I may have increased my odds of having a positive pregnancy test later this week. Today I purchased not one, but two pairs of jeans (and a really cute pair of pants for work) that need only minor alterations. Considering how much I hate shopping for any kind of pants, I’m sure the shopping gods are now also cheering on my embryos as well so that I will only fit into new jeans for short amount of time. The upside is that if bad news does come through on Friday at least I’ll look good for the weekend.

Sorry. I should have posted sooner. I’ve just been avoiding the world. This 2ww seems so much more brutal than the last two rounds. I’m a nervous wreck, and my brain doesn’t seem to function for more than a few minutes at a time. Maybe because this time I actually have a chance (I think) where as the first two rounds never had much likelihood for success.

 Transfer went well. We transferred 3 blastocysts. Two looked fabulous. One was a slightly slower developer. I felt so loved. It was not Dr. Belgium’s weekend, but he was so excited about our little blasts that he came in just to do our transfer. He was so giddy that I think he may have been taking a little Valium as well. Makes me wonder if I will have to console him if/when this all goes to hell.

 I want this so much, but I’m not very positive. I feel like a tremendous dork. I’m moving back into my classroom this week and of course I’m not supposed to lift anything over 10 pounds. Everything is over 10 pounds! The damn cats weigh more than that! So I just stand around while my parents and Husband do all the work. It’s driving me crazy. What happens when I find out I’m not pregnant and I could have done all this work myself?

Blood tests are the 30^th and the 1^st. Damn Husband keeps trying to make plans for Labor Day weekend, and needs to be reminded that there is a good chance he will be comforting a grief stricken wife. One positive is that if the clinic calls early enough, I could still get our adoption application in the mail that same day.

Yup. We should have had our transfer by now. However the clinic called on Thursday. For the first time ever, we are pushing transfer to a Day 5 (Sunday). I was stunned. You mean our little guys aren’t dieing off like houseflies? Are you sure they’re ours? My pissy attitude even took a break for 5 minutes and let me smile imagining the little guys multiplying like crazy and causing a little raucous for the lab staff. Ah to be the proud parent of naughty embryos. Then I went back to my normal pessimistic self, ticked off that I allowed myself to feel hopeful. Must protect self from sure disappointment.

Retrieval was….. interesting? Our regular Belgian Doc was not there. We like to imagine him off happily eating waffles somewhere. (Did I ever mention that’s the only reason I have ever been to Belgium? What can I say it was college and I was hungry. I also stopped by Germany for some spicy sausages. Did I mention that I’m overweight?). Anyway retrieval starts with new doctor walking in on me changing into the lovely surgery gown. He apologizes and looks very embarrassed. Why, I’m not quite sure considering that in a short time he was about to have a first row seat to all my lovely goodies.

Up next the gentle anesthesiologist. Oh did I say gentle? Try 25 minutes of per hell as she dug through both arms and finally a hand to insert the IV. 25 f…ing minutes! Around 15 minutes in I started to whimper. My arms look like a heroin addict. Of course it doesn’t help that the bandages she used ended up ripping the skin off when removed.

Actual retrieval took forever. Sweet Belgian Doc takes about 25-30 minutes. New guy took a good hour. What do I care I was asleep? Turns out there was a lot of bleeding on the right side, which might explain the 3 days of throbbing pain that followed. Pain was not helped by cuddly cats always landing firmly on throbbing ovaries as they try to snuggle in with the bed stricken.

So we’ll wait and see what happens tomorrow.

Soon after we learned that round one of IVF had failed, I was driving home from work when it hit me that I was now one of “those women.” I wasn’t just having fertility issues. I wasn’t just a woman that had gone through IVF. I was a woman that had failed at IVF. I could never go back to that pre-IVF innocence. I felt so old, so weathered.

I have been extremely detached from this third (and final) round. I’ve screwed up my injections 3 times now. I’m guzzling down Diet Coke (yummy caffeine) hourly. The meditation tapes are stuffed in the back of a junk drawer somewhere. My attitude is just plain pissy. From the beginning of this round I just wanted it to be over. Pregnancy or failure, I just have had enough. I just wanted to rush ahead to the results so we could move on to adoption. I’ve viewed this last round as only a hoop to jump through. When it was over, I could check it off my list and be done.

Driving home from the clinic this morning (ultrasound and blood work), I was startled to find myself in tears. Retrieval is now on the calendar for Tuesday. This is it. My ART trip is almost over. I don’t know if I’m sad or scared or relieved. I wonder what happened to the girl who started this journey less than a year ago. The one who thought this was the answer and that she had spent her last Mother’s Day in hiding. I’ve had only one goal for so long, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I just never thought it would end like this.

Boring Details

HCG shot – Sunday at 10:00pm

Retrieval – Tuesday

Transfer – Friday? 3 embryos (if we get 3)

What is it about infertility that turns normal rational people into superstitious nutcases? I’m sure many of you have commented on this before, but as the stims are dancing around my ovaries I can feel my neurotic side bubbling to the surface once again.

 During round one, it was ladybugs (well actually Asian beetles, but lady bugs sound so much friendlier). Our house was infested with the lovely little insects, which I normally would vacuum up, but not during an IVF round. My disturbed little mind was absolutely certain that those damn “ladybugs” were actually a sign of good luck and killing them would ruin all chances of pregnancy. Well, as it turns out, “ladybugs” are not the gods of fertility. In the future all will be put to death, by the wicked, childless, infertile hag.

 During round two, I thought I was much more normal (at least no strange attachment to insects). However on the way to retrieval, Husband and I drove past the airport. We looked up in time to see a super cool fighter jet (you know the Top Gun type) fly directly over our car. The noise was incredible and the whole car vibrated. We have lived somewhat near the airport for 6 years and have never seen a fighter jet before, so certainly this must be a good sign. Sign of Husbands super sperm, maybe? I tried to convince Husband that on day of transfer we should park near airport for hours and wait for another jet before heading to clinic. Husband thought I was crazy again. As it turns out, fighter jets are also not related to fertility.

 Now in round three, I have decided to try to be an actual normal person. Not to be though. Last week while driving to the clinic from up north, I ran over a chipmunk. Any thoughts? Chipmunks the true fertility god and I have ruined all chances of ever becoming pregnant? Or possibly chipmunks actually fertility devil and we will now procreate like rabbits? Does this mean that if IVF works this round, I will have to sacrifice a furry, little chipmunk every round in the future. P.E.T.A. is seriously going to have a problem with that.

Tomorrow I am heading to a resort in northern Minnesota with my family. We go every August. It’s a time I love (lots of poker playing, lots of drinking, hanging out with my brothers, relaxation) and it’s a time I hate (sister-in-law, constant noise from very cute niece and nephew prohibits real conversation with adults, Husband and I always seem to end up in the room with twin beds).

 This year I have a new stress. I am scheduled to have my baseline ultrasound on Thursday morning, which will require me driving 2 hours back to the clinic and 2 hours back to the resort. This will obviously not go unnoticed by sister-in-law. My parents know the reason, which is absolutely fine, but I can’t handle sister-in-law knowing that we are starting our third and final round of IVF. Maybe I’m over reacting, but that is just too much stress. I can’t handle her asking me if I’m pregnant in a few weeks (although I guess I should appreciate her optimism). It’s just too much. So I will have to lie AGAIN. I have also had Parents rehearse this “lie” as well, but who knows what will happen in the hours that I am gone. To add to my stress, Husband won’t be present at this family function until late Thursday night (still in California) so I am on my own in my deceit.

 To help with my stress I have scheduled a massage for after the u/s and before I return to the resort. I had originally considered trying acupuncture this round, but have since decided that I am not in need of any additional poking. Instead I have decided to design my own massage relaxation therapy. No it’s not based on any research whatsoever. My therapy consists only of me participating in very expensive massages at a rather snooty spa in a hoity-toity suburb. I have no idea if this is recommended during IVF or if will have any benefit, but I don’t really care. Self-care can’t be bad.

Yesterday a woman in my support group announced that she is pregnant. She is one of those people you just can’t help loving. I am so happy for her and of course a little jealous. It’s not the jealousy that bothers me. It’s the feeling bad about feeling jealous. I was a little jealous when my best friend got a new car last year, but I didn’t feel like a horrible person for feeling jealous. So why when jealousy creeps up around another’s pregnancy do I scold myself for being a bad person?

I miss me husband. (Yeah I see the typo, but kind of like sounding like Popeye. Nope it’s not Sangria tonight, just plain old beer. Newcastle-my favorite). Anyway I miss me husband. He’s in California for business. Husband rarely ever has to travel for work. Don’t get me wrong. I love having the house to myself, eating cereal for dinner, sleeping in the middle of the bed, NOT watching baseball, the slowest game on earth. But I’m a little lonely. I am on summer break, so today I had absolutely no reason to have contact with the outside world. If I had been planning ahead, I would have made plans with friends, but wasn’t thinking so now am just plain lonely. 

 At least I have my feline friends to keep me company, but I swear they keep looking at me questioning what I did with the Husband. They always seem to like him better. 

  This is Stump. I’ve had him for about 10 years. He lost his tail before he came to me, but I don’t know how. Nothing like naming my cat after his least favorable feature.

This is El Gato and El Gato Mucho Grande (before he became so grande. His original name was El Otro Gato).

This El Gato Mucho Grande now.

We never planned on being a three cat household, but Husband rescued a litter of kittens two years ago and we couldn’t agree on which one to keep so ended up each picking one.

I don’t think I have mentioned my sister-in-law before (my brother’s wife not Husband’s sisters). Oh - where to begin. I love her. I really do, but sometimes it’s hard and I feel so guilty. I don’t have any sisters and neither does my sister-in-law. Maybe that’s what makes our relationship so edgy sometimes. She does some wonderful things for me. My only designer purses have been gifts from her. Every year she takes me to a wonderful spa for my birthday. She makes the most fabulous chocolate alcoholic beverage.

On the flip side, well, let me just retell parts of the conversation we had at lunch last week.

Background

Sister-in-law knows about infertility, but not about treatment schedule*. She only finds out that IVF cycle took place after the results are in. She also knows we are beginning to pursue adoption. Sister-in-law was born in Korea and moved her with her family when she was 7 years old. One of the reasons we are looking into Korean adoptions** is because we would love our children to have that connection to their cousins. Sister-in-law knows this. She recently got back from a trip to visit her extended family in Korea. So here is what she says to me over lunch.

Shock #1

“You brother said when you and Husband go to Korea to pick up your baby, I can go with you.”

Uhhh… What! I was so stunned I was rather rude. Why the hell would she think she is invited to be present at the most emotional moment of our lives? She doesn’t even speak Korean anymore so not like she can be a guide. I think she was surprised at my reaction, which just makes me more mad. She is so incredibly pushy that she just assumes she will always get her way. And No, I don’t believe for a second that my brother would actually say this, but would instead be as stunned as I am.

Shock #2

“I’ve quit taking birth control pills because they cause varicose veins, so your brother better hurry up and schedule a vasectomy.”

Right. Anyone want to predict the future of this one? If she ends up pregnant, I’ll be writing to you all from a mental institution. Husband tells me I’m overreacting before anything has even happened. Maybe he is right, but let’s look at my luck. I’m putting my money on her making “an announcement” by the end of August. Hmmm, wouldn’t that be perfect, right when I’m finding out our results for round three!

Update on treatment

*I started Lupron shots on Tuesday. Have my baseline ultrasound a week from today. Retrieval is scheduled for August 15^th.

**We have almost completed our adoption application and are trying to decide if we want to submit it now or wait until we have our IVF results.

Went shopping at Ikea. Not only did I not find the cheap rugs I was hoping for, I was surrounded by young mothers with small children hanging off each limb while pushing adorable infants in strollers. The thing that pissed me off the most was I felt like a second class citizen every time one of those mothers got in my way and gave me that syrupy smile. The smile that says, “You don’t mind if I block this aisle with my small minivan of a stroller for a moment. I can’t help it. I have my flock of children to tend to.” The best is when these mothers travel in herds. I can hear those snickers behind my back as they point at the childless hag.

Came across this line in the novel I was reading. “Until you have a baby, you don’t realize how much you were missing one.” What! I have now started crafting my “fuck off” letter to author.

Went to drugstore** to pick up my cocktail for Round 3 to be told that my insurance company has redone their drug formularies on July 1^st and no longer covers Follistim. If I still want Follistim, it will cost approximately $350 a box (300 IU) and I will need about 10. I decided to go with the Gonal-F for the bargain price of $643.78 total.

Pharmacist then rings up my 3 giant sized bags of drugs, which comes to about $1040 at which time we realize that clinic forgot to call in insulin syringes. Since the clinic didn’t call them in, it will cost a little bit more. Of course I ask how much. Pharmacist in a very serious somber voice explains that each pack of 10 costs $2.50. Are you kidding me! What the hell does $2.50 matter! Pharmacist starts laughing and explains how much harder it is to tell women the costs of all these drugs the first time they go through the process. As I’m walking out I think about this comment. I’m on Round 3. I’m an IVF veteran. This sucks.

To top it all off Husband turns 40 today and has been in a pissy mood all week. He has started calculating how old he will be when fictitious child enters college if we were able to pop out a kid at this very instance. I felt bad and made a large birthday cake. We aren’t having a celebration with friends for a few weeks, so large birthday cake will only succeed in helping increase the size of my ass. How will Husband and I be celebrating tonight? We are going to a wedding. Where will we be seated at the reception? I’m putting my money on the table with the 8-month pregnant woman. Hey at least I can drink her liquor. Husband is banking on the table with young parents giddy at the first time they have been out since their bundle of joy blessed them. I’m pretty sure I can steal their liquor too.

 **Yes I still go to the local Walgreens pharmacy for all my IVF drugs. I know I could get them cheaper through mail orders, but it is amazing how much this pharmacy has gone way out of their way for me. During Round 1, my doctor adjusted my dosages on a Friday afternoon. The adjustment would have left me short for my Sunday night and Monday morning injections. The nicest pharmacy assistant in the whole world spent 3 hours driving to 3 different Walgreens that Saturday (she wasn’t even scheduled to work) to round up enough Follistim to get me through until their shipment came in Monday afternoon. I love her.

Sorry if someone has already written about this, but last night I was flipping through the channels and happened to come across a show* about the Pandas at the National Zoo in Washington, DC. Since we were just there in June, I decided to watch a little. It wasn’t long before I was shouting to my husband to come watch with me. “Honey, look! Those pandas have infertility issues too!” They showed how each spring the panda specialists would try to encourage the pandas to successfully mate. The part that got me chuckling was the show would then scan to spring to show all the other animal babies at the zoo. Ahhhh look at the baby tiger cubs, the 300-pound baby elephant (ouch), the fluffy little ducklings, and on and on. Then the announcer cuts it to point out in a sympathetic voice that unfortunately in the panda house they were “still just a family of two.”

 After years of getting bogged down with the whole infertility process, there is something hilarious about hearing all those lovely terms (that seem to raise my blood pressure) being applied to a panda. I had no idea that poor Mei Xiang had to have her ovulation tracked, go through the waiting process, be seen by reproductive specialists, and resort to artificial insemination. (Plus the one mating experience only lasted 15 seconds, but hey I guess that’s just another complaint we females share across species!) But luckily we can chalk the pandas up as another success story. Their adorable little Thai Shan celebrated his first birthday yesterday. Check out the Little Cutie (scroll down to see the live PandaCams).

 And so the pandas’ story gave me another little spark of hope. Tomorrow I start taking birth control pills again in preparation for round three, because back at Mr. and Mr. F’s house we are “still just a family of two.”

  * A Panda is Born on Animal Planet