Another Baker's Half Dozen

I went up to Syracuse yesterday for my retrieval -- and the fertility guru was able to get seven eggs! It was really exciting, though I knew some of then were probably not mature. But seven! Again!

I went to have my post-retrieval acupuncture treatment in Syracuse and it was so relaxing. Probably didn't hurt that I had been unconscious a mere 30 minutes earlier. I spent the day in Syracuse with my niece and then headed back home last night.

Started my next round of meds -- no shots for this cycle, thankfully. Three days of antibiotics, twice a day, estrodial twice a day until after my blood test, back on the baby aspirin in the morning, and 10 herbal pills.

The embryologist called me this morning. She said they injected five of the seven eggs and three took. So I have three embryos set for the transfer later this week. I was a little disappointed at first, that I won't have any in the freezer, but then I reminded myself that I won't need them. This is the month of positive thinking. I'll get pregnant this time around -- maybe even with twins, god help me.

Decisions Made

I was bummed this morning. I went for my follicle check and they didn't seem to grow that much in the last two days. So I waited and waited for the doctor to call, all the while thinking all sorts of negative things and jumping to medical conclusions that I have no business making.

And then Linda (from the fertility guru's office) called to say that I was on track for retrieval on Saturday. I'll give myself injections of the Lupron and Gonal-F tonight, take my last baby aspirin (until after the transfer) tomorrow, do injections of Ovidril tomorrow at exactly 9:30pm, and then nothing to eat or drink after midnight on Friday. The retrieval will be Saturday at 9am, and unfortunately I don't have anyone to take me. But it'll work out. I'll do acupuncture at the FG's office and should be fully coherent by the time that is over.

My transfer will be on Christmas Eve. And I'll do acupuncture, again at the FG's office since my person will be away for the holiday, on Tuesday morning and then Wednesday after the transfer. And then on Christmas day, I'll drive to Richmond.

Not the best the way to spend Christmas, but certainly not the worst. I should be to my brother's house by 2 or 3pm. And I've told a few people in my family that I won't be spending Christmas with them, the ones who could react either very positively or negatively, and they reacted in the way I would want them to.

So no anxiety over Christmas anymore. Time to just be positive and think good thoughts and make this baby.

And as Bubbles said when she heard the transfer date, "a Christmas baby...how wonderfully cheesy!"

Growing, growing, growing

I went in for my follicle check this morning. There are five now, four clustered in the left ovary, one in the right. They are 17, 16.5, 11.5, and two under 8mm.

So while I was hopeful that they would tell me today when my retrieval is, they called to say that I need to go in one more time, on Wednesday, for a possible retrieval on Friday.

Tonight, I picked up the hormones that I will have to inject in myself pre-retrieval. So I'm ready. Whenever they tell me, I'm ready.

I'm feeling good. Clownface, whom I've known since the 4th grade, made a lot of sense in her comment to me about Christmas. And she's right, it's more about me right now, not my family. What is better for me in this period of time when I'm supposed to keep my stress level low? Christmas filled with anxiety? Or a little alone time in the car?

And so while I haven't made a final decision -- I will wait to know when my transfer day is -- I pretty much know which way I am leaning.

Follicle Update

I went for my third follicle check yesterday. One I got past the drama of the 10 inches of snow we got over night and into the morning, it was all good. I have three egg follicles, 9, 11 and 12mm. Ready for retrieval is 20mm. So I'm halfway there. They grow between 1 to 3mm per day. I go back on Monday, and I'm guessing that will be the last follicle check and then I'll begin preparing for the retrieval on maybe Friday or Saturday. There could be more than three follicles, some could be on top on another. Or there could be more than one egg per follicle. But three is good.

I'm feeling confident. I'm going into this one with a more positive attitude. From the moment he puts the embryos in (and I'm going to let him go as high as four, if there are that many), I'm going to be pregnant. I'm going to believe that I'm pregnant. No cautious optimism. I'll deal with the pain, if I have to, later.

I'm Just Asking for a Little Compassion

But perhaps that's too much to ask for.

I spent the week in Richmond, with my parents, at my brother's house.

As we were driving home yesterday, my cell phone rang. It was my niece. I was in the bathroom at McDonald's so just hit ignore.

As my parents were ordering something to eat, I went outside to listen to the voice mail.

"Yeah, hey Laurie, just wanted to see if you had a good Thanksgiving and to let you know I'm expecting. Yea totally crazy...wasn't planning on it, we weren't even trying, it just happened. So I'm due July 9th. Call me back if you want."

I turned my back to my parents inside the restaurant and started crying. But I had to pull myself together. I wasn't going to tell them for a number of reasons. Not my news, not my place to tell my parents. And I wasn't going to get into a car for four more hours and discuss this.

My eyes welled up several times on the drive home. I tried to push it out of my head. I tried not to think about it. I'm happy for her, of course.

But really....is that the way you tell someone who has been struggling with infertility for the past 18 months? Seriously.

My fucking family -- and that's the way I feel about most of them these days -- can't see past the nose of their faces. And sure, I'm probably being a little egocentric about this as well, but really...

I talked to my sister-in-law and Bubbles -- both reacted the same way. That is to say, that they don't think I'm over-reacting, being selfish or being egocentric. Both feel that a little bit of compassion and understanding could have been a part of the phone message.

Of course I would want to know, of course I'm glad she called me, and as I said, of course I'm happy for her. But at the same time, I'm sad for me. At the same time, I would have appreciated a little human decency on her part in telling me.

I haven't been able to call her back. And probably won't. At some point I will send her an email.

I've been having anxiety over Christmas. With my cycle and the retrieval and transfer dates up in the air at this point, I wasn't sure if I would be able to go to Richmond for Christmas. If I didn't do that, then I would go to my sister's in Syracuse. Virginia is easier, but questionable this year.

Well, the parents-to-be will be home for Christmas this year. More than I could really take. So even if I'm driving eight hours on December 25th, or I spend it alone in Ithaca, I'm not going to Syracuse. It would be too much.

And maybe that's me having a pity party for myself. Or maybe I'll change my mind in a few days or a few weeks. Or maybe I won't. I guess only time will tell.

And so for the "I-don't-know-how-many-times" time, I'll feel lousy for a few days and then try to snap out of it. I really thought when I woke up yesterday that it was the start of feeling good, of moving forward and being positive.

Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.

My Day Yesterday

I was over-tired from being up late on the phone with Big.

Towards the end of the day, a friend at work confided in me and another friend that he and his wife are expecting. So there I sat, with my 33-weeks-pregnant friend and another one about to have another baby. When Heather asked if they had been trying long, we heard, "we thought it might, but it happened almost immediately."

I managed to hold it together until he left Heather's office. And then I broke down. I left work, skipped the gym, came home and got into bed pretty early.

I skipped through the TV channels. Law & Order -- pregnant woman. Next.

Discovery Health -- woman having quads. Next.

Food Network should be safe, right? A Challenge. Excellent. "Four bakers must make cake mystery client." Perfect.

Until the mystery client turned out to be a pregnant woman and the cake they had to make was for her baby shower.

I gave up at the point and just watched it. I even tortured myself and flipped over to the quads on commercials. I cried. Didn't wipe my tears, didn't blow my nose. Just laid on my bed, kitty on my lap, and cried.

I rolled over and fell asleep about 8pm. I managed to mostly sleep all night and woke up feeling a little better. At least not like I was going to break down at any given moment.

I'll be busy next week. I'm driving to Richmond on Sunday with my parents. We'll spend the week with my brother and his family, and then I'll be back on Friday. The next day, I'll begin giving myself the stomach shots. Moving forward. I just have to keep remembering that. I'm moving forward.

I'm an emotional wreck. It's the holidays. It's the no baby. It's the always being tired from the hormones and the waiting and the hoping.

I talked to Big last night. He made me cry. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to give him updates and tell him about the second failed IVF attempt. I didn't want to tell him how I was feeling, but he pushed. And I cried.

I told him I didn't want him to hear my cry. He told me to go ahead and cry. And so I did. I filled him in on how I was feeling. And the emotional roller coaster I've been riding.

And he was great. He apologized for not keeping on top of it, for not checking in on me more often. I should have called him out on all of this. But I didn't. Because in the end, it just felt good to hear someone be that concerned about me. It felt right, even though it's not.

We talked for about an hour. He kept me up way too late, but it was worth it.

Fertility Gurus Deserve a Vacation, Too

I talked to the doctor's office today. It's day 3 of my cycle, and even though I'm officially taking November off, I actually get to do something now.

I'll start taking birth control pills tonight, for two weeks. And then the next day (the Saturday after Thanksgiving), I will start with one of the stomach shots. All of this will suppress ovulation this month and hopefully start my next cycle earlier. The last day the office is doing retrievals is December 20 before the FG is going on vacation for the holidays.

My nurse thinks we'll be able to get it all in, that we'll have time to do the retrieval before the 20th. And so I picked up my BCP at Wegmans after work and I feel like I'm actually doing something, I'm moving forward again, working towards the next time.

Cranky Wednesday

So on Friday, I got my test results. Negative. I stopped the shots, the pills and the suppositories -- all hormones cut off, and I expected that I would get my period on Sunday or Monday.

I cried a little over the weekend, had my usual mourning period, and then started to think about the next steps. It's a comfortable pattern I've established. And then Monday came and no period. By Tuesday morning, I started to have hopeful thoughts.

What if the test was wrong? What if it was a false negative? What if I'm really pregnant? I will wait to tell my parents at Thanksgiving. I can tell my brother, sister-in-law and niece in person. I can tell my close friends in Baltimore in person.

And so it went, the fantasy of being pregnant. The fantasy of being able to hug my friends and family who are far away, but who I will be seeing in just a little over a week, when I tell them that I'm having a baby.

Wednesday morning...this morning, my body decided it was time to bitch slap me back into reality. And so, even though I thought I had moved beyond the mourning, even though I had decided it was time to think about next steps and be positive for December, I've taken a step backward.

I got my period, and all of the feelings I had on Friday and Saturday, the sadness, the grief, the feeling like my body is failing me -- they all came back. Five days after getting my test result. I have to deal with these emotions all over again.

And I will. And the good part about having so many failed attempts, the good part about having so many disappointments, is that I know I can move on, I know that the sadness lessens, and that I won't always feel like this. I'll feel hopeful again, I'll feel like I can do this, that at some point it will work.

Someday I'll feel like that again. But not today.

I've not been a very good friend lately

I've been pretty introspective the past week, not really sharing or opening up about what I'm feeling or keeping people in the loop about the process.

I got a phone call from my friend Jan in Baltimore last night. And when I saw her number come up on the caller ID, I instantly felt guilty. I haven't talked to her in several weeks, since my last IVF, and that was a call that she initiated too. And even when we were chatting and catching up, there was an elephant in the room. I avoided all talk of fertility and babies and trying to get pregnant.

Sometimes I just don't want to talk about it. It occupies my mind 95% of the day, that every once in a while, I just don't want to talk about it.

As we were hanging up, I apologized for being out of touch, that I was in my own world, trying to deal with all the emotions. She asked what was going on, and I told her I was in the middle of my second embryo transfer. And amazingly, as have all of my friends, she took it well when I told her I wasn't telling anyone when the blood test is.

"You tell me what you want to, when you want to."

I have wonderful friends...and someday soon, I'll be the friend I once was to them again.

Tricks of the Trade

My friend (who has three IVF babies) called me the other day to check on me, and then to tell quite strongly the things I need to do this week.

Make chicken soup. My way of making chicken soup is chicken stock (from a box from the store) with veggies in a crock pot. The chicken is an already cooked rotisserie also from the store. She told me how wrong I was. "No, Ellie....you need a raw chicken, you need to make your own broth. You need the bone marrow to seep into the broth."

Three-pound raw chicken, check.

Drink molasses with hot water. "And not just regular molasses, Ellie. You need to get blackstrap molasses." It's not as bad as it sounds. It actually tasted like what I think coffee tastes like (I'm not a coffee drinker.) I added milk and I got it down without gagging.

Drink molasses, check.

Full-fat yogurt. That one I knew. That one makes sense. But in this day of health-conscious, fat-free or low-fat this, sugar-free that, do you know how hard it is to find yogurt made with whole milk? I ended up buying YoBaby yogurt.

Yogurt, check.

The chicken is in the crock pot. I drank my molasses and had a yogurt for breakfast. I'm continuing all my meds this week, including the inter-muscular shot, which has gotten much easier, despite the bruises and tenderness all over my backside.

I've decided not to tell anyone when my blood test is. I feel like too many people knew. Too many people were anxious about the results, which in turn made me anxious. My friend Jill, who drove me to Syracuse last week, is the only one who knows the date because she was there when the nurse gave me the lab slip.

So I'll continue on this path -- chicken soup, molasses, yogurt, shots, pills, suppositories -- until my blood test.

This and That....Frick and Frack

Everyone I know who has gone to the fertility guru had an unsuccessful first attempt at IVF -- and a successful attempt on try #2. I'm hoping those odds work in my favor.

This morning, Jill picked me up and after a quick stop through the Dunkin Donuts drive-through for bagels, we headed to Syracuse. Dr. Richard Gere was as charming as usual -- of course, I took a valium when I got to the office so that could have something to do with it -- and we hugged and squeezed hands and he had encouraging, spiritual words to say over my belly.

And then the speculum was in, the internal ultrasound was in, the catheter was in...and then Frick and Frack went in. In to 9mm of uterine lining, into a belly that wants them to hang on tight, into their mommy who will do whatever it takes to encourage them to burrow in and thrive.

When I got home from acupuncture this afternoon, I talked to my mom, who proceeded to tell me that she spoke to Buffalo Dave this morning. He asked how I was doing. And rather than the easy "she's great...you should give her a call" she said, "at this moment, she's being inseminated." (I've given up trying to explain the difference between all of the procedures that I'm going through.)

I took a deep breath. "Please don't tell people what I'm doing, specifically."

"He knows you're trying to have a baby."

"Yes, but I don't tell people, specifically what I'm doing each day throughout this process. If they are interested enough in my life, they will ask me, they will call me to give me support. Without that, they don't have a right to know."

"But...."

"Just please respect my wishes. I don't need him calling me in two weeks to find out if I'm pregnant."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Not the point. Even if you think people are on the approved list, please don't tell them anything. Tell them if they are that interested, they should call me."

I know she means well. I know she's excited. But she needs to respect my wishes, and she needs to respect my boundaries.

Another example, she told my sister-in-law last month, "well no baby this month."

As if mostly anyone in my family has said boo to me about what I'm going through in the past 18 months. No one needs a scorecard of my pregnancy tests, unless they earned the right to know. And they earn it by showing me support. Frankly, as much as I love Buffalo Dave, he hasn't earned the right to know the details. And certainly most people in my own family haven't earned the right to know the details.

I know I set standards for other people too high sometimes, I expect of them what I expect of myself. And I'm usually disappointed. My friend in Rochester is in the process of adopting from Colombia. All the paperwork is in order, they are just waiting. And waiting.

Last week, I sent her an email: "I'm not going to ask if you've heard anything, or if you have any news or when you think you might hear something or even how you're doing...I just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you."

If more people -- who am I kidding, just one person -- could send me something like that....it would go a long way.

Enough negativity. I'm going to get into bed shortly, listen to my meditation CD, track 2 "post transfer," and try to get a good night's sleep.

Happy burrowing, Frick and Frack.

Big Shot

When Casey brought me a dead mouse, I would have loved for someone else to have dealt with the dead carcass.

When there is a bug or a spider in the house, I would rather someone else kill it.

And I'm sure, when I'm exhausted to the point of tears and there is a crying baby, there isn't going to be anyone else to get up to change the diaper or give the bottle.

And so it goes now. There is no one to give me the progesterone in oil shot. And so I have to do it myself.

I cringe and deal with the dead mouse. Psyche myself up to squish the spider. And drag myself out of bed to soothe the baby.

Tonight, I got home from the gym, pulled out an alcohol wipe, the medicine bottle, the syringe and two needles. I pulled my sweat pants down my hip a little, cleaned a spot, sucked up 1cc of oil (it's really thick and took forever), and then reached around, contorted my back, and stuck the needle in. I pushed the plunger slowly -- slow and steady -- as the oil went into my right buttock.

And then I massaged and kneaded it, so as not to get a clump of oil. And I was done.

So the crying the other night, the worrying about doing this on my own or not being able to do it on my own....I did it. I gave myself the shot -- what everyone called "the hard shot" -- and managed to do it with little fanfare and little pain.

I can do this.

I Can't Do It

I went this morning for my uterine lining check -- three layers, 9mm, nice and thick. So I will start doing the progesterone in oil shots on Friday. These shots are much different than the previous shots I had to give myself.

Whereas before I was using a half-inch needle that went just below my skin, in my stomach, where I could pinch the fat (one good reason to be happy about the faux baby bump), this one is inter-muscular with an inch-and-a-half needle. So basically, I have to give myself a shot in the ass, with thick oil that will come out slow.

I thought I should practice putting the needle in tonight, just in case I had trouble with it, I would still have two days to figure it out.

Well....I pulled out my box of meds tonight, an alcohol wipe and the needle. I tried grabbing as much skin as I could, I tried sitting on one hip, rolled to the side and sticking it in that way. I got it in a little and couldn't go any further. I have a couple of little spots of blood and will probably bruise.

And then I started crying. I have to be able to do this. This is like one of my tests. If I'm going to be a single parent, I'm going to have to do this that aren't fun, that don't feel great, that I would rather someone else do. But there isn't anyone else, I have to.

I wrote an email to one of the nurses on campus and basically asked her if she could jab me in the ass tomorrow, just so I can feel the level of pain. That's what I had to do with the previous shots, and look at how good I got to be at it. Right?

I don't feel quite so positive about this experience. The needle is huge!

Hump Day Blues

Just when I think I am okay this month, just when I start to think positive thoughts for the next cycle, something hits me -- yet another person (in my life or someone in the news) is pregnant, or I saw the picture of the embryos on the fridge, or I get an e-mail chain forward thing and the person wished for me to have a baby.

And then I cry. Or I got to sleep early to try not to think about it anymore. Some days I'm just fine. Once I got over my period on Sunday, I felt good. I felt good about moving forward. I had my baseline ultrasound and blood work -- the first step for the next time. But the past few nights, I haven't felt hopeful, I haven't felt good.

I wonder how many more times I can take this. How many times can I be hopeful and then be crushed, and survive the disappointment?

I talked to a friend at work today who is also going through fertility treatment. Her issues are different from mine, but we both understand what we're going through. Sometimes we are the only ones who can understand what the other one is feeling, or thinking.

We've both had so many road blocks. Today, she found out she has Hep C. Not a death sentence, but the treatment of it will take time. Time that feels like she doesn't have if she wants to get pregnant. And her husband, sweet as he is, has children from a previous relationship -- so while he can sympathize with her, he doesn't understand completely.

And so April and I are trying to be supportive to each other, trying to be the shoulder to cry on, trying to be strong for each other.

I'm not sure what any of this means, and how any of this is interesting to you, my dear readers, but it shows the kind of mood I'm in, the kind of scrambled brain I've had the past few days. And how one moment I can feel so good, and for no reason at all, in the very next, I'm sitting at my computer crying.

Not only do I feel out of control with the baby thing, but also the weight thing. I've tried to let it go. I know that my body and my brain are in direct conflict with each other. My body is trying to prepare itself for pregnancy. For the past 18 months, it has been given all sorts of hormones to prepare for a baby. And yet, in my head, I still try to count calories in and count calories burned, try to weigh myself every day without wanting to throw the scale through the window.

And no matter what, I have no control. My body is hungry when I've just eaten. Tired when I'm at the gym and should be wanting to work out for 90 minutes. My belly is swollen with no baby in it. I need to try to get control of one thing, just one aspect of my life. And I don't know how that is possible at this point.

Shark Week

I stopped taking all of the hormones on Tuesday night, and last night before bed had the tell-tale signs that my period was coming. When I woke up this morning, I had it full force, along with a pain I've never felt before.

The pain is bearable. I'm not doubled over or anything, but it is beyond the usual cramps. And I don't know if that pain is real or because what it means. I thought I was okay and was able to move on this month. Apparently not.

It hit me hard this morning. I sat in my office and cried. I sat in Hope's office and cried. It's just not my period, but what is being washed out of my body with it. And even though I shouldn't think of this as a miscarriage because it was just a chemical pregnancy, how can I not.

There was never a heart beat, and even for the four days that I thought I was pregnant, I was extremely cautious. I never got truly excited about the pregnancy. Either way, this is different than getting a negative pregnancy test.

This was thinking that the last 18 months of ups and downs, of having hope and being crushed, was all finally worth it. This was the moment that I had been waiting for, the moment that everyone promised me through all the other negative tests was going to be worth it, the moment that would make me forget the pain and disappointment of the last year.

And this moment is now being absorbed and flushed away.

It's Officially Over for this Month

I went for more blood work this morning. My hCG level was 13. Was I really pregnant and now I'm not?

The nurse said that I could have been, and I miscarried. Or it could have been a chemical pregnancy. Either way, she told me to stop taking all my medications and call her when I get my period.

I skipped the gym for one more night. I'll go back tomorrow.

I wasn't hopeful last night, so unless someone else makes me cry, I've been okay today. I still have two frozen embryos in the freezer. As soon as I get my period, we'll start the frozen transfer protocol.

And lucky me, I get to start giving myself shots again!

And I know it's not the end of the world, no matter what it feels like right now. I still have choices, options. I'm going to an adoption seminar on November 1st, no matter what happens. And even if I was pregnant right now, I would have still gone. I have to continue to work on plan B.

Not So Fast

I got my blood work done again today, and my hCG level dropped. To 20. Not good. It was 47 and it should have doubled in 72 hours.

It's puzzling because my progesterone level is still going up. So it could have possibly, maybe been a lab error but it's not looking good.

I have to go back to the lab tomorrow and have the test repeated. Needless to say, I'm not in the mood to write much, to do much, to talk much. I already have my pj's on, I'm watching Days of Our Lives from today, and there's mac-and-cheese in the oven.

I'm staying somewhat hopeful, because really what else is there?

Knock Yourself Up

I wrote the post for today in my head so many times over the past few days, and now because of the results of my blood test this morning, I can't use any of it.

I went for blood work this morning at the hospital, and it took forever. There was only one person taking blood, and she was a talker. So after 25 minutes of waiting, with only three people ahead of me, it was finally my turn.

And then when she saw what the test was for, "are ya hoping for good news?"

"Yes." Lip quivering.

"How long have you been trying?"

"About a year and a half."

"I'll be praying for you."

I thought was I going to lose it right there in the middle of the outpatient lab at Cayuga Medical Center. But I held it together, made it to work and made an attempt to start working on a website.

My cell phone rang about 9:15. I saw the 315 area code and my heart starting pounding. I was practically crying when I said "hello."

"Laurie....it's Linda from the fertility guru's office. You haven't taken any hCG, right?"

"That's right."

"Well good then....your test is positive."

And then I lost it. The tears spilled down, my face scrunched up, and I grabbed a tissue and balled it up in my hand. "Really?"

"Really. Your hCG was 47. We like it to be around 40. You'll go again for the same test on Monday to make sure your numbers are moving up the way they are supposed to."

And just like that, my life changed. Every little sign that I had this week, that I chalked up to something else -- always hungry, the weather changing; twinges in my lower abdomen, I haven't had my period since August; and tender breasts, I am taking 300 mg of progesterone every day -- it all seemed to make sense. I wasn't reading too much into it all. I'm really pregnant.

I know it's early. Way early. And so I'm being cautiously optimistic about it all. Not looking at my Target registry that I made 15 months ago. Not buying anything. I haven't even told my mom yet!

But now...it feels like this will stick. And as my very wise friend said to me this morning, no matter what happens, you know your body can do what it's supposed to, you know you can get pregnant.

And she's right. And it is. And I can.

Patience

I'm playing it pretty close to the vest these days. I don't know if it's to manage my expectations and potential disappointment, or to ward off jinxing myself. Either way, I'm not talking too much about the embryo transfer, not sharing it with the usual suspects who were in on the other procedures. I think that is the way to go.

And so, I'm taking it easy this week, listening to my IVF meditation CD, doing nothing strenuous, eating comfort foods, keeping my stress level down, and taking all my pills twice a day.

And that's that. For now.

These three little buggers were transferred into me this morning. I'm resting and giving them encouraging words of implantation.

A Baker's Half Dozen

I had my retrieval yesterday and the fertility guru got seven eggs out! Whoo-hoo. But I'll start at the beginning.

I was starving. I couldn't eat or drink anything, and of course, on days like that you wake up wanting a feast. We got to Syracuse a little before 8:30 and they called me back. I got undressed and put on the oh-so-attractive hospital gown and sat in the little room, hooked up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure machine.

And I got to meet face-to-face the fertility guru, Dr. Richard Gere. He held both of my hands, brought his face about three inches from mine, asked if I had any questions, and then said, with a hand squeeze for good measure, "let's make a life today."

I was in and out of consciousness so quickly that it didn't even feel like it. When I woke up I asked the nurse if they found any eggs. She said yes but wasn't sure how many, but would find out before I left.

Another nurse came in and said, "did you hear? We got seven eggs! Isn't it great?"

I almost cried. Here I was thinking that there was the possibility there would be none. And he was able to pull out seven!

My friend drove me home, but not before stopping at the grocery store I worked at in high school, for the best donuts in the world. I got a yummy headlight and enjoyed every single calorie of it.

I napped on and off and then had acupuncture, and then started my rounds of medicine (all oral, thankfully). Five supplements from the acupuncturist, one antibiotic, one estrogen, and a baby aspirin. All of that twice a day, plus the oh-so-lovely vaginal suppository of progesterone, three times a day.

I knew that I would be hearing from the doctor's office today but wasn't sure when. I was thrilled when my cell phone rang a little after 9am to be told that of my seven eggs, I now had five viable embryos and they will be putting those suckers back in on Tuesday.

I will wait to meet with fertility guru and the embryologist on Tuesday, but I think that I will put two in this month. If it doesn't work, then I have three for next month.

And then we hope that at least one of those suckers can implant and stay viable and healthy.

It actually seems like it can happen. It actually feels real.

Tomorrow's the day

I have egg retrieval at 8:30am tomorrow morning. I just came home from acupuncture, listened to my IVF meditation CD, and am about to jump in the shower and get into bed.

Think good thoughts.

Eggs, Eggs, Eggs.....

Another ultrasound and more blood work this morning (again from the same vein, in the same spot that they've taken blood the last six times), but it's all worth it. The nurse called to say that we can move ahead with egg retrieval on Thursday.

Tonight I give myself shots of my two hormones, tomorrow morning another dose of one of them, and then at exactly 9pm tomorrow, two shots of hCG. Wednesday, no shots. Also no food or drinks after midnight, and then I have to be in Syracuse by 8:30am on Thursday.

The whole thing should take less two to three hours and then I can come home to rest. They'll call on Friday with an update on how many embryos they were able to make in the petri dish and then I go back (probably Saturday or Sunday) for the embryo transfer.

Think good thoughts....wish for eggs, nice big healthy eggs.

More, more, more

I went in for my 5th ultrasound in 10 days on Friday. I have one follicle on the right side (18mm) and four (not three) on the left. Two are overlapping so the tech read that at three the other day. These four are in the low teens.

I resigned myself that this might not be the month for things to happen. And really the worst thing that could happen is that we pull the plug this month, I get my period and we start over next month, with a much better idea of how my body reacts to the Gonal-F and they can start me at a higher dose.

I think this is what was getting me down earlier in the week, the up and down, the going and stopping, of this whole process. But once I moved past the point of my own impatience, I saw that that option really wouldn't be a horrible thing.

The weather was crappy yesterday. Cold and rainy. Thankfully it was a quiet day in the office, and Heather and I went to McDonald's for happy meals at lunch. As we were pulling out, my cell phone rang.

The nurse from the fertility guru's office was calling to tell me to keep up with the 450 units each day over the weekend and go in for another ultrasound on Monday. That we were still in good shape and we'll see what Monday brings.

And so just when I was okay with throwing in the towel for this month, there's still a glimmer of hope that we can do the IVF this month.

Forgive, but don't forget

I hadn't talked to my friend Tim in Baltimore since I was there before my NY trip. Things were definitely strained between us, but there was also a lot of hurt there, but I knew we would get past it. Time does heal all wounds.

I guess too much time had gone by for him to be comfortable, or maybe, he just finally got it. I got the following email earlier this week.

Regarding my words from earlier this summer....there is one more thing I would like to say.... I am very, very, very , VERY, VERY Sorry, Laurie. You have and had been going through a very tough emotional and physical time with things. And things haven't been as any of has hoped for yet. And instead of giving you an arm to support you with, and a shoulder for you to rest your head on, I used words to stir things up. Words that in the end were judgmental, no matter what my intention may have been.

Like most men, when silence was the best solution, I opened mouth and shut off brain. I am soooooo sorry for that. I can't go back in time and just turn off my phone before I ever sent that first message. But like with everything I do, with a little time I try and learn and change things so they are not repeated in the future.

Maybe in time I will start and get things right the first time. I wish I could do more for you, Laur. I always have. But being a friend is sometimes the best thing for someone to be and do. I hope you can forgive me and see that maybe I am getting it a little. No more words. Just support in whatever way you want and need it.

If you want to share whats going on, I will be receptive without any opinions. I will be supportive. That's what friends do. Anyway, hope you can forgive a broken down gimping cop who is TRYING to be less self centered.

I read it and closed it. A few days later, I took a deep breath and read it again. It's time to move on. I hit the reply button, and caught him up on work, the weather, yes the leaves are already starting to change, had a blast in NY, drank too much, etc. And then...

I appreciate the apology and the insight into how I reacted to what you said. And I have forgiven you. Give me time and I will share with you what's going on and give you updates....I'm just not there yet.

Say hi to the girls...talk to you soon. love, Red

I have forgiven him, but I haven't forgotten his hurtful words, and cannot open myself up to him yet. I can't add him to my emotional roller coaster yet. Someday. Not yet.

Chugging along

I am on day 12 of giving myself two shots a day. I have had five ultrasounds and given five blood samples in the past two weeks. As of this morning, I have four egg follicles -- one 15mm, the others 5 to 7 mm.

What does all of this mean? I have no idea, other than my patience is wearing thin. I'm an emotional wreck. I cry easily. I'm cranky. And after today's ultrasound, two days after the fertility guru estimated that he would do the egg retrieval, I still have to give myself two shots a day. Friday, I go in for yet another ultrasound and more blood work.

I'm trying not to complain. I'm trying not to feel down. And I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying.

Last night when I was falling asleep, I was pretty low. I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to try to explain what I was feeling. I listened to my IVF meditation CD and then tried to sleep. I was thinking about Big, trying not to think about him, but thinking about him nonetheless.

And he came through for me. About 11:20, my phone beeped. Four quick beeps. I rolled over and looked at the phone. "One new text message from Big."

We texted a few times and then when he said he wasn't at the bar anymore, I called him. And we chatted. He asked how things were going.

I knew what he meant, but didn't want to think about it all again. I said things were fine, busy, etc. But he pressed me. "How's it going with the baby thing?"

I rolled over onto my stomach, leaned up on one elbow, and managed to tell him that I was frustrated, that I was scared. I told him about my local doctor's assessment of my egg reserve, and then the fertility guru saying it was worth a shot. He asked when I would know if this month worked and to please keep him informed about what's going on.

And then he said, if this doesn't work, what are your options. I told him my choices were using an egg donor -- for about $11,000 -- or going the adoption route -- for about $30-40,000.

He asked thoughtful questions, without being intrusive. I told him I had a good support system and that if I have to do one of the two expensive options, that my friends were ready to have a fund-raiser to help with it, and that I might need some autographed items.

"You just tell me when and how many, and I'll get you whatever you need."

Slow-growing

I went for my second ultrasound yesterday, and then blood work. The tech found one "tiny" follicle on the left, and two smallish ones on the right. I tried not to analyze it, tried not to read too much into it, forced myself not to do any research on the internet.

Even though I knew that it wasn't great news. That at this point in my cycle, the follicles should be bigger, maybe even more of them. But I waited for the nurse to call. She must know, that for any woman who gets to this point, they are informed enough to know what's going on.

"Your body is responding, so don't worry. It's just taking a little longer."

So I'm upping my hormones to 450 units (up from 300) for the weekend, and have another ultrasound and more blood work on Monday, and more scheduled for Wednesday and Friday, with the hopes that I won't need Friday.

I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying to do all the things that I can do -- back to acupuncture, trying to keep my stress levels down, relaxing, thinking positive thoughts.

And so it goes. Slowly, but it goes.

What to say....

If your sister, or aunt, or friend calls to tell you, you specifically, that she is trying to have a baby. That even though she's single, and she knows it will be hard, but it's something that she's always wanted, and she's hoping for your support.

And you say, "you have it. Good for you. I know it's what you've always wanted. I've been waiting for you to say you were doing this. I'm excited for you."

And after you've had this conversation, a year has gone by, more than a year, and you haven't heard any big announcement that she's having a baby, don't stay silent. You promised your support last year. It won't be prying, it won't be bringing up something that she doesn't want to be reminded of (trust me, it's never far from her mind).

If you don't want to be invasive, you don't have to call. You don't even have to get into particulars. An email. A card. "How are you? How are things going? We're thinking of you. Let me know if you want to talk."

That's all it takes. I have seven siblings. I had this conversation with six of them last August, and a few of my nieces. All six siblings are married, so even if my brothers don't want to think about it, my sisters-in-law can.

Of the six sets of siblings, only two show their support. Only two ask me regularly what's going on, how are you doing, how are you handling the disappointment.

And right now, as my body is pumped full of extra hormones, all I can think about is how little support I'm getting from my family. Why did I waste my time calling them? Why did I waste the effort and the excitement on them? I should have just waited until I was pregnant to tell them.

Yes, I'm down tonight. And I'm taking it out on my family.

So here' my advice for tonight....if you know someone who shared something with you, no matter what it is, follow-up with them. Ask how they're doing. You can do it without being obtrusive.

Trust me, they'll appreciate it.

I started the week by finally getting up to Syracuse to go to the fertility guru's office. I had a baseline ultrasound and blood work done. Every moment in their office felt like I was in the right place. Everyone was so kind and friendly. And they were extremely efficient.

The first woman who walked me back took my blood, then left the room. The ultrasound tech came in next and took care of that. She left and in came the nurse that I've been talking to on the phone, with my blood work results and a chart of how the next few weeks will go. Daily shots turn into two shots a day tonight, ultrasounds and blood work down here every three days, and then the target date for egg retrieval is September 9.

I'm moving again, and it feels good. And the gym reopened this week -- yeah! I had a great talk with my trainer tonight, we talked about goals and my workout schedule. I told him that I recently realized that I've been so focused on getting pregnant, that I let my focus on working out and being healthy slip away. That I need to take each month that I'm not pregnant as an opportunity to work out hard, and that even if I am pregnant, that's no excuse to ease up.

I will talk with fertility guru and get his okay on everything, so that I can continue with an hour of cardio and strength training five days a week. And Aaron is totally on board to support me, to keep me motivated, to help me stay healthy, pregnant or not. It felt good. It made things seem more balanced. Something I'm not very good at.

And so tonight, I did two shots. And I thought the second one won't be so bad, the needle is the same size. Hmmmm...not so much. It was not only a little longer, but much sharper. It took me a couple times to get the needle in my stomach, and then it was okay. It's always okay. It hurts at the very first poke, but then it's fine.

And as always, it's all going to be worth it.

Shooting Up

I started my injections on Tuesday, and by last night I feel like an old pro. The needle is not as awful as I thought, and I was far less squeemish, too. I will continue with these injections to suppress all of my hormone levels.

Then after I get my period, I'll go to Syracuse for a baseline ultrasound. (I could do that here, but I figured I should start to establish a relationship and feel comfortable with the new office.) After that, I start with a different shot (still in the stomach) that will turn my ovaries into Jiffy Pop, as my friend Nancy says, and hopefully produce lots of big, juicy, healthy eggs.

And then sometime around September 8 or 9, I will go up to have my eggs harvested. I'll need someone to take me, since they will have to give me a local and I'll be a little too loopy to drive back. I'll already have the baby batter at the doctor's office so they can inject each egg with sperm. And then if all goes well, I'll go back a few days later and be implanted with two embryos.

That's a lot of if's. I'm trying to be cautiously optimistic about this whole process.

You'd think by now that would be an emotion I was an expert at, but I'm not. Somehow I always get my hopes up too high, which leads to major disappointments. And for the past year, it has been nothing but a roller coaster of hopeful highs and crashing lows.

Just once, I would like something I hope for to come true. I felt that by securing a known egg donor, by finding someone I knew and trusted and loved to be my genetic "replacement," the disappointment of having the dwindling egg supply was so greatly minimized.

Truly, the minute she offered, my 10-day headache went away. It was so unnerving to have to think about finding a genetic replacement for me. Choosing the sperm was like buying a pair of shoes compared to looking at the egg donor profiles.

I should have known better than to feel so secure. (And while I'm glad if she had reservations, that she voiced them now, it is still disappointing, it is still so hurtful. And I wonder, if I had not written to her and told her I had my phone consultation and that I would call her after so I could let her know the next steps, if I had not done then, when would she have told me?)

And so that's all I have to say about that. It's done. It's over. I need to focus on trying to grow some eggs. To encourage my body to eek out just a few viable eggs, for just another cycle or so. And that Dr. Richard Gere can perform the miracles that he's been performing for over 10 years.

I know of nine babies, by three different women, that he is responsible for creating. Wouldn't 10 be a nice round number?

Dr. Richard Gere

I had my phone consultation this morning with the fertility guru who, if I have not mentioned, looks like Richard Gere.

His voice was very soothing and he made me feel like we're in this together. He looked at my file and isn't as concerned about my FSH number as my regular OB, so he wants to try to see if he can get some eggs out of me.

"You have insurance coverage, let's just try and see if we can harvest some eggs. I may go in and see that you don't have any, but then we'll know for sure and we still have options of using an egg donor." (I put the recent happenings of last night out of my head and focused on being positive with what he was saying.)

We talked for about 10 minutes and we decided that I didn't want to do IUI any more. "I'm 38 and a half....I'm not getting any younger, let's just get this done." And he agreed. IVF is the next best step for me.

His nurse was to call me today or tomorrow and set me up with the meds schedule, and I will start injectables in the next day or two. Yippee....I don't get out of giving myself a shot in the stomach every day. ;)

I felt really positive this morning after talking with him. Not only because there's still a possibility of getting pregnant with my own eggs, but also because we're moving again. I'm the type of person that will go 10 miles out of my way if I can keep my car moving, rather than sit in traffic. And that's what I've felt like, like I was sitting in traffic and couldn't keep moving.

As for my friend who rescinded her offer to be my egg donor....I'm not ready to fully talk about it yet. I'm feeling all the things that Bubbles said in her comment in the previous post, and more.

Disappointment because after serious discussions with her about her reservations, she still said that she and her husband had agreed that it was "a go." Resentment that she is allowing people who don't even know me to have such a profound effect on my life.

I'll get over it. I'm just not sure when.

My Infertility Headache is Back

I received the following email excerpt from my friend, who by all account I was thinking would be my egg donor. I can't comprehend it all yet. I'm numb. More tomorrow after I talk to the fertility guru.


I cannot tell you how sorry I am, but I don't think I can be a donor. At first I was just wondering logistically about where the nearest OBGYN office is, and the fact of dealing with Albany traffic and the hours' drive at a moment's notice, and that was just a concern. We know how my sister works, but when I talked to her about it and she just kept asking about how it should bother me having a biological child out there. In the circumstance of donating eggs to you, I really wouldn't think of it as my child at all. It would be yours. Coming out here, I can talk to my mom-in-law about anything, and she's a very liberal and modern thinker. So it exasperated me when, upon mentioning donating eggs, she instantly turns to Lily and says "You'll have half-siblings!!!" I didn't anticipate, as you have had to do, me having to deal with family member's opinions on it. I never thought of it as an issue, but now I know that I have at least 2 family members that would forever believe I had children out there, even that Lily would have half-siblings. That thinking really bothers me.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope you can feel that. I think that in the donor paperwork it should definitely mention talking to extended family members and their feelings; obviously it addresses the potential donor's thoughts so much, but I NEVER anticipated having family members who would stubbornly view the donation as giving children away or refusing to budge that if I don't think of the donation as giving away biological children or Lily's half-siblings, neither should they. It just gets me to the core. I know that you've encountered judgements in your pursuit; so I guess it just goes to show that everyone does along the way.

But please know that I am rooting for you all the way, I entirely regret upheld hopes and dropping them down. With all of my heart, I believe in the mother you have waiting to nurture your child, I believe that you have a child waiting to be in your arms, and I love you!

Things are moving forward :)

My file has finally arrived in Syracuse at the fertility guru's office, and I have a consultation phone call on Monday morning at 7am.

My patience has been wearing thin with the waiting and waiting. Now I finally feel like I'm back on the road. Of course it also means that next week I will have to make my final decision about the egg donor. And even though I'm leaning strongly in one direction, I know that making it final will be hard.

And while I've had hopeful thoughts that I might be pregnant this month from my moments of indiscretion, I know really that I'm not. That I couldn't be. And so having the appointment on Monday really keeps me on track with my thinking, and not setting myself up for a major disappointment.

HIV, CBC, Hep B, et al

I went to the doctor yesterday (my doctor in Horseheads) and signed and signed and signed. Consent forms for the HIV test, release of my files to the Fertility Guru, forms that said I not only consented but was aware. And on and on.

We talked about next steps, and it was kind of sad. I started this journey with Jan and Jodi a little over a year ago. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't get pregnant with them. And now...

I won't be saying goodbye to them entirely. I can still use their office (slightly closer to home than Syracuse) for the ultrasounds and blood work. But they won't be running the show, merely following the orders of the guru.

I went for my blood work this morning -- it will complete my file and then it can be sent to Syracuse. All of these tests were done more than a year ago, so they have to be done again. Five vials of blood this morning! But it felt good to have what I need to do done.

I will still have a conversation with FG, but from the detailed explanation that Jodi gave me yesterday, even if he could harvest some of my eggs, their viability would be in question. And there would be a significant increase of chromosomal birth defects, even more than the chances of me just as a 38-year-old.

And so I will talk to him, but I'm at peace with my decision to use an egg donor. I've had two offers from people I know to be my donor. I asked the guru's office to send me information about what the donor goes through. I want both women to read this and have this information in mind before they give me a firm offer. I want them to know the inconveniences they (and their bodies) will go through during this two-month process.

I will never be able to thank these women enough, and not just for being the donor, but for offering. For understanding the ultimate goal, for seeing the bigger picture, and for being so unselfish and full of love and support for me. There will be lots of decisions in the coming weeks, and not just by me.

So apparently he has to have the last word...

I wasn't entirely surprised to get this email back from Tim this morning:

I don't care what the Catholic church says. I am glad that you are good with God, that is the only thing that counts. Its the relationship between you and Him and if you have this desire, then it is coming from Him. Go forward young woman. As far as the scripture- it just happened to be something that I read that day to give you hope and support for.

Cling to Him... not preaching about your situation. He'll give you comfort through the pain and the unknowing til things are what they will be. And I did voice concern a year ago- but I didn't beat it over your head. Nor will I. I always have concern that you are all right and doing ok. That's what close friends and people who care for one another do. And I support you and will help you if you need it. ANYTIME kiddo.

And there you have it. I won't be responding. They are going on vacation this weekend, and I will be in Baltimore the next weekend and will stop by the house to see the girls. It'll be water under the bridge at that point. Hopefully.

Perspective

I talked to my sister-in-law on Saturday. She had been on vacation for the past 10 days -- and while I could have called her cell, I didn't want to bother her -- so she knew nothing of what has been going on with me lately.

I brought her up to speed, crying along the way, and she told me that I'm driving myself crazy needlessly. "Wait until you see the guru, wait until he tells you he can't use your eggs. He's a specialist in this field for a reason -- what regular doctors think of as impossible, he sees as possible. Don't make any decision right now, because you don't need to."

And she's right. I've been so focused on what will I do, I wasn't even looking at all the options, because I don't know them. I'm going on what my blood work says to my OB/GYN, not what my blood work says to a fertility doctor.

And so, for the first time since July 3, my headache went away, though not without one last moment of drama.

I spoke with my friend Tim and his wife on Friday night. They live in Baltimore and I was really good friends with him first, before becoming part of their family (their daughter is my god daughter). I talked to both of them, told them where I was with everything, etc.

Three hours later, Tim starts sending me a string of text messages on my cell phone about how I shouldn't overlook adoption as an option, that if I'm open to a non-biological child why would I go through pregnancy when there are so many children in the world needing a good home, that God has a plan for me, and then quoted some scriptures at me. It made my head hurt worse, and since it was almost 11pm, I chose to ignore him best I could.

Saturday morning, I texted him back and said that all options are still on the table, but I'm not ready to give up on being pregnant yet. Which he took as some need I have to to fulfill my identity as a woman. This went on -- still via text -- for an hour. I finally wrote to: "You are really pissing me off. I need support not a fucking debate."

To which, he replied that he wasn't debating me, but did I think about.... I finally threw the phone down and went for a walk, which didn't really help. I could actually feel in my speed and the length of my strides that I was feeling utterly defeated. What right did he have to be spouting scripture at me and making moral judgements?

When I got back from my walk, I met a friend at Cornell's art museum, and then finally talked to my sister-in-law. So all things were making me feel better and I knew that I would just ignore any calls or texts from him for a while, and just not get into it.

I didn't think about e-mail. Sunday morning, I woke up to this in my in-box:

Hi Red, Cell phones and texting are great - has made the world a lot smaller. But it has also made the world a little more impersonal. Message can be easily delivered, but also misconstrued too.

Laurie, I am not one to give a lot of advice - not the way I have lived my life. And I am not here either. I am also not making any moral comments or judgements.
You got mad at me yesterday cause of some comments I made. I am sorry for that. Never my intention. I know you are going through a rough time. I know you have been through a lot and some things are happening that are out of your control. I also know you are planning the next steps. I know you probably have to, but I was only saying until you have to, let all options stay open.

You yourself told me there is still a chance cause you haven't even talked to the other doctor yet. God has a way of making things happen. That's all. I was not advocating adopting over fertilization or saying one was more moral than the other or anything like that. I know you will do what is best for you and your situation.

My only concern is for you. You are a strong, self reliant person- on the outside. On the inside you are a woman who wants to love and be loved. And for whatever reason, your path in life has led to this. When you first talked about this, I voiced some reservations cause how hard it was going to be a single parent. But you knew what you were getting into. The way you talked, I felt that this was a course to help fulfill your identity- not help to discover what your identity was. I was hoping for the best.

But if you are thinking this pregnancy and motherhood is a way to find your identity, be very careful. As someone who did not know who he was til the last 8-10 mos- makes interesting telling sometime if you want to hear- I know what it is like to not know who you are. Just be careful kiddo, cause if something happens again that is not pleasant or planned, where does that leave you?? And YOU are the person I care for and worry now. That's all. Just leave options open and see what presents itself. Be open to things.

Laurie, we haven't talked much about God. Maybe you have not so crazy thoughts on the subject. I hope that's not the case. I know He changed me. But if your heart and head agree on something that is not sin based, that is God talking ya. Just be open to it. You have a lot of friends and family who love ya and will support you on whatever course you take. Count me as one of those.

I did the same thing I did the day before. I went for a walk, I cleared my head, and I responded once I was calm.

I'm just going to chalk this conversation up to mis-communications due to technology. If you had reservations or concerns or questions, the time to ask them was when we were on the phone, not via text three hours later.

As for my relationship with God, I'm good. And I'm glad you're good. And it did sound like preaching in the texts, how could it not when you were quoting scripture at me. I know that the Catholic church is against what I'm doing, but I can live with that. I've accepted that. One thing has nothing to do with the other.

And I did get mad at you yesterday, though I understood that your comments were mostly coming from concern, but it felt like your agenda went back to our conversation a year ago when I told you I was finally going through with this.

I have thought this through for the past decade. I've put it off this long because I wanted to make sure I was financially secure -- and that decision may have cost me the chance at a having a baby the way I thought I would.

You can't understand. Grow a uterus, have your body betray you, and then we can talk.

I'm not mad any longer, but I also don't think we should talk about this any more. It's only going to lead to more hurt feelings and anger.

Have a good rest of the weekend, and I'll talk to you soon. love, Red

Pros and Cons

I learned a little more information today about the egg donor program at the fertility guru's office today, and I am now completely over-whelmed and confused. And to make sure I had the complete picture, I also talked to the insurance company.

The egg donor program will cost me about $12,000 out of pocket. Insurance will cover very little of it. For that $12K, the donor gets her compensation (about $4000), her doctor visits, and retrieval of her eggs. I get my doctor visits, transfer of embryos, freezing of embryos, first-year storage of embryos, and frozen embryo transfer for up to one year.

So basically, all the eggs we can gt out of her and fertilize and a year to get me pregnant. So now comes the dilemma. Do I pay this money, which is a lot but also an amount that I could cover almost all of, for a really good chance of getting pregnant and getting a baby, knowing that there is also a chance that none of it could work? Or do I take out a loan for three times that for the guarantee that I will get a baby through adoption?

I cried all afternoon, sobbed even. I'm all cried out now, but still confused. In one moment, one option seems so clear. A minute later, the other option begins to filter in and then becomes the obvious choice.

And without having a partner with equal say in the matter, this choice becomes all mine. I can certainly listen to different view points, I welcome other opinions...but when it comes down to it, I have to do this knowing that this is probably going to be the hardest and most important decision I've ever made, my first parental verdict.

Plan B

I talked to the doctor's office today. My FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) has almost doubled since last summer when I had my initial blood work done. And that's not a good thing. It definitely means that my ovarian reserve is dwindling and any eggs I have left are a crap-shoot as to whether they are viable.

Not unexpected news, but it still hurt to hear. I have to keep reminding myself that I still have options. I can still get pregnant.

The next step is for me to have some more blood work, including an HIV test, before all of my files and my case are transferred to the fertility guru in Syracuse. The ridiculous part of it is that I have to have "counseling" before they will test me for HIV, so I couldn't get an appointment for that until July 22.

I've contacted the donor coordinator at the guru's office for more information. I'm hoping to hear back from her in the next few days. I'm curious as to exactly how this will all work, the time line, and especially the costs. While my insurance has fertility coverage, and while my ovarian reserve issue is definitely medical, the insurance will not cover any part of egg donation. (But insurance covers viagra -- unbelievable!)

I've also been doing my own sort informal surveys with the people I know who have gone through IVF, how many procedures, how many embryos were implanted and how many babies came out. It's looking like most had a failed first implantation, and three out of the four that resulted in pregnancies resulted in multiples, including a set of triplets. That's scary.

But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. Which is what I do. I'm a planner and I'm impatient. So, I guess there's no helping getting ahead of myself.

Dried-Up Eggs

As teenagers and young women, we’re taught all about the responsibility of not getting pregnant. Don’t have sex, you’ll pregnant. Make sure you use birth control, you don’t want to get pregnant. (For the sake of this conversation, we’re going to assume that all bases of STD’s are covered.)

I can remember two instances – both wedding hook-ups incidentally – when I was late. And I freaked. Did I want to be pregnant? Pretty much since I was 16, I knew I was meant to be a mom. But at that moment in time, after my college roommate’s wedding, in my little apartment above my landlord’s mother, making $23,000 a year, did I really want to be pregnant? No. I wished and prayed with all my might that I was just late.

And I was.

It happened again in 2002. I was living in Baltimore but was back in NY for a wedding. I made an instant connection with the guy and ended up having the most amazing non-sex of my life. However, parts touched and I’m sure things leaked – and the Dear Abby column that terrified me when I was about 14 about how you can get pregnant without actual intercourse (slight as the chance might be) came rushing back.

I remember vividly, being at an after-work function behind the museum. I opted out of the baseball game and slightly tipsy, drove to Target for a pregnancy test. The test was negative and stayed on my bathroom sink counter for three hours. I checked it every 10 or 15 minutes to make sure it didn’t change.

But again, would it have been so awful if I got pregnant? Not really. It wouldn’t have been the way I would have planned it, the way I imagined it, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.

And so now, fast forward to 2008. Still not the way I imagined it, still not the way I would have planned it, but by far, not the end of the world. Except now, I can’t get pregnant. Even with medical intervention, with the most careful planning of my cycles, the most optimum conditions of my ovaries and uterus, and nothing.

I wonder why I bothered to be so responsible, why I bothered to be so careful. I could have not worried about birth control and just had fun and gotten the baby I wanted. The first night that Chris and I hooked up, I wouldn’t have sex with him. He didn’t have a condom and at that point, I wasn’t on the pill. He practically begged and I said no.

As drunk as I was, the message that was instilled into my head at such a young age, and repeated over and over again through media and pop culture and peers, was stronger than my urge to have sex, my wish to be a mom.

If I had said yes, would I have a beautiful four-year-old right now? Who knows for sure? All I know is that I wasted hundreds and hundreds of eggs because I’m the good girl, I’m the responsible one.

Surgery was a Success

I had my surgery last week and was pleasantly surprised at how little pain I was in. I had no abdominal pain, only shoulder and chest. Weird, I know, right? They told me to expect it, that they filled my belly with gas so they had room to move the instruments around and when the gas dissipates, it would move up my body and lodge in my shoulders. And that's what happened.

And the surgery was a success -- there was some endometriosis on my right tube and they were able to get all of it. I got my stitches out last week and the best news -- my Mickey Mouse tattoo survived with being cut. :)

It's all systems go with my next cycle. And mind over matter, I know this time it will work. I've done everything possible for it to take.

Here we go again.

Mickey Might Have to take a Bullet

I went for my pre-op appointments this morning. Blood work and lots of paperwork at the hospital, and then an exam with the doctor.

She was explaining where she will be making the incisions on my stomach -- along my belly button, and one, possibly two, small incisions on my lower abdomen, to the side. Which, one my right side, is the exact location where my Mickey Mouse tattoo is. Dr. M. said that if she only needs to make one cut, she'll do it from the left, but if she has to make two, then Mickey will have a little scar. she said she'll try to make him look tough.

I go from having waves of being nervous to being totally fine. Not nervous about what she'll find, or the pain I'll be in when I wake up, but more silly nervousness about the whole surgery thing itself.

Injectables Training

After going through injectable training yesterday, now I know why Jodi recommended the surgery first. Once the surgery is over (it is scheduled for June 11) and I'm clear to try again, I'm going to go through a lot.

On day three of my cycle, I'll begin daily blood work to measure my estrodial level and of course, the ever enjoyable internal ultrasound. And I'll speak to someone from the office each day and they'll tell me how much Gonal-F to inject in my stomach (not as bad as it sounds -- the needle is really small and thin). Every day. Until my levels get to where they need to be and then I'll go in for another internal ultrasound and if I have no more than four mature follicles, I will give myself a shot of hCG, which will induce ovulation, and then I will get inseminated the next day.

And I should be prepared for bloating beyond the bloat I have when I get the shot of hCG. I have to weigh myself every day and really watch my diet since I could possibly gain as much as 10 pounds from the medicine and that would be an indication of my ovaries going into hyper-stimulation and then shutting down. On the bright side, the belly fat (that I've gained from the Clomid) really is a side effect of the Clomid and hopefully it shouldn't be as bad with the Gonal-F.

And I should be prepared to not go on vacation since I will be the hospital lab's best patient and will need to be in daily contact with the doctor's office so I know what dosage to give myself with the Gonal-F pen.

My chances of multiples goes up (5% for triplets, 20-30% for twins), but with that, my chances of conceiving just one also goes up. It's about at 50-60% now. I can live with those odds.

Tie-Dye

I had the dye test done the other day -- or more officially a hysterosalpingogram. They told me there would be some discomfort. Who knew that pushing a little radioactive dye through a catheter, through my cervix and into my uterus could be so painful?! The worst cramps I have ever had, times 10. But as soon as it was over, I felt fine.

The test showed that, once they really pushed the dye through, my left fallopian tube opened right up. So there may have been some blockage and the dye swept it away. On the right side, the dye went through in a very thin line, indicating that there could be some blockage or that the tube had a spasm from the contractions and cramps.

My choices, as given to me then, were to go ahead with the injectable hormones and if, if three months, I'm not pregnant, I should go ahead and have the laparoscopy. I asked the doctor what she would recommend if I were her daughter, and she said she didn't know, that she could go either way, that it was a personal preference. I knew when she said to "go home and talk to your husband about it" that she wasn't going to help me make this decision.

So I talked to one of the nurse practitioners that I've been working with for the past year. And Jodi said if she were me, if I were her daughter, she would say have the surgery. Why spend the money, why go through the shots, the ultrasounds, the blood work, when we don't know if all conditions are optimal for getting pregnant? That's what I wanted to hear -- someone to give me an opinion. It was the way I was leaning and thinking, but I needed someone with a medical background to validate it.

I'm still waiting for the office to call me to schedule it, but it will be sometime in the middle of June. I go in for injectables training on Tuesday so that when we are ready to do the next IUI, I'll be prepared.

I met with the doctor again yesterday and she went over the procedure and the risks, and what they'll be looking for. When they go in, they'll either see that everything is okay or if it's not, they'll try to scrape off or blow out anything that's hanging onto the tube that shouldn't. And in the rare case that they can't unblock the tube, they'll take it out, and I'll only work with my left ovary and tube to get pregnant.

It's a lot to take in. Even though it's in and out surgery, it's still surgery. But hopefully it's one step closer to getting what I want.

Walking All my Problems Away

I walked tonight -- and it felt great. I've realized -- and it's very hard to admit -- that I've been using the fertility drugs and drama as a crutch to be unmotivated, to be the full blame of the weight gain.

Part of me hates myself for gaining it back, part of me wants to go back to the obsessive person I was (and really what's so bad about being obsessive about being healthy)...but then part of me knows that's not right.

So I've made a deal with myself, and I will use a full key people to hold me accountable (this blog included). The gym on campus that I go to during the year is closed for the summer, it reopens at the end of August.

I have no idea how many days it is between now and then -- I'll figure it out later. But between now and then, I will work out (whether at the fitness center with the students -- ewww, walking my hills at home, walking the track at school, or something else)....I will work out for at least 30 minutes, 100 times this summer. If that means I have to do two-a-days, I will.

I'm not going to kid myself into thinking I can get back to the physical shape I was in two years ago, that's too daunting of a task. But I can walk, I can use the elliptical -- and those are things that I can (and should) do if I get pregnant.

So...I'm going to count my walk on Saturday. Two down, 98 to go.

Clear Sailing?

So an update on the baby news....I spoke with my nurse practitioner this afternoon. The doctor wants me to go in and have a dye test on my fallopian tubes, so I'll do that next Tuesday, and then take the day off. They said there would be cramping and that I should take 4 to 5 200 mg of Advil about an hour before the test. Great!

If the tubes are clear then we'll do a couple cycles of IUI (same as I've been doing) with the injectable hormones (which triples my baseline levels). I have injectable training scheduled for the day after Memorial Day. And I have a list of questions to go over with her when I do that -- side effects, disposal of needles, etc.

If the tubes aren't clear, I didn't ask, but I'm assuming that we just jump right to IVF. I have to go in and meet with the doctor on Thursday, so she'll go over everything with me. And I'll have a list of questions for her, too.

Stay tuned.

It only hurts now...

Last summer, when I told my nieces that I was about to embark on this baby project, I told Erica (the one who is getting married next month, the wedding that is the source of such family drama) that if this first attempt (last August) worked, that I would have a baby for her wedding.

Her response: "You better not steal my thunder."

I shrugged it off. She's a bride-to-be; of course she's thinking that way. However, as the months of negative tests progressed, that statement stuck in my head. Each month, it was as if her statement was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And so, on my last chance to be pregnant for her wedding (I've long given up on the dream of having a baby to show off to my out-of-town relatives), it has failed again. I found out on Friday that the test was negative.

It felt awful. Painful. Gloomy. I left work early. My eyes were so raw from crying so hard in my office, I just didn't have the strength to go to a web team meeting that afternoon. And so I went home, sat under a blanket and watched "Days of Our Lives" and "Law and Order." By 5:30 or so, I was feeling less like a hermit and actually got up and got some things accomplished.

It still hurts. It's still a painful, dull ache inside of me, but each day gets a little better. And I have to believe that I'm still moving forward, still working toward the goal of getting pregnant.

I Either Am or I'm Not

Tomorrow I go in for my blood work and by tomorrow afternoon, I'll know if this insemination worked. I told my mom that the test wasn't until Monday. Last month she knew the exact date of the test and drove me crazy in the days leading up to it. When I told her it was Monday, her response, "oh...I thought we'd have something to celebrate on Sunday."

I can't help her deal with her disappointment when I'm dealing with my own. And I don't know how to tell her that without hurting her feelings.

So tomorrow it will either be....

Oh my god, I'm pregnant. Finally. It worked. I'm going to have a baby. I'm going to be someone's mom. It was worth the frustration, the emotional roller coaster, the hormone shots, the weight gain, the drives to Horseheads every two weeks, the ultrasounds, the blood work....it was all worth it.

OR

I'm not pregnant. Again. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I know it takes time. I know that there are people out there who have tried to get pregnant for much longer than me, who are still trying to get pregnant. Two weeks ago, I was filled with hope, with the promise that this might take this time, and if it didn't, I can pursue the adoption angle a little more. Right now, there's no hope. It's all dark. It's frustrating and I want to know what I've done, so horrible, in my life, that I don't deserve to be this kind of happy.

I'm hoping for the first paragraph, but self-pity and crying on a Friday afternoon are just not my idea of fun.

Six Times and Plan B

I go in tomorrow for a follicle check. I can feel the pressure in my lower abdomen, so I know they're growing. Hopefully they've grown enough and the ultrasound will be good tomorrow.

If that's the case, I will go in Wednesday for my sixth IUI. I changed the baby daddy again. This will be my third different one. I used baby daddy 1 for the first two attempts, and they suggested I switch because maybe there was an incompatibility. He was the music student at Berkeley in Boston.

Then for attempts 3, 4 and 5, I used the marketing professor at Johnson and Wales. Before attempt 5, I was looking through the donor registry and noticed a new person on there. I liked his profile and held on to his donor number, but stayed with baby daddy 2 for my attempt in March.

And so for this one, I'm going with the criminal justice major at Northeastern, the one who wrote in the "statement to recipient": Tomorrow could be the greatest day of your life.

I've been tossing it around in my head, what I will do if this attempt doesn't work. Part of the time, I want to give up. I want to get my body back to a size 12 and be done with the hormones, the being tired, the spare tire around my waist. And then part of me isn't ready to give up on maternity clothes, and feeling my baby kick. So I'll keep going, and if that means IVF and giving myself daily shots, then that's what it is.

But what I don't want to happen is that I've been trying for a year, and then I'm suddenly 39 and I've got nothing, so I've pulled out the adoption paperwork. I've gone through it, I've talked to my friend's sister who works in the adoption field, and next Saturday, I'm going to Rochester to a conference on international adoption. I can start that process while I'm trying this way. And hopefully it won't come to that, but it may. And in the end, that will be okay, I think.

A Yankee in Red Sox Nation

I turned 38 on Sunday -- most of my friends forgot. I'm starting to not like birthdays anymore.

I had an ultrasound on Sunday morning -- the cyst got smaller, so today is day 3 of the Clomid. I go in next Tuesday for a follicle check and then Wednesday for the insemination, if everything looks good on Tuesday.

I'm off to Boston for two days for work. Driving up today, back tomorrow.

Time Heals All Wounds

Or so they say. And I have to admit, they're kind of right. I'm back on the horse. I went to the doctor this morning for an ultrasound. I have two cysts, one is small enough to not worry about; the other is just 20cm. Anything over 20cm, and they have me rest that month.

I don't know if they normally do this, or it's because I'm such an emotional wreck the months they have me rest, but they're having me go back on Sunday, which would be day 5 of my cycle and see if the cyst has regressed any. Even 1cm and I would be allowed to try again this month.

So, on my 38th birthday, I will get my second ultrasound in five days, to find out if my little womb can try again this month.

Again

As I suspected, I'm not pregnant. It's getting harder, not easier, to do this each month. And I'm so torn about what to do. And so I went to the gym last night, and then went home and did what I do best. I made a spreadsheet.

I think I've decided that while I'm figuring out the best international program for me, I will try one more time. That way, I'm moving toward the goal down two different paths.

The adoption thing is tough. I feel like I'm shopping for a car. I have parameters about price, and how many trips and the length of those trips the government requires, and how long it takes to be matched with a baby -- and it feels tacky, like I'm looking at whether I want heated seats or a sun roof.

It shouldn't be this hard. But then again, maybe it should.

Not Long Now

I go for my blood test tomorrow. Unlike any other month, I'm not scared. Usually when I get to this point, I suddenly get scared. But this month, today, I'm not. Maybe it's because I have been pretty good at having a "whatever" attitude this month, or maybe because I'm resigned to the fact that this might be my last attempt.

I've decided that this is taking too much of a toll on me -- physically and emotionally. I have the adoption paperwork on my dining room table, and tonight, I'm going to make piles and read through things more thoroughly than I did when I received it all.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get back my -- while certainly not skinny -- my fit body back.

I Shouldn't Have

PS.....I took a pregnancy test when I got home tonight. It came out negative. And while the doctor told me that a urine test would be inaccurate, I think it's more that I could get a false positive. I don't think I could get a false negative.

I think I did it, because I wanted to prepare myself for the negative tomorrow, especially since I will be at work when I get the call.

sigh...it could be a long night and morning, until I get the call.

If it's even possible...

...."the girls" feel like they are getting bigger. (And that's saying a lot as they are 36DD.)

Am I imagining it, hopeful for any sign of a positive pregnancy test? Quite possibly. It stinks that PMS symptoms and pregnancy symptoms are pretty similar.

I've got five days to go. If I'm not, and it goes like last month, I will get my period on Saturday night. If I'm not, and it goes like two months ago, I won't get my period until after I stop taking the progesterone.

I go for my blood test on Monday, and will find out at work.

Strive for Five

I went in for my procedure on Friday. And while I hate seeing signs, because it automatically gets my hopes up, there were some signs and some differences than the previous times.

I shopped at Kohl's in the morning and saw a very pregnant woman. She was really the only person in the store that I paid attention to; I couldn't have told you about any other person in the store with me.

When I got to the doctor's office, it was a different nurse practitioner. For the previous four times, Jodi did the procedure; this time, it was Jan. And she had me lay on right side, to help the sperm go to the big eggs. I also didn't bring anything with me -- no Derek Jeter onesie, no good luck charm. I did stop at McDonald's and get a milk shake. Full fat dairy has a positive effect on conception, so I treated myself in the name of medicine!

And then on the drive home, while I was contemplating my chances of multiples (I had six total eggs!), I saw not one, but two sets of identical construction trucks on the highway. Had I not been thinking about twins, I wouldn't have thought anything of it. It was a little freaky.

My blood test would be on a Sunday (the same day that I will be in Syracuse for my great-nephew's birthday party) so I'll go on Monday. That will be the first time the blood test will be on a day I'll be at work. I've already started to feel like this is the one.

I hope I'm not disappointed again.

On a different note, as my Okie friend reminded me the other day as I was lamenting about snow on the first day of Spring, baseball is right around the corner. Eight days and counting until Opening Night.

I got so excited when I thought about it, I hung up my front door decoration -- a piece of slate, hand-painted, "Tis the Season" with a baseball, that I got in Cooperstown last summer.

So I'll watch basketball all day today and tomorrow between errands and preparing for Easter dinner, but know that next Sunday, I get to watch baseball.

Easter Eggs

Not the kind you color, but the kind you hope are over 20 cm. I went in for my ultrasound/follicle check this afternoon, and before she could even tell me, I knew they were big enough. Not only from the pain and pressure I've been feeling on my lower abdomen for the past few days, but from seeing (and knowing from my previous ultrasounds) what was on the screen.

I had three over 24 cm, and a couple on the left side, just under 20. So I got my shot of hCG, which will not only induce ovulation, but also bloat me up to the size of a roughly five-months pregnant woman in two days. Fortunately, that side effect goes away after a day.

I go in tomorrow at 12:30, so I opted for the whole day off. Wish me luck. Lucky number 5? I hope so.

Current Mood: Melancholy

So even though I said I was "over" the latest attempt, and even though I didn't have any cysts so, again, I get to try again immediately (already day 3 of Clomid), I'm still feeling a little sad. So much so that I'm not sure how to describe it.

So I'm going to check a couple of my favorite blogs, crack open a book, and hope for a good night's sleep.

Weekend Update

It's been a whirlwind -- I'll do my best to update since my last post.

Thursday, I stayed at work late to make and print signs for the benefit. I was there until 7. As I was carrying two boxes of stuff up the stairs, I needed to go to the bathroom, but I decided to wait until I got home so I didn't have to rebalance the boxes. When I got home, I was welcomed with the tell-tale signs that I was not pregnant. No need to go for the blood test tomorrow.

I walked around my house, not knowing what to do, now knowing if I wanted to talk to anyone or not. I cried a little, then laughed at myself for being a baby, and then cried again. I finally decided to call Wanda -- because no matter the situation, no matter the circumstance, she always knows what to say. And she made me feel a little better.

Friday morning, I hit the ground running. But first I had to deal with the doctor's office. I called, told them I got my period, and made an appointment for an ultrasound for Monday. Since my clomid was doubled last month, I fully expect there to be residual cysts, which will mean taking this month off from fertility treatments.

I went to the bank, the grocery store, the gas station, the dollar store and Wal-mart -- and home before noon. I finished making baskets, made last-minute changes to my spreadsheet, made signs, packed my car and picked up a sheet cake from the college, and then was on my way to Syracuse to spend the night at my niece's.

Saturday morning, I was at the legion by 9:30 -- and I needed all that time before the event started to get my raffle items (all 22 on the high-end table, and all 107 for the low-end!) labled and tagged, sorted by time slot (we turned the low-end table over every 45 minutes) and stored under the tables. I had color-coded tables, signs and raffle tickets. call me anal -- but it was a well-oiled machine.

the day went by so fast. I got to see people I hadn't seen in 20 years, people I used to work at Green Hills with. It was fun and constant and amazing. Every 20 minutes, i was skimming the cash box where my parents were selling raffle tickets, and taking wads of 20s, 50s and 100s to the cash room.

I had no idea how much we raised, but I don't know how we could have raised more. Everyone gave it their all, and the fact that we organized this in six weeks is all the more amazing.

And so, the take-away, is that the benefit couldn't have happened at a better time for me. Being so busy -- and being so busy at something that I love to do -- was the prefect medicine. I didn't think about the fact that I had another failed attempt, I didn't feel overly sad about it - and seeing the family we were helping, really put everything into perspective. so I'm not pregnant yet. Here's a 36-year-old man fighting for his life.

And so, I'll go to the doctor tomorrow. And I will probably pull that adoption paperwork out a little more. I don't know if I'll do anything with it yet, but that option is becoming stronger and stronger. And one that I'm becoming more comfortable with. And the comfort -- or lack of -- isn't about the adoption, it's about giving up the pregnancy dream

Negative

I'll write more after the weekend. The benefit is tomorrow -- something to keep me busy and my mind off of things here.

I'm Scared

It's nice and all to be hopeful for the 16 days between the insemination and the blood test, but the day before the blood test is terrifying. Everything little thing means something. This morning, my temperature dropped to 98.1.

Before the test, you can be hopeful, you can imagine, you can even rub your belly and pretend that there's really a baby in there. After the test, if it comes back negative, that's it. It's definitive. It's over. It's back to the drawing board.

I don't know if I can go back to the drawing board. And that scares me more than anything else.

Two Days to Go

It's hard to not think I'm pregnant, and hard to not be sensitive to every little thing that feels different. I've been really tired (but I had a busy weekend last week -- in Syracuse for two benefit meetings, my mom's uncle was not doing well, and I spent the night at my niece's with very active little boys).

I went to bed at 8:15 on Sunday and 8:30 on Monday. And both mornings, woke up feeling like I barely got enough sleep. My stomach has been, on and off, queasy after I eat. And this morning I woke up with a back-ache. And I still have it -- it's more than sleeping on it wrong.

My temps have been really good -- 98.2-98.4 consistently over the past week. And Dr. Wong felt my pulse and looked at my tongue (who knows?) yesterday at acupuncture, and said it looked very good. She thinks I am, fingers crossed.

I'm taking the day off on Friday, mostly because I have a lot to do for the benefit. I'm meeting the Herr Food rep tomorrow at Wegmans to pick up 800 individual bags of chips and pretzels. I've got signs to make, items still coming in for the raffle baskets, laundry to do. And, oh yea, I have to run up to the hospital to get my blood work done.

Saturday is the benefit. I'm excited about it -- I love events. And I'm sure there will be a ton of people there I know, but haven't seen in years and years. So I guess, the good thing is, if I'm not pregnant, I get to drink beer at the benefit, and I get to keep busy and not lay on my couch and feel sorry for myself. I can do that on Sunday, I guess.

Exhausted

Last night, I feel asleep before 9pm. Woke up to go the bathroom at 1:30 and then right back to sleep until my alarm went off at 6am. Is it a sign? Who knows?

And my temperature was 98.4 this morning, which for me is like a raging fever.

I've still got a week before my blood test. And I can't even cheat and take an at-home test because of the hCG shot and progesterone I'm taking now. So I'll wait until next Friday.

It's going to be a long week. And I can't even sleep in on Saturday, because I have to be in Syracuse at 9am to put raffle items together for the benefit I'm working on. Aaah, but Sunday....Sunday, I get to sleep in.

The Rise and Fall

So it's been almost a week since the insemination. I started the progesterone suppositories on Saturday. That will help with implantation -- the vital step my acupuncturist is convinced I am failing. And so is all of this extra information from her a good thing or a bad thing?

Yesterday I was thinking bad. I woke up, feeling really warm. But when I took my temperature, it was 97.8 -- down from 98.3 the day before. Now mind you, for me, 97.8 is still pretty high. But Dr. Wong has impressed upon me how important it is that my temperature stay high, that I stay as warm as possible. All day yesterday, I was bummed -- even though rationally I knew that it was too early in my cycle for the plummet to mean that I was about to get my period. I was thinking of it as my cold, little womb was not a good environment for my fertilized egg.

I had an acupuncture appointment yesterday afternoon, and she was still optimistic about my temperature, but pointed out, as if this is something I can truly control, that it needs to go back up the next day and stay up. OK, I'll do my best.

I've been trying not to look at signs. I haven't figured out what my due date would be, other than I know it would be sometime in November. I'm so concerned about the negative test, and then immediately try to put it out of my head so that I can stay positive. I'm trying not to talk about it too much with my friends who know.

But...the signs are there. At least things feel different from the previous three attempts. All weekend, whenever I ate, no matter how much or how little, I felt nauseated. Sunday, I drank a Sprite and that was the first time that any sort of caloric intake settled in my stomach. And I feel something inside, something I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's an inner peace since I've been praying to St. Gerard every night, or maybe it's my intuition telling me that this time it worked.

And then there's my temperature. 98.3 this morning. So there's still hope. And as my friend Hope says, "you gotta have hope." And so I'll stay hopeful, a little more optimistic than cautious this time around, and think the best.

Baby Jesus Trumps St. Gerard

The frustration of all of this finally got to me this week.

Monday, I had an ultrasound and found out that my egg follicles weren't quite mature. I was to go back on Wednesday. And that was fine -- I didn't really expect it, but the follicles were close in size, so I knew that come Wednesday, as long as I didn't ovulate prematurely, I would be okay and we would be able to do the procedure.

Wednesday, I went back to the doctor, hCG in tow so I could get my shot. I had three mature follicles on the right side, a few immature ones on the left. I was expecting to be able to have them give me my shot, but first I had to get blood work done. I hadn't had to have that done in a few months, but because my Clomid dosage was increased, they needed new estrodial levels.

And that's when I almost lost it. It was one more thing, one more thing that I wasn't expecting to have to do. But I got over it pretty quickly and drove north to Ithaca, and up the west side of the lake to the hospital, instead of up to south hill to go to work. In the lab, I think I got a newbie. After two sticks, and two blown out veins with no blood to show for it, she called in for help from another technician. One stick later, in the other arm and with a very large needles, there was blood. I couldn't wait to see what kind of bruises I would get from this trip to the lab.

I waited for the blood work results to come in, and for the doctor's office to call. At this point, I couldn't even get excited that I would have the IUI the next day. I just couldn't be sure until I heard from Jan or Jodi. Finally Jodi called, and was excited about my levels. Over 1,000! So I just needed to get my shot and be at the doctor's office the next afternoon.

I called the health center to see if they could give me my shot. They had in the past, but the person I talked to was giving me the run around about needing permission from the director and finding my chart. I told her I just needed to know, because if she couldn't do it, then I would need to drive back to Elmira to have it done. It had to be done that day. Even though she was very frustrating and couldn't give me an answer, she did call me back rather quickly and said I could come over any time and she would do it. *sigh*

And so, after a hectic day or running around and getting poked and prodded, I could take a deep breath and try to get rid of the stress. I was going to try again the next day. For the fourth time, but the first time in consecutive months, I was about to try again to get pregnant.

Jill couldn't go with me, so I went alone. I headed down to Horseheads early and went to Panera for lunch. I had some yummy soup and relaxed. I was trying not to read into anything, but everything was different about this time.

At the office, on the table and in the stirrups, Jodi had a hard time finding the end of my cervix. My uterus was tipped more than usual, and I knew exactly when she found it. She hit it with the catheter that she uses to put the sperm in with. I took a deep breath, she apologized profusely, and then the cramping started. Once she had the baby batter in, she left me to lay flat for 20 minutes.

I called Bubbles for a little support. And we prayed together. I said a prayer to St. Gerard -- my new best friend, as I just found out he is the patron saint of fertility and motherhood. And then Bubbles, in her heavier-than-usual West Virginia drawl, "Dear baby Jesus, please let Ellie get knocked up. Amen."

Nothing like going right to the source. I hope she has an open line to Him.