A Freakin' Egg Factory

Today's turn with the Follicular Lurve Wand showed a total of 20 follicles, all around 11mm. The call today instructed me to drop my FolliSTING dose down to 100IU and to keep the Lupron at the same 5 units, and that they'd keep a seat warm for me in the waiting room tomorrow morning.

I'm starting to feel a bit crampy, along with the usual moodiness, tiredness and boob-twinges. Let's hope that tomorrow will bring some more news, along with a date for retrieval.

Sorry for the shitty post, but I'm beat-I'm gonna go to bed early and hopefully get some sleep. 5am comes way too quickly for me......

A New Addition

If you haven't already seen, there's a new arrival at the House of Miao...........

Welcome to the world, little kitten! And, Congrats to Cat and Mr. Miao on the addition to their litter!

I Spoke Too Soon

Okay, so even after having my dosage dropped, today's wanding showed 18 follicles, all under 10 mm.

Why, oh why did I open my big mouth? At least it's an even number, though......

Dr. G made a joke this morning, saying that she tried to get me a "day off" from monitoring, but when she looked at my chart she realized that I'll be a "repeat customer". Yeah, that's because I'm the Follicle Queen of the World, that's why.

So, we'll see what tomorrow brings.

Stims, Day 3-The (Almost) Dirty Dozen

I had my first scan, post-FolliSTING, this morning. I had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn, (and no, I'm not being dramatic-I was at the RE's office at 6:45 this morning), had my blood drawn by nice phlebotomist and waited for my turn on the Wand of Follicular Fun. Dr. G was there again, and counted 11 follicles-five on the left and 6 on the right, after only two injections. Hey, why not make it a dozen? I like things in even numbers-it satisfies the OCD/anal-retentive side of me.

Dr. Pipsqueak called this afternoon (Sean took the message, as I was still at church) and directed me to reduce the FolliSTING down to 150 IU, keep Loopy Lupron at the same dosage (5 units), and to make sure my ass is back in tomorrow morning to see what's cooking in there. She wants to see me every morning this week to monitor my progress.

Holy crap-11 follicles already. Granted, they didn't look too large on the screen while Dr. G was applying the Wand (I do have to say, though-all three RE's are very gentle with the wanding-yeah!), but, given my track record, they will get to the size of a small Baltic country if left to their own devices. I'm feeling a bit queasy and have a headache for the past few days, but I'm not sure if it's from the meds or the fact that it's like 100 degrees outside (okay, it's not actually 100 degrees, it's only 82) and I'm exhausted. Boy, oh boy-I've forgotten just how much fun being hormonally jacked-up actually was-being around me the last day or so is like poking a badger in the ass with a sharp spoon. Entertaining for some (friends), painful for others (Sean), and aggravating as hell (for me).

That's all folks-peace out, and have a great rest of the weekend-gonna go and break out a burger on the grill and sit in the nice, cool, air-conditioned house and read some trashy books.

All's Quiet on the Ovarian Front

I went this morning for the day 3 bloodletting and wanding, and was told that the girls are officially suppressed. I received the phonecall this afternoon to decrease the Lupron to 5 units and add the 225 IU of FolliSTING, starting tonight. Then I go back on Sunday morning to see what's cooking in there.

I asked the doctor this morning (Dr. G, not Dr. Pipsqueak-all the doctors are very nice though) if, because I took the pill plus the Lupron, I would have a period or not. Dr. G told me that I might not get one, or I'd get a really light one if I did. Well, at around 2:30 this afternoon, the bloodgates opened, which totally SUCKS. Although, now it seems to be lighter, so hopefully today will be the worst of it.

There's no turning back now, ladies-the ball is really rolling. Towards what, I guess we'll find out, soon enough.

Loopy Lupron, Redux

Jaysus, this self-injecting doesn't get any easier, does it? It doesn't matter how many times you've been through it before, it still sucks.

It took me almost a half hour to get the needle in-my brain just wouldn't let my hand do its job. I was getting so frustrated at myself, I wanted to cry. Then again, if the cat sneezed I want to cry. But, it's not like I don't know what sticking a needle in my stomach feels like. And, starting Friday (barring any problems at the suppression check that morning), it's not gonna get any easier, as I'll be adding FolliSTING to the cocktail. At least no more BCP's. I really think that the BCP/Lupron cocktail of the past five days is starting to get to me-I'm edgy, constantly queasy, exhausted and my face is looking like the eruption of Mount Etna, with the amount of zits that are there. I can't get up in the mornings, but, then again, I'm not sure if it's the meds of the fact that school is winding down (18 DAYS-WOOT!) and I'm just beat.

I do have to say, Sean is being really good to me, considering my constant feeling of being just at the edge of insanity. He cooked dinner and microwaved me a Wegmans Molten Chocolate Cake last night, and is getting takeaway tonight (Baja Fresh-yummy yummy Mexican). He's even been giving me foot massages, allowing me to hog all the bedcovers and is letting me yell at him for stupid things.

That's love, people-ain't I a lucky girl?

Ultra Comfort, My Ass!

Whilst preparing myself for my nightly Shot of Fun, I noticed, printed on the barrel of my syringe, it says "UltraComfort".

Are you fucking kidding me? What, is like a new bra or a pair of shoes?

Comfortable for who, an elephant? Seriously, that's not the first description that comes to mind when I'm sticking it in my stomach. Annoying pinch, more like. Especially when I gave it to myself about an hour ago-I wasn't paying attention (I was on speakerphone-multitasking, 'natch!) and, instead of injecting myself quickly ("like a dart", so the product information designates), I stuck the sharp in slo-motion, like a masochist. Yeouch. Not Ultra and certainly not Comfortable.

Stupid-ass marketing people. I'd like to see them volunteer for some product testing-especially the men.....

Injection Amnesia

Holy shit, I totally forgot just how much these injections actually SUCK. I mean, really suck. I now have a HUGE bruise where I gave myself the first Lupron injection, which has never happened this early in an IVF cycle. It probably didn't help that I was trying to get the damn thing over with. Sigh........you'd think that I was a syringe "virgin" or something....

Yeah, I got my box 'o meds, courtesy of the FedEx man, this morning. At least, this time Sean actually gets to join in on the fun too-he gets to go on antibiotics, starting Friday........hey, why not share the wealth, right?

Honestly, it doesn't matter if you've done infertility treatment using injectibles once or a hundred times, that first day on meds doesn't get any easier. I really think that it's that "mind over matter" thing-you have to literally force your hand to stick yourself in the stomach with a sharp object. I must've "wound up" about ten times before I could get the fucking syringe in. I even iced it beforehand, folks. Yeah, I'm a chickenshit-but, within a few days I'll (unfortunately) remember it all and be an old pro.

So, here we go, it's time for Loopy Lupron to start the comeback tour. Of course, don't forget that this time she has her backup singers, the birth control pills, along for the ride. Now, normally I don't get those wacky mood swings and such on the Lupron, however, with the addition of the BCP's, let's just hope and pray that Sean will be alive at the end to tell the tale. I'm just worried that I'll get oversuppressed, but they're pretty conservative at Big Important Clinic, so they will be on top of things.

Game on, people!!! Let's hope I hit a home run this time.

The "Mother's Club"

So, Mother's Day certainly sucked big ASS for me.

I decided that, this year, I would not be celebrating Mother's Day this year. Of course, I neglected to actually tell anyone in the family this, so I'm sure that my mother is pretty pissed off at me and cursing me out as I type this. But, I really couldn't deal with it this year. I couldn't help but think that this year I would have been a mother, and that I have to do yet another cycle, not knowing whether or not it will work. That I have to go to work today and hearing from all the teachers the wonderful things they did/got/etc.

Just. plain. sucks.

I've decided that the majority of the people I work with are insensitive. They all know what I'm going through, have seen me through my first two cycles already-you'd think that they might, uh, be considerate. Nah. Every single time I have lunch in the teacher's lounge, the talk goes to babies, grandkids, who's pregnant or who's daughter/granddaughter is pregnant, comparing symptoms, blah blahdefucking blah. Sheesh. I can't even eat my lunch anymore without baby/pregnancy talk. And,it's not like I can participate in any of it, so I just try to quickly eat and bolt out of the room. Sigh-I guess that's what happens when you work in a woman-dominated place. Is it just me, or is this all women talk about? If I am so lucky to get pregnant and have a baby, will I become like that? I mean, I have other interests, other things to talk about-don't they?

So, I actually did have something nice (albeit sad) thing happen to me yesterday. After Mass yesterday morning, I found that my friends K&T were also there, and stopped by for a quick minute to chat. T said that she had something for me, and was I going home right after? I told her that I had to sing the next Mass, but that Sean and I would stop by afterward. When we got to their house, we hung out, ate some yummy sammies, then T gives me a gift bag. Inside it, there was this beautiful ornament that says "A child's first sense of home is found in it's Mother's arms". Attached to the ornament was a charm with an April Swarovski crystal, and a card that read "Just for you to always remember your sweet baby-and add to as you have the children you have dreamed of. You are always a mom-don't forget that."

I was so overwhelmed. I couldn't do anything but sit there and cry (with Sean, of course). Someone actually got it-how I felt, how I didn't feel I belonged to the "Mother's Club" because I didn't have a baby in my arms. She was able to strengthen my soul, and I can't even put into words how much it meant to me.

I put it up, on my armoire, so it will remind me of why I'm doing this third cycle. To make my resolve like steel. I will be a mother.

I already am. Thanks, T, for reminding me of that.

You Know What They Say.....

about the third time, right? Well, I won't say it, just in case.

Appointment went well-the bloodletting and turn with the Wand of Fun showed everything to be good, so we got the okay to move forward. We had our orientation and medication class yesterday afternoon, with three other couples. We, of course, were the old vets of the group, but that was okay. We met a teacher and her husband (also a teacher) who was there because she has to do PGD due to a family genetic disorder, and I felt bad for her, because she and her husband had no fertility problems. She also seemed scared shitless. God, I remember that well.

We also met our nurse, Nurse Blondie, who was really nice (and also ran the orientation). She seems to be very helpful and matter of fact, but also compassionate, which is good.

So, here's the lowdown on my cycle: I started the Pill last night, which BLOWS ASS CHUNKS. Sean said that it was the ultimate cruel joke-to take birth control pills when we can't have kids on our own to begin with. Oh, well-bottoms up! But, taking it sure sucks. Can't wait for the constant nausea that I usually get at first to happen-I'm thinking that will happen within the next day or so. At least it's temporary, right?

Anyway, I take the little fuckers for about 10 days, then start Lupron injections beginning May 20th (overlapping with the pills). I take the last Pill on 5/23, then go in for a wanding and bloodwork on 5/26. If all looks okay, I start 225 IU of FolliSTING that evening, then take the same amount every night (only once a day, instead of 225 twice a day, which is what Dr. Vest had me on) unless they change the dosage, and drop the Lupron to 5 units. I go back on 5/28 for more monitoring, then Dr. Pipsqueak (who Sean duly renamed yesterday when he saw her come out of her office and realized that she barely came up to the nameplate on her door) wants me in every day after that for monitoring. Yikes. My arms will look like ground beef before it's all over-hopefully there will be a vein for the IV during the retrieval.

Retrieval is tentatively set between the 3rd and the 5th of June, depending, of course on how I respond to the meds. Transfer would be a three day, and the beta will be anytime from June 18th to 20th. I'll also have to go in the day after transfer, 2dp, 5dp, and 9dp for estradiol and progesterone checks, which I've never done before. I'm glad, though-it's a conservative approach, and one that perhaps I needed all along.

Wow.

For some reason, I thought that this wouldn't be until more towards the middle of June, but hey-it's meant to happen this way. It just seems to be moving more quickly this time around, and I'm not sure whether it's because we're at a Big Important Clinic or not, or that we were really proactive in completing the IVF checklist we were given last month-I noticed that the other members in our orientation had nothing completed yet (except for the PGD couple-I think that she and I will be cycling around the same time, which is cool). But, when all's said and done, I'm glad that we're not waiting around-I want to just get this done and over with.

By the way, watching Sean try to learn how to draw and give IM meds was hilarious. Honestly, I am really thankful that his mom and M are around to do this-watching him yesterday reinforces the thought that, as much as I love him and want his baby, I want him NO WHERE NEAR MY ASS CHEEK with a 2 1/2 inch sharp needle. Really.

However, if it gets me pregnant, I don't care who does it to me, as long as it works.

34 Times (Cycle) Day One Equals......

$35,924.17. Which is the estimated back-rent that fucking bitch Aunt Flo owes me for her monthly stay in my uterine penthouse and trashing the joint. She's lucky that I don't charge her for the cleaning supplies and equipment. Tampons don't just grow on trees, dontcha know.......

By the way, thanks for the responses on the last post. I truly hope I didn't offend anyone....and, Pamplemouse, you weren't being harsh. Everyone has an opinion, and oftentimes telling it like it is shows us another point of view that we wouldn't ordinarily see-so, thank you for showing me your views.

So, today is Cycle Day One. Again. For 34th time, according to Futility Friend. Not that I'm keeping track or anything. I called Dr. Petite's admin this morning to announce the Red Tidings of Joy, and was then transferred to our awesome Coordinator, where I left a message. She called me back this afternoon to tell me that, since our checklist is completed, we will be meeting our nurse on Thursday, when we go in for both our IVF Orientation and Sean's Penile Spank-a-palooza 2006 (fortunately, for us, not at the same location-that would be just, well weird). Then, I get a call from our Nurse, who said that she wants me in on CD3 for a bloodletting and a Ride on the Wand of Follicular Fun (aka the Dildocam-in a sick and demented way, I kinda missed that....not....)-which conveniently happens to be-Thursday. The same day we have to be there for the Spankapalooza/Drug Fest-yay! It's guaranteed to be a fun-filled day for all involved.

If the tests clear me, I'll be starting the Pill for 10 days, then I'll overlap with the Lupron starting on Day 21. I've never taken them along with a cycle before, and I haven't been on the Pill since, well, just about 4 years ago, and I'm not looking forward to having to start taking them again. But, if this works, I won't care. Whatever it takes.

So, in other fertility news, it looks that I am, ultimately, the last person from my original Buddy Group that is without a child. And, I am truly, absolutely happy for my friend-she's been through hell and back and is finally pregnant-but sad too. I hate being the last one for anything-it just reinforces my feelings of that fucking biological clock ticking away inside my head. And, I can say that here, even though I know she reads my blog, because she understands where I'm coming from and knows that I'm not being an asshole (at least, I hope so). I just never thought that I would be the last one standing. Then again, I never thought that I'd have to do any type of fertility treatments, either. It's all just so fucked up, isn't it? I have no faith anymore that I can count on my body to know what it's supposed to do.

I've just been sort of resigned to this next cycle. I don't want to even discuss it with other people (aside from here). I just don't want the questions, the waiting on bated breath attitude from family members. I definitely want to do this, but it feels like I'm disconnected emotionally from it all. Perhaps it's because that lately, all I've been thinking about is, if things had worked out better, I'd have a three week old child at this time. And, it makes me angry and sad and bitter at myself. I mean, I was a mother, right? Even if it was for only 6 weeks or so? Does it count? To some people, yes-to me, it does. To others, well.........probably not. And, well, fuck them-preferably with a dirty, rusty butter knife, as far as I'm concerned.

I guess these emotions are all coming to a head with the imminent arrival to the Infertile Woman's Shittiest Holiday of the Year-Mother's Day. Every year, at our church, the priest asks all the mothers in the congregation to stand for a special blessing, and, every year, I slump down into my seat, ashamed that, for yet another year, I have no babies or swelling belly. Like my slightly flabby stomach (from too many damn Girl Scout Cookies) is an advertisement of my failure. Again.

So, this year, where do I belong? I really, truly hope and pray that this time, next year, the answer will be obviously, glaringly clear to everyone. Me included.

What the FUCK?

Just saw this one on the evening news:

Psychologist to be Britian's oldest mother at 63.

Okay, maybe it's me, but why? She already has two adult children. But, she's 63 YEARS OLD. And, how could a physician feel that he is morally correct in agreeing to treat her?

Don't get me wrong-I'm not against older mothers at all. Women are having babies well into their 40's, and are doing a terrific job. But, what about the mothers that are having babies in their 50's and (now) 60's? It's a whole different ballgame, really. It's well documented medically that there are more health risks involved for both the mother and the child, more risks for chromosomal anomalies. And, it's also about raising a child at that age. Let's think realistically-she's 63, which will make her 68 when her child starts school, 81 when the kid graduates from high school and 85 when he or she graduates from college. I know that people are living longer, but what about the quality of life? What's to say that either parent will be around to see this child graduate high school, let alone college? Can you see a 75 year old shuttling a kid back and forth to piano lessons, soccer practice and school dances with the same energy of someone 30 years their junior? And, is it fair to the child, especially if a parent develops an illness and has to be cared for? Who does the caring-a minor with no legal rights in regards to their parent's medical treatment? Does that make sense at all?

And yes, I do know that there are lots of children here in the U.S. that are being raised by grandparents-in fact, many of these children are my students-who aren't scarred for life. But, I do see that these grandparents have a hell of a time raising these kids They often can't do as much with them-they are older, often retired and on a pension, trying to raise kids while dealing with Medicare, various ailments, and, let's face it, the aches and pains of aging. Who is that fair to-the child?

The doctor, by the way, says that she should live "20 or 25 years" and that she isn't giving birth to an "orphan". That assuming, of course, that both she and her husband will remain in perfect health. No doctor can predict the future of any individual-I'm sure we all can think of someone we knew or loved that were in "perfect" health that suddenly went downhill and passed away with no warning. It's almost like this doctor is more preoccupied with getting post-menopausal women pregnant for the sake of being able to and giving birth to live babies than thinking of the quality of life for the patient and their child.

Just my opinion, but I think that it's selfish on the parents side. Even though these people (who are probably very nice) say that they have their child's best interest at heart, and that they made arrangements for their child's future, I really wonder.

It just makes IVF as a treatment option even harder for the public and religious leaders to view as acceptable for those of us who just want to have one child of our own. It gives the treatment a bad name, really.

Perhaps I'm being ridiculously harsh, but I just don't get it..........any opinions out there about this?

Give it to Me One More Time.....

Well, 8 days until we go for our IVF medication class. Big Important Clinic (BIC for short) has almost of our stuff-bloodwork, saline sonohystogram results (okey-dokey-was kinda cool and weird at the same time to see Dr. Petite injecting saline into my ute and not feeling anything), Sean's bloodwork is in, his spankfest is scheduled for next Thursday morning (so we don't have to travel there twice), and we're getting one of our forms (proof of partership/marriage-required) notarized tonight. The only glich is that I got a letter from our cool IVF coordinator that told me the lab "forgot" to test for my CBC, so I have to go back and get more blood drawn-ick. But, it's not a major problem, so no big deal.....

I've been thinking a lot about this upcoming cycle, and contemplating whether or not it will be my last. I'm not sure I want to give up at this time, but I'm also not sure if I can keep doing this. Given our past track record, I don't want to let that old bitch Hope in just yet-I don't want to even entertain that this could actually work for us. In some ways, it's so disheartening-trying to stay positive, trying everything (crackpot or not) under the sun to make the prime environment for success, and then ending up with nothing but heavy bleeding. But, if the medical professionals didn't think that this could work, they wouldn't give me Hope, right?

At least, that's what I'd like to think.

So, I'm trying to get through the next week or so until our class. It's not like I don't have enough to keep me busy-I have two concerts next week to prepare for-but this damn infertility is breathing down my neck, and I'm starting to get antsy. It's like my psyche knows that my self-imposed exile is almost over, and I'm back in the saddle again.

By the way, 32 more days until school ends, and I can't wait-the kids are driving me absolutely batty. I can't wait until the summer vacation.

Hopefully this will be a very nice summer vacation indeed, if you get my drift.

Va-cay

So........our vacation.....

Well, it didn't get off to the best start, sorry to say. We get to the airport at around 6:30am, e-tickets in hand, and go off to the computerized check-in. After putting in the confirmation number several times with no success I finally saw a ticket agent, who informed me (after she input the number a few more times) that the etickets were for Sunday, April 16th, not for Monday morning. At that point, I started to freak out right there in line. I (stupidly) thought that April 16th was on a Monday morning, and I was also stupid enough not to check it before the weekend. The nice ticket lady said that they could put us on a flight that left at 3:55, and I promptly started to cry, blubbering that we were going on a cruise and that we needed to be on the boat by 4:30, and pleasepleaseohgodplease can't you put us on anything earlier?

Sean later said that he saw that whole vacation flash right before his eyes like a dying man. I, of course, felt like the dumbest ass in the whole world. I was lucky that I didn't curse and swear though-there were nuns next to us checking in and it would have been a no-brainer that God would get us for that one.

Luckily, the nice ticket lady gave us standby tickets for the 8 and 9 am flights, and booked us on the 12:30 flight. Don't worry, said Nice Ticket Lady, your luggage will be on whatever flight you board, so please hand over your credit card so I can charge you the $350 fee to change the flight and print out paper tickets (FUCK!). Then began the Great Race to the Gates to see if we can get on the flights. The first flight (at gate 81) was a no-go-overbooked, in fact. So, we run to Gate 120 (on the other side of the airport, naturally) to see if we can get on the 9am flight. And, we wait.

If anyone has never had the misfortune to fly standby, well....it SUCKS. The stress, waiting, staring down the other standby passengers aggressively, like the plane is a lioness in heat and you're horny lion; sending those "pick me" vibes to the attendant at the gate and shaking a human skull while doing a voodoo dance in front of the counter (okay, so that's just what I do). Not my idea of a good time. I'd rather have a colonic, to be honest (and my poop chute is an exit only, thankyouverymuch).

Well, that bone-shaking must have worked, because we got on the 9am flight. Seperated seats, of course, but who gives a shit. I of course, due to the laws of nature, get stuck behind this freaky woman who was asking everyone around us to change seats so she and her daughter could sit together. Naturally, nobody wanted to change (they both had middle seats), so she was bitching and moaning and slamming her back into her seat. At one point, as I was bending down to get something out of my bag, she sat back into her seat and hit me in the head. It wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't happened again. Needless to say, she didn't like me much after I ripped her a new asshole.

We get to Tampa, make our way to the baggage claim area and wait like cows in front of the barnyard gate for our luggage. And waited. And WAITED. Finally, when we saw the same tired leather suitcase with the bright orange bow around the handle and the golf clubs go around for the 40th time, we figured out that our suitcase was MIA. So, off we trundle to the baggage area to file a claim, thanking our mothers silently for the reminder to pack extra underwear in our carry-on bag. But, lo and behold, our suitcase is sitting right outside the office-yay! Game on! We then find a cab and take the 20 minute ride to the port.

After this, the drama is over-really. Just the getting there was the shitty part.

We booked a suite for this cruise-not because I like to live above my means or anything like that. Honestly, it was cheap as hell-$800 per person for a suite with a balcony. Who am I to pass up a deal like that? Little did I know that there are some perks to these suites-namely, the ability to bypass the big snaking line and go to a special area to check-in. Whee-we were on the boat in 15 minutes! Let's unpack and hit the buffet and laugh at the people still waiting to get on the ship!

The weather was beautiful all week, the seas were calm, and I got a hell of a tan. Oh, yeah, and we fucked like rabbits all week-for some reason, tan lines seem to turn guys on. The room was nice, the balcony ROCKED (and yeah, Sean did moon me one morning as I was standing on the balcony, watching us plow through the Caribbean-I didn't have my camera though or else you'd all get to experience THAT). We sat with some pretty hilarious people, all of whom were from either NY State and Massachussets. And, we ate like pigs. Oh, yeah, did I mention the SEX!? Faboo. I'd forgotten what fun sex for pleasure is.

Our destinations were, overall, okay. Costa Maya was interesting (it's in Mexico, almost at the border of Belize), but Cozumel was kinda sad. We'd been there two years previously and it was hard to see the effects of Hurricane Wilma-one of the two concrete piers were completely destroyed, and there was a lot of rubble, trash and uprooted trees along the shoreline. We did some exploring, but mostly hung out on the ship.

Flying home was terrific-because we got to fly First Class. When booking the tickets, we bitched and moaned that the price of the airfare back to Newark was so damn expensive due to Easter Vacation. We then noticed that, for only $15 more per person we can fly First Class instead of Economy-woot! It was the best plane ride I've ever taken, and I'm spoiled forever. Booze in real glasses, a good meal on real china, dessert, hot towels for your hands, automatic comfort seats......ahhhhh.........it made up for........

Flying into a soggy, cold, overcrowded New Jersey airport. We were delayed in Tampa due to weather, then waited on the runway in Tampa for 45 minutes, then circled around Baltimore for a half hour before we got home. The Mother-In-Law and Big C picked us up and were late due to traffic, so we didn't get home until after 10pm. The kitties got lots of loving and we've been unpacking and doing the mounds of laundry ever since. So, it was a well-deserved rest.

Hey, did I mention that the sex was amazing?

Helloooooooo........

Finally home. We were delayed an hour and a half due to bad weather in the Northeast and flew into Newark where it was rainy and 45 degress-a nice (!) change from the sunny 86 degrees we left behind in Tampa. Gotta love New Jersey in April.

However, eating a gourmet meal off of real china and glassware (with wine!) and having dessert in First Class just about made up from the above mentioned flight delay. That and the nice wide seats with the automatic controls. I think I'm in love.

Missed the cats, and it was mutual. I noticed that the cats only slept on my side of the bed (due to the extraordinary amounts of cat fur planted there) and they won't leave us alone.

Got Shelli a cute magnet for her collection. Must send in the mail (unless I can bring it to her first!!).

Cruise was great-didn't want to come home. Had LOTS of sex-real sex, not baby-making sex (although the stupid "Ooh, it's my fertile time" thought did creep in once or twice). Ate like a fucking pig. Got a nice tan. Bought some new goodies. Thoroughly enjoyed the suite and balcony........especially when Sean mooned me one afternoon as I was out there.

Will write a play-by-play tomorrow, after I get some sleep and try to get my land legs back on track.

Time to snuggle with the babies (and my man) in my own bed, and looking forward to it.

Bon Voyage

Triduum is almost over. I've been singing almost every day since Palm Sunday (I had one day off on Tuesday), whether it be a rehearsal or Mass, as well as trying to fit in cleaning, washing clothes, packing, and running out for last-minute things for our trip. Oh, yeah, and making a cake and the poopie cupcakes, which turned out quite well-gotta try to take a pic of them tomorrow.

So far, everything with Big Important Clinic is doing well. I had my cycle day 3 bloodwork, which looks good, and yesterday I went for the bloodletting from hell-nine vials. NINE. Plus, I had to fast for the bloodwork (not to mention that it was Good Friday and I was fasting anyway. Sheesh.). I now have a lovely purple bruise the size of Iowa on my left arm. I'm sure it will go with the beautiful blue dress I bought for the cruise *grumble grumble* Then, we had to go to see Dr. Petite for our saline sonohystogram, and we were given the all-clear. Of course, I was crampy and leaking saline for the rest of the day, which wasn't fun-especially since I had to sing all day. Note to self: Have some brains and do not schedule invasive reproductive tests when you know you have to perform five hours later. It's just not that fun.

So now, we just need to take our IVF medication class on May 11th (I mean, what's the point? Oh, yeah, it's required.......), Sean's gotta spank the monkey for a sperm sample to test (and he can see if the hospital has any new porn since the last year's visit), and we're on our way. Fresh cycle #3. Whoopee.

It's weird-all weekend I've been thinking about the past year. This time, last year, I was bloated and miserable and in the middle of the two-week wait from hell from my first cycle, which we all know was a bust. Then, in the middle of everything yesterday, I realized that, had I not miscarried, I would have been due Monday, April 17th-coincidentally, the day we leave for our holiday. More than likely, Triduum this year probably wouldn't have happened for me-I might have been in the hospital either giving birth or recuperating from it.

Just another reason to cry on Good Friday.

I might not be back on until next week (sorry, much as I love you all, I will be sucking down margaritas poolside and will be waaay too drunk to type, or even string a sentence together-at least, that's my goal for the week), so-Happy Passover to those who celebrate, A Happy and Blessed Easter for my Christian friends, and, for those who celebrate neither-have a wonderful warm and sunny Spring week.

Peace out-see y'all on the 22nd or so.

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, it's Cycle Day 1. Again.

I had to call Big Important Clinic today to let the on-call nurse that dear Auntie is here for a visit. I talked to a very nice nursey and gave her the goods, and she told me that (since we're still working on our "checklist" ie. bloodwork, saline sonohystogram, etc) I need to come in on Tuesday for Cycle Day 3 bloodwork, as a baseline. Whoopee-the sticking has begun. At least it's one-stop shopping for the bloodletting and the wanding.

I also have to call Dr. Petite's admin to schedule the saline sonohystogram. Hopefully we can squeeze it in (no pun intended there) before we leave for vacation.......otherwise, it's gonna seriously suck ass.

Seven days...................

Heh......I just felt like that freaky dead girl in "The Ring".


Seriously, though-I can't wait. I had to sing the whole of Palm Sunday weekend (5 masses), which is exhausting. This week coming up is Holy (Hell) Week-we have a huge rehearsal tomorrow night, a cantor rehearsal on Wednesday, then we're singing for Maundy Thursday, two services on Good Friday (the Veneration of the Cross and then a "living" Stations of the Cross, performed by our Youth Group), then the Easter Vigil on Saturday and Easter Mass on Sunday. Not to mention that, afterwards, we're driving to Sean's uncle and aunt's house in Pennsylvania for dinner. I'm going to be mush by then.

Speaking of Easter dinner-I've volunteered to bring dessert, which will be a carrot cake with cream-cheese frosting. We went to Williams-Sonoma (LOVE that store) last week, after the consult, and saw the cutest stuff there for the holiday. They had these adorable little chicks hatching out of their shells, all make out of white chocolate.....yummy. Anyway, they had these sweet plates there, with little bunnies on them (here's a pic-you can't see it very well, but there's little paw tracks on them), and I pointed them out to Sean. He told me that he would color the paw prints brown so they look like rabbit turds. Well..........

THEN he got it into his head that he is going to make a special "dessert" for Easter dinner. He's going to make chocolate cupcakes, dye some cream-cheese frosting green and ice them, sprinke some dyed-green coconut on top to look like grass, get some little chocolate bunnies to put on top, and then...........

Get some mini-chocolate chips and put them on so it looks like the rabbit pooed and then ran away.

He's serious, folks. He's already gone out and got half the ingredients.

The sick thing is, his family would think that it was hilarious. It will be the hit of the holiday.

And I thought that MY family was fucked-up. Go figure.

Hope Springs Eternal (Yet Again)

Thanks ladies, for the encouraging words. It's hard not to get excited, but, I've been through this before. I just don't want to get my hopes up yet again.

I was feeling sort of disloyal after we got home, about changing doctors. Sean thinks that I'm insane-we're ultimately paying, albeit through insurance, for services, and if we can get them elsewhere in a better place I shouldn't feel bad about changing. Which, deep down, I do know (and I'm still switching). But, it's like changing your hairdresser-as much as you hate not getting an appointment and getting bullied into that "new" cut that you just can't style the same way at home as in the salon, you don't want to start over, either. Don't worry, I'll get over it.

It also seems as if that auld 'ho Auntie Flo should be here within the next day or so, which is great. If she shows up tomorrow (which I have the feeling she will), then I can go on Saturday morning to the Big Important Clinic to get my cycle day 3 bloodwork, and not have to miss any work-yay! One of the advantages of a big clinic-weekend hours and monitoring hours starting at 6:30am. Not to mention that coffee machine and pastry basket. Yeah, I know-the small things make me happy.

Everyone tells me that they have a "good feeling" about making the move; that, under the eye of a large, successful clinic in a teaching hospital I'll have the odds going for me. Realistically, it's probably true. Emotionally, well..........that's another issue. I'm afraid to get excited. Perhaps the stress of having to micromanage myself medically in Dr. Vest's office, as well as the wacky office hours (monitoring three days a week, the other two days closed by 11:30 am, and no weekends) added to the stress of having to do a cycle. It seems as if there's many more people to call if you have a question, not to mention a nurse on-call in the evenings. I guess it's the mark of a good, professional clinic-one that realizes that a woman's cycle doesn't comply with the 9-5, Monday through Friday mentality.

Okay, I admit it-I'm sort of excited. Scared shitless, but still excited.

A Change in Scenery

In other non-reproductive news, it looks like I have, in addition to my lovely bout of sinusitis,
a small case of fungal infection of the toe (my big toe). When I got out of the shower this morning, I looked down, as I was drying off, and saw that a bit of my toe (close to the outside part) was discolored. I thought at first it was a bruise, since sometimes the little kids step on your feet accidentally. When I looked closer, though, it didn't look like that-it was soft and a little flaky, but didn't hurt. And, just for the record, I have extremely strong nails that never flake. Uh-oh. Although I've never personally had one, I know what they look like, so I freaked out and looked it up on Dr. Google. Fuckfuckfuck. There goes the pedicure for the cruise.

I called M up to pick her nursing brain (she also used to be a manicurist, pre-nursing days), and she told me that if it isn't spread across the nail, which it's not, you can soak the nail in hydrogen peroxide three times a day for about 5-10 minutes and it should clear up in about a week. I have to make sure that I keep it clean and dry, and disinfect everything-nail clippers, etc.-because you can spread the infection (apparently it's a type of ringworm-urgh). Just what I needed, right?

13 days until vacation. I'll be really pissed if I can't have pretty toes by then.


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So, on to today's consult. Well, what's to say?

Holy crap. What a difference. It's like comparing a beat-up Ford station wagon to a Mercedes.

The meeting went very well. We got there on time, checked out the waiting room-very large, with a coffee machine and pastries/muffins available for patients (as well as a mini-fridge). The staff was very friendly and professional. The doctor personally came out to get us, which I wasn't expecting; usually, a nurse does that. The RE is a very tiny, cute Asian lady in her 40's (all the RE's in the practice are women, which is cool), so let's call her Dr. Petite. Firm handshake, looked you in the eye and gave us a smile while she led us to her office.

She had our medical information right in front of us, and seemed like she took her time to review the records. She told us that she feels that the combo of drugs that I've been on (long Lupron protocol with Follistim, HcG trigger and PIO) is good, however, since it's been proven that I can produce a fair amount of eggs, to start at half the dosage I've been having, maybe stim a bit longer to let us get the most amount of mature eggs. The problem, she feels, is that my estrogen levels were way too high and that it might have impeded in implantation. She also feels that the lab played a big part as to our success. Yes, I know that they're trying to sell their lab; but, to be honest, it IS one of the best around. And, let's face it-the lab that Dr. Vest uses is okay, but nothing spectacular. Like comparing a Ford to a Mercedes.

So, Dr. Petite said that we can start a cycle in May, if we'd like. I did ask her about whether, due to the tubal issue, a laparoscopy is in order; she felt, since the original HSG showed that the bulging tube was spilling, that tube is still considered viable. She did explain that when you use a large amount of dye during an HSG (which they did), sometimes it will cause a bulge in the tube. She feels that if no other ultrasounds, especially during any of the stim phases of my cycles, showed a hydro that there's a good chance there either really isn't one, or that there is a small one but the tube is still opened, so it's okay. Just in case, she's going to schedule a saline sonohysterogram once I get my period, to see what's going on-which is a hell of a lot easier than another HSG or a lap-woot!

I had an ultrasound, done by the doctor (which we got to watch on a monitor that's right above the exam table-cool), where she pronounced that everything looks great-normal uterus, saw the ovaries and showed me where I ovulated. She also took some cultures (required), and we met with our patient coordinator who seems really nice, scheduled an IVF class (also required, but no big deal) and a financial person. Luckily, insurance will cover this, so it's just a formality.

So, now I have to get a shitload of bloodwork that apparently Dr. Vest never had me do-CMV, syphillis, Hepatitis B and C, HIV, Indirect Coombs, Varicella titer, Cystic Fibrosis profile, type and cross match, TSH, prolactin. Sean has to go for bloodwork too (hah!) and another spankfest at the semen analysis lab. I also have to get the results of my last Pap, and then get blood drawn on cycle day three and schedule the sonohysterogram. Whew! That seems like a hell of a lot of work, doesn't it? But, once we're done, we'll meet our IVF nurse, and we're back on the rollercoaster. I really wasn't expecting this. I was fully prepared to talk about surgery, what to expect, what would happen. I'm starting to feel like it's a new lease on my (reproductive) life.

The upshot was-if it were legal, I'd marry this woman. I liked her a lot-she took the time to answer our questions, really listened to us, and was very reassuring. She feels, especially since I got pregnant once before, that it will happen. I just find it kinda funny that I was orignally referred to her, couldn't go because of cost at the time, but was led back to her anyway. It looks like it was meant to be.

Perhaps a change of scenery is just-at least, in this case- what the doctor ordered.

D-Day

Tomorrow's the big day.

Had to go to my primary doc today-turns out that I have a sinus infection, brought on by my allergies. Wonderful. So, I got my drugs and hopefully they'll work.

Anyways, that's all for now-I'll update when I get back from Big Important Clinic to let you all know what happened.