A PBK WannaBe

Warning…Lots of irrelevant kid-room decorating talk ahead, pregnancy mentioned as well.  If you’re not into it, I get it!

So, I have the urge to start out every post right now with the status:  still pregnant…sort of like I expect that I will NOT be pregnant at any time.  And I don’t think it’s so much an actual fear of miscarriage, more like I might just wake up one day and realize that I was never really pregnant at all.  That I just had a stomach tumor or a healthy meal or something.  It’s just not CONCRETE to me yet.   I amhaving a scattering of symptoms:  VERY tired, random crampiness, and this morning when I was loading the dishwasher and saw some nasty-red-sauce-caked-on utensils stashed in there (compliments of hubby) I started to feel pukey.

Pukey, all things considered, is VERY good.

Some time ago I wrote about the art of irrelevancy and the power that it can have over infertility (and many other stressors as well).  I fully embraced the irrelevant during my recent IVF cycle by throwing myself into an all-out effort to redecorate my son’s room in a ‘big boy’ theme.   I wanted to do it on a shoe-string budget, but I wanted it to have a Pottery Barn feel, ’cause I’m a wannabe like that.

Currently, my son’s room is still decorated as a nursery.  My nursery theme was ‘sheep’, and I LOVED the theme.  My mom works for a furniture store and was able to get one of those enormous stuffed Serta sheep (from the commercials, with the counting numbers on them) as well as a flock of small ones.  The walls are a nice sage green and random sheep are strewn everywhere.   Cute, right?  Yeah, but maybe a little too babyish for a 3 year old.

So, why does my 3-year old still have a nursery?  I won’t bore you with the long version.  Here’s the short version.  We were waiting to be pregnant again.  Waiting.  And waiting.  And  wait…you totally get it I know.  Before my IVF cycle, I decided I would wait no longer.   So, I spent my post-retrieval recovery time and post-transfer bedrest scouring the internet for the perfect big-boy bedroom plan.

So here it is!

It started out with the discovery of this quilt…

Which was $45 online at Walmart.com for a full-size quilt with two shams.  All the reviews said they loved it and compared it to THIS quilt…

Which is from Pottery Barn Kids and retails for $230 for a full quilt and shams.  Pretty good huh?

So, somehow the colors in the first quilt reminded me of a beach ball.  So I decided I would do a BEACH theme for my son’s room!  I wanted to do something he really loved, and this kid LOVES the beach.  So, my sister found a beach ball bean-bag online for about $100.  However, I found one on Ebay for $25 including shipping…

We can use his regular furniture, but I’m going to redcorate his plain white-washed mirror into something like this…

It’ll just cost me a few bucks for shells and rope.    Speaking of not spending a lot of money, I’m going to handpaint a sign for over his bed, something like this…

And, lastly, I had three canvasses made of one our trips to the beach from a few years ago.  I had some SERIOUS discouonts on these babies and got them ALL (a 16×24 and two 11×14′s) for $60 including shipping!

We’re going to paint the walls a sky blue and my sister also suggested seeing if I can get some sandbox buckets on clearance right now for storage for my son’s toys.

So, I’m SUPER excited to get to work on his room!  I’ve spent $100 so far and will probably only spend about $50 more on paint, random supplies and toy storage.  Now we’re just waiting to see which room do redo…the bigger one, since he WILL be the oldest.  Or the smaller one, if the bigger one is needed for twins (ack!  did I just say that?).

We should have a plan by next Tuesday!

Anyone Up for a Helping of Gazelle?

Hi everyone!

Sheesh, I’ve written the opening sentence to this post about 4 times.  Um, uncertain much?  It is the most absolutely beautiful day out here.  Can this actually be August in the midwest????  Usually August around here  is much like living in an armpit:  it’s hot, sticky, and it reeks.

So, I’m having a relaxing-type day today.   A no-work day.  That is because we have an open house for my son tonight before he starts prechool next week.  Whaaaaaaaaa!  I can’t believe this little boy is ready for anything that incorporates the word ‘school’!   This is where I break into the classic, “Sunrise, Sunset”.  And then I top it off with a heart-felt rendition of “Memories” (the Barbara Streisand one, not the Cats one).

OK, my brain is all over the place this morning.  Well, technically, my brain is still firmly lodged in my cranial cavity, but my MIND is wandering.  Anyway, I’m still pregnant.  So that’s good.  I’m mean, that’s GREAT!  God has sent me a couple symptoms to help ease my mind:  extreme tiredness, waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to fall asleep again (potentially contributing to the tiredness), and random zings, pulls, tugs and cramps in the ol’ uterus.

The zinging means it’s working.

I can’t remember what I’ve said on here about my numbers and due dates and stuff.  A few of you have asked, so here’s a little data recap:

• My EDD is 4/30.
• My first u/s is 9/1 (next Tuesday).
• My beta numbers were 41 (at 11dpo) and 114 (at 13dpo).
• I get no more betas for which to speculate twin vs. singleton pregnancy.
• Boo.

So, I got a phone call from my friend, D, on Friday telling me that she and A were coming over around 11AM.  I resisted the urge perform any ‘strenuous activity’ (namely cleaning my house) before they came, since I’m trying to follow my RE’s directions.  So in comes D and A carrying sacks of groceries for lunch, a bunch of “Congratulations!” balloons (I’m guessing there weren’t any “Congrats on your test-tube baby” ones available.  And a basket filled with…

1. Prune juice
2. Tums
3. Stool softener
4. Nighttime pain reliever
5. Phazyme (are you sensing a pattern here?)
6. Kleenex
7. Chocolate
8. “Preggo Pops” (for morning sickness)
9. and…Hemmorroid cream!

Yes, my very own ‘pregnancy survival’ kit!!!!!  D and A said I better post a picture of my kit on my blog or that they would egg my house and vandalize my car.  OK, they didn’t actually say what they would do if I didn’t post the picture, but these are some crafty girls, so I better not test them.

So here it is…

Oh yeah, they also brought me a frozen custard pie.  I can’t take a picture of it since my family devoured it like hungry lions feasting on a gazelle.  Boy, that doesn’t make it sound too appetizing.  I promise it was WAAAAY more tasty than a gazelle.  I mean, I’ve never actually tried a gazelle before, but unless raw gazelle tastes EXACTLY like cookies ‘n cream frozen custard pie, I’m pretty sure I know which I prefer.

Thanks D and A, you are SUCH blessings in my life!!!!

Hope Preservation (BFP mentioned)

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

…for all the wonderful words of congrats and prayers and support for our unexpected BFP.  OK, maybe it seems stupid to say ‘unexpected’, but for me that’s what it is.  When I said in earlier posts that I was doing IVF as a means to an end, I meant it.  What I really thought was going to happen was this…

1. I would respond terribly to the all the meds, procedures, etc.
2. It wouldn’t work.
3. Dr. Nice would tell us to stop wasting our money.
4. We’d decided to adopt.

Yeah, really optimistic huh?  I can’t help it.  Despite having my son as sort of a ‘mid-term break’ in my infertility, I certainly stopped believing some time ago that my body could actually be pregnant again.   Call it ‘hope preservation’ I guess.

Speaking of ‘hope preservation’, I am well-aware that the word “IF” is not out of my vocabulary yet.  And I can’t help it.  I just can’t…despite my friends and family saying, “Now Eve, there is no reason to think that this pregnancy is not going to be successful.”

But here is my reason…

I-N-F-E-R-T-I-L-I-T-Y

So my unconscious mind has had to strike a balance.   I’m thrilled and delighted and excited on one hand.  And on the other hand, I’m nervous and careful and guarded and taking a ‘wait and see’ approach.  It’s hard for me to plan too far into the future with this pregnancy.

But that’s OK, I need it to be that way right now.

I’m pregnant for today. 

And so, though I won’t be rushing out to buy a new nursery set or a year’s worth of maternity clothes, or even one tiny pair of baby booties, I still feel fulfilled in a way that I couldn’t have even pictured just a mere four days ago.

And that’s enough for me for now.

The Results are In…(preg ment)

I got a call from Nurse Peggy who happily announced that my #2 beta results were 114 at 13dpo! 

So, it’s official.  My eggo is preggo!

I can’t fully wrap my brain around it yet.  But the two lines on my HPT did make it seem more ‘real’ to me this morning.  For your viewing pleasure…

Oopsie, it’s upside down.  Kinda like my stomach at the moment.

Oh yeah, and here’ my two little sweet embabies before they were transferred…

 

Thanks so very, very, very much for all the congrats and continued prayers.  I hope that this pregnancy stays as sticky as can be, but most of all, I wish that all who wish to be pregnant are able to realize this dream.  I’m humbled by my chance to get to do this all again.

Cheers!

My Most Favoritist E-mail Ever…

11:26PM

Up with a migraine.  So, I thought I’d stop here and post a little e-mail transaction that I had with my IVF nurse earlier today.  Here’s the set-up:  had my first beta yesterday.  They don’t give you the results since it’s such an early one (6dp5dt).  I was getting cold feet about the second beta tomorrow, so I shot nurse Peggy this e-mail:

Hi Peggy!

 Boy am I getting nervous about my beta tomorrow.  Ack.  I have to work until 8pm tomorrow evening, and I think waiting for a phone call will just make me crazy and a really TERRIBLE therapist for my clients, so I would like for you to send me an e-mail instead if that is possible.  That way I can check it together with my husband once I’m home from work.

 Is that possible?

 Eve

So, I think I’m just going to get a ‘will do’ type response.  Imagine my surprise when she writes this back…

 OK Eve, lightening is going to strike me, but your first beta was 41!!  That is an awesome first number.  Now, you need to behave yourself—we need that number to at least double—so I will email you as soon as I receive it.  Congratulations!!

 Peggy R.

Clinical Coordinator

So I read and re-read that e-mail, in complete and utter shock that what I think nurse Peggy told me is that I’m pregnant!  What?  I had thoroughly prepared myself for a beta of zero, zilch, nada, nothing.  And then I sat there in disbelief for awhile.  And then I called my hubby at work and rambled on about the e-mail and the number and thoroughly confused my hubby until I had to shout out, “I’m pregnant!”. 

Well, there you go.  Pregnant for today at least. 

I go for beta #2 at 8AM tomorrow morning.  I should get the results a few hours after that.  Trying to not let my mind wander too far ahead and the many plausible positive AND negative scenarios.

Just happy to be pregnant, despite a migraine, for tonight.

Holy sheep.  Who knew?

5 Days Past Transfer

The fear is creeping in like the changing of a season. 

You know, when the temperature changes just a degree or two every day so subtlety that you don’t notice it at first.  And then you wake up one morning and it’s freezing outside and you’re like, “Where did fall go?”. 

There’s definitely a chill in the air of my brain.  The excitement and relief post-transfer glowed warm for a few days, but it’s definitely cooling off now.  The rosy-blush of being ‘pregnant until proven otherwise’ has faded.  Instead, my stomach sort of lurches each time I think about my upcoming betas.  The thought of taking an HPT and just staring at that dang blank square leaves me trembling.

I’ve been praying a contingency prayer.  It goes like this,  “Dear God, please give me a BFP…or if not, give me peace.”  I’m not sure what that says about my faith.  I want it to mean that I know God is ultimately in charge and has a plan for me no matter what.  But maybe, just maybe, it means that I can’t even admit to God what I really, really want is a BFP and He can take his stupid ‘peace’ and chuck it.  See, if I admit I really want it, then it hurts more not to get it.

Guess what?

I really want it.

Surprised?

I didn’t think so.

So, nothing to do but keep myself busy and distracted.  I’ve got quite a bit of planning on my son’s ‘big boy’ room.  I don’t have time to indulge in that now, but I’ll blather about it tomorrow if you can stand it!

Gotta go to work.   Not terrible to go worry about someone else’s problems for awhile.

Oh yeah, beta is Thursday.

The Long of It (part two)

…where was I?

Oh yeah, onto the transfer!

Well, first let me say that both the retrieval and transfer had NOTHING on the wait in between the two.  I know I posted some during that wait.  But it is an underlying sense of doom like nothing I’ve experienced before.  Your  heart skips a beat with each ring of the phone.  And even once you get that first fertilization report, you still don’t feel that much better.  Too much can happen in the next two days.   Your brain starts rifling through any number of scenarios which all lead to one conclusion:  no viable embryos.

I think I referenced duct tape pulling off eyebrows in one of my posts?  Yep.  That sounds about right.

Embryo Transfer…

Well, I got lucky.  I had enough good looking embabies on day3 that they called me and said we were doing a day 5 transfer.  Day 5 transfers are now considered the ‘prefered’ day because this is when an actual embryo (called a blastocyst at this stage) falls down from the fallopian tube where it’s been hangin’ and implants itself in the uterus.  Don’t I sound like I’ve been pouring over the web reading everything I can about this stuff?

So the day of the transfer we were told to expect a call sometime in the morning.  We sent my hubby off to work with the plans that he would meet up with me later.  I was left to bounce like a pinball back and forth throughout the house half-picking up toys until I realized I wanted to finish folding laundry, which I half-folded until I realized I needed to know RIGHT THEN about the different grades of embryos. 

FINALLY got the call at 10:30AM.  We strategically scheduled ourselves for the latest transfer available (3:30PM), so my hubby could take the entire next day off work.  Brilliant!  I had actually slept really well the night before (weird, huh?) but woke up with a pretty bad migraine.  I’ve been battling migraines this entire IVF cycle.  In one of my pinball bouncing moments, I had re-read the ‘what to expect at your transfer’ article on my clinic’s website.  It said that I would be given Valium to help relax me for the transfer.  So that meant I didn’t want to take any migraine meds that might combine with the Valium to render me into a slobbering, limp and lifeless lump.

So, dropped off my son at my fantastic friend D’s house.  I’m just going for a door-side drop off since I’m all freaked out about being late, when she pulls me inside and says, “We’ve got to pray.”  And she goes on to say the most lovely, heartfelt prayer ever said.  And I felt calm again.

Met up with my hubby at his work and got a soda on the way to fill up my bladder.  Oh yeah, so you’re supposed to have your bladder ‘comfortably full’ for the transfer.  I asked the nurse earlier in the day what this meant.  She said, “Well it depends on the size of your bladder, you might just need 32 oz.  You might need more.”

JUST 32 oz?????????

My bladder is probably about equivalent to a Dixie cup.  A styrofoam coffee cup at best.  So, I downed about 1/3 (or less) of a medium-sized drink from Arby’s.  I figured worse comes to worse, they’ll just reprimand me or something and make me drink more.  We got to the clinic early again (eager-beavers!), and I’ve really got a migraine at this point.  I’m thinking, “Just hang on until the Valium.  Just a little bit more time.”

We’re called back together and this time I just have to undress from the waist down, all except my lucky socks again.  My hubby and I said another prayer and then just sat quietly for a few minutes.   The nurse comes in and proudly delivers us a prize:  a picture of our two little embabies that are about to come home to their mommy.  We were transfixed.    I couldn’t help but grin despite the oil drilling going on in my brain.

The nurse pops back in and asks, “Are you ready?”.  Oh, so they give you the Valium IN the procedure room.  Okay.  Must be a shot.  That’s cool.  I’m so used to shots by this point.  Shots are practically fun.  So we walked in the procedure room and a familiar cast of characters is there:  Dr. Nice, nurse Peggy, and a few assistants.  I get all up into that same pilates-type-leg-spreading-table thing and then discuss my embabies.  “Two beautiful blastocysts”, says Dr. Nice.  I wish I had been much more thorough on finding out exactly what  grade ‘beautiful’ meant.

So it’s about now that I realize…

I’M NOT GETTING ANY VALIUM!

For the love of all humanity!  Don’t promise a girl drugs and not deliver!!!!!!

So, instead Dr. Nice cranks open the ol’ speculum and then inserts a catheter up through my cervix.  Oh yeah, and nurse Peggy is pushing as hard as she can on an external u/s device directly over my bladder.   So, although I didn’t find this procedure to be any worse than really anything else I’ve done with all this infertility stuff, I also found it practically impossibleto find a truly meditative state, what with my migraine, a metal jack up in my biz, and a nice women, albeit quite strong for her size, pressing on my itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny bladder full of 1/4 glass of  Sierra Mist.

So then a man’s head pop’s out from a small window in the wall, not unlike that scene in The Wizard of Oz where the wizard peeks through the curtain, and asks if we’re ready.  Next thing I know our embryologist is in front of me saying my full name like he’s serving me a subpeona.  But instead, he’s serving up my embabies.

By now, I’ve gotten over the shock of my Valium-less transfer, so now I’m in awe as I watch the fuzzy outline of Dr. Nice’s catheter on the u/s screen as he finds the ‘perfect’ place to nestle in my beans.  I’m holding my hubby’s hand.  As intimate as it gets when you’ve gotten to this point in babymaking.  And then Dr. Nice prints out a little u/s scan with a white spot in the center where my embabies are.  I asked Dr. Nice more specifically what he thought our chances were up until this point.  He said, “As good as anyone’s else who gets to this point.  About 50% for a baby.”

A baby.

Much higher chance for a BFP.  But for a baby…a coin flip.

So they rolled me in to the recovery room and had me lie there for 30 minutes.  Migraine was out of control at this point, so I covered my face and did Mrs. Gamgee’s prayer mediation…

Please God.. (breathe in)

..let them stay (breathe out)

By the time the nurse told me my wait was up, I risked certain dislodging of my embabies as I bolted to the bathroom to empty my bladder.  And I’m not kidding that I truly had to resist the urge to say “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” as I let her fly.

So that’s that.  My not very romantic transfer story. 

My biggest peace of advice is this:  determine whether or not you get Valium BEFORE you actually go to the transfer.  And don’t drink anywhere NEAR 32 oz of liquid unless you enjoy masochism.

The Long of It (part one)

It’s 6:34AM. 

My hubby has left for work already. 

My son is up, had his morning cuppa milkand healthy breakfast (um, generic poptart…there’s some tiny shred of fruit in there right?), and is watching Sesame Street.  I’m trying my best to stay on sort of a ’relaxed bedrest’ today.  My RE only recommended a 24 bedrest post ET (that’s embryo transfer), but I’ve heard other doc’s recommend longer, so I guess I sort of split the difference.  My hubby was off all day yesterday, so I got more than the mandatory 24 in anyway.

And with me out of commission for a day and half, the house is a mess.

Well, all except the kitchen.  I asked my hubby to clean the kitchen around 7pm last night.  He cleaned it at 3 in the morning.  Who am I to judge?  If it’s clean, it’s clean.  But it definitely reminds me that I actually DO perform a valuable duty to this household:  namely picking up after one crazy dog, one wily boy, and one messy husband.

And I’m not complaining.  I’m just saying.

So, I guess my intention was to fill you in a little more on my retrieval and transfer, since I’ve been providing more ‘road sign’ type posts the past week.  Honestly, there’s nothing too horribly spectacular about either event, but you know, just to prove I did them…

Egg Retrieval…

My hubby and I were over-eager beavers and got to the clinic about 30 minutes too early.  So we went across the street to a coffee-shop to wait.  I couldn’t eat or drink, so I just read one of those local ‘entertainment around town’ free-type papers while my hubby took a 2o minute business call in the parking lot.  Why did we go to the coffee shop again?  As we left to get to the clinic, I had a small freak out moment when I realized my hubby was on his second cup of coffee.

What if that messes with your sample?

He promised not to drink anymore until after the deed was, ahem, done.  Anyway, didn’t wait but maybe 5 minutes at the clinic when I was called back and asked to disrobe completely.  Oh, all except for my ‘lucky socks’.  Have I told you guys about my ‘lucky socks’ yet?  Well, they  look like red converse-high tops and have those little non-skid things on the bottom.  Oh yeah, and hubby and I picked them out at Target immediately before we left for the retrieval…so they didn’t quite have a lucky track-record yet, but you gotta start somewhere right?

So, the nurse comes in to do my IV and starts poking around all those too-familiar vein-blowout spots.  I tell her I prefer to have my IV in the outer crook of my elbow and explain my last IV experience (see post HERE).  So she tells me she’s not trained to do IV’s there and proceeds to tap into my wrist and whaddya know…

BLOWS OUT MY VEIN!!!!!!!

Now, I’m proud of myself at this point for my assertiveness.  I told her, “The only place that works is HERE (now, talk about a proven track-record), so please find someone who can do it for me.”   How do like me now?  And she did find someone who could do it for me…one stick.

So then they bring hubby back (who has since had his own adventure in the ‘donation room’) and we just stare at each other for a few until they take me back to the procedure room.  I got to walk there and get into this uncomfortable leg-spreading table contraption and try to have pleasantries with the nurses and doctor while I’m OUT there for all to see.  They all said they liked my socks.  I looked over to see them putting some sleepy juice in my IV…

Woke up in my little recovery room feeling mighty groggy.  A nurse popped her head in and announced “11 eggs!”.  Eleven!  I kept asking my hubby if I was remembering that right.  I have no idea how long I laid there.  It wasn’t too terrible.  I mean, I felt sore and crampy, but not pukey or in INTENSE pain or anything.  So they let me go.

I felt pretty good once home, though I’ll be honest I don’t remember much of it.  Tried to sleep that night in bed until I realized that every time my hubby moved and shook the bed, my ovaries screamed out in agony.  So I went to the basement and fell asleep ok, but around 3AM I awoke.  That is when I REALLY felt ‘post-op’.  By then my belly had swollen up and was super tight so that I couldn’t stand up straight, and I that is when I became painfully aware that my ovaries had been swiss-cheesed.  Yeouch.

Now my clinic did not send me home with any painkillers, because they’re sadists maybe?  Actually, because I guess 11 eggs doesn’t ‘deserve’ opiates.  I heard that some of my clinic-mates got the good stuff since they had 20+ retreived.  That’s eggism!  But luckily, I had my own secret stash of Vicodin they gave me for my migraines that saved the day, er night, that first night.

Rest of the recovery was uneventful.  I was pretty darn sore the next day, but managed without any more pain meds.  I wasn’t trying to be a hero or anything…but vicodin makes you CONSTIPATED!  I learned this the hard way (no pun intended, though fitting) when I had my c-section with my son and took Vicodin like it was tic-tacs.  Not good.

NOT.

GOOD.

Well, sheesh.  I’ve written waaaaay more than I realized I was going to write.  Guess I’ll have to do a separate post about the transfer.   So, stay tuned fellow readers! 

*  *  *  *  *  *

Oh yeah, I forgot to share my good news!!!!!  I got an e-mail from my nurse yesterday that my two little fledgling embabies made it to freeze!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I’ve got snowbabies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Lucky socks, keep up the good work!

The Short of It…

Will post a longer version tomorrow.  But here’s what I’ve got:  2 beautiful expanded blasts went back home in their momma today around 4pm central time.  I’m embracing being PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise), since it may be the last time I ever get to be pregnant at all.

Bad news that our two remaining embabies don’t look so great and will probably not make it to freeze.

Ah well.  We feel extremely blessed to have the chance we’ve been given.

Talk more later!

Sitting, Waiting, Lack of Focus, and…what was I saying?

Eek, it’s hard to concentrate at this point.  ET is tomorrow ‘sometime’.  They don’t tell you when it will be until the actual day.  This is to completely and irrevocably mess with you.  I’m not sure why that would be important, since everything I’ve read about the transfer process says it’s essential for a woman to be completely relaxed.  But well, maybe it’s under the same philosophy as tightening all your muscles in order to completely relax them.

Currently, I’m in a pyschologically-muscle-tightened-type state.

I’m not really anxious of the procedure or even nervous at this point that they may have to cancel (denial is goooooood), but it’s just like I have this extra span of time just s-i-t-t-i-n-g there, hanging out, in the way.  I think the best way to describe how I’m feeling is like when you’re super excited to go to a party, or a show, or a vacation…so excited that you get all ready, prepared, made-up, hair perfect…but you’re two hours too early.  So then you just sort of wander around the house aimlessly.  Yeah, it’s like that but amplified by 100.

I talked to my sister on the phone for 90 minutes.  That was a good distraction.  Talking to my sis is the key to keeping my house clean.  Whenever we talk I flit around the house picking things up, doing laundry, dusting, cleaning the kitchen.  I’m not sure why, but it makes cleaning seem less arduous. 

I was actually talking to my sis on Saturday when I got my first fertility report.  Put her on hold excitedly to get my report and then quickly deflated as I learned less than half my eggies fertilized.  My sister is not a really ‘touchy-feely’ type person.  But she knew EXACTLY what to do with my sub-panicking state:  co-surf the internet looking for a quilt for my son’s big-boy room. 

Sis:  Go to Land of Nod…look at the third boy’s room quilt.

Me:  OK…cute, but too expensive.

Sis:  Let’s try Ebay (typing, websurfing) Ooooooo…Look at this Pottery Barn Quilt!  Look this number up…

You get the idea.  Thanks, Sis. 

Anyway, I’ve been blessed beyond belief with support during this cycle craziness.   Being out about having IVF is scary in that there’s going to be a lot of  “well…how’s it going?” type questions in the next few weeks.  But it’s soooo worth it to have the support of our friends and family.  I have so appreciated all the calls and support we have received so far! 

And who could forget all the blog-love from my internet sisters?  Thanks to you all as well for your uplifting, supportive comments.

OK….off to go on a playdate for my son!  Let the distractions continue!!!!!

The Call…

Nice nurse Mary called at 11:15AM to happily report that ALL FIVE of my little babies are doing well and are considered ‘blastocysts’.  We will be doing a 5 day transfer on Wednesday.

Thanks sooooo much to all who’ve been praying for me and our babies. 

I’m am on cloud nine!!!!

Biding Time

Mommyhood, my son, and miscarriage mentioned…

First off, no news on the fertilization report #2.  Will let you know when I know.  Waiting is like repeatedly ripping off my eyebrows with duct tape.  Not fun.  Not pretty.

My hubby decided a few years ago that he had a new life ‘philosophy’ which he proudly devised.  The philosophy goes like this, “It will either happen or it won’t”.  He says you don’t have to worry about complex statistics or percentage projections, because in the long run, you’ve got two outcomes: 

• you either will at something or you won’t
• you live or you die
• you eat or you starve
• you win or you lose
• you get the job or you don’t
• you stay married or you divorce
• you get pregnant or you don’t

Simple, huh?

I like circumvented, abstract and knot-tangled reasoning myself.   Yes,  my hubby and I are a unique match for sure.   Opposites all the way.  So I tend to buck his life philosophy.  There are not ALWAYS just two outcomes, right?  There is a field of grey out there between black and white, yes?  You can eat, starve, or be fed through a tube (or course that’s technically ‘eating’, isn’t it?).   You can win, lose or just QUIT something right?  Or is that considered quitting?  Well, there’s definitely more than being pregnant and NOT pregnant.

There’s being just a little pregnant.  And losing that little bit in devastating heartbreak.

Sheesh, I need to move the ol’ thinker on a bit.  Can’t go worrying about miscarrying until I at least achieve  a pregnancy, right?

My hubby and I  pray together with our son every night.  It is probably my favorite time of the day.  My son loves to pray, though he doesn’t really get the concept yet.  His prayers are more of ‘stream of conscious’ rambling of things he’s done during the day and people he knows and things he likes.  Something like this:

Mommy, Daddy, eat cookies, Noah and James and go to the park, and watch Sesame Street, American flags, and cookies, Papa Tom, Papa, Mamaw, Papaw, and cookies. MAYMEN!

Heart-melting for this mommy.  But, what’s really brought the sting of tears to my eyes is my hubby’s prayers to God:

Please take care of our babies.

Our five little babies outside or their momma right now.   Real, and packed with the potential to be as wonderful as the little twisting and tumbling almost 3 year old munching on cereal and coloring as I type.

Well, they’ll either make it…

or they won’t.

50/50 shot.

Ugh, why don’t they CALL already????????

Fertilization Report, feeling nervous now…

Got our fertility report #1 in: 

Out of 11 eggs, only 9 were mature.

Out of 9 mature eggs, 5 have fertilized.

Feeling VERY nervous that my numbers are going to keep dwindling to nothing.

Would appreciate any prayers you can spare to keep these embabies growing!

Side note, I also got lectured for eating a ‘real’ breakfast at 6:30AM instead of the toast I supposed to eat.  Sucks to be lectured.  I guess our cycle nurses peek in on my clinic’s cycle buddies’ board.  I think it’s completely asinine that I wouldn’t be allowed to eat 10 hours before my surgery, just because it happened to be in the afternoon.  Had I been scheduled to have surgery at 8AM, they would’ve just told me nothing to eat after midnight.

Whatever.

Grow embabies!   Grow!

My shortest post ever

Just got back from my Egg Retreival.   Still doped up.  All went well.  Surprise, surprise, they got

11 EGGs!!!!!

Will wonders ever cease?

Peace.

ER Day!

Hi all!

Meant to post this yesterday, but I am WIPED out I guess with my ovaries going into hyperlightspeed mode or something!  Today I’m feeling extremely tired and a little loopy because I had to take my migraine meds on an empty stomach since it is, in fact:  (drum roll please!)

EMBRYO RETRIEVAL DAY!!!!!!

Yes, this is the big day where they dig up through my hooha into my cervix and jam up a needle and a little sucky thingy and try to eek out as many eggos as they can.  I made it sound really romantic, didn’t I?  Luckily, I’ll be asleep.  Which sound extraordinarily enticing to me as I type this.

Man I’m tired.

And crazy enough, it’s not from lack of sleep last night.  I slept like a frickin’ hibernating bear.  If I wasn’t infertile and going through, you know, an IVF cycle, I would be CONVINCED I was pregnant.  This is due to two main things:

1)  I’m exhausted the way I felt during the first weeks of my pregnancy, but more importantly…

2)  I look about 4-5 months pregnant.

No joke.  It’s not pretty to LOOK preggo and not BE preggo.  My belly is a site to see!  And only with 8 mature follies?  I can’t imagine you poor girls who cook up to 25 eggs or more.  Good gracious, that sounds miserable to me!  So, my preplanned sundress shopping spree is coming in mighty handy these past few days.  It’s incredible to not have to wear anything tight on my waist.  For those of you gearing up for an IVF cycle, I highly recommend preparing your wardrobe accordingly.

So anyway, I had my second u/s on Weds with Dr. Nice, who was in fact, nice as usual.  I would say the only complaint I can muster with seeing such a nice and charming doctor, is that I’m not quite on my ‘game’ as much as an assertive patient.  Like, I’m bedazzled by his bedside manner, and then I totally forget to ask CRUCIAL information like when I might expect to have my transfer done.  Big surprise was he saw a few extra follies in there…so hoping we’re at 8 at least.

Bad news is that I don’t have my retreival until 4:30 this afternoon.  Torture!  So, I had to wake myself up at 2:30am on Thurs to give myself my trigger shot.  Talk about paranoia, I couldn’t really fall asleep because I was so afraid that I would sleep right through and miss the darn thing.  Anyway, then I was given instructions that I was only to eat toast and drink a clear liquid this morning at 7 and nothing to eat or drink after that.

No fair!  That meant that all I would eat of great substance would be dinner almost 20 hours before!  So, instead of gorging myself on a 2am pizza spree or something, I decided to eat a chicken breast for breakfast.  And a poptart for good measure, you know, to make it ‘breakfast-y’. 

So now I wait.  Like I said initally, I’m feeling kinda yucky, so a nappy-nap is sounding MIGHTY good at this time.  Odd that the tiredness is taking precidence over my nerves.  Oddly good I guess.

So, wish me luck!   I’ll post tomorrow (I promise) how things went and all that good stuff.

Take care all!

Hope at Bay

Hi everyone!

It’s your intermittent blogger-friend here.  Remember moi?  Please? 

Anyone? 

Anyone?

I’m such a slacker with this IVF blogging thing.  It’s sooooooo not about time and sooooooooo about the way I’ve chosen to cope with this IVF cycle…which is basically to treat it as an incredibly expensive and inconvenient series of medical hoops through which to be jumped in order to achieve , I don’t know, a conclusion.  I don’t like to think of the possibility that I might actually get pregnant at the end of IVF, because that means the opposite is true as well:  I might NOT be pregnant at the end of this IVF cycle.

Hope-numbing mechanism ON.

I’ve been scouring the internet getting ideas for the perfect 3 year old bedroom.  Pottery Barn Kids seems to be winning.  Why is everything so cute in Pottery Barn World?  Like, they could have a ‘rabid forest animals’  or a ‘bubonic  plague’  theme and it would STILL look classy and clean.  PBK stuff however, doesn’t fit in my ‘post-IVF cycle’ budget.   My budget is more like $12.52 in my son’s piggy bank.  Well, that’s if he’ll loan it to me.

And I don’t even have HGTV so I could watch all those ‘Design on a Dime’ type shows where they make wall-hangings out of toilet paper cardboard and stuff.  And I don’t even have a substantial stash of toilet paper cardboard in the first place.  Thinking…I guess I could unwind fully-intact toilet paper rolls.  But, I’m not sure where I would keep the unwound toilet paper.  Maybe I could wrap it around my used syringes.  They’re cylindrical.  And I definitely have a substantial stash of those babies.

Or I did.

Except that I turned in my completely filled-up to the ”don’t fill past this line” sharps container yesterday.  Talk about a conclusion.  Injecting oneself with enough sharp objects to necessitate ONE (let alone multiple) sharps containers is sort of  beyond normal people’s comprehension.  Just one more example of my not-normalness.

I turned the sharps container into my local Quest Lab at my morning blood draw appointment.   I have the nicest tech that I see there, who knows my veins well.  Like one little painless stick, well.  Like, I’m hoping to smuggle her into my egg retrieval appointment to do the IV, well.  Anyway, I need to learn her name.  For simplicity’s sake, we’ll call her ‘Dory’ (and THAT is because my son is watching “Finding Nemo” as I type this).  So Dory gladly disposes of my old sharps container for me and then gives me one of those HUGE rectangular-bin-like sharps containers and fills it with a few boxes of alcohol wipes and gauze pads…just to be nice.  Free stuff is always good on a post-IVF cycle budget.

So, I had to get my blood drawn to check out my E2 (that’s estradiol) level.  Think golf on this one, lower is better.   And I needed my levels checked since I had a cycle day 9 ultrasound yesterday to check on my developing follies and all that technical stuff.

Hope-numbing mechanism OFF.

So, apart from the traffic jam getting to the appointment and the hour wait AT the appointment, I guess all went smoothly.  I brought my son with me, since this clinic allows kids in the treatment room.  Dr. Nice always talks to my son and kids with him a little.  And now my son is completely attached to Nurse Peggy after spending time playing on her floor while I did my injection training.  Anyway, my E2 was fine, although they didn’t tell me what it was.  So, maybe I’m terminal and they’re just keeping it from me so they can get paid.  Nah, pretty sure it means I’m fine.  My lining was a 12, which made me happy.

So Dr. Nice started counting the follies.  One, two, three on the right.  And one, two, three, four on the left.

Pause as an iceburg lurches in my stomach.  Panic button on alert.

ME:   That’s it?  Only seven?  Is that even enough to continue with this cycle?

DR. NICE:  Seven is perfectly fine.  We knew we were dealing with lowered counts with you.

ME:  I was hoping for ten at least.

DR. NICE:  The average number my patients get is around 7 due to age and ovarian reserve factors.

ME:  I’ve had some friends that got as many as 2o eggs and didn’t even get one to fertilize.

DR.  NICE:  Well, I wasn’t their doctor.

ME:  What do you know about drinking pineapple juice to help with implantation?

DR. NICE:  I’ve never heard of that.

ME:  What about keeping your feet warm after the transfer?

DR. NICE:  Have you been talking to an acupuncturist?  (smiles) 

ME:  So you think there’s still hope for this cycle?

DR. NICE:  Absolutely.

Hope-numbing mechanism ON.

I REALLY like Pottery Barn Kids.  Have I said that already?  I’m thinking of painting my son’s room a pale denim blue, as long as it doesn’t look too purple.  Or too grey.  Sometimes blues look different in daylight than…(incessantly chatters about colors and frivolity for hours)

*  *  *  *  *

So I go tomorrow for another blood test and u/s.  Planning for a retrieval on Friday or Saturday.  Trying not to feel disappointed with my follies.  Dumb, stupid, idiotic ovaries. 

Holding hope at bay. 

Treading water best I can.