house. And I have an u/s on Monday before I leave to go to Denver. Whew!

I can barely remember what this felt like

I was talking with a friend this morning and we were discussing an old music teacher. When we were probably 12ish this particular music teacher had her first baby. We remember this event quite clearly and it was kind of nice to reminisce. More than that though I remembered a feeling of true sincere joy that this woman was going to be a mother. I have felt joy about a pregnancy announcement since then and I've even felt happiness for people announcing a pregnancy since dealing with our own infertility but no matter how hard I try it's always clouded by my own sadness. Recalling that event reminded me what it felt like before infertility. This battle even though I am very grateful for it has been life changing. And I say this before we even have children. I don't dwell on how much infertility affects my life but this morning it dawned on me how truly engrossing it can be and how much it has become a part of who I am. I really wonder even after our family is complete if I will ever again experience the happiness I once felt with a pregnancy announcement.

I promise the lame posts will stop soon

Ok, I promise I will stop soon with the lame updates. I gave myself shot number two tonight. I drew up the lupron. I recapped the needle. I put the syringe back down on the couch and stared at it. No one was home tonight to indulge my whining so this was a pretty silent process. I cleaned my belly with the alcohol. And I just sat there. I took the cap back off the needle, I pinched my belly and I aimed. And then I recapped the needle once again and stared at the syringe on the couch. I did this little routine five times before I actually went through with the minimal poke. I pinched my belly five flipping times. For the record all of the pinching hurt way more than the actual needle poke. So it is my new goal to pinch once and poke. Yep, that's my new goal.

One down, a lot more to go.

Injections that is. I did my first injection of lupron tonight. Paul is leaving tomorrow and I leave for Ohio on Wednesday so I had to be a big girl and learn how to do my own injections. No time to waste. I have literally been fretting over this all day. I fretted over this all through church. I fretted all the way through dinner. Needless to say, I was pretty worked up by the time it came to do the actual injection. Now, I am not doing big scary injections. It's just lupron. With a teeny, tiny little sub-q needle. I drew my own medicine. I wiped my belly with alcohol. And then I started sweating. And I mean, really sweating. Even my feet were sweaty. I happened to be wearing crocs at the time and when walked to the kitchen to wash my hands for the 16th time (I'm big on avoidance technique) I squeaked and slipped all the way there. Time to suck it up, Emily. So I did it. I slumped down on the couch, grabbed a piece of my belly, and injected that little needle like a dart. I injected the lupron. And then I was done. What on earth was all that fuss about? I barely felt that tiny little needle. It was not a big deal at all. I can't believe I have to do this all again in 24 hours. Is it too early to already be feeling symptoms? I think I have a headache. Sigh.

drugs

The drugs have arrived. I'm sure it's not nearly as exciting for me as it is for the donor who has the "good" drugs. Just like anything else there was drama associated with the arrival of the drugs. They were scheduled for delivery yesterday via FedEx and when they hadn't arrived by the time I needed to leave to pick up Paul from the airport I felt confident they would be there by the time we returned. We had a few errands to run post airport and when we returned home a few hours later there were no drugs to be found. But there was a message from FedEx saying they needed our correct address. I don't know why they have such a difficult time. UPS can always find my house. So I called them back and the driver had already left the area so no delivery for us today. The customer service person said that we could pick up our stuff tonight or we could wait for delivery until Thursday. There was no way I was going to put this off over a holiday so we waited a couple of hours and headed down to the warehouse. Surely this would be easy, right? WRONG! I forgot the tracking number and had to send my beloved MIL over to my house to look it up. This kills me because I had info regarding dollar amounts written on the piece of paper and I don't trust the woman. The FedEx employee tried desperately to look my package up by my address and by my name all to no avail. So, I sucked it up and sent my MIL over to my house. She called me back with the tracking number and no mention has been made of it since. Once the FedEx employee is equipped with the tracking number she disappears to the back only to return a few moments later to announce to us that the driver carrying our package was in a car accident and wasn't back yet. It took every ounce of self control within me to keep from shouting, "why does everything always happen to me!" Every once in a while I just want to have a tantrum moment although I think everyone at FedEx was glad I restrained myself. The FedEx lady was kind enough to stay at work and call me when my driver arrived so I could come back for my package. Paul continues to amaze me every day. The first thing he said when the announcement was made about our drivers whereabouts was to ask if the driver was ok. I know it probably seems like it's a pretty small deal but it just came so easily and naturally to him to be concerned for this strangers welfare and just to completely have it bypass his mind what the deal was with the drugs. Ok, so we went to my parents for a bit and then they called us so we went and picked them up and now all is well. Until 53 minutes pass and I need to give myself my first injection.

A Random Thought

This random thought has absolutely nothing to do with IF. I remember my dreams fairly often and occasionally they are funny enough to be shared.

I have been looking for a silver belt forever. I have looked high and low all over Albuquerque and nothing! Very frustrating. Black shirt and brown belt is not cool and black belts are a little boring and a silver belt would be the perfect solution. Well, I found one last month at Uniqlo in NYC. It's perfect and I love it. It has a pattern of punched holes all around it. Well, last night I had a dream that my belt said something really vulgar in the pattern and I had purchased it and worn it around for a couple of weeks without ever noticing. I checked and there is nothing vulgar secretly written in the pattern. Whew! Oh the things that plague my simple mind.

torn

My birthday was last week and I really would like to blog about it complete with pictures and video but I haven't taken the time to upload to youtube, upload to photobucket etc. Birthday blog is coming and will be fabulous. I hope.

My sister came to Albuquerque today. And she brought my niece with her. Baby Savannah is almost six weeks old now. I am so amazed at how tiny she still is. I am overcome with love for this baby that doesn't even belong to me. She's just my niece and she doesn't live here. It is amazing to me that I can love her so much and not even know her. And then she starts to whimper and fuss and I cannot wait to get away from her. New babies really stress me out. They are really squirmy and they have no muscle control. And they whimper and whine. And now I'm worried that I'm going to be a horrible mother. I so hope that I can figure this out.

It's official

The ball is rolling. Our cycle has begun. I am taking BCP's. I have my calendar. The donor has started BCP's. The donor has her calendar. Wow. This is the first time I have cycled in almost a year. The range of emotions I am feeling has taken me completely off guard. One minute I'm terrified, the next I'm hopeful, the next I'm excited, followed by nervousness. I can't decided how I'm feeling.

It hasn't been without a few snags however. Our first choice donor backed out a few weeks ago. I called the DE coordinator and she was going to call our first choice and see where she was in our cycle and get things moving with her. First choice donor called her back and said she wasn't sure she wanted to cycle again. She called back and said she had made up her mind. She had decided not to cycle again. The stupid thing is I actually felt rejected. After the total coincidence of finding out who she was I really felt like it was a sign that she was "the one." I guess not. Maybe it was just me being hopeful. I don't really know nor do I feel like dwelling on it.

So we moved on to our second choice. Donor #2 is actually a closer match to me ethnically. Picking a donor is not an easy process. I originally wanted someone who is tall like me and the same ethnicity which presents a bit of a problem. The issue is that my father is Caucasian and my mother is Mexican. The Mexicans are not known for their statuesque proportions. It presented a bit of a conundrum. I ultimately decided I wanted someone tall. First choice donor was very tall and had very tall relatives but her ethnicity was entirely Caucasian. Second choice donor has a Mexican father and a Caucasian mother. And she's 5'7" which I'm told is still relatively tall. Her brothers are fairly tall also and her sisters are tall so I don't have anything to complain about. She is actually a pretty close match to me. When we got word that our first choice donor had backed out I was out of town and I didn't have my donor profiles with me so I had to let the DE coordinator know how I wanted to proceed. I told her to move forward with our second choice and a week later we headed home. Shortly after making it home I pulled out the donor profiles and an overwhelming sense of peace came over me. I knew that we were making the right decision and that even though our second choice wasn't our initial choice I really feel like she was who we were meant to cycle with.

Our new donor has really good stats as well. She has already cycled so she knows what to expect. She has two children and she responded really well in her other cycle. They retrieved 25 eggs. 21 fertilized. They transferred two quality two blasts. Seven embryos could have been frozen. There were two compact morulas that maybe could have been frozen. The couple that she cycled for didn't want to freeze embryos so they were destroyed. She had good fert rates. It appears she produced good embryos. The recipient didn't get pregnant but sometimes these things just don't work.

My only job now is to take my prenatals, iron, colace, BCP's on a consistent basis. It drives Paul nuts that I don't take prenatals on a regular basis but frankly I don't need a daily reminder that I'm barren. In the meantime I'm thinking positively and swallowing a fistful of pills every morning.

How pathetic is this?

Today. Today I peed on a stick. I know. It's utterly pathetic. I stopped peeing on sticks over a year ago. I stopped peeing on sticks when it became a choice of buying more of the evil pee sticks or buying groceries. But for some pathetic reason I thought that maybe just maybe we would be able to achieve a natural pregnancy after getting sealed. It pisses me off that I even thought that. It doesn't do justice to all of the wonderful members of the church who are already sealed and dealing with infertility. It insults all of the wonderful people who have dealt with and are currently dealing with infertility who are not members of the church. I have banished the idiotic thoughts and commanded them never to return but in that stoopid moment of weakness I peed on a stick. Please no bashing. I feel badly enough.

During my momentary lapse in judgment I found a sad little bit of irony. I think it was two summers ago that I bought a bag of dixie cups. I was so sick of peeing on my fingers and the like that I bought a bag of cups. Today when I went to pull out my stash of cups that I keep in the bathroom for just this purpose I realized that I only have two cups left. Holy night! That is probably hundreds of dollars wasted on those evil pee sticks. Evil is right!

By the way, it was glaringly negative.

Please don't wake me up.

A recent exchange between Paul and me.

We were home in the afternoon cuddled up for an afternoon nap and Paul tried to have a very simple conversation with me. He wasn't very successful. It went something like this.

Paul: Hey Em, where is the remote?
Me: uhhh, near my phone...I think.
Paul: Where is your phone?
Me: uhhh, in my purse.
Paul: Where is your purse?
Me (in a thoroughly exasperated tone): What are you looking for?

Yeah, please don't interrupt my precious sleep. It's not likely that it will get you anywhere. By the way, I have no recollection of this conversation. Thanks to Paul for amusing me with this tale over dinner.

A very sympathetic 2WW

So the donor just finished cycling for another couple. And after a sympathetic stressful 2WW I am happy to report a BFP for the other recipient. If only I can be so lucky. I spoke to the IVF coordinator this morning and she is going to call the donor, make sure that all is good and start the process for the donor all over again. AF is about two and a half weeks away and I will start BCP's which marks the beginning of my cycle. This is really happening!

People say the dumbest things pt 2

I really didn't think this was going to have a sequel but this was priceless.

I had my semi annual teeth cleaning today. The hygentist that I see is the same one I've seen since I was probably six. She knows me. She knows my entire family. So she comments on the fact that my sister has had a baby. I respond and say that I'm happy for her which is the absolute truth. Her next comment floors me. She says, "I just can't believe that a person like YOUR sister who has never made a correct decision in her life gets to be pregnant while you have been trying all this long time." Now, I feel guilty for being mad at her for such a comment. I am always trying to get people to be more sensitive to the infertiles. So she was sensitive towards me...at the expense of my sister. It pissed me off but who I am to say anything. She had a fistful of sharp instruments in my mouth. My sister has made a lot of mistakes. She didn't graduate from high school. She did a whole lot of drugs in high school and ran away from home. But she has done way more things right than done things wrong. She has gotten herself out of all of those bad situations and really turned her life around. It's easy for my life to healthy and normal because it's always been that way. I think anyone who has had their life be in the crapper and was able to turn it around deserves major kudos not judgment and hostility.

Then, Nancy the hygentist moves on to my brother. She said that she saw him last week for a cleaning and he was all dressed up for work. He is doing some sales job. She then proceeds to berate his job and her final comment about my brother was, "wow, I really thought he would amount to something. Hmmm, I guess not." Ok, what the hell is this womans problem? And why does she keep insulting my family...to my face no less.

I was a total coward and I didn't say a word to her about how rude she was being. But then I left the dentist and heard her toxic comments over and over again in my head. So I called the office back and spoke to the dentist and asked him to switch me to a different hygentist. I was really hoping she would call to apologize so I could say all of the things to defend my family that I should have said to begin with.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

people say the dumbest things

Fortunately, I am following the sage advice of my nineteen year old brother. He often tells me to "be the duck; just let it roll you." So I am letting all of of the stupid assvice roll off me, just like a duck. Maybe you would have to be there.

We have some good friends (perhaps after this story I will change that to past tense...had some good friends). The way Paul met them is rather convoluted but he has been friends with them for fifteen years. They are closer to our parents ages so we think of them as our other mom and dad. Or at least I did. Not so much, now. My mother has never said anything this rude to me.

I have never been shy about our IF. We were honest that we were ttc from the get go and five years later it's pretty obvious that we are encountering some difficulties. "D" has usually been pretty sensitive to me and as a former endo sufferer she can be nice and sympathetic. Until now. Ok, obviously I am not doing a great job of letting it roll off me. She was asking us where we we're at in the IF journey and I told her that we were gearing up for an IVF cycle. Her response..."well, don't be too upset if it doesn't work. You need to be prepared for the fact that this could fail." Well, thank you so much for inspiring me with so much hope. She proceeded to then lecture me on how I just shouldn't be upset if this fails. Over and over again. Like a broken record. Aren't you noticeably impressed at my self control for not drowning her in my bottled water.

Both "D" and her husband are chain smoking fools. I wonder if he gets diagnosed with lung cancer first if it would be inappropriate to tell her that he might be cured or he just might die and to not be upset if he does die. Geez! I would never say that. In fact it mortifies me that I'm typing it out but come on. It was the dumbest thing ever to say. If my DE cycle fails then I will deal with it by being upset and I will move on. I am strong like that. I know I am. But it might work and right now, I need to be hopeful. So I am going to be like the duck. Letting it roll off me. And moving on. And having hope.

The coolest adoption story ever.

Ok, so this isn't really an adoption story. It's really a story about the blending of cultures in an adopted family. My friend Brooke's mother is visiting Albuquerque right now. She has a friend who is Japanese who is married to a handsome German man. I actually have no idea if he is handsome or not but in my imagination he is. They are in their fifties. Obviously fertility was going to be an issue. They have adopted a beautiful little girl from Ecuador. They've named her Sara. She's two now and is a thriving happy little girl. Both mom and dad speak English so the little girl also speaks English quite well. They also want her to be fluent in their native tongues as well. So mom speaks Japanese to Sara and Sara speaks Japanese back. Dad speaks German to Sara and Sara speaks German back. Sara is going to be quite the multi lingual child. Brooke and Yoshiko (Brooke's mom) were visiting the family and Brooke thought it would be polite to entertain the little girl so the adults could visit. Sara was being very shy at first but once Brooke started speaking to her in Japanese she opened right up. I have this image in my head of this beautiful, dark skinned, dark eyed little Ecuadorian (is that a word?) speaking fluent Japanese....and German...and English. And it makes me smile.

I'm an aunt

My sister is now a mother. It's a little bit of a scary thought. She is my LITTLE sister. Except for a few minor spats Abby has been very considerate of me and my infertile, fragile feelings for most of the pregnancy. She has hardly whined or complained and if she did she spared me and complained to my mother.

Last week she saw her doctor and he told her he was going to wait until 30May to induce her. Her response, "Like hell you are going to make me wait another week and a half. If I haven't gone into labor by Wednesday you will be inducing me then." He said alrighty. And Wednesday it was. She required a lot of pitocin and the baby was born Wednesday evening. When I talked to Abby on Wednesday night she sounded great, chipper and full of joy. I happened to call on Wednesday while Abby was busy laboring and Consuelo, Abby's sil answered the phone because Abby was busy pushing. Consuelo announced to me that the baby was crowning and she could see the top of head. "Look at all that hair!" she exclaimed. Now, my mother has tons of hair. I was born with tons of hair. Abby was born with tons of hair. Obviously Abby's child will also be born with tons of hair. I laughed as I remember our baby pictures. It was the first time I really felt connected to my niece.

Savannah Paige S______ was born Wednesday 23May around 7:30 EST. I'm not sure about the weight and height and frankly since it's not my kid, I don't really care all that much. But she's healthy and adorable and I already love and adore her.

Donor News!

The donor just finished cycling for another couple and I have some news of how she did.

26 eggs retrieved
21 mature
17 fertilized
they did a day 5 transfer
We had several morulas, some decent looking blasts, and one perfect blast.

They did assisted hatching because the zonas looked dark. I have no idea what that means but you can rest assured that I will be spending the afternoon googling and webmd-ing it to death.

Hopefully I will find out the actual grades of the embryos in the next week or two. The IVF coordinator is going to call my second choice to just find out where she is in her cycle just in case. The recipient is now officially in the 2WW and I didn't realize it was possible to be this stressed about some one else's cycle. Please just let it work!

Donor Eggs

I love my church. I really do. But there is a huge difference between the doctrine of the church and Mormon culture. I love the doctrine but I pretty much detest the culture. There are a few things that I've been a bit skeptical about and have labeled them Mormon Urban Legends. One is when people say that they have been struggling with an issue and they open the scriptures and it was like the scriptures have been written just for them. My response when people start telling these stories is, "oh please!" I just didn't buy it. I thought it was people creating a self fulfilling prophecy. Until it happened to me.

I was reading the Ensign (church magazine for those not in the know) and an old issue at that a few weeks ago. It was the Feb issue and Elder Hales was talking about axioms for life. Axiom 2 states, "Pursue your goals with all your heart, might, mind, and strength. You are doomed to failure if you pursue them in a vacillating manner. So often we are tentative and don't move forward with conviction. We feel our way along, as if we were afraid in the dark. It is so much better to turn on the light of faith and move ahead with energy and commitment. If our course is wrong, we will quickly recognize it and make the necessary adjustments. But if we pursue a course tentatively and indecisively, it is difficult to know whether it is right or wrong in time to correct it. The Lord said, 'I would thou wert cold or hot'. Rev 3:15. We should decide now to make our decisions prayerfully and then move forward with faith, energy, and determination."

Brilliant man, that Elder Hales. I tell you, he wrote that just for me. I know he did. Ok, so that might be a bit of a stretch but it felt like God is gently reminding me that He is there and aware of my situation.

I have been doing exactly what Elder Hales said. Moving along too tentatively, unsure of my course. I still haven't received a visit from an angel, a comment from God on my blog or anything else earth shattering but I am making a conscious decision to move forward with faith. I am prepared to change my course if I feel like that is the right choice but the best thing I can do is move forward until such revelation comes.

To that end, I believe we have selected a donor. She is lovely. Her health history is good. She has brown hair. She is tall. Her sisters are tall. Her brother boarders on giant like as he is 6'7". I love that about her. We share an ethnic background which surprised me how important that ended up being to me.

I was prepared to know next to nothing about our donor which is sad for me. I have been thinking about how our son or daughter will fill out forms at the doctors office regarding health history. They won't have much information about their birth mothers history. It's kind of bumming me out. It was also hard not to know if she is a nice person, a hard worker, or any things else that have anything to do with her personality. She obviously is going to put her best foot forward on the donor questionnaire. I'm not really upset about any of this but I have been giving it some thought.

It's turning out the anonymous donor process may not be totally anonymous. Entirely by coincidence I have found a connection between us. Here is my post from my favorite IF board.

I received a batch of donor profiles a while back and got some more from my clinic a few weeks later and I am pretty sure I have picked a donor. She is actually cycling right now for another couple and I will make my final decision in a week when we know how she responded, how many eggs were retrieved, and fertilized. I knew that the only way we would get to know our donor is if we recruited her ourselves. Paul got a bit uncomfortable with that though. I had resigned myself that we would never know her or know any more about her than was on the donor profile we initially received. Or...perhaps not.


So Brooke (my childhood friend that is currently living with us) and Alexis (a mutual friend from college who is visiting because her brother is graduating from unm) and I were at lunch today with Alexis's brother and I asked him what his major was. He responded criminology and I said one of the egg donors I am considering is majoring in criminology. Brooke has seen the donor profiles and looked over them with me. She and Alexis were at Alexis's brothers graduation over the weekend. At lunch when the DE subject came up a light bulb went off for Brooke. She looks at Alexis and reminds her of a conversation at the graduation where she was asking how she knew the girl that was graduating. This was a military graduation and Brooke remembered some stuff from the profile that was military related and we start quizzing Timothy because Brooke is almost positive that it is the same girl. We talk with Timothy quite a bit and in a matter of minutes we are assured that we are talking about the same girl. Does graduation girl speak German because the donor does? Has the graduation girl recently had lasik because the donor has? It was all confirmed. We got home and her picture was in the graduation program and it is definitely the same girl.

When we started this process we signed papers stating that we would never go looking for this girl and she was to be anonymous etc and I am not sure if I have violated her privacy. I still really like her. I talked with Timothy for a bit at lunch and asked what I am sure to him were very strange questions. I was so taken aback that we had a common thread. I asked him if she was a nice girl, if she was pleasant and kind. He reassured me that she is a wonderful person and a great leader and she cared about her country which I thought was very cute. I'm still in a bit of shock! Is it bad to go through with this cycle and keep her as my donor? Obviously I wouldn't tell the clinic but I am just wondering if this is ethical. This whole incident made me like her even more.

Maybe God won't leave a comment on my blog but He will so conveniently arrange things so that I fall just a little bit more in love with our donor. I know that He is paying attention to my life and my desire to have a baby hasn't fallen through the cracks. That in itself is very comforting.

I made it! I made it!

My biggest fear about the lap was that they were going to make in incision in my belly button. No, I wasn't worried about losing my ovaries. I wasn't worried about in injury to the bladder or bowel. I was worried that they were going to make a cut in my belly button. We all have idiosyncrasies and this is mine. I hate belly buttons. I hate looking at them. I hate touching mine. I hate them. I know it's a weird thing but it's my weird thing.

He did not make an incision in my belly button. I could have kissed my doctor when I discovered this happy news. As a sidenote; I also did not have any injury to the bladder or bowel and he didn't remove my ovaries but he did remove my right tube. He thinks. He showed me pictures from the surgery and there is so much scar tissue it is hard to tell what is what. My insides look broken. It's really quite sad.

When I had my post op appointment on Monday he reminded me yet again that I am the worst case of endo he has ever seen. I feel like I can't ever grasp the depth of that because I have almost no pain. I only took 400 ml of ibuprofen with my last few periods and only because I felt like my period was going to start and it's a habit at this point to start pain meds early. I'll take it even if it means being disconnected with the process. He started the conversation by saying that it looked like a grenade exploded in my pelvis. Lots of scar tissue and lots of adhesions. I suppose it's to be expected after three surgeries.

More about the donor process in the next post.

I bought something for my baby this week

Yes. I know. I don't have a baby. But I would prefer to say, I don't have a baby...yet. I will.

I was kidding myself a little bit when I bought the item in question. I teach the CTR 5 class at church and before I taught them I taught in the senior nursery. I've been buying things for my baby pretending all the while that I'm buying them for my church class. Well, I'm kidding myself no longer. I am not going to turn in receipts for reimbursement. I am going to keep every last board book, flannel board and character, and craft book for the baby that will grace our home...eventually.

To my sweet baby,

I know you are waiting until just the right time to come and meet us. I know that you belong in our family. I want you to know that we love you already. I want you to know that we can't wait to teach you and love you and get to know you. We are doing the best we can to prepare for your arrival. We can't wait to meet you.

Love,
mom

Where is my warranty paperwork?

I want a refund! or a new body! or for this one to work properly! I did a mock cycle last month and cd 1 was 1April and I am still bleeding. It's not even convenient bleeding. It's inconsistent, and clotty and gross. Sorry for the TMI. I am on BCP's so I can have surgery at my convenience which happens to be at the end of the month and they are making my face break out like I am a teenager. I have acne issues anyway but this is getting to be too much. I have a zit brewing on my upper lip. That is the worst place ever to have a breakout. Emotional pain AND physical pain?!? It's too much. Something has got to give. I need to be fertile. If I can't be fertile, I need some sort of consolation prize like a clear face. or...actually I'm really a pretty content person. I just want a baby. Soon. Please?

ok, small NM towns aren't so bad after all

Hobbs is kind of growing on me. I'm still not ready to move there but I don't dread it like I did before. We have been staying at a B&B and I'm getting to be friends with the owner. She and I actually drove to Midland to go shopping yesterday. It was very nice of her to invite me. She will even let us ride her horses which is nice. I did a horrible job of packing for this trip and getting out of town was an absolute nightmare. I left my house around 11am on Wednesday and didn't end up leaving the city until 12:45. Fast food at the drive through shouldn't take 25 minutes. The idiot at Office Depot didn't know what magazine spines were and I forgot about the damn construction on the freeway. I am mortified to admit this but I have been traveling with Paul for weeks now and up until now have done a pretty good job at packing but I neglected a few essentials this trip. Here is what I forgot: underwear (I'm rather particular about underwear and my options were to back track and go home to get some which was not going to happen after my issues getting out of town in the first place, sucking it up and dealing with no underwear or driving to Lubbock on Thursday), socks and tennis shoes, and pj's. I didn't change my underwear for 48 hours and I have never felt more disgusting in my life. I hope to never repeat that experience ever again. I couldn't wait to get home. Poor Paul had to be at 5:30am on Thursday but because of my underwear disaster he was kind enough to drive me home on Thursday night even though it was utterly miserable for him. I love that man. We didn't get home until 1am but clean undies never felt so good. I have discovered the people of Hobbs to be kind, welcoming, helpful, and extraordinarily generous. I'm not ready to start looking for a house there but I might be able to tolerate it for more than one week per month which was my previous limit.

Infertility can create misunderstandings

I've been meaning to post about this for some time but it kind of ticked me off and I felt that it would be better to post about it once I calmed down. I can now look at the situation with a bit of humor so here ya go!

As part of the mock cycle I was on estrogen patches and then we added PIO later. I was on estrogen patches for about three weeks and even though I started on only one patch per day I ended up on four patches at any given moment. The clinic suggested that I place the patches on my lower belly but I didn't find them to be comfortable there. So I moved them. I placed them on my lower back and on my bottom. Yes I put the stupid patches on my butt. I had to change them every other day and you're not supposed to put them over the same location so I had to get creative and start moving them around. Once the patches are removed they leave a little mark around the perimeter where the adhesive attracted lint and whatever else. I was getting dressed one morning after my shower and Paul remarks to me, "you should really clean your butt!" EXCUSE ME?!? Let's think before we speak, shall we? After a swift chewing out he explained that all he meant was the adhesive was left on my backside. Hmpf! That could have been better phrased don't you think?

Everyone is pretty pleased that my hormones have leveled out...including myself.

Surgery is 26 days away

My period has been trickling in for a few days but decided to make her formal appearance today. So today is the day that I get to start the "birth control" pills. My entire reproductive system I think we could consider a form of birth control. I pick up the pills at the pharmacy and the pharmacist asks me if I've taken this medicine before. I should have lied and said yes. I said no because I haven't taken this particular brand of pill before and besides that it's been almost five years since I've taken birth control pills. The realization that we have been TTC for almost five years hit me like a ton of bricks. FIVE YEARS?!? FIVE YEARS?!!? I've been dealing with IF for almost five years. Ugg. No wonder it's getting easier for me to deal with. I have no other choice. Ok, so I tell the pharmacist that I haven't taken the medicine before and she tells me to take it at approximately the same time everyday and that if I miss a pill I should double up until I get back on schedule and here's the kicker...to use a back up method of birth control. I wanted to ask her if blocked tubes counts as a back up method. I just felt myself smiling and nodding at the woman. A back up method of birth control? Oh please. Then she tells me that if I am taking antibiotics that those could also lessen the effectiveness of the pill and again to use a back up method. I realize that she had no idea that what she was saying was positively nauseating to me but it was and I can't wait until this surgery is behind me.

Ouch!

I was having lunch with my very best friend today. We were discussing religion and she said, "I am not friends with the good people that religion has turned out." Ouch. So my question is, " am I not her friend or am I one of the obnoxious religious preachy hypocritical folks?" Prior to today I would have thought I fit in neither category.

Mock Cycle Over

Well I have one more thing I can cross off the list. The most annoying part of the whole mock cycle was having to take a pregnancy test prior. I would not be here in the office enduring painful procedures if I needed to take a pregnancy test. The sad thing is for a mere moment I actually had my hopes up. I got over that pretty quickly. I am glad however that my hips should soon be returning to a normal state of being and I am done with PIO for the time being. I start birth control pills with my period in a few days so surgery can be scheduled at my convenience. So a pregnancy test and birth control pills all in one week. Ha! What injustice!

I was supposed to have an appointment with an RE in MA this week and as a I called to cancel the appointment I told her that I lived in New Mexico and I was unable to get a flight that I could afford so I needed to cancel the appointment. She asked me if I wanted to call and reschedule the appointment once I got back in the states. sigh.

We tried to rent a movie

We found ourselves in the mood last night for some old school cult classics of the kung fu variety. We were looking for something by the Shaw brothers; perhaps "Fist of the White Lotus". We visited our local video store and found the employee to be somewhat lacking in her knowledge of this particular genre. We said, "we are looking for a movie by the Shaw brothers...ya know 70's cult classics." She said, "is that the name of the movie?" We left Hollywood video. It was so sad.

If I didn't know better...

I would think I was pregnant. I am exhausted all the time. My breasts are so sore I wish they would fall off. My uterus feels unbelievably heavy. I pee about 3cc's of urine every 15 minutes. So I guess we now know exactly which hormones cause the pregnancy symptoms. Speaking of my breasts they are HUGE and spilleth over. This had all better be worth it.

My uterus feels heavy and started feeling heavy almost as soon as I started on the estrogen patches. I was whining about my heavy uterus to my parents while laying down on my side on their bed. My dad walked up to me and tried to pick me up. He feigned being unable to pick me up and told me, "you're right. your uterus is very heavy" with a knowing look on his face. I'm glad I have a silly daddy who makes me laugh even if my uterus is heavy.

Day 4 of PIO

Ok, not such a big fan. One hip is slightly less uncomfortable and it's time to shoot me up with the drugs again. Today both hips hurt like hell. I'm sure it'll be ok though.

We got back the results of my bloodwork and Paul's semen analysis. My E2 was at 197 and they were looking to have it above 250. Nurse Lois said that they did the bloodwork a few days earlier than they normally do so in the real cycle they might leave me on the estrogen patches a little longer than they did with this cycle. Whatever.

Paul's semen analysis came back at what it normally does. He numbers were terrific except for the morphology. His morphology was at 5.2% which is borderline. My clinic does ICSI with a morphology report less than 5%. Nurse Lois said to be prepared to do ICSI. Again...whatever.

So basically things are looking ok and moving right along.

No more angy blogging

Upon our return from the east coast I ended up in a foul mood for two straight days. Too much to do in two short days made me crabby. However today is Sunday. I love the Sabbath. I feel like what I am doing has purpose. Laundry, dishes and other housework certainly has a purpose but the tasks that I have on Sundays somehow seem more important than housework. Today, thanks to the Sabbath, my foul mood has lifted. If that isn't a miracle I don't know what is. So it is my goal to do no more angry blogging. Hopefully my thoughts will be more cohesive and clear.

The last time I had surgery my beloved MIL made me so angry I could have spit nails. I told her to please not come to the hospital until after I was in my hospital room. I asked her to do this so if I had lost my ovaries Paul could tell me in privacy. I asked my parents to do the same thing. There was no reason for anyone other than Paul to be hanging out at the hospital and furthermore I didn't want people to know if I had lost my ovaries. Paul's mother came to the hospital during my surgery and waited around until my doctor had delivered the surgery report. I was furious. What a violation of my privacy. I don't want to tell her I've had surgery until after the fact. Paul isn't particularly happy about this. I think she asked for it by not abiding by my wishes the first time around. We shall see. He doesn't want to seem to want to fight about it. I talked to BFF Brooke about it and her take was that it wasn't fair and it would upset my MIL. I guarantee that she will be less upset than I was when she violated my privacy.

My very first PIO

It wasn't too bad. I would gladly do it to be pregnant for a full nine months with a healthy baby. Wouldn't we all? I'm oh so glad that I have a wonderful husband who doesn't mind playing chemist every evening. I don't even have to look at the needle. He takes care of everything for me. I barely even felt the poke. He's a good one.

Yesterday was a busy one. I had an u/s. Paul had yet another semen analysis. I had to get blood drawn. And I started PIO. There should be a rule on how many pokes infertiles have to endure in one day. I think my limit is two.

When I go in for my endometrial biopsy a week from Monday I will begin looking at donors. I filled out my version of the paperwork to indicate what type of physical features I would want in a donor. It was really difficult to fill out. It just sort of hit me that this wouldn't be my biological child. I don't know why it hit me so hard. It really caught me off guard. I've been ok with the idea that this child wouldn't be mine biologically, but picking out the physical features of my child's birthmom was just a little strange.

My surgery has been scheduled. It's going to be 27April. It will be day surgery and I feel confident after talking to my doctor that there won't be a surprise laparotomy.

ENRAGED!

On the way to our RE this afternoon we were driving and we were stopped at a light and there was a pregnant woman crossing the street in front of us. As if that isn't nauseating enough I noticed that the expectant mother was smoking. I was immediately outraged...almost to the point of tears. Why do people do this? Does she not understand the gift that she has been given? I have been in a snarly mood all day.

Paul and I are getting sealed in the Salt Lake Temple for our anniversary in May. We are excited and we are planning a small get together afterwards. I want to keep it small and intimate, inviting those are we are very close to. I want to keep it to about 12 people. I have asked my uncle and his wife to be there and my aunt and her husband and their eldest child. My aunt and uncle used to be married. I am not close to their second child but he called me today out of the blue to imply that he wanted to be invited. It pissed me off. Again, why do people do this? I know that people are going to get pregnant and go on with their lives despite my infertility but he and his wife are expecting their first child and the family rumor mill has it that he said to my grandmother, "J will be either pregnant or nursing for the next 10 years". I have no idea if this is true as it is in fact gossip but it got under my skin. What a tacky thoughtless thing to say. I need for this time to be about Paul and me and I need it to be a "safe" place, safe from fertiles and pregnant women. Is this too much to ask. I did not cave and invite him. It felt kinda good to have balls if only for a short moment.

Christmas style

I've never missed New Mexico food before. I love New Mexican food; I always have. I've just never been away from home long enough to really miss it before now. We were out to eat while we were at home the last time and BFF Brooke ordered a breakfast burrito, Christmas style. It was a pure moment of comfort that the waitress immediately knew that she wanted both red and green chile on her burrito. I don't even really like green chile but I've found myself craving that sweet scent. Please don't tell Paul; I've done a pretty good job of convincing him that I can't tolerate it. I'll never live it down if he finds out that I've been craving it. I can't wait to get home tonight. Bob's Burgers sounds mighty tasty. Maybe this will help me to tolerate Hobbs a little better. It may be a little dull but the food hits the spot.