Baby, Baby, Baby: 22 Week Update...

Meet the baby... Isn't she cute? 

I've been really loving the whole pregnancy thing recently, minus the increased sense of smell.  The cantaloupe Husband brought home is currently stinking up the entire refrigerator... I don't see how anyone eats something that smells so bad!

Regardless, being pregnant recently hasn't been bad at all.  The baby is moving a lot, especially late at night.  And sometimes I can feel her bumping around in there on the outside, which is good because finally Husband can get in on the action... that is, when she cooperates.  According to the baby books and, of course, the Internet the baby can recognize light and dark and can even hear sounds... pretty cool huh?

This week I experienced my first irrational meltdown that I'm positive was hormone fueled.  Of all things, a conversation with my mother about baby bedding was the culprit that left me crying, off and on, for a good hour.  Baby bedding!  Husband thought it was the funniest thing ever... he'd mention bedding and I'd break down and in between wiping tears and sucking snot, I'd say, "I don't know what is wrong with me... I know I sound crazy!" and he'd just laugh-- at me.

But luckily that meltdown did help me make up my mind (a mind that has been anything but easy to make up recently) and I think I'm a little closer to committing to a bedding set.  I've decided to quit fighting my instincts and just go with where the pink and green leads me.

Now, if I could just find a maternity bathing suit that doesn't look like a car cover, I'd be in business!

I'm Not Sure I'm Qualified to Answer That Question...

This morning I was watching an old re-run of "Designing Women."  It was the one where Quint, Mary Jo's son, was curious about where babies come from and that got me thinking... one day we will have to explain to Little No Name about how she came into being.

I imagine the conversation will go a little like this: "Well, Little No Name--you know you really need to pick a name for yourself by the way--when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much they take themselves down to the fertility doctor and he puts the baby in the mommy's stomach..."

Nursery 101...

So I'm ready to start tackling the baby's nursery.  For months now, that has been the last thing on my mind... and I was starting to worry that I'd never find the want or the motivation.  A few weeks ago, I felt like something was majorly wrong with me because my mother-in-law had picked out fabric and was talking about painting her crib for her house. Listening to her plans that she was making for my baby, well-- it made me want to turn inside out... just one more area that I'm defective in--parenting!  I knew I needed to get a crib and I knew that she would need certain items, but for the most part, I've been less than interested in turning the guest bedroom into a baby nursery.

I think this "lack of motivation" is a common problem with women who have undergone fertility treatments.  For months and years you start to think that you aren't meant to have babies and because of the nature of each cycle, you get your hopes up only to have them taken away-- and you have no physical way of controlling it... which is so frustrating.  So I think it is only natural that one's thought process tends to lean towards the idea of, "good things will be taken away from me" which creates a self-protecting mental construct:  Don't get too excited about this good thing because it may get taken away from you!

But I'm pressing forward and I'm finding myself increasingly interested in creating a nursery for the baby.  Here's what I do know:

1) I do not want to paint the nursery room.  Our house is brand new and the paint color in that room is neutral.  I was talking with my contractor over the holiday and he suggested keeping the color as is and when the baby is older and the house is older, painting then as she goes from baby to toddler.

2) I have a built-in desk in the nursery room that I would like to use as either a changing table or an organizational area for assorted baby items.

3) I want the nursery to have an elcetic feel that does not neccessarily scream: BABY'S ROOM! when you walk the door... meaning, I want a collection of new and antique furniture and I plan to use broad range of colors, rather than design around a certain theme.

Knowing these three important factors, I also would like to steer clear of overly-girlie decorations.  But that is easier said than done, as I am naturally attracted to pinks and greens and frilly, girlie things.

I think the first step is to decide on a color palette that I really like, that the Husband can tolerate, and go from there.  I think if we were having a boy, I'd try really hard to put my influence into the room to keep it from being overly masculine.  Therefore, I think it is important to put some gender-neutral influences into the room so Husband is not completely left out.  Ideally, I'd like to take some of our interests and early influences and put these into the room. 

I really like the idea of putting wedding pictures in the room, maybe even a maternity session-- if we get around to that.  I have seen some really cool, and cheap, art installations that I'd also like to incoportate with sewing hoops, fabric and cheap picture frames.  I'd include pictures, but I'd like to avoid getting lost in Google Images and online bulletin boards... I did that most of last night.

But at least I've got a start...  and that is so much better than nothing.

And the Waiting Ends...

So week 20 sort of sneaked up on me.  And for the most part I was so distracted with the idea of purchasing a dining room suite, maternity shorts and an inflatable pool that I barely paid any attention at all to week 19.

Since being pregnant and feeling very sick almost everyone supportively told me that during the 2nd trimester I'd experince the "Honeymoon" phase of being pregnant.  I half-heartedly believed them... being as sick feeling as I was, I didn't think I'd ever start to feel normal again.  I remember my friend, who is about 10 weeks ahead of me, telling me that if she didn't have the ever-present baby bump, she'd not even feel pregnant.

I remember thinking, while she told me this too-good-to-be-true news, "Liar."  It seemed to me at the time, she had had it much better than me, so at best I'd probably start to feel mildly better--if at all.  But sometime around week 13 or so, things started to get better.  And I'm pleased to say that in the last three weeks I've not thrown up or been nausous or anything... and I feel so much better physically.  And sometimes, I even forget that there is a baby growing in my belly.

But yesterday we got confirmation and a rather visual reminder, that there is indeed a baby in there.  Yesterday was the anatomy ultrasound that would among other things, determine our baby's gender.  We are not the variety that wanted to wait to find out if we are having a boy or a girl.  After going through infertility, I don't think we are much on suspense.  I guess for normal couples that get pregnant easily and "I can get pregnant?" is never a question, then waiting just might be their cup of tea.  For us, those of us that spend months and years wondering... we learn to dislike the waiting and therefore when the ultrasound technician waved her wand to just the right spot, we wanted to know.

There would be no silly gender reveal party.  There would be no waiting.  So at 20 weeks and 1 day of being pregnant, yesterday we found out that we are having a... Girl! 

We both thought that we'd be having a boy.  Not that we were sold on a boy... again, after going through infertility, the goal is to have a healthy baby regardless of the gender.  But from the moment we embarked on the IVF journey, everything has been a boy.  The nurse and I would joke about the little guys on the monitoring screen when referring to my eggs.  When the embryos were replaced, again they were boys.... at least in my mind.  And from the moment we found out we were pregnant, the only thing that made sense to me was that we were going to have a boy.

All my stuffed animals were boys... Mr. Pillow, my oldest object and most important object that I'm unnaturally attached to, is a boy... 

So boy, was I wrong.

The girl is about 16 oz. in weight and is 19 weeks and 6 days along according to the technician.  We saw the right amount of toes and fingers and everything seems to be in working order, which is good to know...

In the meantime, besides waiting for my dining room suite to arrive, figuring out my new maternity "look" and trying to tan the baby bump in the blow-up pool I now get to start pulling together my nursery for the baby girl.

16 Weeks or so Pregnant and I'm Back at IT...

Having very little to say, due to being mentally exhausted from coordinating high stakes testing for about a be-zillion kids my writing fell to the wayside.

But now that all that testing and re-testing nonsense is behind me, I'm hoping to pick up where I left off.  A lot has happened in the last month or so. 

We have now entered the 2nd trimester.  And upon entering the 2nd trimester, my nausea, vomiting and general feelings of having the life sucked out of me seemed to have lifted.  I still have some major food adversions-- mainly onions, pork chops, and pork tenderloin.  As I type, I think I'm having a bad reaction to some McNuggets... so they may be added to the list too.

I've gained somewhere around 4 pounds... but I feel like I've gained a lot more than that.  My front is becoming much rounder and I'm sure people I run into are wondering the age old question that surrounds women in my age group:  "Is she pregnant or just getting fat?"

By the way, I'm really regreting the McNuggets.

I'm hoping that I'm going to be back to blogging a little more regularly.  I've felt a little guilty that I'm not documenting my thougths on this whole pregnancy thing.  So we will see how consistant I can be...

Normal?...

I've been a bad blogger these last few weeks... but as always I have plenty of excuses.  Excuses, although I don't find them attractive, are sometimes all we are left with.  Work is crazy busy.  Most days I come home and I don't know if I'm coming or going.  Exhaustion is my new normal.  I'm learning that it is impossible for me to do two big jobs successfully at the same time.  These days I'm wearing my Test Coordinator hat much more than my well-worn School Counselor hat.

But sometimes work can be a blessing, especially when you're waiting to find out what is going on with the tiny inhabitants inside your body.

Last week we went for our first official OB appointment at my regular doctor's office.  We graduated from specialists to normal-ole-normal--although I have felt nothing close to normal in more weeks than I care to count.

The appointment went well, I'm pleased to report.  We got our third ultrasound.  It was amazing to see what kind of changes had taken place in the last few weeks.  The tiny blob from a few ultrasounds back actually had a baby-like shape this time and surprisingly it was rather active, moving all about.

The good news was that the second baby that had us so worried, had in fact vanished as predicted.  All that remains is an empty sack that apparently will be absorbed by the growing baby. 

We are relieved that things seemed to have corrected itself.  Looking back I had numbed myself in a protective manner because in all honesty, I didn't exactly know what I was going to do if I had to undergo further testing and worry.  After going through so much already with all the infertility testing and procedures we endured this last year, I had nothing left...

Nothing left, and so far to go.  Not a good position to find yourself in... not in the least. 

We go back to the doctor in a couple of weeks.  I have to get a physical, which apparently is standard practice.  I'll probably get to find out my blood type-- something I've always wanted to know...  So exciting things are on the horizon. 

Hopefully I'll be able to share some pictures soon...  I'm just too lazy right now to go and scan something.  I hope you understand. :)

Waiting Around...

Today was our second OB visit with the RE.  We are officially 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant today and overall things are going well.  As of the moment I'm carrying twins.  Twin A is doing great and has been since last week's appointment. 

At today's appointment we got to measure the heartbeat which is a strong 138 beats.  The baby grew from 3mm to 9mm and overall the Dr. Park was really pleased, as were we.  And then there is Twin B.  Last week Twin B had no heartbeat and it's development was visibly behind Twin A.  Today, Twin B has a faint flicker of a heartbeat and is measuring about a week behind Twin A.  The doctor is still not convinced that Twin B is going to hang around as it's yolk sack is really large, which isn't a good thing.

Apparently, more common that not, there is a syndrome called "Vanishing Twin" and apparently we may experience this phenomenon in the next couple of weeks. 

I know it sounds strange, but at the moment I'm feeling a little more than removed from the situation, considering that at this moment both Twin A and Twin B live inside me.  For some reason it feels like they live in that little TV screen at the doctor's office. 

We have officially been released to my regular OB-Gyn and we won't see them for another 2 or 3 weeks.  I can tell Husband is worried to wait that long, not really knowing what is going on with Twin B.  They warned us that we'd feel strange going from weekly visits with the RE to monthly visits with the OB.

I'm looking at it from the position that we could go to the doctor everyday for the next week and still not know anything.  Sometimes time is the only way to get the answers we seek.  Twin B is developing slowly and that makes me think that something could be seriously wrong with that embryo and if that is the case, this is truly out of my hands and for once in my life, I'm not worried.  Nature will take it's course.

However, I am anxious to see what is going to happen and when... I'm hoping that when our OB appointment rolls around later in April, we know a little bit more...

Until then, I'm going to work on decorating the house...  you know-- wallpaper, fabric for furniture, rugs, etc.

And I Signed Up for This...

First of all, doctors can't count. Apparently I'm 7 weeks pregnant.  Last week at our 6 week visit with the RE, Dr. Park pointed out that I was officially 6 weeks and 2 days along. That was just about a week ago.  Husband was excited and later at McDonald's said to me, "Can't we just start telling people now?  I mean, you're 6 weeks pregnant.  That is almost two months!" 

Hold, wait.   I quickly asked him to rewind 6 weeks.  Were we pregnant six week ago?  No.  In fact, 6 weeks ago, a week ago we were just starting our IVF cycle.  So don't get so excited, okay.

Regardless, something else happened six weeks ago... well days before I hit the six week mark to more accurate.  Morning sickness.  I hesitate to call it that, seeing how morning sickness really isn't exclusive to the morning time. It can strike at any moment at any time for any reason whenever it feels like it.  When it first hit, I didn't really know what it was.  I didn't think it would hit this early for some reason.

The majority of what I have experienced has been nausea mixed with a healthy dose of heartburn.  And to be graphic, prolonged nausea makes my stomach breakdown, which can be just as bad as vomiting.

Today was the first day in a long time that I had very little complaint and part of me started to think that all this junk might just be behind me.  Wrong.  As I type I feel the nausea and heartburn igniting. 

This is all linked to my eating habits.  Apparently growing baby means having to eat all the time.  I've seriously considered asking for a feeding tube as I'm the type of person that eats two big meals a day and maybe a snack.  If I ever get hungry, in comes the nausea.  I have to eat literally every one to two hours and even then that is not a guarantee that the nausea will stay away... I did everything right today and I'm starting to deteriorate... (I think , it is hard to tell really)

Lately I've taken to eating breakfast, then a snack, followed by lunch.  If lunch is big enough I can make it to about 4:30 for a quick run through the drive-through for a snack or mini-supper followed by a small supper sometime later on.  Last night I was eating crackers at 1:00am because my stomach felt empty.  And an empty stomach can mean hours of laying around on the bathroom floor.

I eat defensively.  And I hate it.

Who knew that growing a person would be so draining?  I have to have an afternoon nap between mini-supper one and mini-supper two and then most nights I'm falling asleep on the couch by 10:30pm.

The toothbrush is a real bitch, mostly at night.  Last night, after getting a shower I brushed my teeth and then had to lay on the cool tile floor until the urge to up-chuck passed... wet hair and only wearing a towel.  It is a sad state of affairs... let me tell you.

And to think that a seven weeks ago we forked over a butt load of cash to actually get me in the position.  What were we thinking?

Everyone keeps telling me that this will pass and hopefully it will sooner than later.  I can take pain.  I can take torture.  Nausea is a whole different kind of story... I'm trying to hang in there.

I still can't believe that I willingly volunteered for this...

I'm Back...

Sorry for the absence folks... things have been a little hard to take these days.  It is not what you think though.  We actually got good news a little over two weeks ago from the blood tests.  For those of you familiar with the IVF process, you get to completely by-pass the whole pee on a stick thing (yea) and go straight to the blood test.

Our beta came back at a solid 300.  For a reference point, 25 is considered pregnant.  Then in two days we were to go back for more bloodwork.  That number (300) must double.  And double it did, actually it more than tripled and that was exactly what my RE wanted.

This week we go for pictures.  Sounds easy doesn't it?

But please let me assure you these last two weeks have been no cake-walk.... by no means. 

For months I've been focused on just getting a positive test.  Just a little pink line or a "congratulations, Emily!  It's positive" phone call.  That's it.  And now that we've got it, I'm at a total loss as to what to do next.

This past summer I became a walking-talking encyclopedia of reproductive information, studying nothing about pregnancy and what to expect after the pink line.

I didn't even have a plan of action for what to do once you get the pink line.  Because we did IVF, we didn't really get the luxury of keeping the news to ourselves for the first couple of weeks like other non-IVF couples.  My family knew what was going on.  His family, for the most part, knew what was going on.  Getting pregnant takes a village... and several doctors, nurses, gynecological tools, shots, microscopes, embryologists, scary procedures, and even scarier phone calls about cell division...

And after the news came out then I suddenly felt at odds-- like someone who had geared up for battle and unexpectedly won, knowing very little about what was to come next.  And angry!  It was nobodies business and I made it clear that this was not to be something we make a big deal about. Ever heard the word Miscarriage?  Ever heard the word Ectopic Pregnancy?  Blighted Ovum?  Molar Pregnancy?  So many things could go wrong and so many things are never a guarantee.  I'm an honest-to-goodness example of how things don't always turn out the way they are supposed to.  Wasn't the Clomid supposed to do the trick back last winter?  Wasn't the shots and perfectly timed interactions with the Husband supposed be just the ticket?

So I've learned to just be paranoid like my friend who is convinced that there are three black cars that follow his every move cautious. 

Husband's family didn't get the memo.  When they got the news they obviously never heard the part about "we aren't telling anyone" line.  And the rational side of me totally gets it.  It is a big deal.  Just five short years ago I was in their shoes when my favorite IVF'er finally got her Big Fat Positive.  I was ready to shout it from every roof-top.  But I also remember her reining us all back in... because it is a scary world out there.

However I have this irrational side of me.  The passive-aggressive side of me that should never be crossed.  The irrational, hormonal side that can't even sit through a Designing Women's re-run without tearing up feels robbed... a little bit violated... ignored.  How dare someone just go around spreading information that isn't supposed to be told!  I swear I really now understand how those silly 4th graders feel...

But I also think I now understand why people do unexpected things after stressful life-altering events or why they retreat from the world for a bit.  You've got to re-center.  Re-focus...

Infertility doesn't run in the Husband's family as far as I know.  They don't know about how the whole process really messes with your head.  That's why they talk so damned much.  But the odds are not in their favor-- 1 in 5 couples experiences infertility to some degree... and there are a lot of grandchildren over there....  I'm not saying, but I'm just saying it may not just be us!

So on this week we go for pictures and to verify that there is something going on in there...  this is my update.  Oh, and Zofran is my new best friend.  Nausea is a bitch and it making me really reevaluate why I tried so hard to get in this condition in the first place.

And just as a disclaimer:  we are still not telling anyone.... not that that matters to some people.  But if you are reading this you probably understand where I'm coming from.

Thanks for all the good wishes, prayers and positive thoughts!

It Feels Good to Feel Good...

I can't say that I've been real proud of myself the last few days.   I'm sure that the embryos in my uterus are pretty disappointed in me too.  I've been a little bit of a wreck-- an emotional wreck-- these days and all because I feel good.

I'm officially crazy.

I woke up Tuesday morning feeling great.  Rested.  Relaxed.  And I should have been because for the last few days all I did was sleep, lay around, lounge... but you know me.  Feeling good is a bad thing.

So I obsessed over how my pants were fitting a little loose and how I could walk around without feeling my ovaries sliding around on my insides.  I felt like such a fertility failure.  And then, even after a very relaxing acupuncture treatment, I still broke down and cried like a little girl.... all because I felt good.  You can't see me right now as I type but I'm shaking my own head at me.

But then I pulled myself together.  Today I called the doctor.  They told me that feeling good was okay.  It is good to feel good!

It really is too early to start this mess.

Continue to send happy thoughts our way.

Rolling on the Rolling Coaster...

If you were a fly on our wall, you'd think I'm sick.  I've done nothing but lay around the house for the sake of the two embryos that were implanted Sunday morning.  Doctor's orders... two days of rest.

Yesterday also marked my entry into the emotional roller coaster that is IVF.  The embryologist that performed the transfer had a heavy Asian accent and neither me nor the Husband could hardly understand her.  She told us, I think, that we had two really nice embryos to transfer, one being very good... and possibly one to freeze tomorrow.

One?  What happened to Friday's report that everything was going great?  My heart sunk... and then I started to obsess and worry that these two little guys that were being left under by supervision were not going to make it... because let's be honest, I have no idea how to be a normal person and just relax and go with the flow.

Regardless, I had to suck it up and before I knew it, the little guys were safely in my uterus.  I think the Husband has a whole new respect for what women go through with gynecological tools...

Then today, while I was laying in the bed feeling sorry for myself, worried that we'd have to go through all the medication and surgery again... the lab called.  The embryologist that I had been working with all last week called and said that they were going to freeze 5 embryos today!

Suddenly much of the pressure I had been putting on myself was lifted.... relief.  Not that this changes anything really, but for whatever reason, it makes me feel less stressed-- a little less crazy and a lot less overwhelmed.

Continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers...  we definitely need them!

We are a Go...

We are a go for Sunday's Egg Transfer.  The lab called this morning.  The egg babies are developing safely in their little incubator.  Our numbers have fallen from 19 to 18 and there are a few that are a little behind in their development, but that doesn't mean that they can't catch up.  And because things are looking positive, we are get to go forward with the more favorable 5 day transfer.

Please keep us in your prayers and thoughts.... we sure could use them!

Egg Round Up (Surviving the Egg Retrival)...

Tuesday was a really tough morning for me.  As cool as I had been about having my eggs sucked out of my lady parts, Tuesday morning I lost all my nerve.  The last thing I wanted to have done to me Tuesday morning was to have this procedure.  I was even more less than thrilled when the cute little nurses' aid pulled me into the surgical suite bathroom so I could change into a hospital gown, booties and a hair net.

It was bad enough that I was about to be violated, but on top of it all it was going to happen in an ill fitting gown and ridiculous hat!  It was just too much...

The last time I had any sort of procedure done, my oral surgeon had been kind enough to put me on nerve pills.  But nerve pills are probably not good for ovaries or the follicles that live in them so I didn't dare ask.  But suddenly I couldn't stop my legs from shaking.  I could not speak in a normal sounding voice because I was surely going to burst out into tears at any second.  The lady on the other side of the curtain was recovering from some sort of surgery and was moaning... loudly.  I kept thinking, in a little bit, that is going to be me... miserable and in pain.

Then it was time.  They had the Husband go back to the waiting room.  The nurse had me by the hand and we were heading to the cold room where all the action was going to happen.

They had me lie down.  They hung the IV bag and started injecting the medicine that would make me sleep.  At that moment I looked down and saw the white medicine being injected and my mind went right to Michael Jackson and I started to laugh.  The nurse said, "Oh, don't cry" and I replied, "I'm not cryinging, I'm laughing." 

And then I was back in the recovery area.  The Husband was there and the nurse was asking me to drink apple juice and I felt so reliefed that it was over.  I felt surprisingly good... like I had slept for days and all of a sudden I was talking about Michael Jackson.  I completely understand why he had Dr. Murray hook him up with all those IV medications.  They are good stuff.

Sure I was a little crampy and my mouth was completely dry... but things were looking up.  I no longer had the ridiculous hair net on and I was finished with the procedure.  Woo Hoo!

According to the husband I did a lot of talking... I remember talking about Michael Jackson and possibly Whitney Houston.  But I defiantely remember asking about how many eggs we harvested.  No one could tell me at first.  The nurse I came back and told me 18.  Somewhere along the way they must have miscounted because when the lab called the number grew to 20.

But 18 or 20 I was thrilled.  Thrilled that it was over... thrilled that I lived... thrilled that I wasn't laying in a bed moaning and groaning like that other lady.

On Wednesday, when the lab called and confirmed that it was 20 eggs, not 18, they also confirmed that all 20 were mature and all but one fertilized.  In my shock, I didn't ask how they fertilized them.  I didn't ask why I was told 18 and not 20 and I certainly didn't ask what all this meant.  Of course, now I'm full of questions and of course, we are back to our waiting game.  Tomorrow is a tentative transfer.  Because things were looking positive, we may be pushed to a Sunday transfer and that is fine with me.

I'm a little overstimulated from all the medication and the super-ovulation... so I'd like a couple more days to deflate, drink the Gatorade and rest...  sounds like a plan.

And I sure to do love a good plan.

Take it easy Y'all...

Pre-Egg Retrival Pitty Party...

So maybe being hepped up on hormone shots, watching Entertainment Tonight's in-depth coverage of Whitney Houston's funneral coming home ceremony is not such a good idea the night before an egg retrival surgery.

I'm a little bit in a egg retrival funk.  I'm going to blame it on nerves... and sleep depreviation...and my friend, Stress.  Where is the at-home acupuncture kit when you really need it?  My daddy use to tell me to never marry a farmer.  Who knew he was right-- I should have married an acupuncturist.  Then I could be sitting here on the couch with tiny needles sticking out of my forehead, hepped up on hormone shots watching Whitney Houston's funneral coverage and feeling more calm about being violated tomorrow morning and not as sad that Kevin Costner isn't a close, personal friend.  He seems like the nicest guy, doesn't he?

But the Husband is much funnier than any acpuncturist I've ever met and a sense of humor is really important when you are going through all this infertility junk. 

All I know is that I'm having a little pre-egg retrival pitty party. Poor Whitney.  Poor Me.  And for good measure, poor Michael Jackson. 

I know, I'm being a little dramatic... of course having the potential to create a baby is much better than being dead... but tomorrow I'm going to have a needle injected into a very sensative area to suck out a bunch of eggs that I worked very hard to create and I don't think Whitney is... nor MJ for that matter.

The sensible side of me knows that this will all be over before I know it.  So suck it up Emily!  Soon I'll be home resting in my super comfy bed and watching re-runs of Designing Women and the Gilmore Girls.

Send some good thoughts and prayers my way this week.  I'm going to be needing them...

Do Your Ovaries Hang Low? Do They Wobble To and Fro? ...

Not that I ever thought that I was big Bertha or something or other, but I never saw myself as especially small.  The evidence states otherwise.  I'm five foot tall.  I wear a petite 00 in pants, an XS or XXS (if I can find it) in shirts, preferably petite.  The Husband has stated on numerous occasions that he will never buy me underwear because he says people will think he is a child molester.  The last time I weighed I didn't break the 100 pound mark. 

But even with all the facts staring back at me in the mirror, I have never once felt that I was remarkably small.

My ovaries have since changed my mind, and recently I might add.  Ovaries should be roughly the size of a walnut.  The uterus, by comparison is a little bit larger.  Today, on the ultrasound screen, my ovaries were double the size of my uterus and had long left the cute walnut stage, looking a lot more huge that cute.  I can feel my ovaries when I cross my legs, when I walk down the hall at work, or when I stand up or sit down. 

On a daily, normal basis I doubt many people ever notice their organs...  excepting the one 3rd grader who looked at me in the hallway yesterday and said, "My spleen hurts."  But excepting that one 3rd grader with the hurting spleen, I doubt many people walk down the hallway at work thinking, "Man, my liver sure does seem swollen and tender today."  I think I walk too hard...

I reported my feelings of feeling my ovaries to the nurse today at my monitoring visit.  I love the nurse by the way, she looks sort of like Jenelle's mom on Teen Mom 2, but much more rested and much less angry.  The nurse said because I was so tiny, I'd probably notice my enlarged ovaries more than some, stating that I just don't have as much room as others.

And to think that I used to brag about having a short torso. 

I really did.  I thought it was a bonus since I wasn't going to be tall, at least I had long legs for a shorty.

Sick. 

As for my monitoring visit:  Things are looking good.  My follicles are looking very uniform, which means, I'm assuming, that all the little guys caught up to the bigger guys.  My estrogen level has tripled in the last three days, which they assure me is wonderful.  However, we will be remaining at the larger dose of drugs.  Sigh....

We also are predicting the egg retrieval procedure sometime during the first part of the week.  I guess we will know more when I go back in two days for more monitoring.

Happy Weekend Y'all!

Follicles are your Friends...

Today was my first monitoring appointment.  Currently around 22 little follicles are living in my ovaries.  Only a few were measured and of the few that were measured, the largest one is a 12.  I'm not sure of the increment, I'm assuming millimeters.  This is completely new to me... mega egg production.  Months ago when we started down this path the doctors having been trying to keep my production of follicles down to three.

The nurse complimented me, "You have wonderful ovaries."  That compliment, strange as it is, makes a girl feel real good. 

After my monitoring appointment and all the blood work I made my way down to acupuncture.  I really love acupuncture.  It is probably one of the most relaxing things I've ever done-- and this coming from a person that use to have monthly appointments at the spa.

Acupuncture is weird, but truly wonderful all at the same time and is defiantely one of the biggest bright spots in all this infertility junk.

Tonight we are upping our dose of medication, even though my estrogen levels are high-- like over 500.  I go back in two days to see what's what.

At this point I'm not really noticing too many changes internally, or externally.  If I sit and think about it, I feel little more prickly and heavy, if that makes sense, where my ovaries live.  But that is only if I sit still and think about it.  I'm trying not to sit and think about it.

I'm also not trying to stress over work... I'm missing a lot of work, which I hate.  I've got the sick leave time, I just hate to use up my time.  I'm a time hoarder from way back.

So, as my acupuncturist says, "treat your long deep breaths as a massage for the inside of your body."  I'm going to breath through my stress... hopefully improve my circulation and get fluids moving to where they need to be... and take a little rest, me and my 22 follicles friends.

Prodded? Wasn't that Pokey's Friend?...

We have started shots.  A little painful, the shots are, but then we've already decided that I'm a masochist, so don't feel too bad for me.  It is really not the shot that hurts.  At this point, I'm an old pro at needles.  Desperate as it appears and is to be injected with a sharp hollow instrument repeatedly, I think it is more of the thickness of the solution being injected into my belly fat that causes the discomfort. 

It is really desperate, don't you think?  Anyone that is willing to be injected or willing to inject themselves is in a bad way, regardless of how cool they play it.  Diabetics need the insulin to survive.  Cancer patients welcome with a more than healthy amount of dread the IV bag full of life-saving and cell-killing chemo.  Illegal drug users willingly and excitedly inject any vein they can muster just to feel different, better and to avoid the feelings withdrawal... and then there are people like me who opt to be injected and poked and prodded all with the hopes that this potion and this treatment will work...  It sure sounds desperate when I put it that way, doesn't it?

About a week ago we got our large shipment of fertility drugs from the fancy IVF pharmacy located somewhere in New Jersey.  Each night Husband mixes three vials of medicine into one CC syringe.  I swipe the area with an alcohol swab while pinching up as much stomach area as I can.  I've found that holding the area, pinched up as much as possible, makes it hurt less and also causes less bruising.  For a long while I'd only let Husband inject me if I was laying down on the couch.  Now, after several goes at injections, I stand there and take it.  Laying down doesn't take away the unpleasantness of the whole experience.  I've read blogs and message boards where other infertiles mentioned using ice to numb the area being shot up... we've never tried it, but I'm sure if you are very pain sensitive, it might help.

Through this all, I've learned that I'm not very pain sensitive.  I may look frail, but in all actuality, I'm pretty tough.  Heaven help the women with infertility problems if she is pain sensitive or at least needle phobic (having not been through the egg retrevial process, I may find it horribly uncomfortable and painful).

Two weeks ago when we first started down the IVF route we, meaning myself and Husband, had to get a large amount of blood work done.  At this point I'm used to the blood letting... and when the nurse told us that we'd get to go ahead and get it over with that day, I was happy.  Husband's leg just started shaking.... harder. 

I didn't flinch when the nurse pulled out six vials (three big, three little).  I didn't get pale when she wrapped the rubber strap around my arm.  I didn't get that hot, sweaty feeling when she told me to make a fist.  I don't watch the blood drawing from my own arm, just like I don't watch Husband when he sticks the needles into my flesh,  but I don't get panicky about the whole process either... not anymore.

My other half, on the other hand, doesn't do so well with the blood drawing.  He was pale and shaky and had to get water to drink after the letting was over.  The entire time she was drawing my blood she was asking him if he was okay.  Did he feel alright?  Did he need to lay down?  I found it quiet humorous...

We decided that I'm the man... those where his words to me after I had sailed through the whole process without much complaint:  "You're the Man, Emily." 

In his defense... he wasn't prepared for having to get blood drawn, nor did she use the arm he normally uses for this sort of procedure, and I get blood drawn all the time thanks to all the fertility medication that we've been injecting for the last 6 months or so. 

I go back to the doctor tomorrow to see if the medication is making lots of little follicles...  if we are on track, behind or ahead.  I probably will get more blood drawn tomorrow... and hopefully know more about what is in store!

And before I forget, I hope you are having a good Valentine's Day :)

Beyond Help...

Today as I was writing another check to the fertility doctor's office for another ungodly amount and I found myself struggling with my pocketbook.  As I struggled, trying to get my wallet back into my bag I said aloud, "I hate this bag."  The check-out lady smiled at me, knowingly... who hasn't struggled with their pocketbook from time to time?
But then is occurred to me, if I really hate this bag, then why have I been carrying this bag for more than a year?  Maybe two years?  Could it have been that long?  I really do hate that bag... sometimes. 

Sure, it is pretty... Nice, metallic leather with plenty of storage space... but I swear this bag has taken years off my life.  I'm always loosing keys and money and lip balm in it's many compartments. I think at least once a day I find myself looking for something panicked that I've lost something important, only to find it hiding deep inside one of the many pockets.

But for years-- well, at least 12 months-- I've been toting this bag around, proudly.  Occasionally I'd catch a glimpse of myself carrying it and see its subtle metallic leather shimmer in the reflective surface of the automatic doors at the Target and then I'd forget how much trouble this bag really is.  It is a smart, sophisticated bag. 

But as I stood at the check-out at the fertility doctor's office, struggling with the bag, I blurted out, "You know I'm such a masochist... which is why I'm here all the time."

I think I might be beyond help.

Thinking back on it, I've always been one of those people that felt like something was working if it burned or stinged.  I'd go for chemical peels and complain to the facialist if it wasn't burning.  I wear my retainer at night, even though it hurts because the pain tells me that something is working!  What if I really am a masochist?

I'm gladly signing up for painful medical procedures and I'm barely complaining about it.  I have the Husband stab me with needles over and over... subject myself to early morning appointments and face rush hour traffic all with the end in mind.  Now we are in the big leagues of infertility and again, I'm facing it all with the end in mind... with a smile on my face.

Maybe I am a little bit of a masochist... but maybe all women are.  After all, most women subject themselves to motherhood at some point, most of which involves pregnancy and pregnancy results in misshapen bodies, weight gain, stretch marks, big bulging leg veins, and ultimately a painful birthing experience.

So maybe it's not just me... an even if I'm a masochist, I feel better knowing I'm never alone!

Blah. Blah. Blogging...

As promised here is a little IVF update, coming your way.  It is a little past due, my update, which I will explain. 

In a nut shell, two weeks ago we met with my doctor who sort of talked us through the procedure, the up's, the down's... the risks.  Then this week we got to meet with the nurse for our education class where she talked us through the medications and more of the procedure... the up's, the down's... the risks.  Sounds negative, but I really felt positive after each of these meetings.  My doctors and nurses are very supportive, funny, and compassionate individuals. 

In another two weeks, give or take, if things go as planned, in two Saturdays time we will be back to injecting medication, just as much higher doses than ever before.  It's a little scary... not so much the injections, just the higher doses.

The part that sticks out the most is that the nurse said I remind her of Sally Field.  I've never been compared to a famous person before...   You remember back when AOL was like the only way to access the Internet and people would send those chain survey emails out where you would fill in personal answers to questions?  I used to love those things... I could spend hours filling them out.  Probably because I was 14 and silly and very self-centered.

Regardless, they'd always ask some sort of questions like:  if your life was to be made into a movie, what movie star would play you?  I never knew how to answer that questions-- I never thought I looked like anyone famous... I think I look like some family members.. but you know what I mean.  Actually, I thought it was strange when someone could answer that question.  I know Newt didn't have that problem the other day with the whole Brad Pitt thing... but I just always thought it strange.  Anyway...  now, according to the nurse, I should have been putting "Sally Field" into the email. 

As for the reason for my long break in blogging... back in December my boss sent out an email (not the fun survey email wanting to know my favorite color, food, and jean brand) asking us to consider working several Saturdays in the new year to learn about a new instructional method.  We'd be compensated for our time, and being a little money starved I signed on...

I signed on thinking, how bad can it be?  Last Saturday was our first in the series of 4 Saturdays... and to my surprise, the training was good.  Very informative.  Very relavent.  And the time flew by.  Before I knew it, I was at home catching some Z's in a nice Saturday afternoon nap. 

And then Sunday flew by.  Fast.  Then it was Monday morning and I was feeling a little bit like I never left or had a break or had some down time.  Guess what?

I got to work this Saturday too!

What's that movie with the guy who talks about how all work and no play makes him go crazy?  It doesn't matter really, the point is... I'm starting to feel like him.  All work and no down time makes me a very dark and twisty individual.

I've not been a mood to write.  And the only reason it is happening now is because my poor mother listened to me vent for about an hour and thirty minutes this afternoon over supper. 

The bright side, I think I can talk the Husband into being Smokey and the Bandit for Halloween and my Very Scary 30th Birthday party this year!  What ya think about that!

I Was Right, So Why Am I Not Happy About IT?...

In two weeks we go for our IVF consultation with my doctor. My gut was right.  Being right all the time is such a burden...  Soon there will be no turning back and part of me is excited and another part of me is scared to death.  After the consultation with my doctor, the following week we will take part in an individualized Nurse Education meeting where we will get a step-by-step, day-by-day guide to "what to expect while you are trying to expect."

To be honest... I have no idea what to expect.  Life is never what you think it is going to be.  Lately I keep thinking back to a conversation I had with one of my co-workers a little over 4 years ago... maybe 5 years ago.

It was winter and I was in the middle of planning my wedding.  She was just finishing her first and final IVF round after 7 years of treatment.  I prayed like never before that this procedure would work.  And it did.  Twins!  And I remember being so excited for her.  I remember asking her questions all about the procedures and how she felt and I remember in the back of my mind thinking, "gosh, she is so lucky to have gone through IVF and gotten twins!" 

At the time I could never have imagined wanting to actually carry children, more-less doing it more than once.  I think it is so odd that I find myself in this position now.  Life is never what you think it is going to be.

In the meantime I'm distracting myself with a new toy.  I used some of my Christmas money from my grandmother to purchase a Shark Steam Mop this weekend.  It is amazing and I recommend everyone go get one, especially if you have lots of hard surfaces like us!  You apparently can use it on carpet and that will probably be the next thing I try out as we already have a high traffic spot in our room leading into our master bath.  You'd think that we live in our bathroom!

Stay tuned for more IVF updates... some before's and after's concerning two chairs for my living room and who knows what else!