The Story So Far

Entered total life changing experience - new motto in life - baby or no baby am not going to loose marbles over it.

Resumed social drinking again after a 5 year break. Regained appreciation for good (and bad) red wine, and dashes of bourbon with coke. Only on fridays. And only when invited to work socials. Never alone - that's alcoholic.

Resumed buying tight fitting jeans/pants. If a baby comes along, great - we can work on a new wardrobe. But in the mean time this lady here needs to be decked out.

Gained fresh approach on the job-front. Started to take my career seriously again - haven't been since I got married because I always thought I will be a mom straight away. I did a little bit of PR for myself at work and volunteered for travelling trips to earn brownie points.

Don't know if I ovulated the last two months but then again I wasn't too bothered. Basically it doesn't keep me awake at night like it used to.

Last week went to see fertility doctor for check-up. He said are you worried about your ovulation problems? I said yeah I am to a certain extent. So he said well how about we try something simple for once - like one little Clomid pill from Days 2 to Day 6 and see what we get? I said sure why not but am not going to get too excited about it because 2.5 weeks of Puregeon injections did fuck-all so what can one Clomid pill do for me?

I think I might ovulate this month. I don't know how the universe works but I seem to be responding to this light dose of Clomid. Scan shows one dominant follicle on its way a coupla of days ago. Fabulous.

And after all these - I still secretly asked Santa for a baby this year. If he comes up with the goods this year that will be very nice indeed. If he doesn't I am just going to have ask nicely again next year.

I think.

Summer Holiday

Yup - still here.

The day after the last post - the holy mother of the forever maternal river of blood came rushing, I had a big period. It kind of goes hand in hand nicely with my hangover and that sorry month of misery I called (almost) frozen embryo transfer cycle. Not nice.

And then I had a week of life changing experience. I stepped back from my usual role and started a new job - doing something a little less intense, and supposingly less stressful because I am supposed to use a little less brain (not that I use that much of my brain anyway). Work people around me thought I had gone insane. I soldiered on with my thick skinned face - because the last few months I had a totally different outlook on life and I feel most importantly that I do not need to justify my actions for anybody (with reference to the nosey un-family-like members).

And I delievered what I said here. I still get the odd person asking me about `how's everything?', `are you guys still trying?'. I smile sweetly and said no, life is too beautiful and I am relatively young so I much rather enjoy life the way it is. But thanks for asking. And oh did I tell you about my hangover last week?

Not that we are not trying. We try. I am not on any sort of contraception (derr! like THAT's going to do it for us...), and we have sex whenever we can - which is not that often but hey, sex is sex and we all have to be in the mood for it. And most importantly I don't whinge about this whole infertility issue anymore. Not even to the long suffering Apeman. We talk about our future as if it will fill with happiness with, or without, children.

Life should keep getting better - and so it should be.

Last night we went out to celebrate our birthdays - there's a couple of us who is turning 31 - and for some, turning 32. It was a night of laughter, beer, shooters (oh yes), dancing, loud music and a female DJ who staggered into the ladies loo absolutely plastered - demanding for the spot at the front of the long que in exchange for a dedicated spin to that person - which was me. I said sure go right ahead and pee away. And despite being quite intoxicated, she kept her promise and spun me a cool track. It was really cute.

And then we acted our age, me and Apeman went home just after midnight because one of my ears popped due to the loud music and became partially deaf. We bought a large bag of McDonald treats scoffed it down at home - just like the way it was when we were struggling uni students after a long night studying or at the pub.

Once I was told by a gifted woman that babies only come to you when you are happy and shine positive energies.

If all these life changing experiences and appreciation of life don't attract a baby into our lives, I don't know what can.

Never Again (Red, Red Wine)...

Last night I went out and celebrated with a bunch of people - some old, some alot older, and some alot younger - the life as engineers (i.e. a fully company-funded piss-up). It was fun. I haven't had that much fun since ages.

Honestly.

And I am severely hungover today.

I am almost 32 and have never, ever had a hangover in my life - not even during the supposingly hard-rocking years at university. Even this god forsaken computer screen is too bright for me this morning so I have to wear my sunnies whilst typing.

I vaguely remember telling my workmate last night (who at 28 already had six major operations to fix her endometriosis, and was told by her doctors that she has zero chance in conceiving because her disease had so tragically damaged her reproductive organs) to not give up hope, and remember you are too special and you WILL have your babies, and so will I. We will both go on and have healthy babies, our time will come eventually. I said this probably somewhere between my fourth and fifth glass of red wine. She agreed and we hugged. She is getting engaged to her boyfriend of four years in Christmas, who is a wonderful, wonderful man who nursed her back to health after years of depression as a result of endometriosis. She said there is nothing more she want at this point in life but to have a baby with him.

Me too.

I guess we can all live in hope. Just have to remind myself every now and then I need to give myself a break. Just enjoy life the way it is.

I just want to thank everyone of you, even those who only stumble into this blog by accident and find out what a nut I am - for reading my blog.

Sometimes you just want people to know, you want to tell people how tired you are because not too many people (in fact none) can fully understand what goes on in my head - not even Apeman because he is male and tells me `she'll be right' but gets teary when he watches a live birth on TV. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you for reading, and bless me with a comment and support. It means alot to me - especially alot of you out there are such credible people who are fighting the same battle (and some, thankfully, have won).

Next year is it. (I actually said the same thing last year and the year before that...). But yeah. Next year is it. We are going to approach things head-on.

If only I survive the rest of today nursing this virginal hangover of mine.

Screeching Stop?

I noticed something this morning.

1) I have been sleeping like a baby the past week or so. I used to stay awake thinking about babies, IVF, drugs (fertility type), dosages (again fertility type) and when my period is going to arrive so I can start a new cycle. But no. Not this past week.
2) I have COMPLETELY stopped charting my temperatures. The two thermometers (I have one duty and one standby) have been collecting dust doing bugger all.
3) I don't really give a shit about when my period is going to here. Although I secretly wish it's here, but if it never comes then fuck it.

I have been, actually, living like a normal human being.

Mom said: `You just look after yourself, if there are not going to be any kids, then let it be.'
Sister L said: `Hunnie think about adoption - you have so much love to give and it does not necessarily need to be your own!'
Bitchy sister in law said (and during a buffet, unfair I'd say): `Are you expecting? Your stomach's huge! Have you FINALLY got good news for us?'
Woman's Day said: `Mary's little prince!'
Cosmopolitan said: `Look fabulous in 7 days with new butt-tightening technique'
WHO said: `Hollywood Baby-Boom!!!'

Ha - who to listen when there are so many wise people out there?

I say listen to my heart.

Celebrity Breeding - Part XVII

Am partially glad that finally we are getting more pregnancy news on celebrities who don't induce nausea if I ever see them on gossip magazine covers.

First up - the very lovely Brooke Shield, whom I've heard battled for years to have a baby. She left Andre Agassi, then moved on to a new hubby, finally got pregnant, and then suffered post-natal depression. Well done Brooke on getting pregnant, naturally or not, at 40. Fuck yeah.

Then it was Aussie actress Claudia Karvan. I used to love her to bits because she is such a humble person and incredible actress. I am however a little jealous that she managed to have her acting career down-pat and be a mother at the same time. Damn lucky.

The third piece of pregnancy news is a novelty one. Because she is a bit of a novelty herself. It is Geri Halliwell - a.k.a. Ginger Spice. She struggled with her weight and singing career for years, probably drugged out of her head when she was involved with a string of boy band singers, became a yoga-zen-like spoke person promoting yoga and her fine figure, became an alcoholic/addicted to painkillers and at the same time secretly bulumic. Finally she is at ease with her natural weight, suffered shitty singing career, and fell pregnant. What more can you ask for? She bedded Robbie Williams and now have a baby (two events unrelated).

Sigh...well good for these women. Really. I really am happy for them.

I wrote a long blog about my thoughts on adoption yesterday. Something about wanting to end this IVF misery and be happy. And would like to explore the adoption option. Then, as art imitating life, I put that blog on-hold and saved it as draft.

Today I feel different. I watched a real life caesarean delivery on TV last night - the cutting of flesh and the sight of blood did not gross me out at all - in fact I was totally intrigued and the next thing you know I was crying - it was as if I was the one giving birth to the baby. I saw the baby emerged from her mother's uterus and it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. The baby girl came out all agitated and shocked, and started to cry for her life.

The crying was the sweetest thing I have ever heard.

I then looked over to where Apeman was sitting, he was watching it too and I saw tears in his eyes.

This infertility journey, at times downright shitty and unforgiving, is definitely worth fighting for.

Maintaining A Fabulous Self

During IVF off-season - I do what I feel is best for my body, mind and soul - and that is to go shopping.

It was a rather numbing experience. Friday night I went for quiet drink with work people, a rare occasion for me because I usually `go home and rest' during `trying to conceive' period. So when things go to shit - I go social drinking and do what normal 31 year old women do and live the `carefree' life. I think.

I had my one-off bourbon and coke, left the half drunk crowd to their own demise, and off I went.

I tipsyly dropped into some shops, and tried on everything that looked remotely appealing. Didn't end up buying alot, just a few tops for work, but the idea of draping myself in beautiful clothing and model them in front of the change room mirrors seemed appealing at the time.

So as I indulged in a little self love (ooh Drew, that's hot. Oh that actually makes your bum looked a little tighter. You're hot, HOT HOT!), I briefly forgot about that IVF mess last week. I wanted more.

So I walked out of one of the change rooms, and demanded to try a ridculous shift/cloth/drapey item I had on at the time in a smaller size, and was in smack-bang confrontation with my work friend and his wife, who announced they were three months
pregnant on the day I found out about my 9th IVF failure. Suddenly my big band parade came crashing down. It sucked.

I said my hellos. She's totally lovely, she said I looked good in that drapey/shift cloth item, and she looked beautifully pregnant. He - who usually by this time on a friday night should be relatively shitfaced at the pub with my other alcoholic workmates, is dutifully playing the future dad and was escorting his pregnant missus in and out of expensive boutiques like a gay designer or sort.

Well - the whole thing sucked for maybe fifteen minutes. Then it was a lonely walk back to the car and a quiet drive home. Apeman had gone hunting/doing things for the house. It was a lonely night, but I reminded myself things could've been a lot worse - so might as well enjoy life whilst I can still afford to.

And then I am going to face my IVF demon once again. Only when I am good and ready.

The Puregon Twilight Zone

Read on, this is funny.

Oh god. I think I am about to laugh. Hope it is not going to be one of those senile/crazy laughs/fits. Like Tom Cruise did when Katie said she's 6 months pregnant.

So after two weeks of consistently jabbing myself with Puregon, until we discovered this morning that hey, I think we are running out of non-bruised area as injection sites, my estrogen has descended from a promising (PROMISING?) 145 to 102 as of this morning.

My ovaries have well and trully said a big FUCK YOU.

Now, as I numbly sit here in front of mountains and mountains of equipment datasheets and simulation results, I wonder, WHERE EXACTLY DID THE PUREGON GO?

Did it:

1) Somehow gets trasferred through the bloodstream in my stomach and flies straight to the bladder, without any form of absorption - and was pissed out as soon as it was injected.
2) Apeman didn't twist the Puregon injection nozzle properly so I ACTUALLY didn't receive any fertility drugs. He was playing make-believe with me. He doctor me nurse.
3) The tubs of Puregon I received from the clinic was in fact, bless me, Holy Water. You may think it has amazing fertility powers but it really is only tap water.
4) The blood test results weren't mine. They fucked it up consistently three times in a row.
5) I imagined the whole thing. What IVF cycle?

The ovaries stopped hurting two days ago. It feels a little lumpy due to the monstrous amounts of follciles I produced but none of them grew to maturity - which explains the 102 estrogen today.

I was told by the fertility clinic to use my friend trigger tonight, that will sort out the little cysts and follicles. The cycle is cancelled and we will treat this coming Sunday as Day 1 again. And then we will start injecting. Again.

Honestly fuck that.

Is anyone paying attention here?

I couldn't raise my estrogen last week, not this week, how can you promise me it is going to raise next week or even the week after that? Is that Puregon stuff bad for my ovaries? Did it fuck up my hormones? Did my ovary grew back because of Puregon?

Is there a God?

Do I feel like crying today? Err...no actually. I am not even that angry today. Not even remotely disappointed.

I feel nothing today.

I feel nothing because as I told Apeman last night, for the past five years I had the same habit of waking up at 5:50am on specific days just so I can be one of the early birds at the clinic. I get my blood tested, I get my meds, I whinged a little to the coordinator, sometimes if I'm blessed I get an ultrasound, and some days when I am really blessed - I actually have a bed reserved for me for transfers or egg collection.

It's becoming a routine. I feel nothing. None of it hurts anymore. Fuck you.

Am just tired. So tired I don't even know when it is appropriate to cry.

I told somebody at work yesterday that I don't like children. That's why I have a dog because I don't like children. That was to stop him from telling me about his 2 year old who likes to pick up the phone and talk to telemarketers and call that person daddy.

Sigh... now I have the Danish royal family portriat to look forward to.

Go Natural - Go Yoghurt Way

Yup. Estrogen didn't even climb after almost two weeks of Puregon jabbing. There are lots of little follicles but none mature enough to get an ovulation happening. There is a thick enough endometrium but probably no use if I don't ovulate. The instruction was to bump the current dosage up to double - and keep going for a few more days.

Fuck that.

I just made an appointment today to see my surgeon. I want to look into getting the smaller ovary removed. Again. The moment it came back it seems my body has lost the will to ovulate and be normal.

I don't know if I am being irrational here. But who cares. At the moment the only person who has to live in this body of mine, and knows enough to care about what is happening to it - is myself. The clinic nurse was a little too busy to tell me my blood levels today - she said it was low - that's all. I said how low, what are they. She sounded a little agitated when she told me about them - as if I was wasting her time because what would I know? I am only the infertility patient.

I think after five years of having regular bloods done I qualify to receive my blood test results. I didn't give all that blood out for no reason.

Yes today I am agitated. I am agitated because I am tired. I am tired because I feel cheated. I feel cheated because my body doesn't work and when I try to fix it, it turns more tricks and creates even more problems so I feel fucked - constantly.

I am not Mary Future Queen of Denmark and can churn out an heir to the Danish throne on demand. I am incapable of doing that. I don't know how to feel but since finding out her good news I must be the unhappiest Australian in Australia who don't really feel like celebrating or finding out the exact dimensions of her son. I don't see why we need to send her a gift of a pair of Tasmanian Devils because Drew here can't even fucking ovulate like the majority of the Australian population.

Just to show how agitated I am, and how sick, and fucking tired I am trying to conceive like normal people, I choose to rebel and not listen to the clinic. Am sticking with my low dose Puregon (instead of the instructed double dose) until Thursday's blood test. If they tell me nothing is happening, then I will pack up, go home and get ready for Christmas.

I just want to be happy. I am tired of fighting with my ovaries.

A Little Conversation Between Me and My Ovary(s)

This morning....

Me: Ouch, that hurts.
Dianna: Ha. Fuck you for jabbing yourself with fertility drugs.
Me: Well you hurt like hell last month and we didn't ovulate did we? I thought we were going to because you seemed to be doing so much work ...
Dianna: Well you can't have everything. You got Deirdre back last month and she thinks you're a bitch for cutting her off.
Me: WELL I don't want HER back do I?
Deirdre: Fuck you - and can you feel that? That's me jabbing you on your lower back.
Me: Can I please... I beg of you two....your highness....to ovulate for me this month. I just need a little estrogen rise to get a cycle going. Please? I pray to you?? Anyone of you?? My stomach is black and blue because some bitch jabbed it real hard last week and it's getting pretty sore. I really hate Puregon, you know that. Can we please? ...
Dianna: Fuck you.
Deirdre: Yeah fuck you.

And here I am.

Life Is What Happens To You When You're....

Yeah yeah. As the song goes - whilst you are busy making other plans, grieving, hoopla-ing about night sweats and hot flashes, being thumped in the head at regular fifteen minute intervals by non-human-male boss who is more worried about gas dispersion problems in a remote mine-site in the middle of whoop whoop than your life-long fertility quest.

I just realise I haven't been doing my temperatures for the last three weeks.

It was almost a three year non-breakable habit. First thing first, if Apeman wants a hug/sex in the the morning, it's a definite NO until I take my body temperature. I don't want his body heat (or body on heat) to contaminate my basal body temperature. Nooo siree. Temperature first.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep.
Ooh. 36.9°C. What does that mean? Hormonal fluctuation? Egg release? Possible cystation occuring in the bottom half of right ovary?

And then I will obsess about this stupid little number for the duration of my car ride to work.

Well thank fucking goodness that I have temporarily abandoned this habit of mine. Because it really is making me insane.

Since grandpa's sickness and untimely death, (sigh...he was meant to be around when I present him with his great-grandchild), I have gone easy on my fertility quest. It's like I am not thinking about getting pregnant ALL THE TIME. I actually focused momentarily on other things in life, such as grandmama's happiness, Apeman's eating habits, my dog's skin problem, and to plan a nice holiday during christmas so me and Apeman can run free and relax - enjoy life like normal people.

Not sure if this is a good thing. Maybe it's a sign from Grandpa, maybe this is his way of telling me there are other things in life to worry about apart from having a baby. I just wish the rest of the world (ie. Apeman's relatives) understands that too.

And on that note. This week's New Idea once again glorifies my favourite tennis couple - please throw in your four bucks and look inside for this week's exclusive story on Bec and Lleyton's secret baby heartache! I didn't even border to stop and check out the magazine. It is likely to be something daft like - oh my god they are not getting the baby girl they have always (the 8 months they have known each other?) dreamed of - they are, and we know that for a fact because it is an exlcusive, getting a boy who is going to grow up to look and play tennis just like daddy! Hurray!

Or

Oh my god Bec gained a humanly possible 4 pounds as a result of the pregnancy and is going to be named Australia's fattest ex-soap-actress! Tragedy!!!!

Am sure nothing is tragically wrong with her pregnancy and baby. And even if so, I don't want to read about it either.

I'm Back

I actually wrote another really angry post the other day, but thankfully the computer crashed on me because I was trying to run a 54MB simulation at the same time.

Am fine, after my hissy fit, I got my period next day.

Last few days been really numb that's all, I really miss my Grandpa.

Had a blood test in hope for some answers regarding to the night sweats and hot flashes only to be told I am `normal'. Hormones are at base line and we are okay to start another cycle. FSH levels are fine, in fact they are pretty okay. So looks like I still have a decent reserve of eggs and not menapausal as per my ramblings last time. I do believe those crazy hormones and behaviour earlier on this week were the result of PMS. I was severely PMS - and together with the loss of Grandpa probably sent me off the edge.

Am okay now. Only just. Had headache all day yesterday and was a little cranky.

Oh I also got a letter from the ultrasound dude, it was in the form of a letter, results are loosely like this:

Drew had a history of endometriosis. (Derr!)
Ultrasound indicated there are two ovaries (It's a miracle Doc, a miracle.) , the left one is significantly smaller than the right, possibliy a remnant as a result of previous surgery, measured at 17mm x 15mm. Right ovary is slightly dense (slightly dense???) and appeared enlarged with no other indications of PCOS. (So is it or is it not PCOS? I thought you said it was?)
HSG was conducted without difficulty (well I had some difficulty holding the pose without screaming rape or civilian torture), fluid was seen passing through the right fallopian tube without difficulty. No fluid passes through the left tube. (What left tube?)
Uterine thickness 9mm, uterine cavity appeared normal with no pathological symptoms.

So there. Another normal report with no real explanation as to why I am still the walking contraceptive I claimed to be.

No Mood For A Decent Title Today

So I had the same old hot sweats last night. And then throughout today, the occasional hot flashes (ie. sudden rush of body heat, I felt really hot and suddenly want to remove all items of clothing).

The so called period stopped this afternoon. It wasn't really a period, just heavy spotting. I spent all day sitting on an empty pad - (well, not one, but two, I changed midday due to hygiene reasons).

How do I feel?

Well, I feel crap in general. Feels like I was dragged all over a bowl of white batter, then left to drain off, then put into hot oil for frying. I then come out all crispy and burnt. I felt used, tired and extremely, extremely agitated. And on top of that some creepy old bastard I work with who occasionally and `accidentally' calls me by his `ex-girlfriend's' name - keeps walking past my desk today and giving me a creepy sneer. I really want to say fuck off you old bastard and go pay someone so you can get laid but I couldn't really. I would like to keep this job.

If this hormone thing gets me heated enough I will surely report him to the manager. I'd say I don't like the way he looks at me, and I don't like to be called the same name his ex-girlfriend has. I have had enough.

I feel like shit and wanted to go home and have a cry. I miss my grandpa and grandma.

I want to call my surgeon up and ask him to please kindly remove all reproductive organs within myself, all imaginary parts, all real parts, and all parts that grow back despite previous removal. So I won't have to live through this life of mine, month after month, wondering both silently and aloud if I have ovulated and if it was a good ovulation, and if I didn't ovulate what actually happened and what is my FSH today and was the problem due to PCOS, endometriosis, pituary disfunction, cysts, adhesions, progesterone deficiency, early menopause, divine intervention or something much more scarier.

Five years.

I spent my twenties fucking around with (or being fucked by) fertility clinics and doctors and fertility related websites.

I am just tired today. Also I read the MSN news that Nicolas Cage's 19 year old Korean waitress wife he married last year has just given birth to a baby boy, he named the baby after a superman character.

In the mean time, I am going to try and hold on to my marbles, sit tight and wait for tomorrow's blood test at the clinic to see if the `period' I had to today is a real period. I would like to start another cycle straight away before this pathetic fertility ship of mine starts to sink.

And fuck you Nicolas Cage for calling your baby Kal-el Cage. Hollywood should prevent knobheads like him from reproducing if they are going to keep giving their children stupid names so they can be made fun of when they go to high school.

A Bleed Is As Good As Anything

Didn't sleep well last night for obvious reasons (grandpa's passing, thinking about poor grandma and how she's coping).

Woke up around 2pm and went for a pee. And realised, Shock! Horror! I am having night sweats. My PJ's were soaked.

OH MY GOD.

My new and improved lifestyle in honour of Grandpa will probably think this is nothing. Just nightsweats as a result of a very stressful day. Pffft.

My old pessimistic self is screaming OH HOLY FUCK I AM GOING INTO EARLY MENOPAUSE!!!!

I am going to treat it as nothing, will see if it happens again tonight. Am stressing but also trying to stay calm.

Woke up this morning and felt like my right ovary is about to explode. It really is PCOS. It feels really lumpy and painful. And the new ovary on the left is definitely stuck high up my lower back. Fucking Deirdre.

Then halfway through the day I see blood on my knickers. Today is Day 30 and I haven't even ovulated yet according to the ultrasound last wednesday.

Again, my new and improved lifestyle in honour of Grandpa will think it is probably my period - hack, it's been 30 days hasn't it? So yeah you should have a period right about now. So there you go. TAKE THAT Libra Fluer.

Or

My old pessimistic self is screaming (*in a high pitched girlie voice*) oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck - it's mid-cycle spotting, I am spotting again. Oh all the surgeries, all the ovary cutting, all the cathether inserting, all the learning how to walk again amounts to nothing. I am back to old self. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Let's just hope that I only broke into a sweat last night because I was having bad dreams, and I am about to have a period so that's why I am spotting today.

Pretty please?

Goodbye Grandpa

After a week spent lying in a hospital - and exactly one week since he was given two days to live - my grandpa passed on this morning in the presence of his immediate family.

Cancer took him away. I'd never imagine the power and frightfulness of cancer, but I see it for myself for the first time.

It came, it conquered, and it took my grandpa with him in a matter of weeks. But my grandpa died a happy man - he was able to talk to each and everyone of us before he looses consciousness, the cancer impaired his speech but he managed to held on to my grandma really tight a couple of days ago, telling her he will miss her the most. Then he lapsed into semi-consciousness, then to deep sleep, then death came this morning.

I cannot imagine a better way to go -warm in a bed surrounded by loved ones.

I hope today, will be the last day I view life as a pessimist. I am going to face life as it is and take each day as it comes. Because if there is one thing I take with me today as a result of my grandpa's passing, is to live for today and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. That's his favourite line.

Oh and I sure will have a glass of whisky in his honour this week to celebrate his life.

Bad Times

Spent most of last night crying over Grandpa. He is still hanging on by the way. He has lost all ability to speak and move and is in a semi-comatose state, however I was told today that he was able to nod in the morning when grandma came in to say hi, that was his way of acknowledging her presence. Poor grandma, she spent the entire night watching over grandpa. She is finding it really difficult to let go of her lover of 60 years.

I told Apeman when I'm old (and possibly senile), please don't send me to the old folks home. I want to stay at home with you. He said nah I am sending you there because you will probably still be waffling on about IVF and infertility, plus I want to set up home with my other girlfriends. I said well that's it, next time when I am getting a trigger injection you are going to get one too. We go down together.

Nothing much to report today, except since I discovered part of my ovary has grown back I suddenly realise I have back pain - the same ones I used to get before my ovary-removal surgery. My ovary has always been stuck to my back, which I am almost 100% sure that the `new ovary' is stuck in the same place. And because I have PCOS (how fucked is that? You get away with one disease and suddenly you are lumped with another - can somebody untie me from this noose?), everytime I go to the loo its a struggle. The uterus and the ovary is so bloated it makes weeing painful.

Plus,

I still haven't worked out my situation yet (the situation about the discovery of a new (and not necessarily improved) ovary, PCOS, not ovulating this month, and now that I have PCOS, it is going to make it difficult for me to absorb Puregon for my next cycle because my body is going to resist it).

Another obstacle. More thinking to be done.

Drove up north on Wednesday for work, and managed to take some pictures. This one is my favourite, a field full of sheeps. I wanted to run amongst them and be happy. My workmates said I really need to go out more.



If only life is as easy as running amongst green fields, humping the opposite sex when the opportunity arises, and eat grass (or whatever sheep eats).

Life Not Getting Any Better

Grandpa's condition has turned to worst - last night I bid my goodbye to him and told him what I need to say as he was slowly loosing his consiousness, and is starting to talk gibberish. He was however, able to tell me to `behave', and it is a pity that he didn't get to see my children. I cried and told him I will try harder and I too am sorry that he didn't get to see my kids because I am afterall, his favourite grandchild. The upside of this situation is that at least my grandpa is no longer in pain, the cancer has completely filled his body and he is unable to feel any of it. They stopped feeding him morphine as of last night. This morning he is in similar condition.

And after a detailed ultrasound/tube traffic testing yesterday, life just keep getting more bizarre and once again me and Apeman are in discussion regarding adoption. Maybe it is time to stop trying.

The tube on the remaining ovary is open. Yes. So the traffic is open. However -
The ovary is in fact mildly PCOS, and it didn't ovulate this month. So that LH surge detected a week ago was in fact a hormonal imbalance surge. My hormones are fucking around again thanks to last month's puregon ride. It looked a little lumpy but otherwise healthy looking. No cysts or anything like that.
Uterine surface nice and smooth, no problems with implantation there. Yes.

And get this. We found an ovary on the other side. It is only 1/3 of its normal size, but as I was assured that my left ovary was supposingly removed during a rather painful operation in March this year, I was under the impression that I have nothing there. But the last few months I definitely felt SOMETHING on that side, which I brushed it off as `phantom pains'.

But apparently things like these happens occasionally - often when surgeons take out an ovary - they may not be able to completely remove it. It has happened to a friend of mine but what she got was only a tiny dot of ovary left, not a massive mass of ovary like I do. And with mine, it probably `grew' as a result of using Puregon.

I may rejoice over this little discovery, but given my history of endometriosis, that's not exactly good news. It means that fucking disease is still alive and well in me. And that's a kick in the teeth. So, Deirdre is back. She went to Maldives and decided it sucks there, so she came back after loosing lots of weight (and probably tanned, the bitch).

I only want one baby. Becky Cartwright can do it. Cousins who have sex with each other can do it. Why couldn't I?

So maybe there is another hidden message there, maybe I am supposed to keep trying. Maybe the messenger is telling me I am supposed to be fertile - so here's your ovary back. Take that.

Am not thinking straight due to grandpa so I will worry about this later.

Sadness (and Becky Cartwright)

Before I launch into a huge whinge about babyhood/infertility grounds/general retardness in the reproductive area - I must bring up my favourite topic regarding Becky Cartwright.

Basically the day Becky decided to become a regular contributor to my favourite goss magazine (to discuss motherhood, pregnant-hood and Leyton), I stopped buying it.

Then this appeared on the newstand (plus TV advertisements at 15 minute intervals thus inducing moments of non-HCG related nausea).











Major issues (for me) with regard to this magazine spread:

1. Becky, you got knocked up only weeks after meeting your beau. Prior to that you were probably more worried about getting ready for the Logies, what to wear, who to get your dresses from, your ex (some H&A guy which you only broke up with weeks ago), your lines for Home and Away, talent scouts from the US showing up at the H&A set, movie-deals, how to be a normal 20 year old under the lime-light of the jaded TV business. So the `I can't wait to be a mom' line is a little dramatic. But okay, I give you that. You must be excited. And probably Woman's Day, being the womanly mag that it is, needs to provide a politically correct title for the recently married new mom.

2. Becky looks skinny whilst pregnant. Is this normal or was the photo graphically enhanced to make a beautiful girl look even more beautiful with bump??

3. Fucking hell Becky, think of all the infertile women in Australia, and around the world. The last thing I need to see today, (after my outburst last night), is a content Becky held by Leyton in full pregnant glory. Not only are you guys totally rich, totally young, totally successful and probably Becky was given a waterfront mansion in Sydney to live in, and she probably has an interior designer for the nursery and was sponsered by Morrissey or Wayne Cooper for pregnancy-wear. But you are also, goddammit, beautifully and undeniably pregnant.

I now sulk in silence.

Now I forget what I was supposed to fucking write about today.

Oh, I had a total face-off with Apeman last night over a family hug-meet scheduled for tonight. His relatives are here again from overseas, and we have to do dinner. Last time during a similar meet, I was told by an aunty that I should look into having a baby right now (hint hint nudge nudge) because the government give you a $3000 baby bonus. Fuck the baby bonus. I am having troubles paying off the IVF bills. Pfft, $3000.

I reasoned with Apeman that I don't want to go because I feel so exposed to baby questions - it makes me want to vomit/torture small animals/cry. I am afraid I will totally snap one day and tell everybody to fuck off and leave me alone. I will scream `Leave me alone I am infertile so what can I do about it??', probably followed by 5 years of non-stop gossiping amongst the family-hood.

He told me you cannot continue to live like this, you are shutting everybody out and you cannot live like a hermit all the time. I said I will do whatever I like because it makes me happier that way and I am merely protecting myself - because no matter how strong I am, sometimes words that come out of ignorant people's mouth still hurts, and your family are so fucking fertile they keep falling pregnant so it is really difficult for me to deal with. One of them even told me blatantly that everybody is talking about me and wondering why we are not pregnant yet. He said well I really had enough of you in that case - because you are making things difficult for me. I said well fine then you can divorce me and you won't be miserable anymore and I will shit in peace. He said nothing.

Then three hours later we held hands watching TV in bed. He gave me a hug in the morning, as if he understood.

And I feel better - until I saw Becky Cartwright's pregnant form during lunch time.

Grandpa

My idol - my grandpa was admitted to hospital early Saturday. He battled bladder cancer a few years ago, came out of a marathon 13 hour surgery and survived - and continued a lifestyle of `live for today, worry about tomorrow - tomorrow'. Grandma nursed him back to health, and gradually he gained pound by pound and was given a life-extension of a few more years. He was incredibly lucky.

As of Saturday, the retarded doctors, who gave grandpa the all-clear only a month ago after a fuck-loads of blood tests and scans, told my poor grandma this weekend that grandpa only has a day or so to live - his cancer has suddenly caught on and spread throughout his body including almost all nymph-nodes and has completely shut down his kidney function.

All in a span of a month?

So far grandpa seems to be doing okay, stablised with drips and morphine (for the pain in his lower back due to the cancer). He was offered life-saving surgery on Sunday - with the possibility of savaging his `fake bladder' and kidney, but was told it will be incredibly painful and they cannot guarantee he will come out of the surgery okay. Grandpa - the trooper that he is - flatly turned down the doctors and requested them to turn up the painkillers and let him be. He want to pass in peace and not in pain.

And here, I promise I will live as spectacularly as I can for you Grandpa. You inspire me and I love you.

Part of the Statistics....

Apeman came home yesterday. Exactly 24-fucking-hours late for miracle ovulation. Double fuck.

Plus my IVF journey has hit a new low last night.

Got a call late in the evening from Apeman's brother - the word was his grandma is gravely ill and is near death. I may sound very detached about this - it's all because I really dislike that family of his because they are so fucking nosey about my personal affairs (apart from asking me about when we are going to have children because we have been married for five years already, I also get the occasional `How much do you earn a month' questions from the nosey aunty or nephew). Anyway I still need to pay my respects because grandma is old and I need to do the dance every now and then.

So we went over - and to be honest, grandma looked fine for somebody who is near-death (I'm a bitch). She lost her appetite but she still craves for certain type of food and told Apeman about it. She kept saying I'm going to die, I'm going to die. I held her hand and told her you'll be fine grandma (she couldn't remember my name). She was particularly chatty last night and talked about her large extended family and how proud she is of them all.

Then cringingly, grandma asked Apeman (not me) when are we going to have children - it will be her last (dying) wish - and she wants so much to see our children. Grandma could not remember if she had eaten her dinner last night, but somehow she knows Apeman has been married for five years already and still no children, and the fact that she has a clan of 47 (going on 48 as there is one on the way in Houston). Grandma wants to know if we are trying for a baby or not.

I pretended to be captivated by a stupid show on TV (appropriately named for the occasion - `The Mole' on Channel 7) - whilst this baby conversation went on for 15 minutes - with my mother in law sitting there next to grandma - hiding her eyes from her son and myself. It was a sombre moment.

Whilst Apeman gently calm grandma down, and my mother in law's face gradually became ashen and looked like she was about to cry, I kept thinking to myself, FUCKING 47 family members!!! Isn't there enough children/grandchildren for one family? You can't even fit 47 people in a fucking bus! I must be really unlucky - to be married into a freakishly fertile family who knows nothing about IVF and babies are created the `normal' way. I've read somewhere before - that 1 in 4 women experience infertility. So in a family of 47 people, there must be at least 11 family member who is infertile. Well from the way things are heading - looks like I am the only one out of the 47. That's really fucking unlucky.

So there, somebody's gotta be a part of this infertility statistic and I am the chosen one. Without the likes of me and Apeman - the world will be too perfect and that's `abnormal'. So they better not fuck with me because the more I think about this, the more fucking angry I am. I am not going to bring out the violin and start crying `Why me? Poor little me' - I am much more than that. However, sometimes I just wish people accept the fact that not having children, and not being able to have children, is perfectly normal and should not be given the extra pressure.

I can hear my hormones loud and clear today.

The Good Old Days

Was severely jet-lagged yesterday after waiting 4 hours in the Hong Kong airport for my flight, and then strapped to a seat for another 8 hours on a plane with the airbus toilets constantly occupied. Was also constantly woken up by fake-smiling air-hostesses, that I need to put on my seat belt properly (define properly???). Felt like shit this morning as I poured myself into the car and drove to work. Now feeling a bit better after having my Ribena fix.

So finally after much piss-farting around the house and washing of 2 weeks worth of dirty laundry - I sat down and tried to watch some TV.

Then my favourite ad came on. It was the new McDonald ad with all these white collared people walking around in their offices. Then suddenly they came to a halt and their bellies open up - a little minature of themselves climbed out. The little kiddies (some wearing oh-so-cute adult glasses) all went to McDonalds for a well deserved break on behalf of their`adult bodies'. After their `play time' at Maccas, they got some takeaways (burgers), returned to their adult bodies and placed the burgers in their hands and climbed back `inside'. The adult bodies came to their senses, and realise somebody conveniently put a Macca burger in their hands so they too took a break themselves and ate away. Everybody lived happily ever after.

Despite being such a daft ad - especially since it was for Maccas - I actually became teary watching it. The good old days of being a child, who values playtime more than anything. I wish I can be six again and not having to worry about IVF and other reproductively challenged issues.

Apeman is held up with business overseas so he is not coming home until thursday night. Which is just as well because my ovary was particularly twingy last night and I kept wetting my pants (not pee but the other fluid) so I did a quick ovulation test and of course I HAD to see two lines. I am ovulating as we speak and I don't have Apeman here to inseminate me.

Fucking stupid stork.

Holiday Pause

Right now, I am sitting in an internet cafe right in the centre of Hong Kong party central Tsim Sha Tsui - blogging away.

I did forget about babies and IVF and fucking large needles that draw blood - for maybe a day or so.

But then of course my beady little eyes began to search for babies and pregnant women - even when I am supposed to be on holiday. And oh my god - there are so many young mothers in Hong Kong. Half of them half my age - and I am only 31. I saw 19 year old moms lugging their little girl to childcare before work. I saw `older moms' in their late twenties lugging three kiddies to the local fast food joint for a `quality' lunch. I saw almost angelic looking pregnant women with their massive bellies struggling to get into a crowded train on her way to work. It is such a fast pace city I cannot imagine going through IVF here - let alone bringing up a young life.

It makes me more determined to return home next week and give IVF another bash. It's worth it. I want a baby so much. I think this trip is a fantastic idea - I feel much better and all that shopping and touring has rejuvenated me.

I just hope my wee frozen ones (three more left) are ready for ME when I return.

In the mean time - its relaxation time - I didn't even bother to do my temperatures in the morning.

Ironic

Was packing for our trip last night, and came across a stash of condoms. These condoms are a real collector's item - they are at least 7 years old and pretty much dried up. Everytime we moved houses Apeman must have `saved' them - thinking we may need to use it one day. (Eeek!)

Then suddenly a thought crossed my mind.

`Did you know that I am a walking human contraceptive?'
`What you mean?'
`Well we have been having sex for 9 years now, and 6 of them are unprotected, and they keep putting healthy embryos into me and I am still not pregnant, so aren't I qualified enough for that name?'
`Yeah whatever.'

I just found out the sad (happy?) news that a fresh graduate in this office who is only half year out of university got knocked up, and since she is well into her three months worth she is therefore keeping the baby - and the catch is the relationship was casual (some heard it was a one-night stand because there was never a boyfriend mentioned). Workmates here are saying isn't it weird that you survived high school and university, with all those drunken keg parties and hormonally charged uni students - she managed to get by okay, but she got knocked up only months into her first job and was supposed to be going on an offshore trip soon?

I don't envy her - but of course I feel shitty about it. People are getting knocked up by having one night stands around me, whilst we have steady sex for years and years and I am still Libra Fluer's biggest customer. Fuck that's really messed up.

Homecoming - A Relief to `Have' My Body Back

The heavy period has come and is almost gone - with some luck - tomorrow I may even be able to down-grade to a panty liner instead of the pillow I am sitting on at the moment.

With the HCG hormones now gone - my boobs returned to their normal shape, they don't hurt anymore, even the ovary seems to have calmed down and be less painful - so it seems like I am back to normal (I hope).

Apeman always gets really horny when I have my period - it is just so annoying - I just don't feel sexual when I am still leaking blood and my butt and back is sore from adhesions.

"Can we have sex tonight? I really want to have sex with you."
"No."
"Can we have sex on Monday night then? I really want to have sex with you Monday night."
"Errr...maybe - it depends if I am still..."
"But I really want to have sex with you."
"Oh whatever. Sod off for now because you're in my way." More channel flicking followed.

He recently tabulated the number of times we had sex the past year - it works out to be roughly two to three times a month. Yes. No shit. My reasoning for this alarmingly low number is because I am only fertile when I ovulate, and you are supposed to have sex when you are fertile - so when I make egg, we have sex a few days before ovulation, then wait one day so he can `conserve' his sperm, then we have sex again a day later closer to ovulation, and then maybe once more after ovulation to make sure we have put in enough `reserves' for my egg. And then definitely no sex during the luteal phase because I read somewhere that you shouldn't really in case you really are pregnant. (And that article alone basically fucks up our sex life entirely).

Plus - who needs sex when I can have IVF. IVF dampens your sex and love life so much that it is almost ironic to undergo it - especially after a few attempts.

I think I am back to my old self - Saturday was rather miserable and I was a bit teary. I blurted my sorrows out to a friend who didn't know I was undergoing my 8th attempt (she was there for the 5th and the 7th attempts) - she offered sympathy and valium in case I need it. I thanked her but passed. I am strong enough to cope with IVF - no drugs needed.

Sportsgirl vs Lamaze Classes

Since I cannot have a baby this month - once again I returned to my mothership for some much needed time off and solitude - I went shopping.

I didn't want to go, I don't need anything really. I've got everything I need at home, I've got shoes for every occasion, tops for work and play, jeans in a variety of styles and colours, and the last thing I need is more shoes. Even Ape-man looks like a fucking christmas tree when he goes out - I dress him well because I have so much time on my hands to make sure he does.

Plus I feel empty. I don't feel lonely. I just feel terribly empty and incompetent.

What I really needed last night was to go somewhere to remind myself that I am young, fit, and healthy and even if I am not allowed to have a baby, at least I pull my purse out and buy something I desire. Anything.

So I did just that.

And of course, by going shopping alone also means I have to put myself out there to meet real people. And on thursday late night shopping - you meet all kinds of people (and all kinds of YOUNG people in various stages of undress - low-hung jeans bearing arse-cracks and skanky G-strings seems to be still in).

After buying my 213th, 214th and 215th pair of knickers from Myers, I staggered through the crowds and made my way to Sportsgirl - the fashion house for the brave, the colourful and the hip. Oh I think that's me.

I don't think anybody noticed this happy family standing outside of Sportsgirl - they are not that noticable, but through my infertile little eyes - they stood out like three amigoes in Shanghai. It was just a young looking guy, holding a little man in his arms (probably 2 - 3 years old), the wife kissed him goodbye and said I will just pop into Sportsgirl and be back in 10 minutes. Love you honey.

Nothing out of the oridinary - but then I thought I saw a baby bump on her stomach. She was incredibly trendy, she's got the full trendy gear on. If you don't look closely you probably thought she just had a big lunch. And since I am an infertile, and had been for some time, it makes me a little mental and I am ashamed to admit that I followed her around the shop to check if she is really pregnant. And she was. Probably about 3 to 4 months worth.

How can she go in there? Isn't sportsgirl for the young and the hip? For the free spirited? For the `I can go places and do anything I want'? Shouldn't she shop in places like `Mother & Me' or `Pregnancy Chic'? I walk past maternity shops all the time - I work near one - those are the places which will always be denied to me like a hip nightclub with a bad-ass bouncer. So why is she messing with my Sportsgirl?

And then after this outburst (in my head) I felt ashamed.

And then I felt sad.

Because I am not normal - watching her gate-crashing my Sportsgirl is like me gate-crashing her Lamaze class sans pregnancy bump.

You see - I am so mental that I even dedicated this entire blog to a pregnant woman walking into Sportsgirl hoping to find something stretchy to fit her growing belly.

I need to find a new hobby.

Can't Grieve

A nosy little busybody dropped by my workstation just then to `say hi'. If you want to know who farted in the room just now, or who has a penile erectus problem recently, go ask her. She knows everything and everybody in this office. And I work in a pretty big office.

When she dropped by I was heads down, I finally got my concentration back after weeks of IVF stress. At least I didn't do retarded things today like I did last week.

`Are you okay Drew?'
`Oh hi T!' Perky perky - perky is the word with busybody because she can sniff a dead rat from miles away.
`You just look...a bit tired'
`Oh really? Oh it must be the flu or something' Cough cough.
`You sure? You look a little sick'
`No I'm fine T'.

My period finally broke free. I am feeling like shit because I got my period and had a negative pregnancy test yesterday. The little valley of hope I built up since the end of last month (well, maybe try FIVE FUCKING YEARS AGO) had just crumpled and now I am trying to seek some solace by submerging myself, once again, in my work and pretend everything is normal and hunky dory. So yeah, if I looked a little sickly is because I FUCKING AM.

Last night, after the reality of the pregnancy test sank in - I returned home with bags of shopping. Once again I am the Martha Stewart cross Bill Gates character. At work I am supposed to be a gun engineer, at home I am the brilliant homemaker who looks after my husband to perfection - I cooked, I cleaned, I vacuumed, I scrubbed, I baked a fucking excellent chicken pie from scratch, I served dessert (didn't make it don't know how to either), I entertained the dog, I ironed, I washed, I mopped. Then when I was starting to feel exhausted, I found more washing to do and I did the whole washing/drying/ironing thing again.

And then I sat on the dunny and tried to force myself to cry. But I couldn't. I don't know how to.

Since the 5th/6th IVF cycle I have suddenly lost the ability to let go - to grieve so to speak.

I mean, I did cry a little the other day, but not as much as I used to. Yesterday on the phone, my new clinic was so gentle when they were trying to break the news to me. I was like, oh I'm perky, oh I'm fine, don't worry I already know. Thanks. Oh don't worry about it. I hope the next one is it too. Thanks so much and you have a lovely day yourself. It's like I was cancelling an order for a pizza.

I don't know if this behaviour of mine is normal or not. But I find it easier to cope this way. I am not letting the negative result affect me or my quality of life.

Apeman is planning a mini holiday - I hope to leave by late next week. I have declined to start another FET straight away (as suggested by the clinic as an option) because I don't feel comfortable with it. My body is so fucked at the moment with hormones - I have adhesions running all the way down my back and my bladder hurts when I pee.

It is a difficult time for my body - so I will give it time to grief too.

I lost my marbles and am still looking for them.

I have finally found the energy and drive to do a post.

This FET attempt is all over again. This will go down as the 8th attempt.

I hung on till 16dpo - the longest ever without breakthrough bleeding. It was a rather strange cycle - because at 9dpo I started to cramp, then I thought oh fuck its all over again. Then I cramped again on days 10, 11 and 12 dpo. But then on 13 and 14 dpo I didn't cramp and still no bleeding. Then just when I was slowly settling into the idea of MAYBE, just MAYBE it worked this time, I fucking found blood on the tissue paper I blotted myself with on 16dpo.

So today the body temperature dropped for the first time since I ovulated. It dropped from the usual 37°C to 36.7°C - for the untrained it means I am back to my `normal' basal body temperature, which means the lining was breaking down. And I was right.

Again.

Why do I know so much? Can't I just be ignorant and live like a normal person and oops I just threw up there, and ooh maybe I'm pregnant, so let's do a pee test, and oh I am right. And then congratulations Drew, you are three months pregnant you knobhead.

But I don't have that luxury. The bosses upstairs have decided I need to do things the hard way.

I totally lost my marbles the last two days, so I took a few days off work. I sat at home for hours wondering what is becoming of me. What am I doing here. What is there left in this world for me to do. Why doesn't it work? Is 8 times too much for me and should I just give up and enjoy the rest of the thirties and be content with life.

That house we are currently building, on the second floor, we have included a little room next to the master suite, and is conveniently situated next to an upstairs kitchenette (a basin + bar fridge corner thing). Apeman saids the basin is to be used for bathing the baby - and the little room can be the nursery. I said what happens if there is no baby, like EVER? He replied then we can use it to wash our wine glasses with.

We are not asking for much. We are not greedy. We just want one baby. We don't want to start a cult, we don't do drugs, we don't smoke, fuck we don't even drink, we don't have expensive habits (except for me, I have an occasional shoe habit), we haven't harmed anybody - we are good people who work hard to earn a living and are law abiding citizens. We vote for whichever political party who told the less lies, we pay hommage to charities. We are not mean to animals, we eat out alot to support our local small businesses. We are just normal people wishing for something that happens to ordinary people everyday.

I finally mustered enough energy to go to work this morning and discovered some `great news'. In my inbox - there is a message from a friend who got married two years ago. They are 3 months pregnant with baby - whoo hoo. I sank back into my shitty chair and stared into space for what seemed to be ages and cannot possibly believe the bad timing of this piece of `good news'. I managed to switch into auto-pilot, went to my boss and told him I need to go on a holiday. I don't care if he wants to sack me because I have been so inefficient lately by taking so many days off - because now I need another two weeks off or else I will go insane. I don't want to become a manic depressive person who staples my hair to my calculation folder - I just want to be normal and hopefully by going for a small break I can get some of my `jive' back. He agreed and said go for your life and do some good shopping and relax. I thanked him in tears.

So here I am.

Well.

What to do.

The Stork Flew By and Forgot To Drop Me Off a Baby

Just want to say I started to cramp today. At 9 days past ovulation. Yup. About right.

I consulted the PDA and checked my EXCEL files on my previous cycles - cramps usually start on Day 9 for me and get progressively worse in the next few days.

What are the higher powers above trying to tell me? What message do they have for me this time?

Am just really, really shitted off of course.

How DO you make a baby? How on earth can I get pregnant?

I am going to stay put - but I figured I am better off climbing trees because of the uncertainties ahead.

Surviving

The shuttle has returned to the mothership - and is now waiting to land.

The whole thing went really well actually - the actual transfer was fast, efficient, and painless. It seems in my previous tranfers not once did I not feel gorged/probed for a good half hour before I was told it's `all in and all done'. This time I can actually see our little muffin injected into my uterus - actually it is quite cute when thinking about it.

And of course, as usual - I bleed a little bit towards the end of the transfer day - not sure why. I was told maybe it was because my cervix is `really' sensitive. So even a little bit of minor disturbance can rupture the blood vessels there. Whatever. I don't like any sort of bleeding if it is not for my period. Period.

I may sound optimistic here, but I am so shit scared. I already have discussed with Ape-man about our next game plan - I want to do a fresh cycle so we can have our embryos testing for any genetic problems. Because as far as I am concerned - I seem to be doing okay hormonally - had my post-embryo transfer blood test yesterday. Estrogen and progesterone seems to be flying high at 722 and 48 respectively. So the lining is sufficiently supported. I just need to know why my embryos aren't connecting with me.

And then, I did almost everything I can possibly manage to fuck up this cycle.

I cheated with a really non-healthy breakfast two days in a roll - (fried bacon + double eggs + mushrooms + spinach + sausages + toasts + fried tomatoes + hot chocoloate). I had acrylic nails done (was hoping by having pretty nails it will at least make me think about IVF less), and then today I walked for 45 minutes to find a friggin place who can take my acrylic nails off because I looked like a porn star with these extra long plastic talons. I soaked my hands in acetone/methanol/tri-gliceratic polyamide acid for half an hour until the nail technician can fully file the plastic off my fingernails. I mopped, and I vacuumed (but only very lightly). I prepared a three course meal for Apeman yesterday, AND did all the dishes, wiped down the bench, and then wiped down the friggin stove.

This is in comparison to my other cycles - I treat myself and I ask other people to treat me like a disabled person. I didn't lift a single finger. I did fuck-all for two weeks.

Basically this time I try to live as normal as I can - because I refuse, I REFUSE to let IVF beat me once again. I want whoever is in charge to know that it takes more than another failed cycle to bring me down.

I guess emotionally I wasn't looking after myself either - I went to an adoption breakfast on Sunday. It wasn't as bad as I thought it will be - it was just a nice chit-chat with other parents who are going through the adoption process. All I can say is - I was really touched. It was just so beautiful watching the bond between the adoptive mother and child.

I am going to wait patiently this time. Testing 1st Sept.

The clock just keep ticking slowly......

Seems to be forever waiting for my FET.

The uncomfortable feeling started on on wednesday night - I got out of the car after battling the traffic on my way home - and felt my heart sank. I thought about the FET on saturday - I felt sick.

Once upon a time I used to be all giddy and excited about this whole IVF thing. I used to think about what to say or do when it works out - who to tell first, how to structure my acceptance speech for the clinic.... and once I get the results of my doomed cycles, I was left alone to pick up the pieces. I stock up on the pads, I buy tampons, I sulked, I cried, I whinged, I waited for the larger pieces of my period to come through and think about my lost embryos, I got angry, I say to myself never again. And for at least a few weeks after that I refuse to go near pregnancy central (ie. daytime shopping, the maternity ward route of my old clinic, certain pregnant friends, and a certain northen suburb shopping centre so I don't have to bump into that annoying `ooh I love babies' bitch).

Just rang the clinic - I expect them to hype me up about the big FET event tomorrow. Except I was just told, call again tomorrow morning to double confirm the FET time (and to check if there is going to be a FET at all), bye for now.

So I am going to do what was told and just wait. Nothing else I can do really.

I am shitty today because I am scared.

Young Ones

Today I wanted to have a `normal' work lunch - so I went for a walk for a change.

Power walked past the newsagency, the bank, and just when I was about to enter the `good' shops and submerge myself into some lunch time retail therapy - two very pretty and very YOUNG fertility goddesses waddled past. No, actually they didn't waddle, they walked like your ordinary teenager actually.

They had the long straight hair (the sleek look), the tight fitted tops and cropped jacket, the trendy `must-have' wide leather belts around the hips (can you have hips during pregnancy???), the trendy beaded necklaces around the neck, the slim-fitting Sass and Bide jeans, and the ballet slipper styled shoes Marie-Claire saids we HAD to have this season. If the baby bumps aren't that visible I would've thought they were about to go night-clubbing.

Yes - the two girls (who looked like they were in their early twenties) were both pregnant and dressed in similar chic fashion.

I felt myself aged about 20 years in front of them. It's as bad as watching Becky Cartwright giving birth to twins with blond little ringlets in the middle of the Australian Open tennis court.

Whilst they glided past me and walked into a `must-go-to' juice bar - I sulked in silence. How lucky are they? Two best friends, both young, and trendy, and probably with loving/adoring husbands/partners, and obviously no jobs ..... and I struggle with silly little things like ovulation every month.

I am going to keep this story to myself and not tell Ape-man about it. He is going to tell me off and say shit like,

`Aww it's like that, when you are young and pregnant, you probably wish you are single, childless and have a brilliant career/live'.

Well, I want a baby now. Been saying that for five years. I've done the young and single bit, I guess I am doing it now in a way except I have husband, but I also want a baby. I want the fruits of our love, I want it all.

I just want to be normal.

I remembered once I was at the casino after a rather messy family gathering one night. Mom insisted I put some money on the fruit wheel - I was reluctant because I was too tight-arsed to even part $2 at a place like the casino. In the end I gave in and put $2 down on the water-melon. The wheel turned and landed on the water-melon. I won $2. Me and mom were jumping up and down and laughed hysterically- people thought we won big. But we only won $2.

That's how I feel sometimes when I tell loved ones that I fucking OVULATED on my own this month with no drugs. But whatever rocks my boat I guess, it makes me happy.

Am feeling much better today after the ovulation. I am going to start connecting emotionally with my wee frozen ones (they arrived at the new clinic on Monday). Please.....I hope at least one of you make it through the thaw. I need just a little more divine help here.

Does anyone still wear culottes?

Made a full-on fashion statement today by wearing a pair of culottes I bought from Witchery on the weekend. Prior to this purchase I didn't even know what culottes are or how to pronounce it.
I wasn't keen on them initially - but because it fitted quite well around the hips area, plus I am currently doing an IVF cycle - so this is the perfect time to buy fitted pants because I need something to remind myself that it is still okay to buy pants because I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE IF THIS CYCLE WORKS OUT OR NOT. So under the careful guidance of the Witchery sales assistant, who gleefully assured me that I looked hot in the culottes - I bought them AND another two skirts. No tops. Just skirts. Tight ones.

Then this morning at work somebody who was born in the 40's pointed out to me that this is what they used to wear when they were heaps younger. So the curious me researched it on the internet and found this amusing link:

Hot hot hot!!

The moment I saw it I laughed my ass off. Fuck! Do I really look like that?

Oh well, I like the pants - it kind of made my waist looked a little smaller even though I am supposed to be bloated with IVF drugs.

My friend (a real trooper), who is currently embarking on her 16th cycle with her new clinic - has officially kick-started her fresh cycle after three months of fucking around with clean-up surgeries and pre-IVF medicated cycles. She is doing a fresh cycle with her new clinic. She almost had to push a trolley to the pharmacy and back with the drugs she is supposed to be taking. Human growth hormones, suppositories, estrogen supplements, gonatrophins, steriods, aspirins...etc. I think she is so incredibly brave and I hope she gets a good outcome this time.

Babies for all.

Had my trigger injection last night. We spent 15 minutes analysing the drugs we were given, another 5 minutes arguing about what goes where and how. A further 5 minutes for me to whinge about how painful it is going to be and to give a mini lecture on the price to pay to create a new life, and another few moments to numb the injection site with ice to minimise the pain.

Yup. Still hurts. Hate trigger injections. Can't they make smaller needles?

The good news is Ape-man handled it very well, and was as gentle as he could be - once it was over he gave me a hug and told me he will buy me a new car end of the year if we have the money.

The bad news is I have more of those injections to come because I am using HCG injections instead of progesterones pessaries this cycle.

We injected into the fat of my stomach. As a novelty I might do it on the buttocks next time - never tried that one before. Bet you it probably hurts even more.

Here We Go Rock And Roll

Started off having a really shitty weekend - was feeling lerthagic and sad - because I cannot feel my ovary hurting at all. Which means no eggs in the making. Which means no embryo transfer pending. Which means another dud month.

Then continued to have a shitty weekend - made the mistake of picking up a semi-documentary movie about Manson the 70's killer who's tripped out of acid and thinks he is Jesus Christ in the making. It's bad because somebody actually made money by making a movie about him - even worse is there are curious people like myself who borrowed the DVD and watched it. After watching the movie it left a bad taste in my mouth and I just want to throw it all up to make myself feel better. No luck there. I think the puregon was making me sick too.

I defied my clinic's instructions to double the dosage of Puregon to wake my ovary up. I don't want anymore drugs because I want to use as little as possible so I don't fuck my body up too much - so I continued to use 25mg every second day instead of daily as requested.

Sunday was terrible - it feels like somebody blew hot air up my ass and everything is all bloated inside. The ovary felt lumpy and hurt only when I squat - I suspect:

1) I am making lots of little little eggs - so small they are polycystic like and is not big enough for me to kick up my estrogen levels and complete the cycle. So that's no good.

or

2) I am not making egg at all. Once again I am trapped in a never-ending cycle with no estrogen rise and base-line blood results for weeks. So that's no good either.

So there I was - feeling depressed, but at the same time feeling eccentric enough to simulate all these bizzare yoga poses in the comforts of my living room floor to see if I can feel any pain in the ovary. The ovary just feels lumpy and I feel like I need to pee/crap all the time to relief myself because I was feeling so bloated. Ape-man thinks I have gone mad and is making things up as an excuse for not having sex.

So this morning I turned up a day early to have my blood test and ultrasound. I know something is wrong. Could not sleep at all last night because my innards were so bloated.

I was chastised by the nurse for turning up one day early because it fucks up their records - but I know my body - I know something is up. I want to know.

I brought out the violin and whined to the blood nurse about how the drugs are not working again because I don't think I am ovulating. She assured me sometimes it takes a while for the drugs to kick in. The next step is to further increase the dosage and do 25mg/50mg Puregon on alternate days. Oh fuck.

So off I went to the ultrasound room. Once the knickers are off and legs are on stirrups - miracle #1 happened. I have a 12mm endometrial lining.

I know from experience this must mean SOMETHING is working - you don't just get this lining thickness for no reason.

`Oh here it is - 12mm - that looks good! You see right here in the centre there - this is where we are going to put your embryo. Looking good!'

Okay.

And then I saw it - my 25mm miracle egg. I cannot believe I can't feel it - this cycle I cannot feel my egg making process at all.

Am happy. I told the ultrasound tech I love this clinic already. The drugs are working.

`Don't get too excited yet! It's still early days.' Said the tech.

Well, if you have as many set backs as me in the past - a small step like this is a treasured miracle for me. So I am going to celebrate regardless. You see - when it comes to my body - I am always right - if I turn up tomorrow instead of today it would've been too late to use the trigger injection - because I would've ovulated on my own already. And then they will not be able to time my transfer.

Baby steps. One small step for mankind.

....And Waiting

Took me three fucking days to get over that flash back.

I wish people can be a bit `smarter' and pick things up quicker and stop their probing. And I am an idiot to allow this to happen over and over again.

Baby questions for the first time is conversation, the second time is novelty, the third time is for information and pushing the limit - the fourth time is rude, and anymore questions beyond that is plain ignorant and should be shot in public. The previously mentioned fertility goddess has already crossed that final boundary years ago. I now stop making professional contacts with her husband in fear of a lead up to any cosy dinners or unannounced visits.

And I am still waiting for an ovulation. Interestingly - I was doing okay the past months - six ovulations in a row post surgery - all cycles within a 31 day period - with no drugs assistance. Since I started to pump myself with this shitty puregon stuff last week - and all of a sudden - no ovulation pending. I expect my ovary to hurt - but it doesn't - which means it is not making egg(s).

The ovary has gone on holiday - really bad timing.

I can't wait until I had to do a fresh cycle - the clinic is going to have some fun working out what dosage do I require to WAKE my ovary up. I can hear them chanting 400mg Puregon already.

I don't know how many set backs can I take. I am so fucking angry at myself - in particular I hate this body of mine - it doesn't want to cooperate when I most needed it to.

Last night Apeman was on the phone to his brother - he called him using the speaker phone. I was nearby and overhead his little niece making baby noises (his brother probably sat his daughter on his lap). I stood close just so I can listen to the cute noises. Then I imagined how nice it will be to have a daughter so Apeman can do the same. It's such a nice feeling.

Am a little depressed. But will hang in here because having a baby is worth fighting for.

Still Waiting

Was doing okay on this high horse of mine - lah-dee-da - I am happy with or without baby. Then had a really fucking bad flashback this afternoon and it kind of ruined my IVF journey with new clinic.

Bad memory of this other fertility goddess - beautiful girl - good heart I suppose, but extremely nosey about my reproductive business.

I went to uni with her husband. Unfortunately she was (and still is) the really clingy type - so her now-husband actually dumped her during the first year of uni (after a long romance since they were teenagers) and dated another girl for several years. A group of uni friends decided that his latest girlfriend was a bitch - so we all encouraged him to re-date this clingy girl - I was one of his `caring friends' who pushed him into it. So yeah, thanks to me and a few others - he finally came to his senses and married this girl.

Their wedding was a year after ours - so they came to our wedding and then a year later, we went to theirs. Perfect stuff.

Then she started going off about babies. When are you having babies? Anytime soon? Will it be this year? Oh I love babies. So when are you having babies again? Didn't you say it will be this year last time I saw you? Oh I love babies.

So this vicious cycle of baby talk continues for two years after they married. Whenever I see her she is like my ball and chain, my deadweight - she just wants to know when are we going to start a family - she wants to know the full details. I avoid almost all outings in certain northern suburbs just so I can avoid bumping into her.

Then one day - I bumped into her whilst I was shopping for more bullshit for the house in Myers - she was heavily pregnant. She also looked really sickly - thus without with glowing pregnancy look - she is not loving it but she LUUUURVES babies - so it's all good.

So the questions started up again - oh when are you guys going to start a family? My god you guys been married for years!!

Nah I am a little immature for motherhood (IVF excuse# 287).

Oh really? No way - that is just not possible. You guys betttttttter catch up!!!

So off she went to give birth to a 10 pound bouncing baby boy - and the last time I saw her was six months ago - she dropped by our home with her husband and baby Evan. I used the `too immature to be a mom' line on her again after an excruciating 2 hour interrogation (and fuck I didn't even invite her over in the first place) - this time she wasn't too convinced and probably in her numb mind she is starting to get the drift that we are having problems getting pregnant.

So today I was sitting in front of my computer eating a shitty lunch, and suffered a flashback of her and her doodling about babies, it made me want to vomit my bean salad out. It felt like I was gagged and slapped on the face and gagged again. I hope I don't see her again - maybe I will run it past Ape-man this evening about moving into another place and get new identities for ourselves just to avoid this bitch.

She really is the most fucking annoying person in the world who drove me mad during my wannabe reproductive years. As if life is not bad enough - she certainly put the cherry on top of that pool of shit I have to wade through every month.

Anyway after that outburst - must say life is not getting any better - even with the Puregon jabs I am not getting any estrogen rises - still flat line today. So have to double the dosage and wait till next tuesday for a third blood test and vaginal probe.

Oh fucking well.

Caffiene Break

Just a short post to remind myself in the future that I am so happy right now because I just had a delicious moccha with extra chocolate with weak coffee just the way I like it and I feel so good right now nothing else matters. I just want you to know I am content to be on my own and nothing at all in this world is going to ruin that - not even another failed IVF cycle. And even if it fails again I am will go back for more cycles because all I need is a little incentive in life to keep me going - like this moccha I just had.

So eat that.

Here Goes #8

The weekend has kicked off my 8th cycle. Period arrived with a vegenance - but still less painful than the teeth gritting experience I used to have before my ovary was removed.

Today is Day 4 into the cycle.

Had my first blood test on Day 3 - it just felt so luxurious to have my blood taken in a new clinic - I love walking into the clinic almost anonymously - nobody knows my history. To them - I am another new face with a fresh start. It felt good already.

Of course, with the new clinic it also means new nurses to take my blood - it took the nurse three attempts to poke my vein - it really fucking hurt but I assured her you have to try and use the same spot again and again because that is the only way you can get blood from me. And I was right.

So this morning my lovely Ape-man injected me with the fun juice - 25mg Puregon. Injection every second day until they tell me to stop or until I wake up one day and say to myself this is all fucked lets just move on - no more injections. But of course I won't. I am still mentally strong for this.

I do wonder why I am still here - after 5 years - almost 4 years out of the 5 I was spent training and re-training Ape-man on the injections. Going back and forth to the clinic for more drugs, more needle dispensers, more fucking puregon pens, more puregon, more fucking trigger injections, more fucking blood tests and more fucking post IVF periods.

One morningI had to drop by the clinic to pick up my trigger injection, I walked past a new mother with her husband and newborn baby girl waiting to show the already busy clinic staff their bundle of joy. I have seen her before. Approximately a year ago I sat across from her in the waiting room for blood test. Obviously it worked out for her. And obviously not for me. She looked at me with a curious look at first, then she recognised me (I actually used to work with her a few years ago so we kind of recognise each other's faces), then she gave me this really pathetic look - I don't even know how to describe it - it was part smug, part comforting (for her) look. I felt so angry. I didn't feel empathy from her at all - I felt fucking angry and retarded. It's like she is making me feel like how can I keep going when I am obviously so pathetic at it. I started with the clinic way before she did - and now she is giving this `look' with a baby in her arms. I was so angry and cried all the way home and all throughout the rest of the week. What a spolier. And yes that cycle didn't work out. Again.

I am down to my final four embryos (all to be thawed on the day and monitored for progress - the best one goes back - if the remaining survives they will be re-freezed). Since the last two embryos were of questionable qaulity - I am not going to put too much hope on the remaining ones - so I am going for my back-up plan and have sex after they give me the trigger injection.

Bring it on.

Almost Starting Cycle # 8

Not meaning to gloat here - but I am about to have a perfect 29 day cycle.

Last night (Day 28) I saw the first breakthrough of watery blood - my period is arriving soon. Yeah fucking-doo.

When I was young - I never want my period to come. I hoped and pray that I will not bleed on the day I wear my white uniform for sports day. I wished so hard that when I was 14 it actually stopped for a whole year. In hindsight I do believe that was a sign/promise that I am destined to have women/fertility problems.

Then when I got older - I wished for my period to be regular so I know which days I can wear tight pants.

Then when I met Ape-man - and things got a little saucy - I wished for my period to have further gaps apart so we can fit in more sex.

Then when we started to try for a baby - I wish to get my period more regularly so I can fit in more fertility/IVF cycles.

And now - I am at a point in which I am finally happy. I make egg every month, then I make a nice endoemtrial lining, body temperature rises, the lining gradually thickens so my left boob hurt, body temperature dips on the last day of cycle and I bleed (and sulk). Cycle starts again.

I just need to fall pregnant to end this maddening cycle. God help me.

Am going to wait for the full force of my period - then give the new clinic a call and order a Frozen Blastocyst Transfer thanks, (probably call on Sunday). The plan is for Ape-man to inject me with a little Puregon daily to prime myself for the FBT.

The baby story of the day is I had to internally ring this girl up for information - only to be advised that she is on maternity leave. But please call this other lady up because she will have what you need - and yes - she is also pregnant and is at home waiting for her water to burst. So best to go fuck yourself and park yourself back in your work-station and whinge about infertility.

I nearly dug my eyes out.

Am just looking forward to start this cycle #8 and see what tricks nature has up on her sleeves this time. Am going to be optimistic.

I NEED to be optimistic.

The Infertile-land

Was reviewing my latest edition of the Madison magazine http://magshop.com.au/Madison.htm?CID=284 - and was reading the `Letters to the Editor' section - and came across this lovely lady's comments about an article from the previous issue.

The article in question was a debate about whether to have a baby whilst you're young - or maybe have a career/travel first - then have the baby when you are older. The lady in question just had a baby and find it necessary to defend her childless friends - there is not always a fine line as depicted by the magazine.

The article basically depicts two extreme scenarios - a young model in her early twenties with a son conceived accidentally with her ex-partner, and a television high-flyer who got married in her late 30's and is currently pregnant with her second child at aged 42.

She find it stereo-typing that people find it necessary to condemn women who are in a relationship - but childless - because people think they are putting career/travel/shoes in place of starting a family. She said some of her freinds are challenged in the baby-making department and therefore ended up childless - it is not by choice but by circumstances. So why should they be judged?

Also some of us don't get to `choose' when we can have babies. I wanted to have a baby when I was 26. Now I am 31 and still working on it.

I was asked last year by a nosey fucker if it was because I prefer the money from working better (so I can buy more shoes) - so therefore I am putting off starting a family (and she wasn't joking). I said yes. No need to clarify my situation with her. I share my IVF stories with people who genuinely care.

Yes - I guess to some people, after six years of marriage with no children is a little odd - maybe they presume I don't like children - and that I enjoy my 9 to 5 job so much that I am delaying motherhood. However I do find it necessary at times to defend myself to some family (who doesn't know about my IVF problem) - because they feel it is my duty to breed.

Well done to that lady who stood up for people like me - the reproductively challenged.

Panic (About Ovulation Or Not)

I panic about everything - all the time - and lately I have learnt to tone it down a little. Well, just a little.

That's why this cycle I have chosen not to do the daily blood tests - so basically I am supposed to not `give a fuck' about whether or not I have ovulated. I have been absolutely paranoid about it since they took my ovary away. Ovulation to me is an indication of `normalness'. To me, anovulation is a dirty word - it goes hand in hand with things like `mid cycle spotting', `cramps', `heavy period' - all of which I used to suffer severely prior to surgery. Some days I just want to die - after three fucking weeks of non-stop bleeding and estrogen hovering the low 200's is not good.

But then of course it doesn't stop me from charting my basal temps daily (first thing in the morning - before Ape-man kisses me good morning - he is not allowed to touch me until I temped myself - don't want his body heat to ruin the accuracy of theresults). Also I look out for mucus change, softness of vagina, and most importantly - my left boob's condition.

I was getting worried that I am not ovulating this month - so yep - off I went to see my naturopath - who assured me everything is `okay'. I think about the possibility of an ovulation daily - I keep freaking myself out - oh shit what happens if I don't ovulate this month? Fuck is something wrong with the remaining ovary? Am I growing a fucking cyst? OH FUCK FUCK FUCK!!

And then, it happened. Was told last thursday by my bee's knees new clinic that I ovulated (blood tests done as a part of pre-IVF screening). In fact it happened approximately 6 days ago. As if on cue - my left boob started to hurt, it began to hurt more and more and by today I swear it is going to fall off!

The moral of the story is - I am insane. If I stop trying to conceive maybe I will be normal again.

I found myself hovering outside a shop in town on saturday night - it was rather sad - I stared into the plastic dummies with attractive bellies - outfitted in beautiful lycra gear. I found myself wishing to be that dummy - even for a moment, even if it means I will be headless and not able to move - at least I will get to experience the feeling of having a belly full of baby.

Bless.