A long, long time ago…..

My grandfather grew up in the Orient.  His early days were difficult, it was a struggle to make a living and be somebody.  Back in the old days because the country was poor, the power industry can only afford second hand engines and machinery from England because there simply wasn't enough money from the community to purchase and own new things.

One year the company turned a tidy profit and decided it was time to upgrade their aging generator system.  So one such machinery was shipped all the way from England.  The whole process and shipping journey took months and thousands of manhours were spent to formalise the design, integration and implementation of the machine.  Once it arrived, big bosses in the company called on all the country's top mechanics and young chaps with degrees from Oxford to work on this machine.  There was a party organised to celebrate this new purchase on the day when the machine is commissioned.  One problem though - nobody can get it to work.  No Oxford scholars or aging men with decades of experience can figure out the problem.  The community was in a stand-still - idly gazing this expensive piece of machinery which potentially can be the biggest loss to the company in history.

One of the floormen heard of a young man who lived in a small country town, he knows a little about everything and recently trouble-shooted a small piece of machinery.  The project he undertook wasn't Ben Hur, but it was worth something.  Bosses said what the heck, call the young bloke in.  I hope this country bumpkin knows how to read mechanical drawings.

So the young bloke was called in.  He travelled on a slow train for a day and finally reached his destination.  He was hungry and missed his new born daughter.  He approached the monstrous machinery and instead of thumbing through the pages of drawings and instructions - he sat quietly and did some thinking, occasionally got up and looked at this and that, flicking on switches, took a few things apart and inspected, then put things back together.  By now the workshop was filled with people, Oxford engineers, masters of machineries, apprentices, and the big bosses.  He worked throughout the night.

Some time just before the break of dawn, with the crowd gathering getting larger by the minute, the young bloke flicked on the power switch.

BROOM BROOM BROOM BROOOOOOOOM.  The generated started.  It worked.  Big bosses wiped the sweat off their foreheads.

The whole facility broke into an applause and didn't stop until the young bloke quietly packed his bags and began to journey back home.  He missed his family terribly.

That young bloke was my grandfather who passed away late last year.  I didn't hear about this story until last week over a quiet coffee with my uncle.  It made me so incredibly proud of him and I wish my grandfather told me about this.  But it's just the way he is - he keeps to himself. 

I don't know how this story is going to help with my troubles at the moment - but it sure makes me determined to keep it going. 

Missing you grandpa.

Rage!

Today I had a go at:

1) A workmate:  I fully sprayed her for questioning my career decisions and said you ain't no help to me sista and I thought we should stick togetha.

2) My boss:  How can you give me all the crap work just because I took a couple of days off work last week, which apparently made me inadequate and not sharp enough for any new and challenging work, thus you gave me crap work to do this week.  This is not on.

3) My brother:  How dare you say I shouldn't have drank so much at your wedding last week, and how come you are always on mom's side and thinks she is always right.  How about being on my side for once and understand your mom is not perfect and don't always have a go at me first.

4) My mobile phone service provider - the rotten 3 phone:  You losers managed to give me three mobile phones in a row, all of them don't work, and you are now asking me to purchase a new battery, at my own expense, to see if it was a battery problem, and if it wasn't, I should go to the service centre myself, during business hours, at my own expense and time, to have it fixed up, or alternatively I should pay an extra $14 a month, just to get myself another new phone, which I have already done this once before, so I can solve this `shit phone' problem once and for all, of which I won't be needing to do any of these if you gave me a functional mobile phone in the first place?  Cancel my phone policy you dirt licker.

God I am such a monster today.  And unfortunately I don’t feel bad either.  I am still raging.

Sigh…the ride of the hormone roller coaster is getting worse by the year. 

Pre-Start Talks

Am back after a weekend of getting trashed - brother's wedding so lots of alcohol and fun times of taking relatives who travelled from overseas around town whilst secretly nursing the after effects of alcohol consumption (but not a hangover).

Just want to say something about PGD - because Betty and Meg had questions about it. 

I went to my appointment yesterday to review the drug protocol for my upcoming fresh cycle (currently Day 12 since my last dud one).  They have agreed on a dosage for me, and I am to down-regulate for a week prior to fresh start.  I discussed the pre-implantation genetic diagnosis with them.  I asked them about everything except for the costs - so Meg you are probably on the ball park figure about how much it costs.  It is probably going to be $2500 out of pocket on top of the standard IVF costs - and since I had to have my results couried overnight to Melbourne for analysis - that is probably going to further increase the cost.

You see - my previous doctor (who is a guru by the way), thinks this PGD test is a waste of time and money.  It is only of use if you have a genetic problem or serious hereditary illness in the family - and you don't want that to be passed on to your unborn child.  But my new doctor believes that PGD is an excellent test to be used to rule out failure possibilities - if your embryos turned out to be genetically perfect then that is one less thing you will have to worry about and can focus your time in doing more IVF cycles - knowing that it will work eventually.

I was told of a story of a few couples from the clinic - who embarked on cycles after cycles using perfectly normal looking embryos but either cannot get pregnant or kept miscarrying.  They all did the PGD as told - and some of them ended up finding out that all embryos produced were genetically flawed - which means they will never implant normally.  These couples are in fact relieved  - because they can either move on to egg or sperm donation.  Often they find that out of a dozen embryos produced, there are really only one or two that are okay to use.  And the success rate using these `qualified’ embryos is extremely high.

I guess with me bollocking about here about how good PGC is, is probably to motivate myself that I have not yet run out of options yet.  I still have something I can do and more questions answered.  I am not happy with the costs but then again it is either that or a lifetime of not knowing.....so bring it on.

I had an ultrasound scan yesterday - just to make sure there are no cysts and no polyps growing.  It showed more than half a dozen of growing follicles on the good ovary and another half a dozen on the little ovary.  I pointed to the cluster of follicles out to the technician and said oh my god are they all follicles?  She said yup.  She said are you stimming this cycle?  I said nah.  She said oh looks like you have a bad case of PCOS.  I said yippee lucky me.  They grow when you don't want them to, and don't when you want them to.  But she said don't worry as long as no cysts no bumps and lumps we are good to go. 

I also got counselled.  Load of bullocks initially, but after some careful thinking and did some of that reading I was given, I think I can be a little more optimistic for my next cycle - for everyone's sake.

 

 

Outlash

Haven't been able to use the `fuck' word for ages, it's because I have been sneakily posting using the email method. And I can't use the `fuck' word using work emails. But today I am having a day off. At home. So here it is.

Fucking hell. Fucking hell. Fucking hell.

Today I was idle so I did some idle thinking. It has been six years. Six years of unprotected sex (with the exception when the nurses said don't have sex tonight because you have hyperstimulated so it's dangerous). These days I calmly walk into the blood room (as compared to the early terrified days), plonk my right arm down on the cushion and position myself, fist pumping. If the nurse is unsure I will say right here, in the centre, you won't see the vein but the sucker is there, just feel for it. And if they miss, I'd say don't worry, if you've lost it - pull it out and try the same arm again. You won't have any luck with my left arm and don't even think about the feet - we've been there once and it wasn't pretty.

And that was just one of the many, many procedures of IVF I am now so familiar with. No change of clinics or new doctors is going to take that familiar feeling away from me.

Got a phone call earlier today from the clinic. They want to do PGD on my fresh cycle next month. They want me to make an appointment with them to discuss the procedure - on top of the counselling session I booked with them. I said fine. Lets talk PGD.

This is depressing to write. So we will leave it as that. PGD it is.

On a lighter note - I did feel happier today - less pessemistic because I have the prospects of a new cycle to look forward to. I just need to get a good grip at it and take it in the chin.

La la la...

And so that was that.

Pretty much resumed my `normal' way of life two days later.  Getting out to do things, cleaning up the house, buying more towels and crap for the house.  Life goes on.

In between Apeman lost his nanna - she died as a result of a mild heart attack and old age.  Sigh.  Again, like my grandpa's passing last year the last thing she said to us was she was keen to see great-grand children from us.  Again we failed in that department and lamely tried to tell her that we are `busy' and will have kids `a bit later'. 

When I got my test results that day, via that `I am sorry I don't have good news for you' phone call, I thought I will never recover from this experience again.  I went all numb and weak and couldn't pull myself up from the sofa.  I wanted to be swallowed and never be seen again.  I want to be in a coma.

But eventually I got up and moved on.  I made myself busy and cleaned mirrors and shower screens and wiped every surface in the house.  I threw away needles, old medications, wipes, instructions for this cycle.  I did some light gardening.

Then a few days later I realise I can do this again.  It is not the end of the road for me yet because I never believe I cannot fall pregnant.  I know I have it in me somewhere.  This one just happens to fall into that 87%failure rate for a frozen embryo transfer cycle, although it has already happened one too many times I still don't believe I will die childless.  Because I won't.  Apeman and I will be parents soon enough.

So here’s what next.  Looks like this is the rest cycle and will be looking at a fresh collection with this new clinic in April.  I am going to try the assisted hatch Day 3 transfer combo – possibly investigate the benefits in tubal transfer.  And yes I will be taking advantage of their counselling option with the fresh cycle.  In the mean time I am going to hang tight and live as dangerously as possible.  Hack, if Britney Spears can be a mom (and for the second time - five months after the birth of her first), so can I.  And when I do fall pregnant, I am going to have the biggest and loudest baby shower this side of Australia.

Baby hit me one more time.

10^th / 11^th cycle all over again with nothing much to say really.  They say nothing much to do now except to keep going or no do anything at all and maybe get some counselling to help me cope with future cycles I will be doing.  Right now I just wish for enough strength to get me by till the end of this work day and not fall down flat on my face.  Thank you.

Moving Moving Moving On...

Got the news today that, the workmate of mine who told me about his wife’s pregnancy last year the day after my previous failed IVF attempt – is due to give birth any minute.

Always bad timing.  Was meant to do lunch with him tomorrow, you know, a professional power lunch in some overcharged restaurant, hoping to boost my confidence and be proud to be a career woman (of sort).  He emailed and said nah mate, can’t do lunch tomorrow; the missus is due to give birth any minute. 

So ho-hum – probably better off anyway, I am in such a foul mood today I almost had a go at the woman who served me at the café counter, I wanted to say to her GET WITH THE PROGRAM, I SAID I WANT MORE PASTA AND LESS CHIPS, IS THAT TOO DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO COMPREHEND?  SHALL I JUMP OVER TO YOUR SIDE OF THE COUNTER AND GIVE YOU A FREAKING HAND?  But of course I didn’t.  I am not made like that.

Just bad, bad mood today, depressed, deflated, defeated and SAD.  The cramps are getting increasingly real as I close in on the test date.

Despite my foul mood I am a little bit calmer then last round of FET.  (Can you be angry and calm at the same time?).  I have a little holiday planned for the long weekend, I am trying to make the most of the situation. 

Rang mom this morning to chat about brother’s upcoming wedding in March.  Was going okay until I blurted out about my recent FET cycle, and I commented that I am getting cramps and don’t know if this will work.  Mom thought for a moment, and said don’t worry, it’s not meant to be.  If you want you can always adopt a little girl from China.

Apart from the time Mom told me she threw away all my high school and university text books because she was doing spring cleaning and `needed the space’, this is the only other time I want to tell her to F-off and hang up on her. 

Sigh.

Interlude

I was in the waiting room with Apeman.  Apeman was holding my hands because they were shaking so much.  He told me not to worry and whatever will be, shall be.

I clutched onto my already damp shirt and wish I can pull it over my head and hide inside it forever.

The doctor himself came out, he has a strange look on his face.  On his hands was my destiny – a sheet of computer printout with rows and rows of hormone levels.

He began:  `Drew…’

I said: `Don’t, please don’t, I don’t want to know.  I can’t take this anymore.  I don’t want to do this anymore because my heart can’t take it.’

He said: `But Drew you are pregnant, it finally worked!  Your HCG levels are not very high but I can almost be certain they are going to keep doubling based on our calculations.  So go and celebrate sweetheart.’  He gave my shoulder a squeeze and sent me and Apeman off home.

I panicked.  Oh my God.  What have I done?  Is this for real?  They must have got my results mixed up with somebody else.  Oh that’s too cruel.

Then I figured, hell, might as well enjoy this moment.  I just hope I am not dreaming.  I need to celebrate, I want to forever freeze this moment and replay this memory for the rest of my life.  I am too happy.  I am going to have a baby and going to be a momma - finalfuckingly.

I went down to the hospital newsagency, and figured I need to buy something to celebrate.  So I bought a flag.  Of all things I could’ve bought, including my favourite New Weekly magazine, I bought a freaking flag – a medium sized one which I keep waving it back and forth as we returned to our car – our 4WD bought for our unborn child.

Then I woke up.  I started to cry because I was so disappointed that it was only a dream and it is only 11 days past ovulation.  Not testing until another week or so.  People get knocked up everyday including drug dealers and low life human beings who beat and abuse children.