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Places to Go:
Bloat Bonanza! (updated)
In a little over 5 hours I will be getting knocked up. (how’s that for positive thinking?)
However, the amount of current discomfort I am in is insane. I’ve bitched about bloating before, but in comparison I was being a wimp. Now, today, right this very minute, I have the biggest most bloated gut ever.
So the big dilemma is what the fuck can I wear today??? I can get into my fat jeans but buttoning them up hurts like a mofo. (I’m the genius who decided to do the trigger shot right under the belly button.) It’s looking like I may have to wear the lounge pants. Yes, the ones that so famously turned my ass & toilet seat blue.
Of course I have since washed the lounge pants, but I have not yet tested them for dye transfer issues. So my question is comfort vs. Potential smurf?
Oh hell, I’m going to wear them. I honestly don’t think I can wear anything else until this bloat goes away.
Hopefully Churchill is having a nice, forward motility, wash and getting ready to get to work. It’s almost showtime!
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Just got back home from the clinic. I think I ovulated on the way up there, either that or I didn’t take enough gas-x this morning. It could go either way…
Tomorrow I will share with you the most bizarre satellite radio playlist ever- very apropos for the day. But once again it completely freaks me out that Sirius radio is so in tune with me. I finally did see that commercial about Sirius and the girl who thinks they are beaming into her head. There may be some truth in that. Let’s just say when have you EVER heard Paul Anka’s “Having my Baby” on the radio within the last 20 years?? & then today, just as I was pulling into the parking deck for the clinic it starts to play.
Everything went as well as one could hope for. Churchill did great. 37 million post wash and they managed to get 80% forward motility. Atta boy. My champ. I am, as my gals in Oz say, all squirtie up the clacker.
I was officially the last IUI for my soon to be graduating RE so there was a small crowd in the room with us. He got to use all of his new material on me:
Me: man, 12th IUI. It’s like I am graduating. You should get me a diploma.
RE: well let’s get you a certificate (wait for it) a BIRTH certificate.
ha. Coming soon to Nevada, my very clever RE. I’m sure he’ll clean up in Reno.
So now it is just the fucking wait. Hopefully, thanks to my black market progesteroni, I will actually have a two week wait as opposed to the 10 day wait.
Eggsactly!
Huey Lewis was on to something.
This morning the song that came on the radio as I was leaving the Fertility Clinic was Huey’s, “Doing it all for my baby”. Now while the entire song is not apropos, that one line of the chorus certainly is. & fuck it all if I didn’t start bawling when I heard the song.
Of course I do that all the time. I can find deep, even spiritual meaning in just about any song that comes on the radio. & since I am a satellite radio chick I always feel a bit weirded out how in tune the play lists can be. Is there some DJ in the sky beaming down songs just for me?
I’m not sure if this morning’s play list would even be meaningful to anyone else. Aren’t I the only one that can seriously, spastically, car dance to Chuck Mangione’s, “Feels So Good”? (dude, when that base line kicks in I go nuts!) Hearing that song immediately makes me think of my Mother. That, along with the original Broadway recording of “Evita”, was one of our many road cassette tapes. When I was a kid I could tell you exactly where we were on the freeway if I heard ‘Rainbow Tour’. But man, when Mangione’s horn started crooning in my car I just felt like Mom was with me.
But I digress…I am guessing you are wondering how the hell my ultrasound went this morning. Am I right?
In a word: excellent.
I’m going to pause just a moment to savor that word. Along this journey there have not been many times where I could seriously stop and revel in a bit of good news. Of course in a couple of days I will be on to stressing about an entirely new bag of tricks, so for now I pause.
Ok, I’m done pausing. I didn’t really bother with grand totals & all that jazz. (For those that are total sticklers for full information I can guess that I had 8 follicles on my right and 9 follicles on my left ovary) But the real news is that I have 4 (FOUR!) goodies. My ovaries are almost mirrors of each other in that one had a follicle of 20mm & 18mm and the other had a follicle or 20.5mm & 16mm. Too bad today’s scan wasn’t done by the weekend on call RE that was so dismissive with her prediction that I would only have one viable follicle. I would have loved to have accidently pooted on her or something. My ovaries are bad ass & they will rise to a challenge. mofo.
After the scan and bloodwork I ran into my almost former RE. I thought he was totally done with his rotation & had graduated, but he is staying at the clinic through the summer. So we had a totally geeky and not at all awkward hug. He pulled me into his office and went over today’s scan with me. He completely nixed my hopes of having a Saturday IUI. (& I swear it was more about not wanting to have to find a sitter for GM than working with the full moon!)
The good news is that he is working clinic on Friday and will stay later to do my IUI himself. The downside is that I have to give myself the trigger tonight at 1am, but I don’t care much. I am just thrilled that I don’t have to change GM’s schedule at all.
The funny thing is that I got another multiples lecture. RE says that with my “four good looking follicles” I am at a “very increased risk” for cranking out more than one kid. Bwha ha ha! The last time I had to have the multiples talk was my first injectibles cycle. Then I had to give a nurse a verbal acknowledgment that I was made aware of the increased risks. Today I had to actually SIGN something that says I won’t sue the clinic if I have a bazillion babies. Sheesh.
So for the rest of today I am going to be optimistic. & bloated. Fuck am I bloated.
Rainy Day Plan
I’ve spent a lot of time day dreaming and plotting what I would do if I found out I was pregnant. I’m sure many of us have those fantasies of how we will tell our friends, our parents, the blogosphere. In my head there is an entire warehouse of such hopes. It’s getting kind of ridiculously crowded.
So I started thinking. Ok, I have NOT gotten pregnant 100% of the time I tried. Each time I become aware that a cycle has ended I go through the same emotions: rage, sorrow, despair, hopelessness, anger, bitterness. Then somehow I manage to rally and either decide to take a break or try again. It’s madness.
I need to have something in mind for *if* this cycle fails. This is very dangerous to a sometimes Pollyanna like myself as I have mixed emotions about making plans for when the original plans fall through. I refuse to call it ‘Plan B’ (for obvious reasons), but I will call it ‘Plan for Rainy Day’.
The reality is that since GM & I are going to Florida for the 4th of July I would not opt to have a trying cycle that month. Plus I will need time to con, er, obtain those expensive medications that I need so it’s cool with taking a month off. (Pollyanna says to say, “not that I will even need to think of getting more injectibles as I will totally be getting knocked up in June!”)
However, I still think I should have my ‘Plan for a Rainy Day’ in place. Just in case.
I have decided that the Rainy Day Plan will be to get a tattoo. A tattoo that I have wanted for a while but have waited to get until after I have a kid. Well no more waiting. Fuck that. Time to plan for it.
(but I do giggle over the idea that if I had gotten a tattoo after every failed cycle I would have been such a sleeved bad ass!)
It feels a bit like I am cheating- trying to plot against those go-to emotions that I am so familiar with- but it is quite comforting to know that I have this back up plan. I have tivo’d all the episodes of “Inked” on A&E and watch the show with the sort of anxiousness that I used to reserve just for those Baby Shows.
In other “Calliope may be damned” news: I just got a shipping notice from GV. My new toys are set to arrive on 6-6-06. That also happens to be the day of the Alabama Primaries. Coincidence? As for who I am going to vote for I have no idea. I basically asked a friend, who is way smarter politically than I could ever be, to weigh in & tell me who to vote for. Not that the people I will be voting for stand much of a chance, but I have to do my part.
Wednesday will be my next ultrasound as well (it’s a big day!). Sunday’s scan was underwhelming. I had follicles, but the quickie weekend on call RE was not into taking measurements of all of them. Instead she hastily reported that, “Only one seems like it will be viable.” fuck. My E2 level was 177- which is on par for my other inject cycles. I know that a lot can happen between Sunday & Wednesday. I’m counting on it.
I also know the tired mantra, “you only need one egg”. Bull shit. I only want one kid, but I want as many healthy eggs as possible. Shooting myself up every night and finding out that all my hopes are on one egg sucks ass.
But I am going to push those down trodden vibes out. um…right.
Dumbass
Sometimes, as humans, we do dumb things. Like when your new cheap black lounge pants from JC Penn*y arrive you completely disregard the note to “wash before wear”. Lame. Who washes new clothes?
So today I slipped on my new lounge pants. They felt great and didn’t cling to my injection bloat at all. I felt stylish & hip and breezy (these lounge pants are of the wide leg genus).
Then today, during one of my bazillionth trips to the loo (got to stay hydrated, people) I glanced down at the toilet seat (only because my ass was sticking, not to get a poo peak- even though that would be entirely normal). & what did I find? A huge imprint of my ass in dark blue.
That’s right- the new breezy pants had stained my ass, legs, everywhere. Luckily (ha ha) most of the ink transfered from my butt to the toilet seat so my body is only (ha ha) a sort of dingy grey. But I have been scrubbing for almost an hour at the toilet seat & nothing (NOTHING!) is getting this stain out. I have tried clorox wipes, windex, the most ancient can of ajax ever, bleach, plain soap & water…it’s there for good. A reminder of what an idiot I can be.
I’ve been cracking up all day over this (GM thinks it is funny too & wanted to immediately see if her toilet seat was any fancy color since she doesn’t wash her new clothes before she wears them either). But really I am amused at what might have been.
My second ultra sound is tomorrow morning at the unGodly hour of 7:30 am. That number is made even more wrong by the fact that I have to leave my house by 6:30 am to get to the clinic. That means that I will be waking up around 6 am to take a speedy shower. A shower that, if I am to be perfectly honest, I probably would be half asleep in. So who is to say that I would have noticed that the lower half of my body was a beautiful shade of dark Smurf?
I have a sketchy track record with weekend/ On call RE’s at my clinic already. In one of my first weekend visits almost a year ago (back before I was blogging) my Mom started having heart flutters and she had to be rushed down the street to the E.R. Then of course there is the infamous farting incident of ‘05…so part of me wants to keep my freaky streak going & celebrate my blueberry ass. But who am I kidding? I’ve already had one shower and gotten most of the ink off. & I am planning on another shower before bed.
& just so you guys can have a giggle with me, here is my “new” toilet seat.
I’m cool with begging.
Ah, the joys of an early morning date with the dildo cam, the monkey wand, the trans-vaginal ultrasound. You’d think that after a bazillion of these cooter camera coffee talks that I would be more blah about it.
But I tell you there is something almost sweet about that first wanding after some time off. My 2nd favorite nurse was driving the boat and we had a good time catching up. She is a retired OB nurse that just womans the ultrasound equipment part time for “mad money”. As soon as she saw me she gave me a hug and welcomed me back. Nice, but kind of poked a bit at my heart strings. But at least she remembered exactly how I like my ultrasounds to be done.
I HATE silence. I need a running commentary and play by play. And if you see something scary or weird or wrong you are free to use the phrase, “what the fuck is that?” Which she did, as a joke, when part of my intestine wanted to be in our V movie.
The good news is that other than our fun with intestines there was nothing remarkable about the scan. At this stage that is exactly what we are looking for. So say it with me, because it should never be taken for granted, phew!
2nd favorite nurse then asked if I needed her to call in any meds for me. Hmmmm. I wasn’t sure if she was in on the free stuff that Most favorite nurse (mfn) had slipped me so I kept my mouth shut & just asked for MFN.
MFN was on a conference call with Dr. Letterhead #2 and I asked to wait in an unoccupied suite. I started to freak out a bit. There was no guarantee that I would be getting more free meds and it was kind of fucked up of me to assume such a thing. I should have already hooked myself up with that website in Europe that has the meds for cheap. FUCK.
The longer I sat there the more my reading glasses slipped down on a slip n slide of perspiration on my nose. I couldn’t keep pretending to read my just in case purse novel. I needed to pray or chant or something.
MFN saw me waiting and waved & gave me the international signal for, “I’ll just be a minute longer as you can see that the Boss Man has just given me a lot of shit to do. But hello!!” I swear she managed to convey all of that with an eyebrow lift and a silly smile. There is a reason that she is my favorite.
I calmed down a bit, tried to compose myself even, and continued to wait. Finally MFN came into the suite and shut the door behind her.
“Tell me all about your new donor!”
Oh fun! Girl chat! I told her all about Churchill (thumbs up on the nickname from MFN. She was never a fan of Guy Smiley. She held a grudge after the first vial was so blah.) We talked about my protocol for this cycle (the same as the last two) and then she says, “So where do you want me to call your meds in to?”
Huh? Say what?
I must have turned bright red. In fact I know I did. It’s a pale girl perk- you can always tell when your snow white face has become cherry red. MFN looked a little worried. She explained that Dr. Letterhead #1 was here and he was not such a fan of free meds.
So I did it. I begged.
& really I am cool with begging. It worked. Not sure I can share with you exactly what I said and still hold my head up in the blogosphere…but let’s just say that the phrase, ‘I thought I was your favorite patient’ might have snuck in there along with ‘I’m in so much credit card debt already’…and maybe some tears (that were real) sploshed out.
But like I said, it worked.
MFN opened the door and said loudly, “Ok so I’ll just get you those drawing and mixing needles and didn’t you need some alcohol swabs?” She then walked right into Dr. Letterhead #1’s office and filled me up a goody bag. Somehow two cartidges of follistim found their way to the bottom of the bag.
I’m telling you- if I EVER get knocked up MFN is going to get an obscene thank you gift from me. Hell, I may just send her a stripper or something.
Sometime this afternoon I will get the call to tell me if I am to start stimming tonight or tomorrow night. I’ll have to have a weekend scan so MFN is waiting to see what day the on-call Dr. will be in the clinic. I’d like to start tonight because I am anxious to start shooting up. Let’s get this party started!
Hello old friend!
After a thirty five day hiatus an old friend has joined me & I could not be more thrilled. I’m sure she stayed away because I was so stressed out with Mom’s move or maybe it was all those other months where I begged her to stay the fuck away. Perhaps she did not like such a harsh tone and decided to toy with me a little bit. Regardless I am elated to see her and plan on welcoming her properly with a chilled glass of vino once the sun sets.
And why am so happy that Ms. Vague Cramoisie has arrived (that’s Ms. Crimson Wave for all of you plain speaking folk)? Because with her she has brought Ms. Espoir & Madam Optimisme (or Hope & Optimism, as their close friends call them- we are not yet so close).
Also coming to play is Lunar Mystique. She has shared with me legends of other women that have had good things happen to them on the full moon. Which, if all of our math has been done correctly, could be a very important time for me.
Ms. Vague Cramoisie will only be here four or five days but I would love for Ms. Espoir & Madam Optimisme to hang around for a long time. I wonder how I can convince them to stay…
Please join me in welcoming my new friends and get ready for some fun adventures to be had.
We are at #12: The “Churchill” Cycles.
it has started
That obsessive listening for something, anything that will reveal the answer to a question. THE question. You know, the, “am I knocked up or what?” question.
I’m trying to distract myself. I baked a fabulous loaf of banana bread. I created a photo book for Mom to take on her trip. I burned a road trip cd for her. I pledged every wood surface in the house.
But really, all that is rumbling around in my brain is that question.
That fucking question.
I have been hitting this site as if it was crack. Not that I smoke crack. Anymore. ok, ever. But you know what I mean. I have that restless leg syndrome, except it’s in my head. Restless head.
And I am having a bit of Sad Eve. The day before I get extremely, punch to the gut, ugly cry sad. Mom leaves tomorrow, people. In less than 24 hours I will be all alone in a house with a woman who tells the same four stories over and over. This is truly new & scary territory for me. No take backs on this, I will be a true, and full time care-giver. Me.
Where did my life go?
And am I pregnant?
Do you think one glass of wine (or two) would be ok?
My Anniversary
Yesterday, as I helped my Mother pack, she asked me how I was feeling. It took me a minute (literally, a full minute) to understand what she was asking. We’ve been so caught up with her move and related family drama that I hadn’t spent an enormous amount of time vocalizing a minute by minute account of every sensation in my uterus region.
I told her, in an all too familiar speech, that I didn’t think it had worked. That I didn’t feel any different. That my morning temperatures weren’t as pretty as they could be. & besides, didn’t she see me eat half a bag of ruffles? Clearly a PMS sign.
We continued packing for a while, a James Taylor cd crooning from her bedroom & ripped packing tape the only sound.
Then she said, “I hope you don’t give up.”
I said, ” Well there is nothing more I can do for this cycle & I figured I should call it quits for a while.” I then went into my prepared speech about how I was sick of my body looking the way it did. How I was hating feeling like a person who was only the sum of her female parts. How so many people had started being vocal about how my not getting pregnant must be some sort of sign.
She listened to me and nodded as if she was agreeing and maybe understanding. The she said, “That’s bull shit you know. You aren’t getting pregnant because you aren’t getting pregnant. That is all. There is no sign in that. Do you really want to quit? Because I don’t think you do.”
Damn that woman can see right through me.
I don’t want to quit. Fuck, I don’t even want to take a break. I just figured I would have to. I want to keep on trying until it happens. I want to be a Mom. & if I give up it’ll never happen.
I spent a good part of last evening looking over new potential donors. I’m not going to quit.
So bet you are wondering where the anniversary comes in to play. One year ago I had my first meeting with my 1st RE. I would have seen her sooner but I had to make sure this fancy water parasite I had picked up in Africa was really out of my system.
In honor of my anniversary I am going to share with you my journal entry from a year ago. This was a journal I had started with the idea that I would give it to my child when they got older. I stopped writing in it after my sixth failed cycle as no kid needs to see how angry and bitter their Mom is capable of getting. However, I am hoping to get some of that wide eyed enthusiasm that I had in those first few months back.
April 20, 2005
9:02am
I’m in an exam room waiting to meet Dr. D and begin this process. I am such a nervous wreck! But I am trying to look busy and nonchalant. You know, like I do this sort of thing every day.
8:35pm
I’m still processing the day so I better start writing it all down.
For starters I had no idea what to wear. I know it is a silly thing to dwell on, but I just didn’t know what sort of environment I was going to be entering & I wanted to project something (not sure what that is!). I considered my hot pink sundress, but then didn’t know if that would look too flippy. Jeans were ruled out as I didn’t want to look too casual. I finally settled on some navy gaberdine trousers and a white, short sleeved linen shirt. And of course my black Chucks. Wait, I must have had on my black trousers as I doubt I would have risked a navy pant/black shoe scenario. As for jewelry I had on the ruby cross, clip on earrings that belonged to M [great-grandmother] 0 the silver squares with turquoise bits. Yes your Mommy really does invest this much energy on how she looks. But I promise never to take so much time getting ready that you are late for school.
Your Grandmother (she is still debating what you should call her) dropped me off while she went to park. I was a bundle of nerves. After all of our family’s various health needs I had become familiar with every floor and almost every department of the clinic. But this department- the fertility one- was one I had never been in.
Now I will confess, and I am not exaggerating about this, as soon as I walked through the doors this beautiful sense of calm swept through me. My nerves were replaced with excitement. Then the seriousness of the moment overwhelmed me and I could barely steady my heart.
Your Grandmother finally joined me and she kept trying to make jokes to calm me down. Dr. D walked in and at first seemed so professional. We went through my cycles and my history. She looked at the many months I had been charting. We talked about starting immediately or waiting a month to run some blood work and genetic tests. Well I am NOT in a rush. I will take every test I need to. I just know when you are ready everything will fall into place.
I had a quick physical exam with a routine female exam then it was to the lab where I had 8 vials of blood drawn. And that was it for the appointment.
But I must tell you I was very afraid of being judged by the doctors today. But Dr. D. made me feel so normal and welcome. I even cried a little when we all talked about how tall you will be.
For the rest of the month I have to pee on these little sticks in the morning to see if I am ovulating. When I start to surge I will call a nurse and then I will go in for another exam.
Next May, if all my tests come back normal, then we will begin conception. I can’t wait for that. Just thinking about it makes me so happy. My brain is full thinking about all the things to come: thinking about your name, what you will look like, if you will be a boy or a girl. You will be born into such a great family. And do me a favor, don’t ever ever (EVER!) think that you were not wanted and planned, prayed for, and hoped for. There are so many people that are waiting to meet you.
Photo Friday & the 11th IUI
The above photo was an attempt to take an arty farty picture of my dark eye shadows. They are naturally dark, but this look had some help from some left over eye makeup. So goth.
The deed is done. My 11th IUI. Now all I need to do is sit back, relax, and get knocked up.
ha!
Today’s RE visit was different. For starters it was the first time I had ever gone without my Mom. (today is a DAR day so somebody had to get GM ready and to the meeting on time.) I was feeling kind of blue about going alone, but then my phone rang & I had company!
[Thank you Sarah for sharing your good news with me, and for being a friendly voice on a day when I needed support.]
So I got to the clinic twenty minutes early and sat in the waiting room with a bunch of men. Weird. They all looked sheepish & uncomfortable. Poor dudes. I plopped down next to the least shrinking of the shrinking violets and dug into my latest Entertainment Weekly magazine. Suddenly the guy next to me says, “cool shirt.”
Well yes, I know that. My shirt does rock. I found the vintage Guy Smiley shirt on line last month & was saving it special for today. But I was getting a bit freaked by the idea of conversation with the random guy in the repro endo waiting room. After thanking him for liking my shirt he then scooted over so he could read what the magazine had to say about the new Superman.
um…this is my dance space & that is your dance space. back off.
I scooted further away from him hoping he would get the very clear, “I don’t want to talk to you” mojo I was sending out.
But no. He really wanted to chat.
“How long have you & your husband been coming to the clinic? My wife & I just started.”
I didn’t think he needed the “I’m a single gal” discussion, so I gave him just a simple answer: one year. (HOLY FUCK!)
I could tell he really wanted to talk but then (luckily) my name was called. Now I actually feel badly for the guy. I hadn’t put much thought into how taxing this process could be for a man.
But enough about the waiting room. You want to know about how the IUI went down. oh yes you do!
For starters the numbers were shit. My donors have never had anything below 25 million. Not that you really need more than that one sperm, but for cripes sake, I had really taken those high numbers for granted. Today’s vial had just 12 million. It was low enough that the nurse said if I had had another vial at the clinic that they would have added it to the mix.
Then there was the drama with my cervix. She SO did not want to be messed with today. When she finally did show herself she was in a tilted position. Silly cervix. After a change in speculum and a tilting of my hips into some sort of kinky yoga pose the catheter easily went in.
& while I appreciated the nurse going slowly I did not appreciate her saying, “we better make sure we get every last drop.” You just hush about Guy Smiley. He did the best he could.
Luckily I didn’t have an audience today. Thank you holiday weekend. & luckily I could stay in the room as long as I wanted without feeling guilty that I was hogging it from other people waiting for their IUI’s.
I tried really hard to focus on fertile thoughts but my mind kept wandering. Each time I would try to visualize my getting preggers some random thought like, “I wonder if Publix is selling hot cross buns today?” would pop into my head. I really missed not having my Mom with me holding my hand. I never had a problem keeping baby on the brain with Mom around. But leave me alone in a room & it might has well have been a dental appointment.
So please send whatever fertile vibes you have to spare to my female parts. I think I may really need them.
Shriners Club
So this morning’s ultra sound wasn’t quite as splendid as I had hoped. I’ve got one of those ovary hogging follicles on the right side and it hasn’t let the other kiddies grow much. I’m down with an aggressive 18mm whopper as long as it delivers. But one of the primmo reasons for doing injectables is more follicles. More follies = more chances of getting preggo.
Because of Mr. Monster follicle it looks like I will trigger tonight. That all depends on my estrodial # which I will learn after lunch. It didn’t go up much from Friday to Monday so in a way I am hoping that the # is low enough to give me a few more days before the IUI. A few more days to let my shy guys catch up.
But this has kicked into high gear a project that I have been working on: a fertility Shrine.
Now calm down all you heathen haters. This isn’t a “worshipping false idols” situation. This is a Cali needs to harness and focus on positive fertile energy thing. I’ve slowly been gathering little things that are meaningful to me in a baby kind of way and tonight I will start to assemble something pretty.
I’ll post a photo once it is more complete, but if you have any suggestions I am open to them.
I’m also digging deep into the astrological energy that is happening this weekend. Not to mention that whole Easter bit.
I’d love to hear any lore you’ve got to share about shrines, full moons, new moons, fertile energy…Spill it. I am working on feeling very Earth Mother this week. Haven’t shaved my armpits since Sunday. oh yeah, I am SO Mother Earth.
Plus I have been celebrating my Capricorn-ness by wearing shit loads of turquoise jewelry for the past couple of days. There has to be some sort of patron saint of Capricorns trying to conceive Capricorns.
You can laugh at my shift in focus all you want, but I know that this month, this try, will be my last for quite a while. And I want to feel good about every little bit. There is so much fucking science involved in getting knocked up by donor sperm that it can make a gal wonkers.
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