Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Three

And the magic number is: 3 embryos. Now let's collectively cross our fingers for at least 2, preferably all 3, embryos to hang around for a Friday transfer. Big bucks, no whammies.

 

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Unless You're Playing Craps

Lucky number 7 again. I'm in a moderate amount of pain, also same as the last cycle, and planning on vegetating on the couch with some pain pills, watching whatever TiVo has intuited I like best for a while. I'm making the best of my days off this week: I made an appointment for a pedicure this afternoon because, well, whatever. I like pedicures and want my feet rubbed and soaked for a while. I also made an appointment for Friday afternoon to have a massage, although I need to check with my nurse to be sure that's okay after transfer. I can't imagine why not, but you never know. Now I just have to be patient until the fertilization report tomorrow morning. I would like to roll a 4, at least.

 

Sunday, February 26, 2012

The Omen

And....we're back on for Tuesday retrieval. There are 6 measurable follicles "in range" and a few smaller ones. I told the nurse I was SURE glad I bought more drugs to stimulate another day now that we're going to trigger today instead. Hopefully I'll be in a position to donate the unused meds to the clinic in a few weeks instead of saving them for round 5. Because 4 is a nice even number.

Another patient was getting her beta drawn and told the nurse she had already tested positive at home. She asked, "What happens next?" and the nurse turned to me and said, "Well, tell her, Jen." So I explained that she'll get another beta and then weekly ultrasounds for a month and then complete ultrasound withdrawal for about 7 months thereafter until she brings home a wriggling baby. And then I congratulated her and resisted the urge to leap up and hug her. It feels like a good sign that she was my blood draw buddy this morning, and that I didn't feel anything but joy for her. But I do still hope I get to be her in a few weeks. I'm firing up the hope machine for Wednesday's fertilization report.

Also, our friends are not yet pregnant. But they perkily announced they will begin trying real soon. I wish them all the unspoiled naivety in the world. But, hey Universe, let me get knocked up first, 'kay?

 

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Slow and Steady

....better damn well win the race. We're pushing back retrieval another day. Now I have to find a babysitter for Jackson next Saturday for the transfer. KB could stay home with him and I could go it alone, but he's always come with me to that appointment and it somehow seems important for both of us to be there when our potential bebe is transferred to its new home.

The silver lining in the delay is that follicles are catching up. Two days ago there were only 5 measurable, and this morning there were 7 measurable plus several smaller follicles that have a decentish chance of making the cut. So this cycle is looking like the last one that gave us Jackson. Hal. Eh. Loo.

11AM Update: My nurse just called to say they want me to come in every morning for the next few days to make a day-by-day assessment of when we'll do retrieval. I've already rearranged my work schedule twice, so yay. Because you guys, THE NOT KNOWING IS THE BEST PART. And I'm glad I already ordered more drugs in anticipation of an extended stimulation, because we are made of money and also everyone knows that the more you spend on making your baby, the better the baby. Truth.

 

Friday, February 24, 2012

Making Stuff

In between work meetings, I've been implementing Operation Distraction. My monitoring appointments are okay. Nothing new; only about 5-6 biggie-size follicles, growing slowly, and upping doses as usual. Lazy ovaries in not-so-full effect. I'm trying not to over-analyze it. What's the point? Retrieval is pushed back to Tuesday so we can stimulate one more day, so we'll know Wednesday morning what we're working with. Then I can really start to freak out. Go buy some hats and then hold on to them, ladies, 'cause hormones will be a-ragin'. I reserve the right to be hormotional for about two weeks thereafter. Oh, and maybe tomorrow night, just a little. Some friends are coming over and I'm 1198% sure they're coming to announce they're pregnant. Yay/boo. You know.

So, anyway, I've been amusing myself with making things for Jackson. I won't even attempt to pass this off as an original idea, as it was more-than inspired by Jill.

I present to you, from the imagination of Stan Lee, Superheroes:
And from the marketing wizards at Disney, Princesses:
And best of all, from a galaxy far, far away, Star Wars:
*heavy breathing* Dork: I am your mother.

 

Monday, February 20, 2012

Look Ma, No Hands

So I suppose IVF cycling is like riding a bicycle. It's more or less as I remember it. Only by now I know, the early follicle counts, E2 values, they don't mean much. It all comes down to a yes/no question: am I pregnant? And for that, we must wait. The first good indicator will be how many eggs successfully fertilize, which will be known early next week (probably Tuesday morning). If we can manage to transfer at least 2, we will be in the best possible shape to get pregnant. If it ends up being a single embryo transfer, I have zero expectation of getting pregnant (although I would still move forward with the transfer, because, hey! unicorns!). So until next Tuesday morning, I'm keeping busy with everyday life, pausing for a few minutes every evening to stab myself in the gut with some drugs, and then carrying on. I'm starting to get that old familiar heavy-in-the-middle feeling one gets from ovaries working hard at growing a dozen eggs, but other than that I'm just peddling away on this pink Huffy with handlebar tassles and a horn. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Yeah.

 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Undercover Mother

I made small talk for about three seconds with another patient at my RE appointment this morning. We had our blood drawn at the same time. We laughed about something stupid. The End. Until I dropped Jackson off at school and THERE SHE WAS. In the same sweatpants and unwashed ponytail she had at the clinic. (This is remarkable because I usually feel like the only woman in the waiting room still in my pajamas and a hat, while everyone else has perfectly coiffed hair and makeup and pants to commute to work after their appointment. I just go through the Starbuck's drive-through and head home to face another day of assmonkey clientele). She didn't see me at school (we were both in the parking lot headed to our cars after dropping off). And I resisted the urge to yell out, "Hey, infertility clinic pal! How's it hanging? Har-dee-har-har!" Unrequited infertility love.

I've never seen her at school before, but am now feeling super sleuthy and wanting to find out who she is. Maybe we'll see her at the spaghetti dinner in a couple of weeks. Maybe she's one of the moms who also volunteered to set up the parent fundraiser. Maybe we're on overlapping monitoring schedules and I'll see her at the clinic again. The possibilities are endless.

 

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Palate Cleanser

I gave up on fighting the traffic ticket after finding out it would be next to impossible to compel the officer to revise the accident report so that I am not at fault. Even if the ticket gets thrown out. So rather than rush from a monitoring appointment and reschedule a bunch of work meetings to pointlessly twiddle my thumbs in fucking traffic court, I paid the damn fine. Two points on my license. Insurance rate may go up. Whatever. It's over. If I ever see the other driver again I will flip her the bird, mightily.

One of my work clients has been a total beast. They want to meet with me (over the phone and live web meetings) almost every day, multiple times a day, and I am NOT getting paid by the hour with them. Flat rate. They are also very indecisive and constantly change their minds, usually after I've done exactly what they asked, and then passive-aggressively accuse me of not following their shitty directions. Crikey. I am trying to adopt the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mentality and just settle in with a nice warm mug of apathy and/or a case of Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe if I can sympathize with my captors it won't seem so bad. The project should be done in a few weeks (all available and remotely possible gods willing). Hanging in there like a kitty on a guidance counselor's poster. Meow.

And tomorrow. I start stims. Welcome back, needle-to-the-gut. So we meet again. Ten glorious days of bloat and headaches. It's like a winter vacation! I need to invent a few excuses to slurp down a glass of wine or a triple gin and tonic in the next couple of weeks while I still can (re: paragraph two).

And so, once again, I prepare to let Hope make me its bitch.

 

Saturday, February 4, 2012

We Are All On Drugs

Ladies and Germs: May I present to you, Le Box De La Drugs.
(This is the fourth time I've received a big box o'drugs. IVF number four, y'all. Huh.)

I expected to pay ~$5,000 for this little pharma care package, but due to some strange cosmic mix-up resulting from KB's employer changing prescription drug coverage providers, I paid just under $2,000. What. I KNOW. Now we can afford to do at least 12 more cycles of IVF. Bring it. (Hey, Universe! Kidding, kidding! Just one cycle, pretty please and thank you I love you you look pretty today.)

I also discovered a new drug in the mix, some sort of super fun vag suppository. Without reading the label or bothering to google, I called the nurse to say, "Look, I'm already gonna get stabbed in the ass with PIO, I don't need to cram these up my crotchal region, too." But apparently reading is fundamental, because these are antibacterial/antifungal suppositories for use prior to transfer. I guess my RE thinks my vag is a skankswamp of whore-disease or something. Or it's just a new part of the protocol. (Jackson got my au natural vag for transfer, and now the new proto-baby will get transferred into my perfectly sanitary vag. So don't believe that second kids get short-changed on everything.) All I care about is that the order included the customary Vitamin V (vicodin) for post-retrieval and my solitary valium for pre-transfer. Oh, and the clinic now recommends mixing up all the injectables into one syringe to minimize the number of pokes. Huzzah.