Transfer Update

I've asked R to put these two posts up for me...

Transfer was Wednesday afternoon, and it went well. We transferred two 8-cell embryos that were graded Stage 1. (If you want to read about the full Day 3 embryo report, please see the post below this one.) Betas are next Friday and Monday the 14th.

The afternoon was not without it's moments, though.

I'm prone to leg cramps, and I think that drinking a lot of water quickly can trigger them. So there I was, laying on my back, the transfer table angled so that my head was lower than my pelvis. Doc had just transferred the embryos.

Then the cramping set in.

Both of my hamstrings began burning. I focused on not allowing myself to bounce around and dislodge the embryos. I tried to will the cramps away, but no luck.

After what seemed like an eternity but was really less than 10 seconds, I had to speak up and tell Doc what was going on. Still positioned with a full view of my nether region, he had to lift up one leg toward the ceiling to relieve the cramp, then the other leg. Laying there with two embryos newly transplanted inside of me, I was doing what looked like can-can dance kicks, wearing nothing but a paper drape below the waist.

I would have been mortified, if I hadn't already lost all semblance of modesty and dignity about 18 vaginal ultrasounds ago.

Day 3 Embryo Report

I've been very, very fortunate and blessed to have (so far, at least) the kind of IVF cycle that I wish every one of us could have. Of course, the betas are still a ways away, and I know that not all great cycles result in great betas, so my optimism is still very much guarded.

Nevertheless, I am feeling what I can only describe as "survivor's guilt" for having the cycle go well so far when I know that some of you are struggling right now.

I realize some of you are curious about how the rest of the embryos are doing. The short answer is that they're doing well. But I don't want to put the details in the post itself, so as strange as this sounds, I'm going to put the report in the Comments section instead.

If you want the details, please go to the Comments section of this post. If now is a tough time and "the transfer went well" is about all of the news you want to hear, please skip the Comments. And if you could use a good laugh and haven't already seen the post above this one, go read about how I wound up doing some physician-assisted, can-can style dance moves while still on the table after transfer.

I Am A Wimp

This will be brief, because I am sitting in an underground parking garage, with the laptop propped at an odd angle on my lap in order to get a wireless internet connection, one which alternates between having full connectivity and none at all.

At any rate, I just wanted to post to let you all know that it turns out I don't have OHSS. Instead, I am simply a wimp when it comes to pain. That's not a surprise - I readily acknowledge that I have practically no tolerance threshold for pain.

My ovaries are irritated with me, and they're making their feelings known, but yesterday's ultrasound determined that there's no excess fluid in them, in my abdomen or around my liver or gallbladder. So, like I said, I'm a wimp.

Thank you all for your words of encouragement and support. I'm not sure how much I'll be able to post during the next few days since we don't have internet access in the room, but I'll probably make R find a way to post at least one update to let you know how transfer goes. It's set for 2 p.m. tomorrow.

I'll be sooo glad to get back home, where I can jump online any time I want!

Retrieval and Fert Report

The retrieval went very well. My doctor was able to get 32 eggs. He warned us that not all of them would be mature, because he said he went into every follicle, even the smaller ones, in order to try to help "deflate" the ovaries.

We got the update today - 20 were M1s (the most mature), 7 were M2s (still mature and good, just not as mature as the M1s), 4 were immature and 1 was non-viable. They fertilized the 27 M1s and M2s, and of those, 17 fertilized normally. We are very, very happy!

The only spot of concern at the moment is that I may be developing a mild case of OHSS. I'm more bloated than I was before the retrieval, and when I lay down, it kind of hurts to breathe. My doctor was monitoring me closely for OHSS and I hadn't shown any signs through retrieval, but I know it can sometimes begin to develop after retrieval. He's bringing me back in this afternoon, I'm assuming for another ultrasound. If I do have it, hopefully it's a mild case that resolves quickly. Right now, transfer is set for Wednesday afternoon.

The Waiting Line - The IM trigger shot went fine in terms of the injection itself - no pain or anything like that. We had a little bit of drama before doing the injection, though. The pharmacy was supposed to have given me a syringe with a 1 1/2 inch needle to draw up the injection and another 1 1/2 needle to swap out and actually inject with.

It turned out the second needle was only 1 inch, but we didn't realize that until I had already put it on the syringe. I was going to swap it out with the 1 1/2 inch, because I figured how dull could that needle be - it was only poked through the rubber of the vial once, right? Well, I had put the 1 inch needle on so tight that neither R nor I could get it off. After a couple minutes of panic, I decided there really wasn't much that could be done, because the 1 inch clearly wasn't coming off and I didn't have another vial of trigger meds to draw up, so I just went ahead and injected with the 1 inch. It seems to have worked out fine.

But, about that "how dull could it be" question - trust me on this, the answer is "too dull to use." I did the first PIO injection last night. The pharmacy and the clinical coordinator said to use a 22 1/2 gauge. But the PIO I have is in cottonseed oil, which seems to be thinner than sesame oil, so I didn't think there would be a problem using a 25 gauge.

And, there probably isn't, except that it needs to be a 25 gauge that hasn't already been pushed through a rubber stopper. I stuck the 25 gauge in my ample posterior. It hurt a little as it went in, and then it stopped. I thought it was probably just because my hand was shaking a bit. So I pushed harder. After all, fat tissue is soft, right? And I've certainly got more than 1/16th of an inch of that to push through. But it wouldn't keep going.

So I pulled it out. And because I hadn't learned my lesson the first time, I stuck it in another spot. Another little bit of pain as it went in. Another refusal to go any farther. I contemplated calling the clinical coordinator and begging her call in a prescription of 25 gauge needles to a local pharmacy, but then I decided to just suck it up for the night, so I took off the 25 gauge (fortunately I had learned my lesson from the trigger and hadn't screwed it on too tight) and put on a 22 1/2 gauge.

Let me just say this: A sharp 22 1/2 gauge is much, much better than a dull 25 gauge. It didn't hurt going through the skin, and it easily went all the way in. The PIO didn't hurt going in, either. I just injected it very, very slowly.

So, I survived through my first PIO injection. I am still going to ask for the script for the 25 gauges when I go in for the ultrasound this afternoon, though.

I'm running out of computer battery power again, but I'll try to catch up with as many blogs as I can until I do.

Ready, Set, Retrieve

It's official - trigger is tonight, and retrieval is Sunday morning. It's been two years since I've done an IM injection, so tonight should be interesting. I'm picking R up at the airport in a few minutes, so at least he'll be here to talk me into jamming that looong needle into my butt when I begin to whine and freak out!

Today I had 20 follicles, and lining was at 10.5. We also got R's latest DNA fragmentation results today, after enduring a little bit of drama with the lab that did the test. His fragmentation was 24 percent, which is his lowest level ever. So, he'll be producing a fresh sample after all this weekend. (We were prepared to use a sample he had frozen this spring if necessary.)

So, prayers seem to be getting answered left and right for us this week. I'm very, very thankful. And, selfishly, hoping they continue to be answered in such a positive way.

Thank you all for your support. I'm not getting to log on as much as I had expected to, but I'll find a way to post on Sunday.

Also, please keep my friend in your thoughts. Her first clot resolved itself, but a second one appeared this week. The babies are still doing fine at this point, but she is now on a schedule of weekly ultrasounds. Why oh why can't this ever be easy for those of us who have had to go through so much to get here? J, if you're reading this, know that I'm thinking of you...

A Quick Update

It turns out we don't have internet access in our hotel room like I thought we did, so this is the first chance I've had to log on since we got here Sunday night.

I'll post more later, but right now I want to catch up with all of you, so I'll make this quick. Yesterday's ultrasound showed 18 measurable follicles and a few more that may or may not catch up, a lining of 9 mm with a triple stripe, an E2 of 1068 and no signs of OHSS. It's bizarre - I'm almost not quite sure what to do with so much good news. But I'm very, very thankful.

It looks like trigger will probably be Friday night, with a Sunday morning retrieval.

Ok, on to all of your blogs. Be back later.

P.S. Meg - Two weeks because they brought me out early to monitor closely for OHSS. My first stim ultrasound was on Monday. If they hadn't been concerned about OHSS, it wouldn't have been until today, and I would have only been here 8-10 days.

The Stimming Begins

The baseline ultrasound went well yesterday. 10 follicles on one side, 11 on the other. My estradiol level was 15. I have to confess that I don't know much about what estradiol levels are supposed to be, because my former clinic didn't test them during IUI cycles. But I'm assuming 15 was fine, since the cycle coordinator told me to start Follistim last night.

My friend was able to see the twins' heartbeats yesterday, and they are measuring pretty close to on target - 7w2d and 6w5d, she was 7w1d yesterday. However, she's having a bit of a scary time. She started bleeding heavily on Tuesday and went to the emergency department. There's a blood clot in her uterus. (I wonder if this is the same thing as a subchorionic hematoma?)

Her RE told her yesterday that it will likely resolve itself and pass through, and he doesn't think the babies are in any danger. Still, she's on bed rest for a few days and she's understandably concerned. She goes in for another ultrasound next week.

I know this is short - especially for me - but I have to get to work. There's about two days of work for me to wrap up, and I've got all of six hours left to do it. I'll post again once I get settled in the hotel.

So Far, So Good

Things are going as well as I could ask for – only one bruise, no headaches, no unusual grumpiness. R is particularly grateful for that last one. (He still harbors bad memories of our IUI days, perhaps because I once locked him out of our bedroom in a Clomid-induced fit of irritation and then refused to tell him what it was that he had done to tick me off.)

I’m making another day trip to the RE on Thursday for my baseline. That’s also the day my friend is scheduled for an ultrasound to check for the twins’ heartbeats. Please think good thoughts for both of us.

The good news continues on the Pooch front too. The vet repeated her bloodwork on Sunday, and it showed that her pancreatic enzymes have returned to the normal level. Yea! One liver enzyme is still elevated but is also heading in the right direction. The vet said it takes that enzyme longer to return to normal, so he isn’t concerned about that.

I’ve started packing for the cycle. The process of packing always reminds me of two of my great-aunts. When I was about 10 years old, they came to visit us as part of a month-long trip that included stops in several states, capped off by an Alaskan cruise. They showed up with one suitcase apiece. For an entire month’s trip!

I did not inherit their ability to pack lightly.

You know that saying, “Pack everything you think you’ll need, then unpack half of it, and that’s probably more than enough”? Um, well, I tend to subscribe to the opposite theory: Pack everything you think you’ll need and then about 50 percent more just in case, because if you don’t bring it, it’s a given that you’ll need it at some point.

Couple that theory with the fact that I’m going to be living in the same, small hotel room for two weeks (half of that time by myself, which is longer than I’ve ever lived by myself in my entire life), and you wind up with a packing list that includes:

• A very comfy bean bag chair, purchased especially for this trip. Hey, I figure I’ll get tired of sitting on the bed and the desk chair after a couple of days. And besides, it’s purple, which is my favorite color, so of course it was meant to be.
  
• A vase. Because one needs flowers to make the aforementioned small hotel room feel like home, right? R just rolled his eyes, threw up his hands and began trying to figure out how to pack it in a way that won’t result in breaking it.
  
• My new baking pan. As if I needed yet another baking pan. But maybe if I bring the RE’s staff treats, they’ll go easy on me with the blood draws. A little sweet bribery never hurt anyone.
  
• Two binders full of recipes, which I plan to make in the room’s kitchenette despite the fact that I (ahem) do not cook. Apparently, I expect these drugs not only to help create a baby, but also to magically transform me into Martha Stewart overnight.
  
• About a dozen books, ranging from romance novels to a how-to-learn-HTML-in-one-day manual to Steven Covey’s famed 7 Habits book, which I started reading more than a year ago but have yet to finish. Not only am I going to morph into Martha, I’m also going to pick up some new skills for work (the HTML book), discover the purpose of my life and figure out how to effectively fulfill it, all in the span of about two weeks. While also trying to grow a couple dozen eggs.

I’m not over-reaching, am I?

Back to the packing…

1 Injection Down, 70 or So to Go

As you can tell, I’ve been behind on blogging and commenting. I started to catch up last night, but I still have a ways to go, so please forgive me if yours is one of the blogs I still need to visit.

I can’t believe a week has gone by already. It’s all such a blur – I’m not sure where it went or what I’ve been doing for this past week, other than working like a crazy person. One of my co-workers gave her notice last week, so my boss’ team is now officially only 50 percent staffed. When I take time off for the cycle, that number will drop to 25 percent – yikes!

I wish I had something profound to write related to this cycle, but I don’t. At least, not at this point. Maybe all of the drugs will eventually give me inspiration. Speaking of the drugs, I did my first Lupron shot this morning. And, as you can see, I lived to tell about it.

The peace I’d been feeling temporarily took a back seat to hyperventilation when I got up today, but ultimately it was much, much easier than I was making it out to be in my mind. It had been almost two years since I’d done an injection, so I was nervous. But the needle didn’t hurt at all going in, and it was such a small amount of liquid to inject that it turned out to be no big deal. One of my biggest fears was that the Lupron would sting, but it didn’t.

Updates: My friend’s first ultrasound went really well. Since she was only at 5w2d, they didn’t see a heartbeat, which they didn’t expect to. However, they did see two sacs – she’s got twins in there! I’m very happy for her.

The Pooch is still having ups and downs, but at least now we know what the problem is: She has pancreatitis, or inflammation of the pancreas. She had a relapse again on Friday, so I took her back to the vet (third time in two weeks, they’re getting to know us really well) on Saturday. They ran some blood tests and called yesterday to tell us the results.

The good news is that she seems to have a relatively mild case of it, and it’s possible that once we get it under control this may be the only episode of it that she has. The bad news is that it’s often triggered by giving dogs high-fat food they’re not supposed to have, like table scraps, and getting my mom to follow the “nothing but kibble” rule is going to be tough. Our zoo will be staying with her while we cycle, and she likes to spoil them.

I’m hoping she’ll cooperate when I make it very clear that 1) pancreatitis can turn serious and even fatal, and 2) I’m going to be super stressed about the Pooch if I think there’s even a tiny chance she’ll be fed something other than kibble and that the stress could mess up the IVF cycle. (Disclaimer: No, I don’t really believe that stress causes infertility or causes IVF cycles to fail, but if thinking so is what gets her to cooperate, I’ll take it.)

My mom is one of those people who, when a doctor says not to do/eat/take something, responds with “Oh, what does he know? Doing (whatever the “something” is) can’t really be that bad.” Then she goes ahead and does it anyway, just to prove that no one can tell her what to do. So, I’m afraid she’ll dismiss the vet’s orders of no table scraps or treats. But I’m also hoping that if I throw in the “stressing me out could mess up the IVF cycle” idea on top of it, the potential guilt will be enough to motivate her to cooperate. We shall see.

1,000 Things, Part 1

Suddenly I have 1,000 things to say. Very few of them are related to each other, and most don’t seem like they rise to the level of being worthy of their own posts – either that, or I’m just feeling too frantic to write separate posts for all of them right now – so here they are, in no particular order.

Continued Happy News
My friend’s second beta continued to rise appropriately. Hurray for her! Her first ultrasound (at 5w2d) is on Friday.

Doggie Update
The pooch seems to be doing a bit better, although we had to make another trip to the vet yesterday. I finally felt okay with leaving her home alone on Friday, so I worked in the office that day. When I got home, there was evidence she was relapsing a bit, but not as bad as what we came home to earlier in the week. The vet gave us an antibiotic to add to the other two pills she’s already taking.

I hope this clears up before we have to leave for the cycle. I’ve never been away from her for more than seven days before, so this is going to be a stressful experience for her and for me. I thought about bringing her with us, but she hasn’t traveled with us overnight before, and I think that would also be stressful on top of the cycle. Plus, R will still be here with her for the first week, then she and the rest of the zoo will be over at my mom’s, who lives two miles from the vet and has pet-sat for us hundreds of times.

On Being a Bad Sister
I’m in a fairly good place right now, feeling peace with our decision to cycle and where to cycle. I can be happy for my friend, because I know what she went through to achieve this pregnancy. But today, when my brother called, I saw who it was on the caller ID and I told R to let it go to voice mail. I haven’t listened to the message yet.

I do not know my brother well. And I’m even less well acquainted with my sisters. They are full siblings to each other from a marriage of our dad’s prior to him marrying my mom and having me. It’s a bizarre situation – we didn’t grow up together, I’ve only ever seen them in person a couple of times in my life, we’re very different people in many ways. Still, my brother deserves all the credit for working to keep our relationship (if you could call it that) afloat, and I do love them all, even though I don’t quite understand that since I don’t really know them.

The thing is, my brother and his girlfriend are expecting sometime this month. It wasn’t planned. Neither was the pregnancy that resulted in his daughter with another girlfriend several years ago. My brother knows what R and I have been through. He doesn’t mean to be insensitive, but he just doesn’t get it. When he called to tell me a couple of months ago, he must’ve said “My girlfriend and I are going to have a baby” at least five times. Everything in the conversation ultimately made its way back to that point. I managed to force out a normal-sounding “Congratulations,” but I got off the phone as quickly as I could.

Today is the second time he’s called since that conversation. I’ve been avoiding him. I didn’t even listen to his message yet this time, because I’m afraid he’s going to tell me the baby was born. And as much as I want to be happy for him, I feel like I need to protect the peace I’m feeling about our cycle right now. Even if that means being a terrible sister.

Missing Out on the ‘Lush’ Experience
I first discovered Lush when I read about it on a fellow infertility blog (I wish I could remember whose) several months back. I love bubble baths, so I decided to go check out the store that’s in our town. I wound up buying a couple of terrific-smelling soaps and a few irresistible-sounding bath bombs.

This was back in the beginning of February, and I still haven’t used the bombs. Cycle day 1 showed up unexpectedly a couple times, then I got sick and didn’t feel like sitting in a hot bath tub when my stomach was bothering me, then the surprise pregnancy, an insane work schedule, etc. I thought for sure that once I started the BCPs, it would be the perfect time. Then came the breakthrough bleeding. That finally went away, and this week I thought, “I’m going to do this on Sunday, for sure.” It’s not too close to the cycle that I’ll worry about overcooking my eggs or anything.

But now it’s more than 110 degrees outside, and even though it’s not quite that hot indoors, I’d be more tempted to load the bathtub with ice cubes than bubbles at this point. It’s 87 degrees in our pool right now. Maybe I should just toss the bath bombs in there and soak away…

Believe it or not, I have yet more to say. But I will save some of it for later, because there are things I’ve been putting off (like work) that I really should at least attempt to make some effort toward.

Eight days until lupron begins…Do you suppose this has something to do with the sudden frantic wordiness? That perhaps if I just keep prattling on, somehow the train won’t barrel down on me? Nah, couldn’t be.

Positive News for My Friend

Her first beta, at 12dp3dt, is 450!!! I couldn't find any charts after a quick Google search, but I found a site where women posted their betas, and 450 seemed to be pretty high compared with the other 12dp3dt betas I saw, so I'm thinking she may have two in there. I hope so - she'd be thrilled with that.

Thank you all again for your feedback and well wishes for her. They meant a lot, to her and to me.

I'm a few days behind on posting on blogs, so I apologize. I'm going to try to do that tonight if I can. In addition to already being short-staffed at work, another person is out this week with a family emergency, so I'm spinning plates like mad right now for myself and two other people. And trying to help an ill canine furbaby recover from an unpleasant bout of what appears to be gastroenteritis. Our carpet is not a pleasant site!

BBL.

14 Days and Counting...

Well, as you can tell from my brief note below, Saturday's cyst check ultrasound went well. I know that traveling out of state for it sounds extreme, but I'm glad I went. I've consulted with my doctor on the phone, in person in his office and via e-mail, but this is the first time he has examined me.

He pointed out a few interesting things, all of them good.

First off, apparently I have a normal, anteverted uterus. This surprised me, because two other REs who have done ultrasounds on me have told me I have a slightly retroverted uterus. One made that determination before my first pregnancy, and the other said it about a year after that pregnancy. However, I Googled "retroverted uterus" and found this diagram, and my uterus was definitely in the anteverted position on Saturday. I wonder if a uterus can change positions over time? I forgot to ask.

The second surprising proclamation was that my ovaries don't look like classic PCOS ovaries. They have several follicles on the surface, which is typical of PCOS, but they also have several follicles in the middle of the ovaries, which apparently is not typical of PCOS.

The past three years have made me tired. Evidence of that fact: I, the one with a never-ending stream of questions, didn't even ask if that means I may not have PCOS. I didn't bring up my FSH/LH ratios, either. Whether or not he thinks I have PCOS, it doesn't change our decision to cycle. And I just didn't have the energy to get into a discussion about it.

The third bit of good news is that my ovarian reserve appears to still be good. I know I'm still considered relatively young (32 next month) in terms of this process, but since it's been almost two years since our last IUI cycle, I was a bit nervous about it. It turned out I had 17 follicles on one side and 23 on the other. Doc expects that I'll have a similar number, give or take a few, at the baseline ultrasound. Hopefully I'll have quality as well as quantity, since quantity doesn't matter if none of them look good...

After the appointment, I went to the beach for a few hours. I walked along the surf until I got to a quiet place, away from the densely populated area of sand where you could hear families playing together and children shouting as they romped in the sand. I spread out a towel, read a book, listened to the sound of the waves crashing ashore, and prayed. It was a perfect, relaxing afternoon.

Then I called my husband and uttered words no one, least of all me, ever expected to hear from my mouth: "I can't wait to start the shots! I wish it could be today." It's a bizarre feeling when you're looking forward to jamming needles into your body day in and day out.

14 days to the first shot and counting...

Update on my friend: THANK YOU to all of you who have replied to the post on behalf of my friend who is in her 2ww. I've been forwarding your responses to her, and they have really helped encourage her. Things were still the same in terms of her symptoms when I talked with her on Friday. She and I weren't able to connect over the weekend, but I'm hoping to reach her today for another update. Her first beta is on Thursday, and she will get the results of it that afternoon. I'll keep you posted.

Ultrasound Went Great

I have a post all written, but I won't get a chance to type it in until late tonight, so I just wanted to let those of you who are checking in know. I'll be back ASAP...

Need Feedback for a Friend

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned a friend of mine who is currently in the midst of her first IVF cycle. I’m looking for some feedback on her behalf, so if you have any thoughts, please post them here.

The situation is: She had retrieval on June 14 and transferred two 3-day embryos (one her RE said was “very good” and the other was “good”) on June 17. On June 20, she had very light spotting, bright red and just for that day. She also started having mild cramping around that time. The spotting stopped after that one day, but the cramping has continued off and on. Her first beta is scheduled for next Thursday, June 29, and she’s feeling discouraged, thinking that the cramping in particular means that the cycle didn’t work.

My thought is that the spotting could very well be implantation spotting, and I think the fact that it stopped is a good sign. The spotting happened and the cramping began just 3dp3dt, so I also tend to think that that is too early for the cramping to be a bad sign. But of course, I am by no means an expert on any of this.

So, what do all of you think? I will forward your thoughts to her.

Seeing Silver

Have you ever seen the “I Love Lucy” episode that involves Lucy and Ethel working on a candy factory’s conveyer belt line? You know, the one in which they frantically try to wrap the pieces of candy that go gliding by until they just can’t keep up anymore and then begin to stuff the chocolate pieces into their mouths and hats to keep others from seeing what’s happening?

Well, that’s me. Except instead of chocolates zooming past, it’s silver hairs cropping up on my head at an alarmingly frequent pace.

My mom had a lot of silver hair by the time she was 30, so much so that she took to wearing a wig at that young age. But just because that happened to her doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me, I reasoned.

I’ve been living in denial.

I first noticed an occasional silver hair about a year ago. I told myself it must be the result of stress, and I proceeded to simply snip them out. But during the past month or two, they’ve started appearing much more frequently, and they’re throughout my head, not just in one spot any more.

They’re not a soft gray, either. They’re a bright silver that stands out against my dark hair, and they have a strange, coarse texture. I refuse to color my hair because that would mean acknowledging reality. So, instead, I keep frantically cutting, trying not to clip any other hairs because I have very thin hair and can’t afford to lose any that I don’t absolutely have to.

The end result? Short, silver hairs that, because of their odd texture, stick up and look a lot like little TV antennae poking through my hair.

I’m not even 32 yet, people. So much for aging gracefully…

Hurting and Hoping

Right off the bat, I’ll warn you that this post isn’t going to win any awards for eloquence. I’m having a difficult time putting my feelings into words, so bear with me.

Infertility is a process of highs and lows, emotions that can go from one extreme to the other in, literally, the flicker of a heartbeat. Sometimes, the highs and lows, the hope and sadness, is so intricately intertwined that it’s impossible to tease them out into separate emotions.

That’s pretty much how I’m feeling right now – an odd combination of hope and sadness, with something that vaguely resembles peace or acceptance thrown in for good measure.

This week, I’ve been growing more excited about our upcoming first IVF cycle. We’re cycling out of state, and a week from today, I’m popping over to our clinic for the day to do a cyst check ultrasound. I have plane tickets, a car rental reservation, and a plan to spend a blissful few hours reading on the beach after the appointment.

At the same time, my excitement is tempered by sadness. Sadness and heartbreak for Sube, who received devastating news this week. Sadness and anxiety for a non-blogosphere friend of mine who is six months younger than me and doing her first IVF. (She has truly lived the IF roller coaster this week, finding out one ovary was hiding and may not be able to have its eggs retrieved, finding out the ovary was accessible during retrieval after all, finding out all of her eggs from both ovaries looked dark, finding out only four fertilized and she was probably going to be canceled because all four looked dark and granular, finding out those four miraculously cleared up in color and granulation and are all growing appropriately.)

Sadness for all of us who have to go through this, who have to endure the heartache and the pain and the pills and the shots and the procedures and blow after blow.

But while I’d never wish the pain of infertility on any of you, I’m thankful for all of you. For being their, for supporting me and each other, for reaching out and sharing yourselves. I continue to be amazed by this incredible community of women. And I just wanted to let you know that.

Grrrr

I don’t know if it’s the birth control pills, or if it’s that I’m just mad at the universe that we have to do IVF (as if it’s fair that anyone else has to), or if it’s that I’m still really annoyed by a co-worker and a snot at the ob/gyn’s office, both of whom managed to tick me off within a couple hours of each other yesterday afternoon.

Whatever it is, my resulting witchy mood is not pretty. And, it looks like it may be here to stay.

R said something to me this morning. I can’t even remember what he said at this point, but he was making a joke. He has a great sense of humor, and he’s usually terrific at making me laugh. But this morning, he didn’t sense my mood quickly enough, and I was having none of it.

As I walked away, I said, “You DON’T want to go there.”

Thinking I was kidding, he continued on.

I whirled around. “Unless you want to spend the next two months living at your parents’ house, You. Will. KNOCK. IT. OFF.”

I think his mouth may have fallen open in shock, but he high-tailed it back into the other room so fast that it’s hard to say for sure.

I’ll save the “snot at the ob/gyn’s office” story for a time when I can manage to write about it without using vulgar language. But if this is me on birth control pills, imagine how much fun I’m going to be once I really get going on all the drugs for this cycle.

Don’t worry. That pounding sound you hear isn’t someone trying to break into your house. It’s just R, frantically banging on his parents' front door.

And So It Begins…

…with a single, little, yellow pill.

I started birth control pills on Wednesday. That officially marks the beginning of our first IVF cycle. I was scared at first, after starting the pills, but now I’m getting more excited.

Part of me is still struggling to understand this, to understand how we are able to conceive on our own, yet still need as drastic a treatment as IVF. I know, I know, IVF can improve egg quality, create a better uterine lining, etc. I’ll get there. Well, maybe not ever to “understanding,” but at least to “acceptance.” It’ll just take a little more time.

Updates on other stuff:

Given the birth control pills, obviously Monday’s test was negative. I wasn’t surprised. I don’t think I was even really disappointed. For a little while, my stomach kind of felt like it does when you reach the pinnacle of a roller coaster and then begin plunging toward the ground at 75 mph. You know, that “What on earth am I thinking??!?” feeling. But that has (mostly) given way to excitement now.

Good news on the death threats front - there haven’t been any more threatening voice mails from the mystery caller. I’m chalking it up to a prank from someone with a sick, twisted mind.

And, I’ve vowed not to call the bomb squad when my next batch-o’-drugs arrives.

The Best Laid Plans

R and I went out of town this weekend. The idea was to get away from it all, and I was determined that by the time we returned from 48 hours of relaxation, I’d be in a place where I’m ready to tackle the IVF cycle in July.

The plan worked out well – for the first 24 hours. We had rented a cabin in the woods that included a large game room. We played pool. (I managed to nail one pretty impressive shot in particular, then promptly proceeded to lob the cue ball completely off the table on my next shot, which is much more reflective of my typical pool-playing abilities.) We played darts, watched movies, read, just chilled out in general.

And then, R got food poisoning.

He began to feel sick at about 10 p.m. yesterday. Very, very sick. Unfortunately, the signs started setting in about 15 minutes after I’d taken a sleeping pill. I don’t take them on a regular basis, but since I haven’t been sleeping particularly well lately, I figured this weekend was a good chance to catch up on a couple solid nights of rest.

I was still awake the first time he got sick, so I did what I could to take care of him by helping him back to the bed after he finished throwing up and getting a cool washcloth for his forehead. We thought it was just something that didn’t agree with his stomach and that after throwing up, he’d start to feel better.

So I climbed back into bed beside him and fell asleep. Until 7 o’clock this morning. Without waking up at all. Or noticing that poor R spent half of the night sleeping on the bathroom floor next to the toilet because he was too ill to get up and come back to bed.

I felt like a horrible wife when I finally did get up this morning and realized that he probably has a pretty bad case of food poisoning. His doctor called in a couple of prescriptions to the nearest pharmacy, and we picked them up and then started for home early. Lately around here, if it isn’t one thing, it’s another. But at least food poisoning, yucky as it is (I’ve had it twice), will pass soon.

Even though this weekend did not end the way we had envisioned, it did help me relax a bit. I’m almost afraid to say it, but I do think I am finally ready for the IVF cycle. I continue to take the progesterone, and I continue to bleed. I took another test on Friday, and again, no surprise that it was negative. I’ll take one more suppository tonight and then do one final test tomorrow.

Que sara, sara.

The Lovenox 'Bomb'

The bleeding continues, and I continue to be unsure what it means.

Since we did see a questionable, very faint line on a FRED with a beta of 5, I decided to do a little experiment this morning and use the other test from that box. This time, it was a definitive single line – not even anything remotely questionable appeared where the second line would be. We weren’t surprised or disappointed though.

Later this morning, it looked like CD1 might be officially on its way, so I called the clinic to find out when I need to start taking the birth control pills. The nurse coordinator thought the suppositories might be irritating my cervix and causing the bleeding, or that an embryo might have tried to implant without success. She suggested continuing to take a test every couple of days until either a line shows up or CD1 clearly arrives. Of course, after I spoke with her, the bleeding stopped for a while.

In one of life’s little ironies, a box with a 30-day supply of Lovenox was waiting on my doorstep when I arrived home tonight. The clinic had requested authorization for it from my insurance company back when I was planning to cycle in April. Since we postponed, I told the drug company to hold off on mailing me anything until I contacted them.

I have no idea why it arrived today of all days. It came in a discreet brown box with no name on the return address and a label that said “URGENT!” and then, on the next line, “DO NOT OPEN!” Um, okay, so I’m just supposed to urgently look at it?

Instead, I almost called the police to come blow it up.

Yes, I realize that does sound like a wee bit of an overreaction, even for someone under the influence of hormones. But this morning, when I checked my cell phone as I was walking out the door, I had a voice mail from an unidentified caller. Being the paranoid cautious person I am, I won’t go into all the details of the call, but suffice it to say the caller had an impressive command of obscenities and painted a picture of rather creative physical threats.

I truly wasn’t overly concerned, but since it was my work phone, on my way into the office I decided to stop by the security department and let them know about it. Since I had actually received a few calls (although only the one threatening voice mail) from the caller, the security officer I spoke to decided to record the message onto a tape. He seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, so I just went on my merry way to my office.

About two seconds after I plopped into my chair, my cell phone rang. I answered it, and without preamble or an identifying hello, our director of security barked, “What are you doing answering your phone?!” The funny thing was, it had been a while since I last spoke to him, so I didn’t recognize his voice. And because I didn’t recognize his voice, I didn’t believe him when he told me who he was. It took a full 60 seconds before I was convinced. Fortunately, he has a sense of humor.

He also had a list of security precautions he ordered me to take at work, at home and anywhere in between. Then he mentioned a couple of threats in the message that I hadn’t been able to make out in listening to it. Thanks, I already had a pretty clear idea of how the person feels about me, so I didn’t really need any additional pictures painted for me.

On my way home, I was in cautious alert mode. When I saw the discreet little box with no sender’s name that had been overnight shipped, knowing that neither R nor I had ordered anything yesterday, I transitioned right through cautious alert directly into alarmed and suspicious mode.

I wouldn’t let R call the phone number on the box, for fear that doing so would possibly trigger a bomb inside of it. Any suggestions of opening it or even simply picking it up resulted in controlled but mildly hysterical shrieking. Then I got the brilliant idea to Google the return address on the package.

Thank God I didn’t have to spend this evening trying to explain to a police bomb squad why they just blew up a package containing $800 worth of perfectly good drugs.