Back on track (stim day 9)

I'm almost afraid to say it for fear of jinxing it, but we're finally at a place where we feel comfortable with our progress! After Saturday's e2 came back so low for the number of follies we had growing, my mind definitely went to the dark place of "all the follies are empty my eggs are crap why even bother and whythehell are we starting ganirelix already." It was not a fun place to be.

Instead of dwelling, we did lots of fun things this weekend. Like this:

Nom Nom 6-Year Anniversary Dinner

And this:

See Wicked. It's amazing.

Unfortunately, distraction technique number 1 backfired, and kept Dr Boy in the bathroom for about 50% of distraction technique number 2. Oooops. So I mostly sat in our awesome seats solo while he was in and out of the back of the theater. Yeah, feeling really guilty about that. Not that I *forced* him to eat the medium rare steak... but still....

Sunday was more relaxed, and involved a lot of this:

Why read when  you can love me?

I may or may not have read that entire book in one day. I plead the fifth.

Distraction technique number 4 was dinner with friends. And froyo. Which, incidentally, makes everything better.

Oldy but goody PDLAMBLATI

Our appt went well Monday morning, so huge sigh of relief. We still have tons of follies growing, generally between 11-13mm. My lining is a plump 10mm, ready and waiting. My e2 came back at 1137, which is finally in the range of what makes sense to me. The Fear is finally gone, and I have hope that this may actually turn out alright.

Click Click

We're guessing at a Saturday retrieval now, though Sunday is a contender still as well. Based on everything, we're still holding our 150u follistim and 2 vial menopur dose since it seems to be doing the job perfectly. We have pretty much EXACTLY the right amount of medication left for a Sat retrieval, so I'm hoping for that. Also? The oves are getting cranky. They yelled at me all day for letting them get poked at with Senor Wanderful, and then screamed later when well, yeah. That. Guess we're done for a while :) I've also noticed the crankies creeping in- I've had a very, very short fuse since the weekend, and I'm blaming it on the meds. I actually even annoy myself with it.

So. Yeah. Hope. Funny thing, eh?

My boobs got my back (9dp5dt)

At my job, each day I work one of two shifts: one that starts at 6am, or one that starts at 7am (it's flexible, but I vanpool and we head in about that time). Today is my seventh day of work in a row. All with 6am-ers.

Let's first get this on the table that I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON. This fact cannot be rescued by caffeine. I have been known to be saved by the occasional donut or asiago cheese bagel with onion and chive cream cheese, but generally speaking, not. a. morning. person.

Now let's get THIS on the table. I frequently turn my alarm off in my sleep. About half the time, Dr Boy realizes it and gets me up (because he is a saint in this regard and i love him dearly), but the other half? Totally late for work. It's a problem.

Last week, between making holiday english toffee, going back to work after lots of resting, and not sleeping well due to stressing about implantation, I managed to turn my alarm clock off three mornings in a row. I'm talented, huh?

Today was destined to be one of those mornings. I didn't get more than four hours of sleep Saturday night, so I had a lot of catching up to do. I still stayed up too late, opening presents and hanging out with the in-laws. I talked to my mom a little before bed. I FINALLY got to talk to Dr Boy, just the two of us, about the serious possibility, near-certainty, that we were one of those couples that have to go through an IVF BFN. There were tears, sobs, and snot. I finally fell asleep HARD shortly after 11pm.

The alarm very rudely woke me up this morning as I was dreaming about something or other. I know I dreamt but can't for the life of me remember what about. I was sleeping on my back, and started to roll over to turn it off and

BAM!!! HOLY HELL BOOBS FEEL LIKE HOT POKERS ARE STABBING THEM!!! In reality it was only my sheets and mattress, but wow. That sure as hell woke me up. No late for work for me!

So thank you boobs, for having my back, and keeping me from accidentally turning my alarm clock off.

Also, for giving me just the slightest bit of hope that this cycle *may* have actually been successful. Of course, it's more likely that the pain is from the PIO shots we take in the evenings, but still. A girl can dream.

Other "maybe" type symptoms include crazy fiery heartburn from hell no matter what I eat, and crampy ute. Of course, that could be AF trying to bust her way through the PIO/Estradiol, but whatever. I have also had a crazy amount of CM in the last few days. Crazy amount. Grody. Grody. Grody.

I don't know. I'm sure I'm just still trying to cling to the false hope stage. (coincidentally the reason i didn't poas this am) Either way, we'll know when the phlebotomist sings tomorrow.

It's not all rainbows and unicorn farts (CD10)

The life of an IVF patient is pretty damn glamorous, as you've all realized by now. I mean, we are the center of attention for a hoard of people for damn near two months, we get to take nearly a week off work, we get to use expensive medications... It's awfully fancy-pants.

The not-so-glamorous side, however, includes the shots. The awfully bruising shots because of the baby aspirin you're taking. The Frequent Wandings. The rapidly increasing list of people who've seen your business. (wait, that's celeb-like too. scratch.) The weight gain. The ugly cries.

But you all know about that stuff too. There have been quite a few things that I wasn't prepared for with this IVF business, though. You're about to get a whole heck of a lot more personal with me right now, so step aside if you're not game. These include:

- A mother effing yeast infection. Made possible by the ten-day course of doxycycline I took post-mock-transfer. Common, yes, after coming off of a round of antibiotics, mother effing annoying? Also yes.

- Pee cramps. Every time I pee out some of the daily 100 oz of water I'm trying to drink, my entire abdomen cramps up. I have to stop and start, stop and start, just to allow the rest of my innards to ooze back to where they're supposed to be. Ow.

- The runs. Admittedly, I've been consuming a lot of protein. A lot. And for a girl who just a few months ago added meat back into her diet after 15 years of abstinence, it's been interesting. Lots of belly-gurgling. Which is fun with the pee cramps.o

- The lack-of-runs. I keep going back and forth between not being able to poo and HAVING TO GO NOW. Constipation sucks. Especially at 3am.

-Lafobbing. Otherwise known as sobbing so hard you realize you're ridiculous and start laughing. But you can't stop sobbing either, so you end up with tears and snot streaming down your face and you try not to inhale them during bits of maniacal laughter. This has happened once per day thus far, since about stim day 6.

- Granny panties and Mu mus. You REALLY think you're going to be fitting into your Sevens when you've gained five pounds in as many days, all in your waistline? Think again. Mu mu's are your best friends, and thongs will get more up close and personal with your business than wandy if you attempt to whip them out this time of the month. (unfortunately, this one speaks from experience)

So there you have it. The ugly side of Hollywood IVF. And this is all PRE-retrieval. Super. It's a good thing my boobs are getting (even) bigger, because Dr Boy reads this blog and I'm pretty sure this post is one big ock-block, if yaknowwhatimean.

Anything else you've all experienced that I have to look forward to?
 

What we've been up to, through today. Friday's dosage is TBD pending the am wanding.
Click to zoom.

Naked. In the Backyard.

(Otherwise known as "I am my father's daughter")

Yesterday was a good, productive day. I ran some errands on the way home from vanpool, needing some additional groceries (milk and cheese) for a new recipe I wanted to try for dinner. I really wanted to get a jump start on cooling when I got home, as I planned on making some freezer meals (banana nut muffins and twice-baked potatoes) too. Ended up pulling up to the house at around 5pm, not too shabby, I thought!

Then I realized. My neighbors had my house keys (from petsitting over the weekend). The spare set? Sitting on the key hook. In the house. Locked out. The key-wielding neighbors weren't home, and Dr Boy was 40 minutes away.

1. It was not cool out. It was not warm out. It was HOT out. The hottest day of the year so far.

2. I was wearing my best Pioneer Woman impersonation getup- floral tunic top, jeggings, and brown boots. Not the best choice for a triple-digit day. Already sweating because of the errands and hot cars and the like.

I couldn't justify running the A/C in the car for 45 minutes, so I did what any respectable floozy woman does- stripped down to a tanktop and underwear and hung out in the backyard. And called Dr Boy to come home, STAT. And watered the garden. And tweeted.

Dr Boy came home rather quickly and was horrified to see me lounging so immodestly in the yard. "What if the neighbor's popped by?????" Really? They've never just "popped by" before! The fences would have kept anyone from calling the cops on me. It was quite freeing, actually.


I told my mom about it this morning, and she just laughed. My father is a bit absent-minded when it comes to stuff like that too (not the clothing-optional part, just the keys/wallet/watch kind of thing), and she said it sounded just like him. Guess I'm not a milkman baby!

While waiting in the yard I did get to see a pretty gnarly squirrel fight- three of them flailing about in one of the trees next to the fence. One of them had a giant nutsac. It was not pretty. (before you judge me from checking out the squirrel's nads, I swear, you couldn't NOT see them. They were HEEEE-YOOOGE) I wish I had had the fancy-pants camera.


So that was my evening. I still made the muffins and potatoes and dinner (including this beet and goat cheese risotto which was phenomenal). Triumph!


I'm about to head out to my first visit with the new IF doctors. Wish me luck!

Oh yeah- and did I mention today I'm 14DPO? Not pregnant. Another BFN. I cried over it when I tested prematurely on Sat, so I'm over the mega-emotional part. On to the next cycle. With my new Drs.

One of those days

It all started with a rash.

Mmmm hmmm, a rash. Tues night I noticed that my right ear was itchy, and by Wed, the whole back-side of it was rashy and itchy and warm. I tried to get a dr appt for that day, but no luck. Had to wait until this afternoon. Whatever. Went in today because it's pretty much completely covering my ear and is slowly making its way down my neck. Super duper sexy. Either Dr Boy learned some fantabulous lying skills over the last few months, or it really isn't noticeable. Just itchy. As as hell. Turns out it's just a run-of-the-mill case of eczema brought on by some sort of seasonal allergy (which I have never had before).

There are four ways I see our romantic anniversary weekend in Napa going.

1. Me: "Oh honey, whisper sweet nothings in my ear..."

Dr Boy: "I am, you just can't hear me through the steroid cream."

2. Dr Boy: "I love nuzzling your ear. Steroid cream is SUCH an aphrodisiac."

3. Me: "Hey cutie, do you think steroid cream is more effective than PreSeed?"

Dr Boy: "I was wondering if it'll give the sperm 'roid rage..."

4. Ignore my ears and neck the whole weekend until the rash goes away and I no longer smell like steroid cream.

I have a feeling the choice will be obvious.

While at the office though, I turned into a hormonal lump and proceeded to lose my shit over a silly little brochure on the wall while I waited for the dr to come see me.

This little gem was starting me in the face, asking me in the bitchiest sarcastic tone (trust me, I KNOW a sarcastic pamphlet when I see one), "So, gonna get preggo or not? What's it gonna be? Hurry the hell up!" All of the this-cycle-is-pointless thoughts came flooding out in the form of torrential tears. It's day 9 of the TWW, and the only "symptoms" I can come up with are the irrational losing of one's shit over a stupid pamphlet on the wall. My stomach's a little crampy, but there's been no implantation bleeding, no nausea, no tiredness other than the usual, no nada. Is my new rash a pregnancy symptom?

Of course, it's only DAY FREAKIN' NINE what the hell symptoms could you possibly have, but still. Irrationality knows no bounds.

I stopped crying before the dr came in thank god. I very nearly lost it again when she asked me about the fact that there was no birth control listed on my chart. I told her we're actively seeking pregnancy and have been for 2 1/2 years. First, she asked me if I knew how (again with the How question, kills me every time). Second, she tried to hand me that pamphlet. I recoiled as if it were a venomous snake. Sorry doc, I'm pretty sure I know a hell of a lot more than is in that darned pamphlet. But thanks for the concern.

I am scared though. Is there a pregnancy in my future? Someday? Will I be able to handle that if there's not? Will my family? I'm the only hope for a bio grandchild for my parents. Bio grandkids and bio kids aren't a HUGE deal to me, it's more the whole getting to carry a child in my womb thing. The whole being able to actually MAKE a baby. The possibility that that's not going to happen for me is what I really lost my shit over. I know we'll be parents, one way or another. I just really, really, would like it to be this way, at least first.

So that's the story of how my rashy ear caused me to lose my shit over a freakin' pamphlet. I'm good at crying, at least that's something I can relate to with my future baby!

We leave for the weekend in Napa tomorrow after work. Here's to hoping I'm not as big of an emotional mess there!

Fat chance.

Here we go again

This is Hannah's conflicted face:

She wants to ride in the car, but without the infernal seatbelt.

I'm conflicted.

Not sure whether to be happy or sad this cycle. There have been some positive moments- hitting CD1 in time to do the contraction-inducing HSG before I left for my trip to the Midwest, ovulation waiting until after I got back from the Midwest, crampy ovaries yesterday so I had a STRONG feeling I'd be getting a +OPK this morning. Which I did (on CD20, right at the end of my window)- yay for that. No really, I mean it. I'm glad I'm approaching some sense of "normalcy" with my cycle, even if it is 50 days long and includes a 30 day luteal phase.

I just don't know how idiotic it is to think that it may actually produce my BFP. Let's be honest, we've had lots of cycles over the course of the last two and a half years. Not as many as a NORMAL person, since I only really started cycling on my own in November and even since then it's nearly every two months. But I did have a couple of clomid cycles, non-clomid-ed cycles induced by provera, and the most recent ones. None have worked, and this one is au-natural except for a few pee-sticks and the metformin and synthroid I've been on the last 6 months. Oh, and pre-seed. (which creeps me out but i'd like to stack the deck in my favor thanksforasking) 


I guess in the grand scheme of things, it's not so many BFN cycles, but it sure as hell feels like it to me. I think it's the time more than anything else. Dr Boy and I started trying to conceive before I turned 27. I have now reached the point where I will have a full-term child before I turn 30 ONLY if I get preggo this cycle (ha). Thirty isn't that old, I know. It's just a milestone I had always imagined passing with two children in my arms. Two. And now I'm fighting for one. I don't want to cry about it again. I just want something to happen.

My first appt with the new RE dept is scheduled for June 15th. That'll be 15DPO, or CD34. Good timing, I guess, in that regard. We'll know if this attempt worked, and will be able to start a fully monitored cycle with a Dr, knowing fully that we've tried. And god knows we'll try this time around (hey! TMI police!). Our five-year wedding anniversary is on Friday. I have to work 6am shifts through the weekend, but we're still finding time to have a nice dinner and night out together.

The bad timing that seems to haunt me comes next weekend, when we're heading to Napa to do a real anniversary celebration. Smack dab on days 9 through 11 of the TWW. Early enough to where I might be able to get a faint BFP, but not late enough to be certain of a BFN. Which means I am going to wine country. Sober. (Insert advice to see someone about my need to drink copious amounts of wine HERE.) Not how I imagined spending the trip. If I wanted to go somewhere to NOT drink, there are a thousand places within driving distance that would be higher on the list. So I get pissed off about infertility and the bottles of wine I can't have because of it, the pissy-ness made more acute by the fact that I have no faith in this cycle anyways. And if I have no faith in the cycle why not just drink while I'm there? Or not even try? But we WILL try. And I WON'T drink. I'll just be pissy about it.


So there. I'm pissy, hopeless, ranting, and cranky. Already. Great place to be the morning you get your positive OPK, right?

Oh, and did I mention the father-in-law is coming to town for dinner tonight? Consider the mood set.

(maybe I'll be positive tomorrow. we'll see.)

My Ute is Cute

So we're all good. Had the HSG this afternoon, and everything went fine. It was definitely an interesting experience though. First, it was like a parade of teenage pregnant women in the waiting room. I'm pretty sure one walked in every five minutes from the time I got there to the time I was called back. Thank you, universe, I appreciate being mocked. 

The procedure itself was a wee bit more painful than I expected. The nurse and the x-ray tech were talking through it, so I didn't really get any explanation of what was going on. First they swabbed by lady bits with beta dyne, which was awfully drippy. At least, I'm hoping it was beta dyne and not uncontrollable leakage. Like I said, the tech wasn't telling me things as they were happening. 

Next, they inserted the speculum, then the long tubey-thingy that injects the dye. The dye itself was clear, just full of heavy metals that he x-ray can see. Then, they injected the dye. 


And I'm pretty sure I experienced a contraction. My ute screamed in so much pain, I seriously wasn't prepared. Clearly things are not supposed to move in that direction in there, because it hurt like a mother effer. Less like cramping, and more like my body trying to curl up into itself. Pretty awesome. Then they tried tonget me to scoot a little on the table, which I COULD NOT DO BC MY UTE WAS EN FUEGO. 

After about twenty seconds or so, things started to get better, and I scooted and rolled onto the proper sides to they could take the pictures. By that time I could breathe again, and got to admire the pictures.  You could see the whole ute, clear as day, along with my tubes. Everything was shaped perfectly, and the dye flowed freely. I passed! 

The pain subsided fairly quickly, and other than feeling like I did more sit ups than I should have, there's no residual pain. Just discharge. Pads are gross. But necessary, at least tonight. 

And, if I do say so myself, my ute is ceeeeyute! Yeah, I know that's weird, but I just got this really warm and fuzzy feeling while I was looking at it. Like, "man, I'm going to have a baby in there." 

One day. And it felt great. 

Reminiscing

I had initially started this blog to lament about the difficulties we've encountered with getting pregnant. We've been trying for a while. It's morphed into me talking about things I love, like gardening, trying to get skinny, but still, at the heart, I want to tell our story about starting a family. In honor of National Infertility Awareness Week, I thought I'd tell you our (in)fertility story. How we've gotten to where we are today.

We've started the process with getting set up with a new RE dept in the new town we moved to two months ago. So excited to add more people to the list entitled "People Who Have Seen My Woohoo." Not really. Dr Boy? He's the only person who's ever... uh.... been down to My Lady Town. He was my first boyfriend. My first, everything. All these docs and nurses are part of quite the elite group.

I got the paperwork in the mail today to call on the first day of my next period. To set up an appt for my HSG (hysterosalpinogogram). Fancy way of saying they shoot dye into your woohoo and see where it goes. To check for blockage. And stuff. My MIL is excited because apparently she got pregnant the month after she had one. 31 years ago. So surely simply having the test will work for us. We'll see.

It occurred to me that I should get my whole TTC story together for the docs so I'm not that person who does the whole:

Ummm yeah, so, like, ummmm..... My husband and I..... well we tried to make a baby and it didn't work. Even doctors tried to help out! Oh, how, you say? Well, they like, gave us pills and stuff. Oh! And one told me I couldn't eat sugar what a bee-atch!!! So can you help? I'llbeatotallyawesomemomIswear.

It shouldn't be this hard to remember everything you've done in the last 28 months, but you know what? It's pretty hard putting together everything you've done in the last 28 months. Especially because it spanned three different doctors, three different fertility plans. Three different insurance agencies. Here's my best recollection of everything. Forgive my brain for any liberties with timing.

January 1st, 2009- CD1, after my last Nuvaring (side note- if I were ever to go on BC ever again which I'm not, I'd use Nuvaring. It was magically easy. Magic. Like little elves telling your ovaries to stand down. Not that I needed elves apparently.) I had been on some form of BCP for 9 years.

May/June 2009-ish- CD a billion. No period since January. Which is too bad because I wanted to conceive on our trip to Tahiti in April so I could name our daughter Moorea. (not really.... i promise) Dr Lady Parts gave me Provera to induce menstruation. It worked. She said to wait to months to let my period do its thing, and if it didn't come back, take another round of provera.

July/August 2009-ish- CD 60ish. No period since provera two months prior. Took second round of provera.

Late September 2009- Got my period on my own! I attribute it to elevation. I was at Lake Tahoe.

March 2010- New insurance, new doctors. Got wanded. Dr Awful said the ovaries looked fine. But apparently was too busy to even note that he wanded me on my chart. Piss-poor book keeping, hate him.

April 2010- Round of provera and chlomid (my notes say "2 pills", not sure dose). No ultrasounds during the cycle. BFN. Bloodwork showed weak indication of ovulation.

June 2010- Second round of provera and chlomid. Didn't go back to see Dr Awful because he NEVER RETURNED my FIVE phone calls. And emails. BFN.

September 2010- New insurance, new doctor. The GP who made me do the restricted sugar thing. Diagnosed with PCOS (clearly seen on transvag ultrasound), low thyroid, and a bit of insulin resistance. Started taking 75mg synthroid daily, worked up to 1500mg metformin daily.

mid-November- 2010- Got period on my OWN for the first time in 23 months! Also started acupuncture a couple days later.

Nov '10 through Feb '11- Ovulated according to the pee sticks, three BFN's. Menstruated every 7 weeks or so. GP refused to do any additional testing saying "insurance wouldn't approve" or "there's no way you'll get pregnant this fast".

late-Feb 2011- Moved. Switched insurance again. New doctors again. Vow to start "trying" again in May.

So there it all is. My sordid history. I hope you've enjoyed learning about my ordeals with difficult doctors, differing insurance plans, and broken ovaries. I'm letting my infertility out of the closet.

Well, hello there!

Guess who arrived? CD 1! On Saturday. At the risk of over-sharing, you could TELL that it had been almost 60 days since my last cycle. Things were not pretty in Ladyville. But that's the price I'll pay. The cramps weren't horrific this time, only really bothering me over the weekend. No warning cramps though, like I usually do, which was part of the horror. I'm very curious what was different this time around. I mean, the only thing I actively did different was NOT see an acupuncturist. Which I was convinced was a whole bunch of hand-waving, but now? Maybe I could use a little more hocus-pocus in my life.

We're moving again tomorrow moved yesterday. Into a duplex with a yard on a greenbelt full of healthy running paths and doggie play areas and three bedrooms and good times to be had. We've been in a little corporate apartment for the last 40 days, and we're feeling it. We'll also be closer to the pool I joined, so all that'll be good for my McFatty ways. (Ignore the mouth full of macaroni and cheese. We haven't hadn't moved yet, duh.)

The move has been incredibly overwhelming and all consuming, mainly due to the fact that Dr Boy can't lift anything due to the 10-days post-appendectomy. He assures me he's fine, but I'm terrified of the hernia the surgeon warned of if he was too active too soon. At least everything's in the new place now, and we're just in the unpacking phase. I should take a picture tonight. It's horrifying.

Anyone want to come help? I make a mean crock pot of chili... If I can find the crock pot, that is...

An Ode to My Scale

Oh angst-inspiring square piece of glass,
You tell me how much fat I've acquired on my ass.

Into storage you have gone for the entire month,
I don't know what I weigh. Harrumph.

I miss knowing the daily changes in my weight
That make me feel not so good, or great!

Without that scale I do not know
How much I added with that Ho-Ho.

So thank you, Dear Scale, for all that you do,
Including seeing how much I lose when I poo.

-JM

Helloooooooo again, at long last, McFatties! I have been quite busy, uprooting my home, packing, moving, starting a new job, etc. Things are in a bit of upheaval in the Meier household, and most of our worldly possessions are in temporary storage. Including my Dear Scale. Part of me wants to buy a new one, but the other part says eff it. It'll only be another three weeks or so and it's not worth the $$. It is, though, funny how much weighing yourself nearly-daily keeps you actually caring what the number is.

I'm doing alright right now, I guess. I've been a LOT more active since I moved, taking a swim class once a week, and walking with the crazy puppy a lot more (note: she's still insecure). Taking my pills.

Unfortunately, there's been a LOT of eating out recently, and I mean a LOT. Plus, I can neither confirm nor deny my presence at a beer tasting festival this last weekend.

So.... for my goal? I'm sure I'll fall short, but I don't think by much. I'll let 'ya know when My Scale comes home....

...and then go on a crash diet to not look like a FAILURE for the next 24 days.

Today I weigh: Who knows? (net loss xx lbs)
Today my BMI is: Mmmmm kay
Goal: 165 lbs (wedding weight!!!!)
Goal BMI: 25.5
By When? April 24th