...are the only pictures we have on our fridge. I told my husband I was avoiding the entire kitchen because looking at our embryos just makes me cry. He took the picture and put it "in a safe place". Perhaps when my grief is less raw, I will be able to look at it again, to do something nice with it.
My clinic called to inform me that they won't take me. The nurse fed me some nonsense about HPTs not being very sensitive and spotting being normal in 20% of pregnancies. They look for, she said, a beta of 100 at 17DPO. They agreed to take me at 16DPO. I think it's about the money. They don't want to do repeat betas. For crying out loud, that can't be more than 50-60 dollars, right? Glad to know that nickles and dimes are more important than my peace of mind. She kept going "we don't want to see you stop your medications and then maybe be pregnant..." Lady, stopping the medications is the whole point. I want a hot bath, a glass of wine, and some serious medication for this stupid cold that is still kicking my butt. And I absolutely do NOT want to insert any more Crinone, nor to deal with the disgusting mixture of Crinone and blood that comes out.
As if a failed cycle weren't enough.
I would love to do a FET this very month. But their unwillingness to even test me makes me think it'll be a no.
The worst part, of course, is the Demon Hope. God, that bitch. She's riding me, saying how I'm spotting less and it's still brown and after all the nurse thinks I might still have a chance and maybe I'm just magic and the hCG I make myself (as opposed to a trigger) doesn't leak into my urine very well. I want to slay that bitch, but I can't. Last night, she was dead. I know she was. I had a good, long cry. I told my mother we were a bust and she cried. I had an honest conversation with my husband about how knowing that my pain causes him pain makes me feel guilty, but I just can't give up on being pregnant and move onto adoption, like I suspect he wants to. He admitted that he is much less attached to the idea of pregnancy than I am, but that he wants to keep trying until he has only one tooth left.
He also told me the happiest moment of his whole life was when we said our vows, and he thought nothing could ever top that. Until our transfer. Which, no matter how it turns out, in that very moment, he was happier than even on our wedding day.
God, that made me cry.
So we'll keep trying. But it is not easy. Not at all. Especially since that Demon is back again.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
8dp5dt: Bloody Failure
Pregnancy tests are still telling me I'm not pregnant.
So is my uterus.
I started spotting several hours ago, pretty heavily. Despite the disgusting Crinone. (And trust me, you do NOT want to know what that looks like.)
I put in a call to my clinic, more or less insisting on a beta tomorrow, so I can move on. If they refuse, I'll probably just drive there, pull out my tampon, and ask them to test that.
So is my uterus.
I started spotting several hours ago, pretty heavily. Despite the disgusting Crinone. (And trust me, you do NOT want to know what that looks like.)
I put in a call to my clinic, more or less insisting on a beta tomorrow, so I can move on. If they refuse, I'll probably just drive there, pull out my tampon, and ask them to test that.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
7dp5dt: Cosmic Irony
Cosmic irony is disparity between human desires and the harsh realities of the outside world. By some definitions, situational irony and cosmic irony are not irony at all.
I complained about no symptoms. Today: This morning, I was awoken (from, honest to god, a dream about seeing two lines, yes I am pathetic) by a sharp pain in my left breast. That breast has ached all day long. The right does as well, though much less noticeably. I felt nausea before breakfast, again when I smelled my husband's sandwich at lunch, and again after I ate soup for dinner. I also vomited, though not a lot, about 20 minutes after eating. And I feel light-headed, despite drinking a ton of water. (And moodiness, of course, but we won't go there.) These are all signs of early pregnancy! Hooray! I win!!!
Except, as all us inferftiles are sadly aware, these are all common side effects of progesterone.
It is very cruel of them to have waited so long to appear, and then to taunt me when I have lost all hope.
I suppose it's possible, right, that my levels of hCG are so low that they cannot be detected by any of the three brands of pregnancy test I used today but are still high enough to make me puke and want to pass out? Right?
Sick of squinting at lines, wondering if that line that I didn't see an hour ago is not, after all, an evap, but rather proof positive of pregnancy, I went out and bought me some fancy-schmancy digital tests.
The accuracy is as follows:
3 days before missed period (which is where I'm placing myself, even though I usually have a luteal phase of 13 days, because I assume they're assuming a 14 day one): 84%
2 days before: 90%
1 day before: 95%
No timing, no walking from room to room in search of the best lighting, no squinting, no holding up to my trigger-positive ones to compare. Just pee, wait, read.
And cry.
My husband and I had a good, long cry together. We've agreed to "keep trying" but haven't defined what we mean by that. Frozen or try another fresh? We can't really afford either, but what are credit cards for. But if our best-of-the-best embryos died, why should we expect more from the runners up? But then again, he's been drinking and I suspect he's off his vitamins. I didn't want to say anything, didn't want to jinx this. Should I get a lap? I've never had one, who knows what's going on in there.
But oh, oh, the biggest question of all: what to do with the picture of our transferred embryos that is currently on our fridge?
I complained about no symptoms. Today: This morning, I was awoken (from, honest to god, a dream about seeing two lines, yes I am pathetic) by a sharp pain in my left breast. That breast has ached all day long. The right does as well, though much less noticeably. I felt nausea before breakfast, again when I smelled my husband's sandwich at lunch, and again after I ate soup for dinner. I also vomited, though not a lot, about 20 minutes after eating. And I feel light-headed, despite drinking a ton of water. (And moodiness, of course, but we won't go there.) These are all signs of early pregnancy! Hooray! I win!!!
Except, as all us inferftiles are sadly aware, these are all common side effects of progesterone.
It is very cruel of them to have waited so long to appear, and then to taunt me when I have lost all hope.
I suppose it's possible, right, that my levels of hCG are so low that they cannot be detected by any of the three brands of pregnancy test I used today but are still high enough to make me puke and want to pass out? Right?
Sick of squinting at lines, wondering if that line that I didn't see an hour ago is not, after all, an evap, but rather proof positive of pregnancy, I went out and bought me some fancy-schmancy digital tests.
The accuracy is as follows:
3 days before missed period (which is where I'm placing myself, even though I usually have a luteal phase of 13 days, because I assume they're assuming a 14 day one): 84%
2 days before: 90%
1 day before: 95%
No timing, no walking from room to room in search of the best lighting, no squinting, no holding up to my trigger-positive ones to compare. Just pee, wait, read.
And cry.
My husband and I had a good, long cry together. We've agreed to "keep trying" but haven't defined what we mean by that. Frozen or try another fresh? We can't really afford either, but what are credit cards for. But if our best-of-the-best embryos died, why should we expect more from the runners up? But then again, he's been drinking and I suspect he's off his vitamins. I didn't want to say anything, didn't want to jinx this. Should I get a lap? I've never had one, who knows what's going on in there.
But oh, oh, the biggest question of all: what to do with the picture of our transferred embryos that is currently on our fridge?
Friday, January 28, 2011
6dp5dt: Cosmic Coincidence
I was born exactly on my due date: October 20th. On October 19th, my parents went out for Chinese food. I should probably state that I was born in Berkeley, California, not here in Utah, so going out for Chinese is a good idea, as opposed to a mediocre, MSG-filled idea, like it is here. My mother's fortune from her cookie, which is taped in my baby book, read: "A very good thing will shortly enter your life". My mother went into labor, not more than an hour later, while watching Kramer vs. Kramer. I was her second child, and she'd taken a bunch of hippy childbirth classes, so she stuck it out and finished the movie, then went to the hospital, and delivered me, "all naturally", in the wee hours of the morning.
According to many people, I should not have been born. When my mother was about 2 months pregnant with me, my older sister got German measles. My family had just moved to California, and my mom hadn't even found a pediatrician yet. She took her toddler (my sister was about 16 months, I'd guess) to the hospital. They confirmed rubella, and my mother confided her pregnancy. They asked her if she'd had titers done after the birth of my older sister. She didn't know, and said she would contact her doctor "back home" in Utah. The hospital meanwhile drew my mothers blood.
My mother tested positive. Her doctor back home had never tested her. It was impossible to say when she was exposed. But if it was recent, if she hadn't had immunity before being pregnant with me, chances were about 90% that I would be affected. Mental retardation or heart defects, most likely. Maybe deafness. Maybe still birth.
My mother was horrified. She called her parents. They were all devout Mormons. I think my mother was surprised when they recommended abortion. My mother prayed and prayed. She flew back home to Salt Lake City, where she had one of the Apostles give her a Blessing. (My grandfather himself was very powerful in the LDS religion, and had all sorts of contacts, so getting one of the 13 holiest men in the world, according to their faith, to bless his daughter, was something he was able to do.) This same Apostle also counseled abortion, telling my mother that, in cases like this, God would agree and would support her decision.
My mother flew back to California, very uncertain. She went to an obstetrician. This was before ultrasound technology, as hard as that is to believe. Before amniocentesis. Before almost anything, really. But not before stethoscopes. My mother heard my heartbeat, and decided to keep me.
Her pregnancy must have been riddled with fear, doubt, who know what. She was new in town, and in a very different town than she was used to. The apartment was horrible. My father was in law school, and he rarely had much time for her. (He never really did, and they ultimately divorced when I was 6.) Her religion had pushed for termination, but she kept attending church, probably because, as a stay-at-home mom with a daughter under 2 and pregnant with a second child, she had absolutely nowhere else to turn.
When I was born, she knew I was perfect. I was not blind or deaf. I had no noticeable heart defect. They could not, obviously, assess the state of my mind, but my mother knew, just as she'd known she should carry me, that I would be just fine.
She describes that night as the happiest night of her life. Every year, until I was 15 or so, on the night of the 19-20, my mother would open my door, stare at me sleeping, and just cry.
(Despite this melodramatic--though true--story, my mother and I are both pro-choice. Also, neither of us are LDS anymore, although we have not actually been excommunicated, so we're still on the rolls.)
---------------------
My mother gave birth to four children, and step-parented three more. Three of her own children and one of her step-children were born in October, ranging from the 9th to the 24th. If I am pregnant, my due-date is October 10th. I think about this child, or children, and how they would fit right in, yet another October baby, a busier-than-Christmas baby, what with all the birthdays, Halloween, and school still being relatively new. And I think of my mother and I walking the same path, through the same months, though years apart.
There are many people, as was made disgustingly clear by the reaction to the years-overdue rewarding of the Noble Prize in Medicine to Robert Edwards, for his work in the development of IVF, who do not think my embryos should exist. The amount of judgement placed on my reproductive choices is probably what makes so many women--and not just celebrities--conceal the fact that their babies are a work of ART. People who think my embryos are a lesser life, an unholy life, or a selfish choice, a waste of money, should-have-adopted, couched in "well aren't there risks" sort of language or else just flat-out stated.
But I want these babies, just as my mother wanted me. My mother fell in love with me when she heard my heartbeat. I fell in love with them when I saw their picture. I still sometimes tear up when I look at it. I know it is not "life", but oh my god, what potential. I want those babies so badly.
My eggs were retrieved on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. King had a dream, a dream that his four little children would be judged by the content of their character. I have a dream of children. My husband and I are both bland European mutts. The mixing of our DNA on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is not an interracial mix. But there are many elements of diversity, and the celebration thereof. We come from very different backgrounds, my husband and I. Religious ones, educational ones, socioeconomic ones, political ones, family dynamics....it is amazing that we met at all, but here we are, holding hands, dreaming a dream.
Our embryos were transferred on the day before my husband's birthday. He called it his best gift ever. My husband was married once before, for four years. He and his ex actively tried to conceive for about two years, and did not prevent for the final year. She had two children from previous marriages. I think part of him knew all along what his semen analysis would reveal. But, through love, patience, and let's not forget science, he was able to create embryos with me, and to have two of them inside of me. He placed his hand on my lower abdomen on his birthday and said, "You carry my child".
I know our embryos don't know how to tell time, much less days of the week, months of the year. Much much less pick out the symbolic ones, point to them and say: these matter. Martin Luther King Jr Day, a father-to-be's 39th birthday, a mother-to-be's 32nd birthday shortly after due-date. A path of diversity, challenge, doubt, triumph, love.
My uterus, with its functional lining, is equally deaf to my pleas.
This has to be fate, I've felt. But I am not so naive. And I've seen Lost. I know the perils of mistaking coincidence for fate.
But oh my god I want these babies. These ones. I've gone from "any baby, any way, any time" to "these specific embryos, right now". I want them so badly.
Please let this work. Please, please, please.
According to many people, I should not have been born. When my mother was about 2 months pregnant with me, my older sister got German measles. My family had just moved to California, and my mom hadn't even found a pediatrician yet. She took her toddler (my sister was about 16 months, I'd guess) to the hospital. They confirmed rubella, and my mother confided her pregnancy. They asked her if she'd had titers done after the birth of my older sister. She didn't know, and said she would contact her doctor "back home" in Utah. The hospital meanwhile drew my mothers blood.
My mother tested positive. Her doctor back home had never tested her. It was impossible to say when she was exposed. But if it was recent, if she hadn't had immunity before being pregnant with me, chances were about 90% that I would be affected. Mental retardation or heart defects, most likely. Maybe deafness. Maybe still birth.
My mother was horrified. She called her parents. They were all devout Mormons. I think my mother was surprised when they recommended abortion. My mother prayed and prayed. She flew back home to Salt Lake City, where she had one of the Apostles give her a Blessing. (My grandfather himself was very powerful in the LDS religion, and had all sorts of contacts, so getting one of the 13 holiest men in the world, according to their faith, to bless his daughter, was something he was able to do.) This same Apostle also counseled abortion, telling my mother that, in cases like this, God would agree and would support her decision.
My mother flew back to California, very uncertain. She went to an obstetrician. This was before ultrasound technology, as hard as that is to believe. Before amniocentesis. Before almost anything, really. But not before stethoscopes. My mother heard my heartbeat, and decided to keep me.
Her pregnancy must have been riddled with fear, doubt, who know what. She was new in town, and in a very different town than she was used to. The apartment was horrible. My father was in law school, and he rarely had much time for her. (He never really did, and they ultimately divorced when I was 6.) Her religion had pushed for termination, but she kept attending church, probably because, as a stay-at-home mom with a daughter under 2 and pregnant with a second child, she had absolutely nowhere else to turn.
When I was born, she knew I was perfect. I was not blind or deaf. I had no noticeable heart defect. They could not, obviously, assess the state of my mind, but my mother knew, just as she'd known she should carry me, that I would be just fine.
She describes that night as the happiest night of her life. Every year, until I was 15 or so, on the night of the 19-20, my mother would open my door, stare at me sleeping, and just cry.
(Despite this melodramatic--though true--story, my mother and I are both pro-choice. Also, neither of us are LDS anymore, although we have not actually been excommunicated, so we're still on the rolls.)
---------------------
My mother gave birth to four children, and step-parented three more. Three of her own children and one of her step-children were born in October, ranging from the 9th to the 24th. If I am pregnant, my due-date is October 10th. I think about this child, or children, and how they would fit right in, yet another October baby, a busier-than-Christmas baby, what with all the birthdays, Halloween, and school still being relatively new. And I think of my mother and I walking the same path, through the same months, though years apart.
There are many people, as was made disgustingly clear by the reaction to the years-overdue rewarding of the Noble Prize in Medicine to Robert Edwards, for his work in the development of IVF, who do not think my embryos should exist. The amount of judgement placed on my reproductive choices is probably what makes so many women--and not just celebrities--conceal the fact that their babies are a work of ART. People who think my embryos are a lesser life, an unholy life, or a selfish choice, a waste of money, should-have-adopted, couched in "well aren't there risks" sort of language or else just flat-out stated.
But I want these babies, just as my mother wanted me. My mother fell in love with me when she heard my heartbeat. I fell in love with them when I saw their picture. I still sometimes tear up when I look at it. I know it is not "life", but oh my god, what potential. I want those babies so badly.
My eggs were retrieved on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. King had a dream, a dream that his four little children would be judged by the content of their character. I have a dream of children. My husband and I are both bland European mutts. The mixing of our DNA on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is not an interracial mix. But there are many elements of diversity, and the celebration thereof. We come from very different backgrounds, my husband and I. Religious ones, educational ones, socioeconomic ones, political ones, family dynamics....it is amazing that we met at all, but here we are, holding hands, dreaming a dream.
Our embryos were transferred on the day before my husband's birthday. He called it his best gift ever. My husband was married once before, for four years. He and his ex actively tried to conceive for about two years, and did not prevent for the final year. She had two children from previous marriages. I think part of him knew all along what his semen analysis would reveal. But, through love, patience, and let's not forget science, he was able to create embryos with me, and to have two of them inside of me. He placed his hand on my lower abdomen on his birthday and said, "You carry my child".
I know our embryos don't know how to tell time, much less days of the week, months of the year. Much much less pick out the symbolic ones, point to them and say: these matter. Martin Luther King Jr Day, a father-to-be's 39th birthday, a mother-to-be's 32nd birthday shortly after due-date. A path of diversity, challenge, doubt, triumph, love.
My uterus, with its functional lining, is equally deaf to my pleas.
This has to be fate, I've felt. But I am not so naive. And I've seen Lost. I know the perils of mistaking coincidence for fate.
But oh my god I want these babies. These ones. I've gone from "any baby, any way, any time" to "these specific embryos, right now". I want them so badly.
Please let this work. Please, please, please.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
5dp5dt: Despondent
I test daily. This has its risks. I was aware of that. I still am. I'd rather know that not know. Especially when, when I actually made it to egg retrieval, I was walking on air. And when we got our fertilization report, I thought "Surely this is it". And when, on Day 3, all 12 of our embryos were alive and thriving, I was almost convinced. Sure, 2 arrested at Day Five, but whatever. We transferred two beauties. Subjectively, sure, but also objectively: AAs. And then half of my 8 remaining embryos made it to freeze, and my clinic has very strict freezing standards. So, doing the math...4 of my 8 last place embryos kick ass. Surely one of the two first place embryos we transfer ed would find a home inside me?
I'm beginning to think not. BFN after BFN. Still early, ok, but it is 10DPO. And not even the hint of a line. Plus, I've got a bad cold, and yesterday I ran a fever, despite my baby aspirin (started that before transfer), and then being cleared to take a Tylenol. I'm still not feeling very well. And I've got no symptoms. Not even the ones progesterone is supposed to give me. I'm just not feeling it.
Of course, I'll keep taking the aspirin and progesterone, keep testing daily, until my forever-away beta (12dp5dt, so next Thursday). But my hopes are low, my spirits are sagging, and I'd really like a hot bath. Which is a no no, so instead I'll just send "please nestle in, please don't give up" vibes to my embryos, for what it's worth.
I'm beginning to think not. BFN after BFN. Still early, ok, but it is 10DPO. And not even the hint of a line. Plus, I've got a bad cold, and yesterday I ran a fever, despite my baby aspirin (started that before transfer), and then being cleared to take a Tylenol. I'm still not feeling very well. And I've got no symptoms. Not even the ones progesterone is supposed to give me. I'm just not feeling it.
Of course, I'll keep taking the aspirin and progesterone, keep testing daily, until my forever-away beta (12dp5dt, so next Thursday). But my hopes are low, my spirits are sagging, and I'd really like a hot bath. Which is a no no, so instead I'll just send "please nestle in, please don't give up" vibes to my embryos, for what it's worth.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
3dp5dt: Bipolar Bodies
My trigger is gone, and this morning's test was stark white. Which is not a surprise, as it is very early. But today is the first day I'm really struggling. I'm trying not to let doubt overcome me. I had lovely embryos. I relaxed the first two days, and it's not like I went out and ran a marathon yesterday or dropped 80 pounds onto my pelvis today. No reason to have doubts, except that...well, I've never gotten pregnant before, so why should this be any different?
Because I know, KNOW that I have two fertilized embryos inside of me, is why! Woohoo! Babies!!
But this morning I felt the oddest thing. Twingey, but not exactly. Certainly not cramps. Down low enough that it might be uterus, but maybe too far to the left, so maybe ovaries. I had huge ovaries at transfer, and my left one was battling with my bladder, and trust me when I say it was winning. (I may or may not have shot a look of death at the medical assistant who said it "looks like your bladder is only about 3/4 full--let me see if the doctor can still do it." Yes, he could.) So that ovary could be doing something special. Which could kick my embryos out before they've even built a playfort.
And the completely non-rational part of me (who refuses to believe that there aren't a bunch of nerves hanging out in my endometrium) thinks "Oooh, maybe that was implantation!"
I really wish someone could just knock me out for the next few days.
Instead, I am obsessively googling "embryo development" and such. I ran across a pretty good site: http://www.ehd.org/dev_article_unit1.php It gives lots of detail but doesn't blind me with science.
Because I know, KNOW that I have two fertilized embryos inside of me, is why! Woohoo! Babies!!
But this morning I felt the oddest thing. Twingey, but not exactly. Certainly not cramps. Down low enough that it might be uterus, but maybe too far to the left, so maybe ovaries. I had huge ovaries at transfer, and my left one was battling with my bladder, and trust me when I say it was winning. (I may or may not have shot a look of death at the medical assistant who said it "looks like your bladder is only about 3/4 full--let me see if the doctor can still do it." Yes, he could.) So that ovary could be doing something special. Which could kick my embryos out before they've even built a playfort.
And the completely non-rational part of me (who refuses to believe that there aren't a bunch of nerves hanging out in my endometrium) thinks "Oooh, maybe that was implantation!"
I really wish someone could just knock me out for the next few days.
Instead, I am obsessively googling "embryo development" and such. I ran across a pretty good site: http://www.ehd.org/dev_article_unit1.php It gives lots of detail but doesn't blind me with science.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Embryo Pictures
These are the embryos we transfered:
Here are our frozen 5AAs:
Here is our frozen 5BB:
And finally, our frozen 5BC:
Here are our frozen 5AAs:
Here is our frozen 5BB:
And finally, our frozen 5BC:
1dp5dt: 4 to Freeze
Here I am, one day past my five-day transfer (1dp5dt). We just got our final report. We had four embryos to freeze:
2 5AA
1 5BB
1 5BC
The "5" apparently means that the blastocyst has hatched. The letters refer to the quality of the cells that make up the inner cell mass (baby-to-be) and outer cell ring (placenta to be). A is the highest, D is the lowest. So that's pretty good news for us--2 excellent all arounds, 1 good, and one good/fair.
The ones we transferred yesterday were 4AAs, with the 4 signifying that they were expanded blasts.
I am very happy with this. It means 2 FETs, if it comes to that. :)
Today is JimDear's 39th birthday. We are spending it quietly. He loves our embryo pictures. I'll post them if I can figure out how--I asked my embryologist to please email us copies of the ones he froze, and he did. They are wonderful!
2 5AA
1 5BB
1 5BC
The "5" apparently means that the blastocyst has hatched. The letters refer to the quality of the cells that make up the inner cell mass (baby-to-be) and outer cell ring (placenta to be). A is the highest, D is the lowest. So that's pretty good news for us--2 excellent all arounds, 1 good, and one good/fair.
The ones we transferred yesterday were 4AAs, with the 4 signifying that they were expanded blasts.
I am very happy with this. It means 2 FETs, if it comes to that. :)
Today is JimDear's 39th birthday. We are spending it quietly. He loves our embryo pictures. I'll post them if I can figure out how--I asked my embryologist to please email us copies of the ones he froze, and he did. They are wonderful!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
5dt: Pretty Much Pregnant
I'm still a bit out of it from the Valium and typing on my side is awkward!
We transferred two "excellent" blasts this morning. It was amazing. The embryologist came in and gave us a picture of the two we were going to transfer, pointed out the placental cells and the fetal cells. And then there was a TV in the room that hooks up to the microscope in the lab! He left, my doctor put the cath in (amongst other, icky things...that 'cleaning' was not fun!), and then we saw the dish with all my embryos, and the two to transfer were circled. We watched on the monitor as the embryologist sucked them into the tube, and then he brought it into the room. I then watched on the ultrasound as they transferred them! I could only see the catheter, but it was still really neat, to see that in my uterus and know my baby blasts were going inside me. The embryologist then checked the tube and we were all clear!
Then I almost died before they let me pee. Seriously, I nearly exploded.
As for our other 10 embryos, 2 have arrested, so they're no-gos. We have 2 good blasts, 2 fair blasts, 1 poor blast, 1 good "early blast" (what does that mean?) and 2 excellent morulas. They will tell us tomorrow evening how many made it to freeze (they freeze on Day 6 at my clinic.)
Beta is 2/3, or 17 days after ER, which I think is way too long. Hence the testing out of trigger and daily HPTs. Still getting a very faint trigger line.
I love my blastocytes.
We transferred two "excellent" blasts this morning. It was amazing. The embryologist came in and gave us a picture of the two we were going to transfer, pointed out the placental cells and the fetal cells. And then there was a TV in the room that hooks up to the microscope in the lab! He left, my doctor put the cath in (amongst other, icky things...that 'cleaning' was not fun!), and then we saw the dish with all my embryos, and the two to transfer were circled. We watched on the monitor as the embryologist sucked them into the tube, and then he brought it into the room. I then watched on the ultrasound as they transferred them! I could only see the catheter, but it was still really neat, to see that in my uterus and know my baby blasts were going inside me. The embryologist then checked the tube and we were all clear!
Then I almost died before they let me pee. Seriously, I nearly exploded.
As for our other 10 embryos, 2 have arrested, so they're no-gos. We have 2 good blasts, 2 fair blasts, 1 poor blast, 1 good "early blast" (what does that mean?) and 2 excellent morulas. They will tell us tomorrow evening how many made it to freeze (they freeze on Day 6 at my clinic.)
Beta is 2/3, or 17 days after ER, which I think is way too long. Hence the testing out of trigger and daily HPTs. Still getting a very faint trigger line.
I love my blastocytes.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Pre-Transfer/Welcome ICLW
First, welcome to those who've stumbled upon me from ICLW! I'm in the middle of my 3rd attempt at IVF, and this time, for the first time, we are going to make it to transfer. As of yesterday, I have 12 beautiful embryos. Well, ok, I've got one drop-dead gorgeous, star-quality embryo, 8 beautiful ones, and 3 rather plain ones. (They take after their dad. (Kidding!))
JimDear is showing a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm about this. He told me yesterday that, when I sent him the text message about our Day Three embryos, he jumped up and yelped. At work. He then explained to all his coworkers what was going on. This from the man who hasn't even told his family. Who forgot most of my appointments during the last two cycles. (He wasn't coming, but I would say something like, "God, I'm dreading my appointment tomorrow", and he would go, "What appointment?") Who didn't even know the difference between an egg and a follicle until a week or so ago, when it became pretty clear that this cycle was progressing well. He actually asked me what I think happened to those other 3 eggs that didn't fertilize properly, what went wrong. Of course there's no real answer--dud eggs, dud sperm, a slight error in the ICSI process--but him even wanting to know is huge.
I, too, am ridiculously excited. I get hyper and silly. I was joking about having twins, and showing them the pictures of the embryos and saying, "See, this 'excellent' one is your brother. But this one here? See the fragmentation? See how it's just a bit, well, slower? Yeah, that's you." I named all 12 of them after members of the Utah Jazz, all boys, and then went through and picked girl names too (Andrea, Miley, Paula, Deron (works, I say), Mema, Veronica-called-Ronnie, etc.) When he tried to do it with the Patriots, I said no, because there are 53 of them and we only have 12 embryos. And besides, we'd be raising children to lose to the Jets if we did that.
In short, we are both giddy school children.
Tomorrow, I get pregnant. I know it's just a transfer. But...it is a potential life, probably two, inside of me. A mixture (or two) of my DNA and the DNA of my love, nestling down into my endometrium, being nourished by my very body. To the best of my knowledge, tomorrow I will be the most pregnant I have ever been. It's absolutely amazing. A miracle, in short, something beyond worthy of the Nobel Prize. A dream baby (or two). The possibility to be a mother. I cannot believe I am about to experience this.
JimDear is showing a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm about this. He told me yesterday that, when I sent him the text message about our Day Three embryos, he jumped up and yelped. At work. He then explained to all his coworkers what was going on. This from the man who hasn't even told his family. Who forgot most of my appointments during the last two cycles. (He wasn't coming, but I would say something like, "God, I'm dreading my appointment tomorrow", and he would go, "What appointment?") Who didn't even know the difference between an egg and a follicle until a week or so ago, when it became pretty clear that this cycle was progressing well. He actually asked me what I think happened to those other 3 eggs that didn't fertilize properly, what went wrong. Of course there's no real answer--dud eggs, dud sperm, a slight error in the ICSI process--but him even wanting to know is huge.
I, too, am ridiculously excited. I get hyper and silly. I was joking about having twins, and showing them the pictures of the embryos and saying, "See, this 'excellent' one is your brother. But this one here? See the fragmentation? See how it's just a bit, well, slower? Yeah, that's you." I named all 12 of them after members of the Utah Jazz, all boys, and then went through and picked girl names too (Andrea, Miley, Paula, Deron (works, I say), Mema, Veronica-called-Ronnie, etc.) When he tried to do it with the Patriots, I said no, because there are 53 of them and we only have 12 embryos. And besides, we'd be raising children to lose to the Jets if we did that.
In short, we are both giddy school children.
Tomorrow, I get pregnant. I know it's just a transfer. But...it is a potential life, probably two, inside of me. A mixture (or two) of my DNA and the DNA of my love, nestling down into my endometrium, being nourished by my very body. To the best of my knowledge, tomorrow I will be the most pregnant I have ever been. It's absolutely amazing. A miracle, in short, something beyond worthy of the Nobel Prize. A dream baby (or two). The possibility to be a mother. I cannot believe I am about to experience this.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Upcoming Frost?
They just called!!! I've still got 12 embryos!!
My clinic grades at "poor, fair, good, or excellent". I've got:
3 at fair
8 at good
1 at excellent!!!
The nurse (not my favorite, but still a good one) said they pretty much never see excellent embryos. She said "lots of people would be jealous of this report". My past self is jealous of it too, girl. I mean, maybe my "fairs" won't make it to blast. Maybe even some of the "goods" don't. I can still transfer my 1 or 2...and likely have some to freeze.
I'm kind of in awe.
I might be a mommmy after all.
My clinic grades at "poor, fair, good, or excellent". I've got:
3 at fair
8 at good
1 at excellent!!!
The nurse (not my favorite, but still a good one) said they pretty much never see excellent embryos. She said "lots of people would be jealous of this report". My past self is jealous of it too, girl. I mean, maybe my "fairs" won't make it to blast. Maybe even some of the "goods" don't. I can still transfer my 1 or 2...and likely have some to freeze.
I'm kind of in awe.
I might be a mommmy after all.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I Pretty Much Hate Gatorade
First, after my husband teasingly saying (after I called off sex the night before trigger) that he didn't want to "rupture my egg sac", this image of me-on-stims has been haunting me:
Yes, that's exactly what I felt like.
I still feel pretty bad. I've got my Dostinex. And I've drunk nearly 3 liters of Gatorade G2. I...really am sick of it. I never much liked Gatorade (or any drink besides water and...well, the good stuff, like whiskey sours, mojitos, red wine, etc). Now I stare at my little plastic jug of it and just want to hurl it through the window. But I'm sane enough to know that my OHSS risk is still high and that I don't truly want to be hospitalized or (worse yet, from my point of view) have to freeze all my embryos before transfer. So I drink the foul stuff, and some Muscle Milk, and eat salty lentils, chick peas (so, in other words, my favorite Indian dishes...mmm, chana saag), and make protein shakes of my own.
I hate to sound whiny, but I think I preferred all my injections. At that was over and done with, as opposed to this god forsaken Gatorade (which comes in all sorts of nasty flavors).
My favorite nurse, H, called me today. Yesterday was her day off, so she hadn't seen my fertilization report. She called me just to say congratulations and to squeal with me. (She has twins from IVF herself, and has been with me since early on in this journey.) I really appreciated that. There was no news on my embryos, of course, since they are enjoying some quiet, dark, alone time in the incubator.
I'm having a bit of a dilemma. Originally, way back when, JimDear and I wanted to do an elective single embryo transfer, preferably with a blastocyte. As my cycles were cancelled and the bad news grew and grew, we decided to do 2 if it was Day 3, and 1 if Day 5. Then it went to "maybe 2 on Day 5, depending on quality". And finally it was at "two, no matter when, no matter what." JimDear still feels that way.
I'm not sure I do. I'm sure its possible to do the things I want to do (natural childbirth barring health concerns, babywearing, breastfeeding, lots of interaction with the infant(s), raising them bilingual, etc.) I just feel like it would be a whole hell of a lot harder. And now that we found a protocol that works for me, the thought of doing another fresh cycle really isn't that daunting at all, as opposed to the "dear god I must be nuts to try this again, let's throw 5 back and complete our family in on go, one way or the other". I am not a small woman (I'm 5'7" and...well, let's just say grabbing a pinch of belly fat for injections wasn't much of a challenge), but carrying multiples is still not without risk, to me or the babies. The thought of having babies in the NICU is not one I welcome.
I think, by the time twins are 3ish, it probably isn't much different than having two children who are very close in age, like my siblings and I, like I would ideally prefer for a family. But the pregnancy and those first few years...that's a lot.
Of course, putting back 2 doesn't mean twins. And it does increase my chances of getting pregnant at all. And I think part of my husband's desire to do 2 is so that...well, he doesn't have to live with me if I get a negative and just fall apart. These past few months have not been fun for him, and he has been wonderful. I can't blame him for not wanting to endure that again.
I just really don't know right now.
Yes, that's exactly what I felt like.
I still feel pretty bad. I've got my Dostinex. And I've drunk nearly 3 liters of Gatorade G2. I...really am sick of it. I never much liked Gatorade (or any drink besides water and...well, the good stuff, like whiskey sours, mojitos, red wine, etc). Now I stare at my little plastic jug of it and just want to hurl it through the window. But I'm sane enough to know that my OHSS risk is still high and that I don't truly want to be hospitalized or (worse yet, from my point of view) have to freeze all my embryos before transfer. So I drink the foul stuff, and some Muscle Milk, and eat salty lentils, chick peas (so, in other words, my favorite Indian dishes...mmm, chana saag), and make protein shakes of my own.
I hate to sound whiny, but I think I preferred all my injections. At that was over and done with, as opposed to this god forsaken Gatorade (which comes in all sorts of nasty flavors).
My favorite nurse, H, called me today. Yesterday was her day off, so she hadn't seen my fertilization report. She called me just to say congratulations and to squeal with me. (She has twins from IVF herself, and has been with me since early on in this journey.) I really appreciated that. There was no news on my embryos, of course, since they are enjoying some quiet, dark, alone time in the incubator.
I'm having a bit of a dilemma. Originally, way back when, JimDear and I wanted to do an elective single embryo transfer, preferably with a blastocyte. As my cycles were cancelled and the bad news grew and grew, we decided to do 2 if it was Day 3, and 1 if Day 5. Then it went to "maybe 2 on Day 5, depending on quality". And finally it was at "two, no matter when, no matter what." JimDear still feels that way.
I'm not sure I do. I'm sure its possible to do the things I want to do (natural childbirth barring health concerns, babywearing, breastfeeding, lots of interaction with the infant(s), raising them bilingual, etc.) I just feel like it would be a whole hell of a lot harder. And now that we found a protocol that works for me, the thought of doing another fresh cycle really isn't that daunting at all, as opposed to the "dear god I must be nuts to try this again, let's throw 5 back and complete our family in on go, one way or the other". I am not a small woman (I'm 5'7" and...well, let's just say grabbing a pinch of belly fat for injections wasn't much of a challenge), but carrying multiples is still not without risk, to me or the babies. The thought of having babies in the NICU is not one I welcome.
I think, by the time twins are 3ish, it probably isn't much different than having two children who are very close in age, like my siblings and I, like I would ideally prefer for a family. But the pregnancy and those first few years...that's a lot.
Of course, putting back 2 doesn't mean twins. And it does increase my chances of getting pregnant at all. And I think part of my husband's desire to do 2 is so that...well, he doesn't have to live with me if I get a negative and just fall apart. These past few months have not been fun for him, and he has been wonderful. I can't blame him for not wanting to endure that again.
I just really don't know right now.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Cheaper By the Dozen
We've got an even dozen of embryos!!! Planning a 5dt at 10am on Saturday. I'm beyond thrilled.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Fifteen Eggs
They got 15 eggs!!!
Apparently a lot of my follicles were empty, but given my tendency to form cysts on fertility drugs, I'm not too surprised. I'm thrilled about my 15. I'm a bit crampy and ouchy. I refused the Demerol even in my IV because it makes me sick to my stomach, and the hCG already has me kind of queasy.
I'm parked on the couch with the Jazz game, hoping we win. Downing Gatorade and eating almonds, trying to keep OHSS at bay.
I'll write more when I'm less out of it. Just glad right now to no longer feel like an egg sac.
Apparently a lot of my follicles were empty, but given my tendency to form cysts on fertility drugs, I'm not too surprised. I'm thrilled about my 15. I'm a bit crampy and ouchy. I refused the Demerol even in my IV because it makes me sick to my stomach, and the hCG already has me kind of queasy.
I'm parked on the couch with the Jazz game, hoping we win. Downing Gatorade and eating almonds, trying to keep OHSS at bay.
I'll write more when I'm less out of it. Just glad right now to no longer feel like an egg sac.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Pink Badge of Courage
I took a pregnancy test this morning, and I have two pink lines.
No, I am not pregnant. Yes, it is my trigger. Yes, my clinic requires us to take a test, to ensure that our bodies have absorbed the hCG and that the batch was good.
But this is the first time in my entire life I have gotten a positive pregnancy test result.
I am not delusional. I don't think that, since the trigger worked, I'm automatically pregnant. I understand that this pregnancy test is nothing more than a fancy OPK.
But fuck all that. There are TWO LINES and they are MINE. I am uncomfortable with the notion that anyone "deserves" a pregnancy or a baby. Life is simply not fair (except when it is). I wouldn't say that I "deserve" for this IVF to result in a real, live, take-home baby. But I have earned those fucking lines.
I have earned those lines through my blood. I have had five draws for this cycle (one to see if the cyst was producing estrogen, one for baseline, three for monitoring). I have had I-don't-even-know-how-many draws for my previous two cancelled cycles. And of course, the rubella titers, the chickenpox one, the HIV, chlamydia, syphilis, gonorrhea, complete blood count, pre-cycle work up. And you know what? JimDear gave blood for that too. We have both paid for this in blood.
And lord knows I have paid for this in tears. Tears over cancellation, tears from Lupron-induced nightmares and anxiety attacks, tears at an extremely painful blood draw (during a cancelled cycle, naturally), tears after holding my baby niece at Christmas and thinking "my god, this might be the closest I come to being a mom." Tears from before Thanksgiving when the doctor said, "and after the holidays..." and meant actually all of the holidays, not just the upcoming one. Tears when my husband was describing his best Christmas ever, when he secured the must-have toy (a Boo doll, from Monsters Inc.) for his own young niece years ago, because the entire story said, "THIS MAN SHOULD BE A FATHER." Tears of joy when I saw those 17 precious follicles on Tuesday morning. My husband, too, has paid for it in tears. His are more rare than mine, and thus more precious.
Sweat? Why yes. Night sweats from my insane hormone regimens. From driving down the mountain in an absolute panic on my way to the clinic straight from work, terrified of being late and thus postponed till another day, month, years. Sweat on my husband's forehead last night as he injected the hCG into my upper-outer ass, so nervous about hurting me yet needing to do it and do it right.
We have earned that second pink line, through our blood, tears, sweat, and yes, through our money. The vacations we haven't taken, the gifts we haven't bought, the corners cut. The insecurity of having a savings account with only $300 in it, when we are trying to bring a life into this world.
We have earned that line, this chance.
I did not think it would be this hard to get to this point. Nothing in our diagnoses or test results gave us any clue. The part I was worried about--fertilization--is still to come. But this part, this part is over, and I have earned my prize.
A positive.
No, I am not pregnant. Yes, it is my trigger. Yes, my clinic requires us to take a test, to ensure that our bodies have absorbed the hCG and that the batch was good.
But this is the first time in my entire life I have gotten a positive pregnancy test result.
I am not delusional. I don't think that, since the trigger worked, I'm automatically pregnant. I understand that this pregnancy test is nothing more than a fancy OPK.
But fuck all that. There are TWO LINES and they are MINE. I am uncomfortable with the notion that anyone "deserves" a pregnancy or a baby. Life is simply not fair (except when it is). I wouldn't say that I "deserve" for this IVF to result in a real, live, take-home baby. But I have earned those fucking lines.
I have earned those lines through my blood. I have had five draws for this cycle (one to see if the cyst was producing estrogen, one for baseline, three for monitoring). I have had I-don't-even-know-how-many draws for my previous two cancelled cycles. And of course, the rubella titers, the chickenpox one, the HIV, chlamydia, syphilis, gonorrhea, complete blood count, pre-cycle work up. And you know what? JimDear gave blood for that too. We have both paid for this in blood.
And lord knows I have paid for this in tears. Tears over cancellation, tears from Lupron-induced nightmares and anxiety attacks, tears at an extremely painful blood draw (during a cancelled cycle, naturally), tears after holding my baby niece at Christmas and thinking "my god, this might be the closest I come to being a mom." Tears from before Thanksgiving when the doctor said, "and after the holidays..." and meant actually all of the holidays, not just the upcoming one. Tears when my husband was describing his best Christmas ever, when he secured the must-have toy (a Boo doll, from Monsters Inc.) for his own young niece years ago, because the entire story said, "THIS MAN SHOULD BE A FATHER." Tears of joy when I saw those 17 precious follicles on Tuesday morning. My husband, too, has paid for it in tears. His are more rare than mine, and thus more precious.
Sweat? Why yes. Night sweats from my insane hormone regimens. From driving down the mountain in an absolute panic on my way to the clinic straight from work, terrified of being late and thus postponed till another day, month, years. Sweat on my husband's forehead last night as he injected the hCG into my upper-outer ass, so nervous about hurting me yet needing to do it and do it right.
We have earned that second pink line, through our blood, tears, sweat, and yes, through our money. The vacations we haven't taken, the gifts we haven't bought, the corners cut. The insecurity of having a savings account with only $300 in it, when we are trying to bring a life into this world.
We have earned that line, this chance.
I did not think it would be this hard to get to this point. Nothing in our diagnoses or test results gave us any clue. The part I was worried about--fertilization--is still to come. But this part, this part is over, and I have earned my prize.
A positive.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Itchy Trigger Finger
So, to the tune of "The Wonderful Thing about Tiggers":
The wonderful thing about triggers
Is triggers are wonderful things!
You draw it into the needle,
Then into your ass it springs!
They're pokey, jabby, painful, crappy,
Pretty much no fun!
But the most wonderful thing about triggers is:
I am getting one!
But what time? I dunno and I'm getting antsy. They said they'd call "this afternoon" and now it's 4:15! I may or may not have already called and left a gently inquiring message. I may or may not drive down there and sit outside the door till they answer me. (Or actually, they called me as I was spell-checking this. I trigger at 10:30 tonight for a 9:30 am retrieval on Monday. Woohoo!!)
I've got 23 (they keep multiplying!! Like those...things from Star Trek. My husband would know what I mean. You know, those things.) And 6 of them are at 19-21mm. And my waist circumference is probably at 19 meters or so. I feel huge. But it'll be worth it. Besides, I'm a bit of a masochist. Of course this hurts, of course I'm more uncomfortable every day. I need to know it's working, and I need to feel it. This is a life-changing event for me (one way or the other), so of course it hurts! Walking through fire isn't supposed to be easy, you know? But it's how you become a different person on the other side.
A different, better, pregnant person.
Dr. B (who has done each and every one of my scans this time around--is that an antagonist thing, is it a third-time's-the-charm thing, is it a this-chick-insane-you-scan-her thing??) is concerned that I'll get ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS). So he's given me a prescription for a very nice, very expensive medication called Dostinex, and rather odd directions to take it very 3.5 days. Also, Gatorade, salt, and protein after retrieval. (Too bad I'm not JimDear. I'm a vegetarian who really only likes drinking water. Whatever, salty lentil soup it is, I guess.) Here's the thing, though. I'm kind of secretly thrilled to be at risk for OHSS. (See above if you doubt my sanity. Or wait, maybe don't.) They started me on 300IU of Bravelle (my FSH brand) because, the last time I began stims (in, you know, September...) I responded really weirdly. But now we know that was the Lupron, and 300 may have been a tad bit too much (and my bank account would agree). But anyway, this is a risk I'm willing to take. I'm much more comfortable with the risk of OHSS than the risk of, say, only having 3 eggs for JimDear's sperm to make magic with. I know this is not medically sound and I should be bemoaning the fact that I overstimmed, but...yeah, not so much.
I'm so excited for this! I am hoping my eggs are perfectly matured and easy to retrieve, but for now I'll be thrilled about a shot in the ass and being one step closer.
The wonderful thing about triggers
Is triggers are wonderful things!
You draw it into the needle,
Then into your ass it springs!
They're pokey, jabby, painful, crappy,
Pretty much no fun!
But the most wonderful thing about triggers is:
I am getting one!
But what time? I dunno and I'm getting antsy. They said they'd call "this afternoon" and now it's 4:15! I may or may not have already called and left a gently inquiring message. I may or may not drive down there and sit outside the door till they answer me. (Or actually, they called me as I was spell-checking this. I trigger at 10:30 tonight for a 9:30 am retrieval on Monday. Woohoo!!)
I've got 23 (they keep multiplying!! Like those...things from Star Trek. My husband would know what I mean. You know, those things.) And 6 of them are at 19-21mm. And my waist circumference is probably at 19 meters or so. I feel huge. But it'll be worth it. Besides, I'm a bit of a masochist. Of course this hurts, of course I'm more uncomfortable every day. I need to know it's working, and I need to feel it. This is a life-changing event for me (one way or the other), so of course it hurts! Walking through fire isn't supposed to be easy, you know? But it's how you become a different person on the other side.
A different, better, pregnant person.
Dr. B (who has done each and every one of my scans this time around--is that an antagonist thing, is it a third-time's-the-charm thing, is it a this-chick-insane-you-scan-her thing??) is concerned that I'll get ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS). So he's given me a prescription for a very nice, very expensive medication called Dostinex, and rather odd directions to take it very 3.5 days. Also, Gatorade, salt, and protein after retrieval. (Too bad I'm not JimDear. I'm a vegetarian who really only likes drinking water. Whatever, salty lentil soup it is, I guess.) Here's the thing, though. I'm kind of secretly thrilled to be at risk for OHSS. (See above if you doubt my sanity. Or wait, maybe don't.) They started me on 300IU of Bravelle (my FSH brand) because, the last time I began stims (in, you know, September...) I responded really weirdly. But now we know that was the Lupron, and 300 may have been a tad bit too much (and my bank account would agree). But anyway, this is a risk I'm willing to take. I'm much more comfortable with the risk of OHSS than the risk of, say, only having 3 eggs for JimDear's sperm to make magic with. I know this is not medically sound and I should be bemoaning the fact that I overstimmed, but...yeah, not so much.
I'm so excited for this! I am hoping my eggs are perfectly matured and easy to retrieve, but for now I'll be thrilled about a shot in the ass and being one step closer.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Day 8 of Stims: Sittin' Pretty
No mind reader out there would have wanted to be my friend these past two days. I have been insufferably smug, and probably a bit repetitious. My thoughts have gone something like this, "Ugh, morning, my 17 follicles are not ready to wake up just yet!" ... "Better clean those 17 follicles from the outside in the shower." ... "What would my 17 follicles like for breakfast?" ... "Oh, fuck that, my 17 follicles and I are not putting on those jeans today." ... "Ok, follicles? I know there are 17 of you and I'm very proud of each and every one of you, but we did just go pee an hour ago, you cannot possibly be telling me there's no more room in there." ... "Why yes, my 17 follicles and I would be happy to take this phone call". And so on.
My 17 follicles and I undressed from the waist down this morning. My 17 follicles winced and whined as Dr. B insulted them with the seeing-eye-dildo. My 17 follicles proudly announced the addition of 3 more follicles to our little family.
HA! My twenty follicles and I are going to be absolutely unbearable.
I've got 5 follicles (so smart, so pretty) at 15-17mm.
I've got 10 follicles (content with their lot, no need to be overachievers here) at 13-15mm.
And I've got 5 follicles (momma always did like you best!) at 10-12mm.
Take that, Lupron!! Fuck you very much. Me and the antagonist protocol are having a party over here and you're not invited. My 20 follicles are drinking (what? there's no sperm in there yet!) whiskey sours like there's no tomorrow. But there is a tomorrow, for me and my 20 follicles! Me and my 20 follicles will stim as usual (plus the Ganirelix, which stings like a bitch but is prettier than Lupron, that's for damn sure) tonight and tomorrow. Me and my 20 follicles will haul our fat, bloated self to the RE's on Saturday, where my 20 follicles and I are expecting to be told that we're absolutely the shining stars of the clinic and can trigger that night.
My 20 follicles are expected to be harvested on Monday, but I haven't explained to them quite what that means. No need to shock them.
My lining is at 12mm, and my e2 is still unknown. But me and my 20 follicles are so totally taking this show on the road.
See, I gave up on the idea of having "any left to freeze" in October. I gave up on "probably a 5 day transfer" in November. I honestly gave up on "any to even fertilize" in December. But now, I think, "hey, even if half my follicles are empty or immature, that still leaves ten for JimDear's sperm and our expert embryologist to make magic with. And even if ICSI only takes on half of those, and even if only half of those develop normally, I can still transfer two." With a half left over.
Maybe IVF will work for us after all?
EDIT: And my e2 is at 1091, not too shabby!
My 17 follicles and I undressed from the waist down this morning. My 17 follicles winced and whined as Dr. B insulted them with the seeing-eye-dildo. My 17 follicles proudly announced the addition of 3 more follicles to our little family.
HA! My twenty follicles and I are going to be absolutely unbearable.
I've got 5 follicles (so smart, so pretty) at 15-17mm.
I've got 10 follicles (content with their lot, no need to be overachievers here) at 13-15mm.
And I've got 5 follicles (momma always did like you best!) at 10-12mm.
Take that, Lupron!! Fuck you very much. Me and the antagonist protocol are having a party over here and you're not invited. My 20 follicles are drinking (what? there's no sperm in there yet!) whiskey sours like there's no tomorrow. But there is a tomorrow, for me and my 20 follicles! Me and my 20 follicles will stim as usual (plus the Ganirelix, which stings like a bitch but is prettier than Lupron, that's for damn sure) tonight and tomorrow. Me and my 20 follicles will haul our fat, bloated self to the RE's on Saturday, where my 20 follicles and I are expecting to be told that we're absolutely the shining stars of the clinic and can trigger that night.
My 20 follicles are expected to be harvested on Monday, but I haven't explained to them quite what that means. No need to shock them.
My lining is at 12mm, and my e2 is still unknown. But me and my 20 follicles are so totally taking this show on the road.
See, I gave up on the idea of having "any left to freeze" in October. I gave up on "probably a 5 day transfer" in November. I honestly gave up on "any to even fertilize" in December. But now, I think, "hey, even if half my follicles are empty or immature, that still leaves ten for JimDear's sperm and our expert embryologist to make magic with. And even if ICSI only takes on half of those, and even if only half of those develop normally, I can still transfer two." With a half left over.
Maybe IVF will work for us after all?
EDIT: And my e2 is at 1091, not too shabby!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Day Six: A New Hope
I hate going to my RE's. Absolutely hate it. I can't think of a single time I have walked out of there with good news. My stomach clenches when I wake up and usually doesn't stop for days. Driving there is like driving to a nightmare. Sitting undressed-from-the-waist-down on the table waiting, waiting, waiting for the ultrasound is pure hell.
Except today, he inserted the wand, did the uterus (blah blah blah, my mind is always going, my lining has never been an issue, skip to the ovaries already)...and I saw follicles! He started measuring and I almost started crying!!
In the end, I have seventeen follicles. Tomorrow I start Ganirelix.
Holy fucking shit.
I might make it to retrieval. We might actually get to try ICSI!!! I might, just might, make it to the two week wait!
This is scary as hell but...I'm excited. I am hopeful.
I'm imagining a baby.
EDIT: And my estradiol is at 453, which is not too low and not too high! Woohoo!!!
Except today, he inserted the wand, did the uterus (blah blah blah, my mind is always going, my lining has never been an issue, skip to the ovaries already)...and I saw follicles! He started measuring and I almost started crying!!
In the end, I have seventeen follicles. Tomorrow I start Ganirelix.
Holy fucking shit.
I might make it to retrieval. We might actually get to try ICSI!!! I might, just might, make it to the two week wait!
This is scary as hell but...I'm excited. I am hopeful.
I'm imagining a baby.
EDIT: And my estradiol is at 453, which is not too low and not too high! Woohoo!!!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Day 5(?)--Heroin Chic
I think today is Day Five of stims, but it might only be Day Four. I have taken four injections and take my fifth tonight. So you do the math.
On my original schedule, I was supposed to get an estradiol workup after three nights of stims. Which would have been yesterday. But they changed their minds and so I don't get any scans or any blood work until tomorrow. I should be grateful. My veins need time to heal. I have a very, very large bruise on my left forearm from an IV attempt. It's so large I'm worried about it, and thankful that it's winter so very few people see my forearms. It's gross and also just...so large, so visible. I want it gone. I have a smaller bruise in my right elbow-pit from another attempt. Two attempts, actually, going by the two pin-pricks. I've got a gross one on my left hand, from the blood-draw last Monday, at my cyst check. And I've got two bruises on my right hand (they were one, but have now shrunk into two, with a red pin-prick at the center of each), one from yet another attempt, and one from the actual IV. To my credit (and see how sane I was after the Versed??) when they attempted to remove my IV, I suggested they leave the needle in and draw blood that way, rather than poke me again. They did, after tossing a vial of "watered down" blood first.
So yes, I look like a drug addict. I am not looking forward to tomorrow's poke. But I really wish I'd had a test yesterday. Something to reassure me. "No news is good news" isn't usually the case with me. Rather, "no news is bad news you just don't know yet". I really am trying to be optimistic. I am trying to tune into my ovaries. I feel a bit bloated and swollen today but...I just don't know. I hope this is working.
Please let this be working.
On my original schedule, I was supposed to get an estradiol workup after three nights of stims. Which would have been yesterday. But they changed their minds and so I don't get any scans or any blood work until tomorrow. I should be grateful. My veins need time to heal. I have a very, very large bruise on my left forearm from an IV attempt. It's so large I'm worried about it, and thankful that it's winter so very few people see my forearms. It's gross and also just...so large, so visible. I want it gone. I have a smaller bruise in my right elbow-pit from another attempt. Two attempts, actually, going by the two pin-pricks. I've got a gross one on my left hand, from the blood-draw last Monday, at my cyst check. And I've got two bruises on my right hand (they were one, but have now shrunk into two, with a red pin-prick at the center of each), one from yet another attempt, and one from the actual IV. To my credit (and see how sane I was after the Versed??) when they attempted to remove my IV, I suggested they leave the needle in and draw blood that way, rather than poke me again. They did, after tossing a vial of "watered down" blood first.
So yes, I look like a drug addict. I am not looking forward to tomorrow's poke. But I really wish I'd had a test yesterday. Something to reassure me. "No news is good news" isn't usually the case with me. Rather, "no news is bad news you just don't know yet". I really am trying to be optimistic. I am trying to tune into my ovaries. I feel a bit bloated and swollen today but...I just don't know. I hope this is working.
Please let this be working.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Night Two--Short End of the Marriage Stick
My husband isn't perfect, but he's pretty damn awesome. Lately I've been feeling guilty for being such a bad wife. I'm not a bad person, but what with the near-crippling depression and total focus on baby-making (and not, alas, the "old fashioned way"--why no, our sex lives have been dictated to a certain degree by those in white coats for many, many moons now), I haven't been the sort of wife I'd like to be. Of course, I work and go to school, so my fantasies aren't about vacuuming in high heels and all that, but rather about supporting him as he supports me: emotionally, physically, financially, and yes, house-hold-duties-ly. And lately, he's really been getting the short end of the stick there.
Which is why I've got a made-from-scratch (minus the refrigerated pie crusts...shhh!) pot pie in the oven right now. I'm a good cook (if I do say so myself) and I actually enjoy cooking, so why have I been so lax? No use in chastising my past self, but time to get a move on. I even did the dishes!
I mean, he does have to cum in a cup for me in a week or so.
My ovaries are not making their presence known as of yet. My uterus still is, gee thanks. Hopefully that'll end in a day or two, and I can focus on my ovaries, imagining them covered with growing follicles containing healthy, 23-chromosomed eggs, ripe and ready for...the cup's contents.
The anesthesiologist called me. He said, even though I don't "feel" the pain, I experience it, and I will twitch and try to pull away from the needle. He said it matters less when draining a cyst, but that doctors want very still patients when aspirating the precious contents of numerous follicles. Which I can understand. He also promised me lots and lots of anti-nausea medicine. He did say he won't insist on anesthesia, and I can bring it up with the doctors and nurses, but he "knows what they'll say". Well, so do I, but I figure I'll give it one more go on Tuesday. I'm feeling a tad better about it, but I want to hear from Dr. B himself. Because I'm special like that.
Which is why I've got a made-from-scratch (minus the refrigerated pie crusts...shhh!) pot pie in the oven right now. I'm a good cook (if I do say so myself) and I actually enjoy cooking, so why have I been so lax? No use in chastising my past self, but time to get a move on. I even did the dishes!
I mean, he does have to cum in a cup for me in a week or so.
My ovaries are not making their presence known as of yet. My uterus still is, gee thanks. Hopefully that'll end in a day or two, and I can focus on my ovaries, imagining them covered with growing follicles containing healthy, 23-chromosomed eggs, ripe and ready for...the cup's contents.
The anesthesiologist called me. He said, even though I don't "feel" the pain, I experience it, and I will twitch and try to pull away from the needle. He said it matters less when draining a cyst, but that doctors want very still patients when aspirating the precious contents of numerous follicles. Which I can understand. He also promised me lots and lots of anti-nausea medicine. He did say he won't insist on anesthesia, and I can bring it up with the doctors and nurses, but he "knows what they'll say". Well, so do I, but I figure I'll give it one more go on Tuesday. I'm feeling a tad better about it, but I want to hear from Dr. B himself. Because I'm special like that.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Night One--and No Versed
I've been holding my breath all day, expecting the clinic to call and say they changed their mind and I can't cycle after all. The last time I started stims was, after all, in September, and I've made numerous attempts to get to that point again. To be a few hours away from pumping my belly full of Bravelle is very, very unreal.
Based on a somewhat-inconclusive response to those September stims, I'll be starting on 300IUs of Bravelle. I also take 30IUs of lowdose hCG (the poorman's Menopur) at the same time. But no Lupron! When my follicles are big enough or my e2 is high enough (my money's on the e2, by the way), I start Ganirelix.
Unreal, but pleasegod let it be!
I did call my clinic today. In part to tell them that my period started yesterday, a few hours after the cyst aspiration. (And, I did not say, is making a total bitch of itself ever since, what with excessive volumn and insane cramping. Well, fuck you too, old endometrium!!) And partly just to have them say, "No really, you can start stims tonight, that was not a mistake, see you Tuesday." But mainly...
I had general anesthesia once, when I got my wisdom teeth out. It was an absolute nightmare. I vomited the whole rest of the day and well into the night (so much so that I never even swallowed a pain pill, which didn't help much). I also felt out of sorts for days. I hate to seem all princess-y, but I really do react weirdly to many medications. Not just Lupron, and we all know those stories. Benadryl and its ilk, for example, make my heart race and make me awake and jittery for about 18 hours. I had laughing gas once at the dentist--for a cavity I turned out not to have, by the way--and before they even had me on the 'actual' dose, just the 'relax' dose, I fully passed out, and did not recover enough to drive home for about 4 hours. And my first antimalarial, mefloquine...well, it made me batshit insane, and gave me horrifying nightmares. And it took my years to find a birth control pill I could stand. Etc, etc. I avoid over-the-counters. I pretty much take only my prescribed (and I went through a bunch of those too, mainly due to nausea) pre-natal vitamin and whatever hormones I'm trying in any given month. So I just sort of thought I'd almost die from the anesthesia, but it would be worth it to have a shot at a baby.
But this Versed concoction I was on for the aspiration--WOW! I loved it! I went woozy when they said I would and was conscious enough to walk to the next room to lay down, remember the conversation I had on the phone with my husband, and send my mom (who drove me) back to her own home after she dropped me off. I even watched TV and read instead of just sleeping. I am in total awe. So I want it for my egg retrieval.
And they said no. I don't understand why. They said they don't recommend it because there is more pain due to more pokes. What pain? I don't remember any pain! They've told me they'll have the anaesthesiologist call me. Since he gets my $275, I'm sure he'll do his best to assure me that anesthesia is the best thing. But I'm dissatisfied and intend on bringing it up on Tuesday, and probably on every appointment until egg retrieval, or I get my way.
Do any of you know of a good reason why I can't just have light sedation???
Based on a somewhat-inconclusive response to those September stims, I'll be starting on 300IUs of Bravelle. I also take 30IUs of lowdose hCG (the poorman's Menopur) at the same time. But no Lupron! When my follicles are big enough or my e2 is high enough (my money's on the e2, by the way), I start Ganirelix.
Unreal, but pleasegod let it be!
I did call my clinic today. In part to tell them that my period started yesterday, a few hours after the cyst aspiration. (And, I did not say, is making a total bitch of itself ever since, what with excessive volumn and insane cramping. Well, fuck you too, old endometrium!!) And partly just to have them say, "No really, you can start stims tonight, that was not a mistake, see you Tuesday." But mainly...
I had general anesthesia once, when I got my wisdom teeth out. It was an absolute nightmare. I vomited the whole rest of the day and well into the night (so much so that I never even swallowed a pain pill, which didn't help much). I also felt out of sorts for days. I hate to seem all princess-y, but I really do react weirdly to many medications. Not just Lupron, and we all know those stories. Benadryl and its ilk, for example, make my heart race and make me awake and jittery for about 18 hours. I had laughing gas once at the dentist--for a cavity I turned out not to have, by the way--and before they even had me on the 'actual' dose, just the 'relax' dose, I fully passed out, and did not recover enough to drive home for about 4 hours. And my first antimalarial, mefloquine...well, it made me batshit insane, and gave me horrifying nightmares. And it took my years to find a birth control pill I could stand. Etc, etc. I avoid over-the-counters. I pretty much take only my prescribed (and I went through a bunch of those too, mainly due to nausea) pre-natal vitamin and whatever hormones I'm trying in any given month. So I just sort of thought I'd almost die from the anesthesia, but it would be worth it to have a shot at a baby.
But this Versed concoction I was on for the aspiration--WOW! I loved it! I went woozy when they said I would and was conscious enough to walk to the next room to lay down, remember the conversation I had on the phone with my husband, and send my mom (who drove me) back to her own home after she dropped me off. I even watched TV and read instead of just sleeping. I am in total awe. So I want it for my egg retrieval.
And they said no. I don't understand why. They said they don't recommend it because there is more pain due to more pokes. What pain? I don't remember any pain! They've told me they'll have the anaesthesiologist call me. Since he gets my $275, I'm sure he'll do his best to assure me that anesthesia is the best thing. But I'm dissatisfied and intend on bringing it up on Tuesday, and probably on every appointment until egg retrieval, or I get my way.
Do any of you know of a good reason why I can't just have light sedation???
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Drained
So, the cyst aspiration went pretty well. I have tiny veins, so they tried both my arms and both my hands before finally getting the IV in and flowing, but aside from that it went smoothly. I really like whatever medication I was on (Versed and I think something else?) because I was awake so easily afterwards. (I was awake during it, but not entirely, you know, present.) I'm going to ask for the same thing for ER.
I've also started my period, which means, since I'm supposed to start stims on CD2, I start tomorrow!!! They don't want to see me again till Tuesday, which I find a bit worrisome, but they're doing b/w and u/s as opposed to just b/w, so I guess it'll be fine.
They counted 11 antral follicles, which is a bit low for me. I'm hoping the cyst was hiding a couple more on the right. I'll find out soon I guess!
I've also started my period, which means, since I'm supposed to start stims on CD2, I start tomorrow!!! They don't want to see me again till Tuesday, which I find a bit worrisome, but they're doing b/w and u/s as opposed to just b/w, so I guess it'll be fine.
They counted 11 antral follicles, which is a bit low for me. I'm hoping the cyst was hiding a couple more on the right. I'll find out soon I guess!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
I Kind of Can't Believe This But...
I think I might actually cycle this time.
Scary to even hope that. But my blood levels drawn yesterday, while still on the Pill, had my p4 at 0.3 (so obviously, no ovulation) and my e2 at 54. So I think my cyst is non-estrogen producing! I'm also spotting the tiniest bit.
I kind of can't believe this, but I'm starting to get excited!
Scary to even hope that. But my blood levels drawn yesterday, while still on the Pill, had my p4 at 0.3 (so obviously, no ovulation) and my e2 at 54. So I think my cyst is non-estrogen producing! I'm also spotting the tiniest bit.
I kind of can't believe this, but I'm starting to get excited!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Suck It
I kinda thought the first needle going through my vaginal wall and into my ovaries would be for my egg retrieval.
Nope. It's going for a cyst. I'll be under on Versed, which is a good thing, since otherwise I'd probably ask to see the "discharge" (or whatever they call it), and I might very well spit on it too.
Which is to say, the monster cyst on my left ovary is gone, but the one on the right is still hanging out at 3cm. I'm having it aspirated Wednesday. I'm more upset at having to miss work (they're going to fire me one of these days--it's a small business so no FMLA or anything to protect me) than anything. I was pretty much expecting to have to do this, what with the way my ovaries have behaved the past 4-5 months.
I just hope my stupid insurance company covers any of it.
The things we do...
Nope. It's going for a cyst. I'll be under on Versed, which is a good thing, since otherwise I'd probably ask to see the "discharge" (or whatever they call it), and I might very well spit on it too.
Which is to say, the monster cyst on my left ovary is gone, but the one on the right is still hanging out at 3cm. I'm having it aspirated Wednesday. I'm more upset at having to miss work (they're going to fire me one of these days--it's a small business so no FMLA or anything to protect me) than anything. I was pretty much expecting to have to do this, what with the way my ovaries have behaved the past 4-5 months.
I just hope my stupid insurance company covers any of it.
The things we do...
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