Ow.

Ear aches suck, in case you were wondering.

I have only had one in my entire life, when I was about 11, and it was awful. My grandmother swore that heated "sweet oil" dropped into my ear would make it better, and while it did temporarily relieve the pain, it didn't fix it.

Last night I noticed I had unbelievable sinus pressure, and my ear was throbbing. My equilibrium's been off and I've been pulling at my warm left ear since last night. Today I've gone through a half a box of kleenex blowing my nose to try to relieve the pressure.

This sucks.

Royally.

More effective than a rowing machine

Want a sure fire way to make sure that you actually use EVERY SINGLE muscle in your body without going to the gym? Want a way that you can guarantee that you will find muscles you didn't know even existed could be sore (such as on top of your hands or your forearms)? Want to have that sexy, eau de bengay scent when you go to sleep?

Then do I have a solution for you!

I'm an impatient person. No surprise really, that considering we closed on the house at 9 a.m. on Friday, that I was ready by um, 9:05 to start moving in and decorating. The only problem with that, is well, it's my MIL's house, and she's completely gutting her new house, and until at least the flooring and cabinets are installed, she can't move into the new house.

So Michael and I volunteered (somewhat warily) to help out. By 6:00 p.m. yesterday the wallpaper was stripped out of every room but one, the carpet & carpet pad (and the staples and furring strips) were all ripped out of the entire house, the 15 feet of ceramic tile was chiseled out of the entryway, and some trees were cut down outside.

We are so sore that typing is inflicting more pain than I thought possible. Why didn't we just wait for the flooring people to do all this? Because we were antsy - that's why. And now the flooring people just have to come in and put down the new hardwood and tile. Huzzah.

Oh, and we have to help paint - but that's no problem as long as we do it before the new carpet comes in.

And for the record, should you happen to have recently slathered bengay on your hands - remember that when you decide to get frisky. I'm just saying.

Closing Time

I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home.....

Closing Time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Closing for the house got bumped up to 9 a.m. this morning, so after signing my name so many times that I actually ended up spelling it incorrectly I was so nervous... we are now the proud owners of a lovely two story home in one of the "best places to live" in the country according to Money Magazine.

Wow.

Yesterday, I got notification that I would be getting a bonus based on meeting my billable hour expectation, which I expected - but it is three times what I was told it would be.

Wow.

We just got word that some agricultural family farm land that Michael's father left him will likely be selling for nearly $5-$8,000 more an acre than we had expected. We're going to turn his interest in those proceeds over into investment in a lake house.

Wow.

I am so amazed that there simply aren't words.

Popcorn & Juniormints

I didn't go to my appointment yesterday. I just decided that I wanted to have some time to rest, and to focus on getting the rest of our life in order right now. I need to be packing and picking out paint, and figuring out how to trick Spring into coming early so I can start puttering in the yard. [wow that last part made me sound like an octogenerarian. Heh. but not the fertile octogenerian (only the lawyerly types will get that bad joke). Puttering? pretty soon I'll be breaking out the geritol and having my hair dyed blue again* I suppose.]

And, I sincerely hope my last post didn't offend anyone. I wasn't trying to imply that I was more deserving or more worthy than any of my fellow infertiles in the trenches to get to the "other" side. I realize that this isn't a competition, and I don't want my pathetic little whiny attitude to detract from the amazing support system in the blogosphere. And trust me, I'm amazed. Absolutely amazed by the support of each of you.

Michael called to tell me that UPS left a package for me today. A package? I wasn't expecting any package. I thought it must have come to the wrong house so I did the most logical thing I could think of - let's OPEN it and find out if the neighbors got some kind of kinky sex toy! Er, I mean, it was addressed to me and since I'm ah, a little impatient, I made him open it with me on the phone and describe to me what the package was.

He said, it's like a CD or something. And I'm repeating "openitopenitopenit" and he said - FINE - it's that movie you were yammering on about the other day. [yammering? dear God we're ancient]. It's the Last Unicorn! (really there was an exclamation there).

So thank you Sarah. Thank you tremendously ... for reminding me that in the end, all the other unicorns who had been driven into the ocean were set free and came galloping onto the shore, knocking the evil wizard's castle into the sea. And the last unicorn wasn't the only unicorn anymore.

And thank you for giving me a tangible reminder of hope and for letting me blantantly steal your saying and use it here.

It's going to be ok in the end. And if it's not ok, then it's not the end.

Tonight we'll be eating popcorn and junior mints (together, you must put the junior mints IN the hot popcorn and mix it all up. I thought it was gross too until I tried it) and reminding ourselves, it's not the end. It's not the end.

*Actually it's never been blue, but it was bright lime green for awhile when I went through a rather staunch punk phase at 16 and I was hanging out in the music and arts dorm all the time.

The Last Unicorn

Does anyone else remember the movie The Last Unicorn? It was out around '84 or so... and when I was a child I loved it. At least, I think that's the name of it. It was an animated movie sort of anime-esque about the last unicorn on earth. Of course, I don't remember more than mere fragments of the movie - a scary sequence with a lot of fire with the Red Bull charging - some bizarre music - the unicorn being captured and held at a carnival - and a Harpy attacking someone.

I think it was loosely based on a novel, but I haven't seen it in probably 20 years, so it's no surprise that while I was trying to explain it to Michael, that he gave me the same blank stare as when I tried to explain The Peanut Butter Solution, the Secret of Nimh and Labryinth to him. I guess thanks to our age difference he got to miss out on the substantial portion of 1980s children's movies. I forget sometimes that we don't have the same frames of reference.

I called the doctor's office today and they said that I could cycle again this month if I wanted to while waiting for the IVF. I scheduled an appointment for a baseline scan tomorrow, but to be honest, I'm not sure if I'm going to go through with it. I've been blogging now about our infertility since July 2004. We have never really used any form of contraception since we first starting sleeping together. Oh sure, there was the oh "pull and pray" for the first year we were married, and then there was the two months of birth control pills, and the one single occurrence that we tried a diaphragm. When Michael and I eloped, everyone assumed it was because I was "in the family way" and bets were placed on when we'd finally announce we were expecting. That was years ago, and there still have been no announcements forthcoming.

A lot of you who are fairly new to blogging may not remember the discussion a year or so ago that went through infertility bloglandia about hitting your "wall" when it comes to infertility. In essence the discussion focused on when you would decide that "enough was enough" and throw in the towel and try to cope with the fact that medical science may just not be able to bring all of us the "golden ticket"- or there may come a point where we choose, for a variety of reasons, not to rely any more on medicine and miracles. There are a few posts from that time that I still think about often, about what it will be for me, when I hit my wall. Will one IVF attempt be it? Two? Five? At what point do diminishing marginal returns set in? At what point is enough simply enough for your personal situation? At what point do the emotional costs outweigh the financial?

If I don't go through with another IUI or two while we wait, on one hand I feel like we are wasting time, wasting chances. Akin to Poe, the incessant sound of time ticking away keeps me up at night. I feel like I would always wonder if perhaps I didn't give it my all. And to be honest, as much as I admire those of you who have braved IVF, I am ashamed to say that I never thought it would come to that for us. I was young, his sperm morphology was phenomenal, we weren't going to need that kind of help.

How arrogant of me. How ignorant.

On the other hand, I know that the chances of us conceiving without IVF are very slim. Closer perhaps to the devil requesting to borrow my long johns. I think about these few months in front of us and am debating as to whether I want to spend them running back and forth to follicle scans and blood draws, or if I want to spend that time settling into our new house, and honestly - just getting to spend time alone with Michael without the pressure of prescribed sex, without injection bruises, without someone I'm not intimate with jamming a foreign object in me every other day.

Last night as we were laying in bed, he wrapped his arms around me and the tears finally flowed. He kissed my forehead and said he was sorry that I was putting myself through so much. The swelling, the bruising, the overstimulation, the indignity of having your bits on display to everyone and anyone.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Not for this cycle. Or any more in between now and May. I haven't reached my wall, but I think it's time that I start thinking about what it's going to be. I never thought I would get close enough to truly see it... it was an abstract, something that would never come to fruition. The hazy outline of it is now visible over the horizon and I have to figure out how much longer it's going to take to get there.

Over the time that I've been blogging I've seen most of the women I know move on. They've gotten pregnant, they've adopted, they've decided to focus on themselves and their partners. They've struggled, but they've moved on.

I think that's the most frustrating thing for me. I'm not moving on. I am stagnant. I am treading water but I'm not getting anywhere.

I have to say though, that all of you certainly make this rough time inbetween more bearable. It really, really helps.

So I feel ashamed to confess that sometimes I worry that I will be the infertile equivalent of The Last Unicorn. The last one left.

Well, I won't have to worry about the paint fumes...

CD1.

Upping the progesterone did a whole lotta nothing. 10 days post IUI is as long as I lasted this time.

I'm honestly not upset. There comes a point where you sort of become numb to it all. There comes a point where it just seems like it's never going to happen. And in a way, I wish I had the ability to still cry about it. It would feel, in some ways more normal I think.

We're moving on to IVF in May. I'm not sure if we'll bother with another IUI. Since I can't get past a 10 day luteal phase on 600 mg. of prometrium, I'm worried the IVF will be for naught. What good is it to put in great embryos if they don't have the ability to implant before the endometrium dissolves around them? Maybe the PIO will finally be enough. Maybe next time it will be different.

I wish I didn't feel so broken. I wish that my body would just cooperate with the meds.

I just wish there weren't so many maybes. So many doubts.

You play the hand you're dealt I suppose.

I just wish the cards could have been shuffled a bit better this time.

Progesterone, paint swatches, and twiddling my thumbs

I went in on Wed. to have my progesterone tested. It came back at a measly 20.9. TWENTY POINT NINE. I was on 600 mg. of prometrium a day, 200 in the morning orally, and 400 mg. in the evening vaginally. I'm now bumped up to 800 mg. of prometrium a day. 400 in the morning orally, 400 in the evening vaginally. Is it possible that administering the pills vaginally would decrease the serum levels of progesterone? I've not had near the symptoms I had last time I took it (when it was all administered orally), so I'm wondering if perhaps that could be the cause.
Last night I had highly placed, sharp cramps so painful that when I came home from work early I went to bed, and laid on the bed with a heating pad in tears. They weren't normal period cramps, but sharp - and stabbing and somewhat focused on my left side, with the occasional "fuck you!" from the right. I expected to wake in the middle of the night drenched in blood, but so far I still haven't started spotting. This morning there was a slight beige-ish tinge on the toilet paper, although I'm not sure if that's from the vaginal prometrium or what.

I love my clinic, and I'd have my R.E.'s babies I adore him so much - except for well, um I've not exactly got a great track record in that area. The thing that irritates me though about IVF is that they only do a limited number of IVFs a year. They're right in the middle of an IVF cycle now, so the next one isn't until May. I thought it was March for some reason, but it's not until May. May is so incredibly far away. The doctor said he didn't see the point in us wasting time and $$ with another IUI, but to be honest, I'm only going to be out the $70 for all of my medication and sharps (G-d bless my employers very generous coverage of IF meds) and 20% coinsurance for the IUI itself as I've already met my deductible for the year. All of the scans and bloodwork are covered - apparently without the deductible applying, as I just got my first Explanation of Benefits for the first two scans and bloodwork and the portion I was responsible for was $0. [I know, I know, you're all entitled to hate me now, but trust in your heart I'm beyond thankful].

In a way, I realize that cycling in February and early March would be a pain, what with the remodeling of the new house {the wallpaper is coming down if it kills me, I don't care if it's a few months old, Michael and I detest wallpaper} and moving, and unpacking and all that jazz, it's going to be a madhouse. So, perhaps it's best that I don't try to cycle then. We could always just try on our own without help.... bwahahahahahahahahaha. Now that's funny.

This weekend is going to be hopefully low key. It's snowing today again, which sort of puts a damper on my plans to rip up the tulips, daffodils, crocus {crocusi? crocuses?}, hyacinths, alliums, etc. that I planted. The reason that I'm ripping them all out is that we were actually renting while we were house hunting. We just didn't expect to fall into a house quite so suddenly (we've been here only a few months) so I thought I'd at least get to enjoy the flowers. Some of them were fairly inexpensive, so I may just leave them, but there were quite a few that I had imported from Holland that I want to at least try to move. It may be a bust, but at least I can say that I tried. That sort of seems to be my mantra right now. At least I can say that I tried...

As some of you know, I have a non-infertility related blog that I have become very lax at updating, and I've decided that having two blogs is just too much effort. So I'm combining them here. That means you may be called on to offer decorating advice, as we're going to be doing quite a bit of work in the next month on making the house "our" home. For your first task, I need advice for a paint color for the downstairs half bath. The cabinets and are a slight off-white, and the floor is a light maple hardwood and the pulls on the cabinet are going to be changed to a brushed nickle, or perhaps crystal. It will serve primarily as a guest bathroom, and will have large two, two-foot high silver candlesticks on the vanity. I'm looking for something that is elegant, but not too incredibly formal. I'll try to get over there and get pictures of the entire house this weekend, so we can start planning the changes - and you can laugh with me about the wallpaper, er I mean give me ideas. We're shooting to change a room a month, as we're going to be converting the roughly 1500 sq. foot basement as a long term project into a pub/entertainment room and additional family room.

This weekend looks as if it's going to be fairly low key. I'll be spending quite a bit of time cuddled up with Westlaw researching the minutia of COBRA, trying to start to pack (we have a MONTH before we need to be moved in!) and a college basketball game on Saturday evening. It's not exactly brimming with excitement, but you know - sometimes low key is best.

Counting the days.

Thanks for all the very considerate and touching comments a lot of you made on the last post. I know Granny didn't mean to hurt me, she and I have had a very close relationship for a long time - as she raised me essentially on her own from the time I was 12 until I left for college a month after turning 16. Her home was my home until I married the first time. I know she's frustrated with how much this hurts me, and I know her illness prevents her from articulating those fears and anger in a way that I think is appropriate. I love her, which is part of what made the hurt so unbearable. It's nice to have people "get it" - and even for those that commented who couldn't exactly understand because they aren't in our particular predicament, thank you for your empathy. It helped ease the hurt quite a bit.

I forgot how irritating it is to be on progesterone, although I have to say that only taking half the dose orally has helped alleviate a lot of the rather unfortunate symptoms I had before. I finally managed to get in for my progesterone blood work yesterday - on cycle day 22. The fuck? How is it that time has gone by so quickly? Of course, by this time in the last injectible/IUI cycle I had already started to bleed for two days, so I'm not holding out much hope. But, I've been on progesterone for 9 days as of today, and so far not even spotting- so that's good, I guess.

I keep waking up in the middle of the night, often frightened from the whacked out crazy ass dreams I've been having. Usually a heavy sleeper, I wake up at least three to four times a night now - which is pretty damn irritating. Once I'm up, inevitably Michael starts to snore. It's like he's taunting me. And as of late, it's not been just a normal snore. Poor thing is still sick, and it's the kind of snore you need those giant earmuff looking protective earwear things that airline workers wear while they're guiding the planes on the ground during taxiing. [Is taxiing a word? It looks wrong, but if it's not a word, I just made it one.] It's so loud that he woke himself up two days ago and asked what in the world that awful noise was. *snicker* Or Alex (our 22 pound cat who sleeps on the bed) starts to snore, and to be honest, sometimes Alex is just as loud as Michael. And it's either get up and sleep in the other bedroom or strangle him, or the cat, or both... and well, orange jumpsuits don't really flatter my figure I'm afraid.

As a result, I've resorted to sleeping in the guest bedroom with the door closed.

I keep waking up without any clothes on, drenched with sweat. There was a time in my life that this meant I had likely had too much fun, of the variety you don't discuss with your parents. Unfortunately it's not the case now, I don't remember being this hot ever in my life... and all I can say is dear God it's going to be awful to be going through menopause. I guess I'm just getting so hot that I strip my clothes off in the middle of the night, as I usually find them in a damp heap on the floor next to my side of the bed.

And thankfully, the heating vent in the guest room is closed off, so the sheets there are cold.

I've had light cramps for the last two days, but not exactly like pms type cramps. Duller and more achy. It's difficult to explain. I'm not expecting to be pregnant, I don't think I'm pregnant, and I know that the progesterone is causing this crap... which makes it suck more I think.

Our mortgage was approved yesterday morning (sort of a surprise to me, as I didn't think that we'd be able to qualify for such a hefty chunk of change) and we signed all the loan paperwork today. It's nice to have that part done. We will close on the house the last day of this month. It's a little irritating because the house is actually in a different state than where we live now, even though it's maybe 10-15 minutes away, so we'll have to re-register the cars, get new driver's licenses, etc. etc.

Remember back last fall, when we planted close to 1,000 bulbs around our current abode? Yeah. About that. Not such a good move on my part. I'm leaving part of them, and I'm going to try to transplant some others this weekend into the new house's gardens. Who knows if it'll work, as it's supposed to be a record high today, and then snow tomorrow. As long as the ground isn't frozen, I'm going to give it a shot.

And of course, maybe a month ago I finally got rid of all the moving boxes from the basement.

Beta is on Tuesday, if I make it that long. A week from then, we close on the house.

It's no surprise that I've developed a nervous tick like Tweak from South Park.

The one where I vomit in my mouth a little...

Today is my great-grandmother's eighty fifth birthday. Crazy huh? That I have a living (and relatively young) great grandmother? She's starting to become more easily confused, and it broke my heart to speak to Granny today - because she was convinced that I had forgotten her birthday.

She gets confused and tends to mix up my stories with my friends, my mom, her friends, etc. It's all so complicated for Granny now to sort out. But she remembered to ask if there was any baby news. Sigh. No... no Gran, there's no baby news. She remembers to ask EVERY SINGLE GOD FORSAKEN TIME I ever talk to her. Oh - but she said, "there is! Lots of wonderful baby news. Everyone's having a baby it seems but you."

Um. thanks. I have two cousins (a brother and sister), neither of whom I'm particularly close too - both of whom have been married around four or five years. I should have seen it coming, I guess. He's a few months younger than me, and he and his wife had been trying for awhile and had two early miscarriages. His sister is about two years younger than us, and has been married a little longer.

They are both pregnant and due within a few weeks of each other. I'm happy for them, honestly. I think they will both make great parents. I'm just devastated that yet another example has hit close to home to remind me that I'm fucked up. I'm broken. I can't have kids and it kills me.

If it wasn't for the fact that she was so incredibly old, and fragile I would have flipped out when she told me that at least they're finally having babies since it seems you're incapable of it. All sorts of women have babies all the time, I don't know what the problem is with you two.

Gah. I started bawling on the phone and told her that I didn't want to talk about it. I've explained to her that we can't. I've explained the treatments, the tests, the heartache of waiting for so long.

It'll be so nice, to finally have a baby around, she said. I've waited so long for you to have a baby, and you're never going to.

Yum, that was the delicious taste of bile rising in the back of my throat.

I tried to change the subject, and when that didn't work, I hung up.

Coming soon... and gratuitous usage of CAPS

Yesterday morning we drove over to the "new" neighborhood to try to get a feel for how it's structured, as to be quite honest, even though his mom's lived in that house since '92, we never really paid much attention to the neighborhood as somewhere we'd live ourselves.

One of the best elementary schools in the city is literally a block away. The yards are all tidy and people were out walking their dogs en masse. And - cleaning up after them! There are a number of highly rated hospitals within a five minute drive. And a really great coffee shop. And the highway is just minutes away... but it's secluded and no traffic at all in the actual neighborhood... and there's an enormous all organic vegetable garden a half block away.

We decided to drive to Nordstrom's (a less than 10 minute drive!) for me to look for a new pair of shoes and Michael wanted some more Zirh shaving cream (this stuff is heavenly good - the menfolk in your life need it trust me. Even my macho Texan republican father uses it - although he said it's a little "girly"). As we're making small talk with the cashier I said something to the effect of how surprised I was that they were so much cheaper than Sephora (where I *sigh* used to buy his Zirh stuff for him). She said, "oh well, you know they're opening a new Sephora in the mall."

I embarassed the hell out of myself and half-screamed, half-screeched:

What? What? WHAT? REALLY?!?!?!?!

If it wasn't for the vaginal progesterone pills, I would have sworn that well, um, that I had just made a rather indelicate mess in my knickers upon hearing the news.

I raced out of the store, with Michael roaring laughing on my heels to verify that it is indeed coming.

Halfway through the mall, there was the sign, in all it's glory.

Sephora. Coming soon.

(and the heavens opened, and angels sang, and there was much rejoicing).

[Begin random talk about my box - I was warned that using prometrium as a vaginal suppository could be a little er, messy. And with 600 mg. a day of it - all I can say is ew. The 200 mg. pill in the morning is going to have to be oral. The 400 mg at night I'm administering vaginally because it's supposed to be more readily absorbed where it's needed or something. All I can say is that there is justifiable reason for my husband to have nicknamed me Peanut Puss. And I'm really hoping that peanut oil comes out of my favorite flannel pjs - because, damn it - they have SMORES on them. And smores don't need added peanut oil.

And 600 mg a day of progeterone is making my boobs hurt. Achingly swollen and hurting, and it's only been 4 days of it. Of course, while on progesterone supplementation last time, I only made it 8 days before the bleeding started, so who knows how long this will last. End of box talk]
The Sephora news coupled with the fact that his alma mater beat their biggest rival in basketball yesterday for the first time in THIRTY-ONE match-ups and at an away game no less, well, we're just sort of floored - and not entirely sure that yesterday did in fact even occur.

We went out to have a beer to celebrate (a John Courage/Guinness half and half for me - quite tasty I highly suggest it) - and our waiter was the younger brother of someone in my graduating class in high school. Which wouldn't be a big deal, but I went to high school um, NINE HOURS away by car. What an incredibly small world.

Mom (my MIL) and David have made an offer on the house they want to buy, and are expecting a counter offer, which they will likely agree to. They're asking for an expedited closing date of Feb. 1. Which means that we'll be moving in March or April at the latest into the new house.

I'm headed off to look at paint samples and kitchen island specs for MY NEW HOUSE.

And the delurking bit? Um, WOW. I don't think I've ever had that many comments (and perhaps not in the first uh, six months I was blogging total). Thank you to the "repeat customers" and those of you who are a little more new and just popped in to say hi.

Wow. That was a lot of caps. Er, sorry about that.

Delurking, Pimping, Oversexed and a World without Sephora.

First, courtesy of the brilliantly funny and ravishingly beautiful Statia*, let me remind you that it's delurking week.

If you come by often (or if this is even your first time) feel free to stop by in the comments and say hi. Tell me about yourself. What to say, you may ask. Who cares. Tell me what you like, what irritates you... prattle on about what you had for breakfast if there's nothing else to say. Or just say "hi."

I remember when I was first blogging that it was so wonderful when I would get the odd comment. It was a giant relief to know that someone "got it" or at least was taking time to read. I promise, I don't bite... well, not very hard, unless you're into that kind of thing.

*Ahem, where was I* oh. right.

Next item on the agenda: Pimping. If you've got a blog (and even if I know about it, please pimp yourself out in the comments). There are a lot of relative newcomers that I am just now getting to know, and I love to support as many people as I can. So your blog's not about infertility? Believe it or not, I do have interests other than trying to get knocked up. And, I am actually going to try to update my blogroll aside from just the link to the giant blogroll. I know, I know... the four horsemen can't be too far behind right?

And feel free to place your pin on the guestmap. Link is to the right.

Ahh, that brings me now to the delicate topic of ... oversexed. I am now officially tired of sex, which is sad. Michael's quite uh, adept at meeting my needs, but this every day sometimes mutliple times a day business this week has left me tired of the entire process. Exhausted even - and slightly chafed and bowlegged. This was fine and dandy when we were dating or even the first year we were married - but we've been together too long for it now and I have to say that this morning was while, um, fulfilling there were undercurrents of bitterness on both of our parts. Again? Do we have to? He told me that if I was expecting it anymore this week I'd better come home with an Rx from the RE.

*Now about Statia.

Aside from being sickeningly beautiful and sweet, and quite funny - she's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet (except that I haven't exactly, but anyway... trust me on this). We were chatting a few weeks ago and I was bitching that I had just dropped my compact and my pressed powder had shattered into well, powder and dusted my entryway with what looked like anthrax (yeah, I'm that ghostly white). The only place I've been able to find a powder that doesn't irritate my skin or make me look like a geisha is at Sephora, which I don't have access to anymore because I LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WILDERNESS FAR FAR FROM CIVILIZATION (or at least from Sephora). The particular shade I have is of course discontinued, or "temporarily out of stock" as they like to cheekily say online. I was beyond delighted when a week later I opened my mail to find a package from her and inside the bubblewrap I found a brand new compact. She had to go to three Sephoras to find one...

She's a gem. An absolute gem.

Snowfall

This morning I was late getting the *ahem* specimen into the doctor's office because my windshield was iced over. It's been so long since I've lived anywhere where the cold is a factor in the weather that to be honest, I didn't remember how to quickly defrost the window. In case you're wondering, using your windshield wiper fluid is NOT the way to do it. That caused the ice to not only cake on - but blister up in angry frozen cracks. I remembered that I bought a cheesy can of Ice-Off (or something to that effect) and ran in the house to get it.

I actually did the insemination alone today, because I was just going to drop off the specimen, and then Michael was going to meet me for my appointment at 10:15. Only, when I got there, they said that they were just going to go ahead and do it then.

So, it was just me, my Morgan Freeman look alike doc and my monkey socks (Michael picked me out a "good luck" pair the other day that have monkey waiters with skyscrapers and apples on them).

So if I get pregnant, my husband will have been half way across town at the time. Hmpf.

There was quite a bit of cramping this time, that I didn't have before.

The doctor said if it doesn't work this time that he doesn't see the point in wasting any more time and money on IUIs and that we should just proceed with IVF (and ICSI if necessary).

I thought it would be easier than this. I don't know that I'm ready for that.

I just wish that we could have an "oops" - or at least the possibility of it.

The skies are grey and it's supposed to snow 4 inches today. I wish I was more hopeful about this. I wish I didn't have to be.

Will you still need me, will you still feed me ...

Yesterday was Liz's (Michael's mother) 64th birthday and we went over to her house to pick her up for dinner. When we got there she was positively giddy and told me to come into the bathroom with her for a second that she wanted to tell me something. I walked into the downstairs bathroom, and she shut the door, told me to turn away from her and close my eyes.

Oh god. I thought - she's going to show me that she's had some more "work" done. As I braced myself for the thought of seeing my MIL unclothed I felt her fiddling with my scarf, and started laughing - asking her what the hell she was doing.

She told me to open my eyes and turn around. Around my neck was a beautiful omega necklace with bezel set diamonds - the one piece of her jewelry that I actually liked. [She's quite the jewelry maven, and could easily put DeBeers out of business if she started parsing out what's in her jewelry cabinet - but her tastes and mine tend to diverge greatly when it comes to jewelry].

She started crying and said - "I want you to have this... I want you to know how happy I am that you're my daughter now." Tears welled up in my eyes. She smiled and said "Honey... this is babkes. You just wait.... I've got some big news for you."

She and David have just completed (within the last two months) refinishing their entire house from top to bottom. Brand new custom made cabinetry, landscaping, new hardwood floors, new ceramic tile, etc. The entire house is practically brand spanking new from windows to heating and cooling system to the fireplace being refinished.

Michael and I have been scrimping and saving for a downpayment for a house, and have been putting aside a lot of trips and other frivolous things because we wanted to put everything into a downpayment.

We don't have to anymore.

His mom is buying another house with a bedroom on the first floor (in this house the bedrooms are all upstairs) because her knees are bad and she's struggling getting up the stairs.

They want to sell us their house - no downpayment... just make the mortgage payments (and the mortgage is fixed at around 4% on a fifteen year note) and the homeowners association maintenance fees. The ungodly amount that they sunk into the house in improvements in the last year - they don't care about recouping. Essentially they would be transferring all of their equity in the house to us with no strings attached.

This is a much bigger house than we would qualify for right now mortgage wise. It's a 3-2 1/2 with a 2+ car garage, a formal dining room, enormous kitchen, and a full partially finished basement. The great room is two stories - and there is a small balcony from the master bedroom that overlooks the great room. The master bedroom has a dressing room attached, and there are walk in closets in every single room.

It's in a phenomenal school district and on a cul de sac. We love the floor plan, and it's something that honestly, we couldn't afford right now in that neighborhood. The room that now serves as David's office would be the perfect size for a nursery. The master bedroom is bigger than our entire upstairs right now.

I cried, because I simply didn't know what to say. It's obviously contingent upon her finding another house - but she's found one in the neighborhood that they're going to look at this afternoon, which is a little bigger and has a master bedroom on the first floor. And it's empty - and the sellers are hoping to make a deal quickly.

Last night after I triggered I felt such a sense of peace and excitement. (Well after I bent the first needle in my leg and had to remove it in a bloody mess that I think was my "residency" for Google School of Medicine)

And last night, I had a dream of a baby boy ambling up the stairs in that house to his room. His laughter reverberated off the walls and filled my heart with such joy. Our baby in our house.

The cycle that will never end....

Well, I've been on shots now for eight days. Another day, another go with the wand monkey. After looking things over - she said, well - I guess I'll see you again on Monday.

She said "You just can't seem to get enough of us."

Bah!

Endometrial lining is at an 11 now. with a notation of "dlb" circled (which I have to admit that I don't know what means... I'm assuming it means "double"? the options were "dlb" "partial dlb" or "single." and the sonographer circled dlb) - Any info on that?

On the left, we have three follies at 14.

On the right, there's a follicle at 15 and another at 11.

My fasting insulin level was a 5.2. My fasting glucose level was a 91. I have no idea what either of those mean - so if you have any info or references to sites where I could check it - please let me know.

E2 today is a 357. What kind of mishigas is that?!?!?!

I'm to shoot up 150 ius tonight, 150 ius Sat. and then trigger on Sunday night at 10. Insemination will be Tuesday morning.

Assuming a 2mm a day growth pattern per follicle - that would leave on the left three at 20-22 and on the right - one at 21-23 and one at around 19. That's five. Five is good. Of course - knowing my whacked out body who knows what might pop in between now and then.

God I hope this works. I really hope this works.

Obstinate ovaries and other tricks of the trade

Whenever I get very stressed out, I often find myself humming or occasionally belting out Amazing Grace. Perhaps it is a vestige of growing up in the Southern Baptist church - my offkey voice lilting up from the choir loft during Sunday church. [Seriously - I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it] While I no longer associate with any organized religion, I still find myself singing along with hymns from time to time.

Skirt, skivvies and shoes shed... I hopped up on the sonographer's table this morning and she searched for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time for my errant ovaries. Then as she was taking the first images, the damn printer ran out of paper - so she leaned forward to get another roll of the sonography image paper with her left hand - with her right shoving the dildocam up through my tonsils while I quietly hummed along to Amazing Grace under my breath. I didn't realize that deep thrusting was part of the package.

After she finagled the dildocam far enough back we have follicles as follows:

Left: 14, 12, and 11.
Right: 11, 8 and 8.

*lazy bastards! Grow will you?!?!?!*

Endometrial lining is at a 10.

E2 is at a measly 252. I'm going to have to head back in tomorrow a.m. for another round with the dildocam. FUCK.

I will definitely not be ready by tomorrow for an insemination - even given that I accidentally took 200 ius of follistim night before last instead of the 150 prescribed. Don't ask - it was just me being stupid and tired.

So now we wait, as such is my lot in life. Depending on my e2 levels today - we'll figure out what to do over the weekend.

Forty-two years ago today Liz and Don were in the hospital cradling their newborn son... examining tiny fingers - counting tiny toes. He is the greatest partner I could have ever hoped for, and the best friend I've ever had. He's been there for me through some of the roughest and hardest points in my life - always supportive, always loving. For the last four years, we have built a life together and have yearned to have a child for much of that time. I hope that we're soon able to cradle our child in our arms.

I still hope.

If I was kidding you I'd be wearing a fez and no pants.

Well, the tinkering is not going so well.

(and edited because the medicinally "improved" April is not so good at math)

My day 3 levels were E2 at 53 and the FSH was at 5.8.

I've now taken 100iu of Follistim for five days, and my E2 levels this morning (day 8 if you're counting) were a whopping 94. That's right - a measly 94. Endo is at a 9 already, and the left ovary had two follicles - one 8 and 12. The right has two at 8.

The fasting glucose and insulin (they did both) came out "just fine" - so no metformin for now - just the .25 mg of dexamethasone.

The doctor wants me to increase the dosage to 150 iu a night tonight and I'm due to come in for a scan again on Thursday. I'm a little upset because they told me to bring the HCG in at that time - as I may end up triggering (depending obviously on what my body does between now and then) Thursday morning, and then have the IUI on Friday afternoon. As in three days from now.

The problem is, as much as I love the people at the clinic and my doctor, he doesn't do insems on the weekends. That's fine - except my body isn't on a 5 day workweek. I don't think that I'm going to be ready by then... and they're afraid if I continue to stim through the weekend that I'll end up like I did before - overstimmed and sitting out another cycle or two.

The doctor said that there appears that my body has a certain core level that it has to reach and then it skyrockets out of control.

Assuming a 2 mm growth pattern by Friday I'll be at (hypothetically speaking of course) one 18 mm and three at 14. By monday it would be one at 24 , and three at 20 - and who knows what else may end up hopping up between now and then.

Oh - and I have a nasty upper respiratory tract infection. The doctor gave me an emergency breathing treatment this afternoon and then I'm on 1500 mg. a day of amoxicillin to try to knock it out. They wanted to put me on Cipro - but said it wasn't safe for me to take if we were trying to conceive.

I was so sick I didn't even go into work today - and I'm not sure I'm going in tomorrow. Not being able to breathe is horrible.

I'm hoping they let me wait until Monday - because having just one will make this entire process basically irrelevant.