Interpretations

Sorry girls for not posting earlier. Everything went as well as can be - the reason why it took me so long to post again is because today (being Sunday) is the first day I can sit upright. I have a serious sore ass. More later on this rectally challenged issue.

Depending on which way you want to look at it - I am relatively happy to have 6 fertilised Ape-Drew nesting in the clinic. Hopefully there are still 6.

Told you they double accounted some of the follicles!

So initially I was told I have approximately 13 follicles in the making. After much fuss, much freaky business inside the theatre of egg collection, I woke up from sedation and asked the most important, mind shattering question: "Have you guys started (egg collection) yet?" . The answer is of course yes hunny, you are in recovery room. It's all over.

So how many eggs were there?

8.

Oh.

Oh what? That's not a bad number you know!

Well I thought I had more, I was half expecting 13 you know. (In the background I could hear a woman almost jumping over joy - if only she could stand with the drips still attached to her arm - that they collected 14 from her. 7 from each side).

Later when Apeman finally returned to my bedside, after a side trip made to the porn room (hey they have DVD's you know! - said the Apeman), and a brief return to his office, he recounted to me how the doctor was a bit reluctant to retrieve more follicles from me. I said oh why not! He said the doc reckons your other follicles weren't mature enough. The good thing was all 8 follicles collected were Grade 1 Drew-clan. I feel blessed already.

I spent all day friday and saturday in pain. Full on rectal bowel pain. When I was in the recovery room I was asked if I am sore. I said yeah I am pretty fucking sore. Where sore? Oh the...the...bowels? They said the bowels? Yeah the bowels. It wasn't until I was admitted into the day care patient quarters that I decided to shyly tell the nurse (with the nose-ring) that my ASS is sore. She giggled and said oh hunny you are allowed to say ASS here. I said yeah goody because my ASS is very, very sore. What in the hell did the doctor do to me in that room! I asked Apeman if he recalled any hard objects were shuffed rectally into me during the procedure. He said no. I said did you see the eggs?

`Yeah, they just look like round little things with a lot of pus around it'

Luuuuuurvly.

Then on Saturday I got the call from the lab telling me 6 has fertilised with the Ape-sperm.

Yippee.

Yeah that's not a bad number you know. Considering one of the eggs out of the 8 are actually a little on the undercooked side (ie too small), so it really is 6 out of 7. Not a bad percentage. So do you want to go ahead with PGD? (It is not as good as my last fresh cycle, because I had 11 eggs collected and 9 fertilised, but the percentages look a lot better this time).

Yes please. I am happy to know there's six of me and Apeman joined together. A part of us.

And you know what they say - you only need one. I am not going to pray for anymore success, because I have done that before. I just hope there is a chance for me.

It's time for me to become a mommy.

I wait for long time

Shoes for this cycle: The aquamarine floral flats by KEDS. They are cute, simple and sure-win with any outfits. I reckon anyway. I shall wear them in the delivery room if this IVF cycle works out.

After posting last night complaining about the lack of bloatiness and general fertility pains, I certainly paid for it. Fucking in PAIN all last night, so bad that it kept me awake most of the time. I didn't have the heart to wake Apeman up and tell him ALL about it. This morning I had to hobble to the toilet, once again grit my teeth so I can squeeze out as much pee as I can to relieve my internal organs.

The highlight of the day is the much anticipated vaginal probe and blood tests. Today is a good day. Only two attempts at the poor right arm, not too painful at all. I need to buy that right arm vein some flowers one day.

Ultrasound today shows:
LHS: Pretty much bugger-all, the ultrasound doc didn't think it was worth writing the sizes down. The follicles just didn't grow much - which is fine by me. I want my little ovary to have as little response as possible because that was the ovary of grief. No worries there.

RHS: I think there were 13. When I say I think it's because I suspect the doc might have double-accounted some of them. Like, how can you possibly tell you are not measuring one you have just measured before? It's like trying to count clouds, or beans, or whatever. The smallest one is 1.3, then there is a bunch of 1.6 - 2.0, another bunch of 2.1 to 2.6. Then there is the biggest one which measures at 2.8. I think that is a little too ripe for picking. I read somewhere (in the cyberspace) that eggs sharn't be too immature (ie. too small) or too mature (ie. too big). So all in all there's 13 likely prospects. Am going to get the big trigger needle in a couple of hours time. Collection on friday morning. Whooo-hoo to that. Overall the sizes for this cycle in comparison to my other fresh ones seems a little bigger on average.

Went home in tears because my right ovary was hurting so much, it wasn't tears of self-pity, it was tears of blinding pain. I was in real twisted pain at work trying to finish off this stupid report nobody wants to write. I should learn to say no more often.

I told Apeman he better get ready for some fertilisation loving on friday.

`You mean, like, I am going to spray (ejaculate, come) all over the petri dish?'

And I am going to propagate the Ape-clan with this man. It was a good laugh anyway, I know he was trying to make me laugh. It was a tough day and he knows this is a tough game.

Right now I am reading Belle de Jour's Diary of a London Call Girl. It's the second time I've read it. I don't think it is at all glamarous what she does (or did) for a living, but fair enough, it's still a job. She's a very infectious writer nevertheless. I am an underpaid engineer who gets fucked by the corporation I work for by taking less cut of my rate (in comparison to what I am charged out for) and does all the shitty work (ie. doing work you don't get credit for, and is manipulated into believing you are making a big contribution to the project, but somehow you just don't seem to be able to reap the rewards).

It's still prostitution in some ways I guess.

Anyway - egg collection friday.

I am making this shit up

Oh yes - its all bollocks.

I made this entire cycle up. At least that's how I've been feeling the last two days anyway. I've been waking up in the morning to this intense FULL feeling, like I need to do a big dump, but I don't really. Pissing is a hideously painful excercise - so bad that I had to grit my teeth and go slowly everytime. I blame endometriosis again. Fucking disease.

I went to work the last few days with this foul fullness pain in my stomach. Then two days ago I started having this intense prickly pains in the breasts - not pre-menstrual type boob pains - but prickly, sharp jabs in all areas around the boobs every 10 minutes. My boobs suddenly seem to have filled out a bit (I have gone from an A-cup to a fuller A-cup). Apeman was quite excited about my new fuller boobs. He thinks I'm a porn star. Sickly. Anyway the bigger boobs are probably the result of Puregon jabs.

Then today I don't feel anything at all. No boob pains. Not much stomach fullness. It certainly doesn't feel like I am an egg farm. Very ordinary. I remember before I got onto this IVF ride six years ago, a lady at work told me she is about to embark on her first IVF cycle because they haven't had much luck for the past 18 months. She told me she was going to take the entire month off just to concentrate on IVF and give herself sufficient rest to cope with the process. I thought to myself, holy shit, this IVF business is SERIOUS! Then of course she goes and fall pregnant naturally - one week before she was to start IVF. She had a little girl and she looks absolutely beautiful.

I don't intend to take any time off this time - only a few days here and there to accomodate the procedures. But then of course somewhere during the two week wait I will fall off my bandwagon, quit my job and ramble in my blog something about blue skies and jesus juice and how I am never going to be mom in this lifetime...something like that.

But all that will only happen if I can get pass egg collection. Tomorrow going in for what I hope to be my last blood test before egg collection, and a final scan. I hope there is something in there for everyone - ie. eggs to collect from me, and a little more revenue for the clinic.

On a more upbeat note, today I inherited a beautiful antique diamond ring. It belonged to Apeman's grandmother who passed away a couple of weeks ago. I don't know much about diamonds (honestly!), but it looks pretty expensive. At her funeral I remembered I consoled Apeman saying something about what a wonderful life she's had - 10 children, 25 grandchildren and another dozen of great-grand children. I said to him I wish I have a life like his grandmother - to have such a large clan of loved ones and to be loved and cherished by so many.

And today I inherited a part of Apeman's grandma - I hope to rub off some of her luck and happiness, and create our own breed of Apekids. It's time to start a family of our own.

Some Egg Farm

Was at Coles today at the deli section waiting for my number to be called so I can buy some bacon and chicken. From the corner of my eye I saw a little boy making faces at me, I gave him a little cheeky wink. He smiled and went to his mother's side, she was possibly a woman my age (ie. early 30's), with a well-worn figure - even though she is quite slender herself, her stomach bulges out and appeared quite loose because afterall, she had five kids. Her smallest one was probably two years old, sucking on her thumb mumbling something about chicken or something. She looked at me, I smiled back. She smiled and then proceed to launch into a full-on verbal assault on her second oldest child - yelling at him to stop FUCKING around with the Coco-pops because she hasn't paid for it yet. And if he doesn't stop right this minute she will hurt him. Her children then ran mad around her trolley.

Unfortunately I had to stand there and watch because my number wasn't called yet, the mother looked at me again, I was pushing a trolley full of snacks, hair things, dessert things (all for Apeman except for the hair things), she looked a little beaten.

`Your little one is cute'. I found myself saying.
`Hmm thanks, yeah she's alright, thank God she's not saying much yet, you can have my older one if you want - see that one?' She was gesturing at the sandy haired boy who is now eating from the unpaid for Coco-pops.

If only she knows. The higher powers adpots some pretty weird logic.

Ultrasound indicated I have 5 growing follicles, and maybe another 5 that is on they way up - all from the good ovary (well done Diana). There's another 4 little ones on the smaller ovary but it is only really small (on ya Dierdre). Estrogen climbing nicely at 1500 yesterday. The clinic reckons I should be looking at egg collection next friday. Then it will be the moment of truth.

To the mothers out there with lots of children (ie. more than 2) - I salute you. Tough job, but I must say, great rewards.

Day 8 today. Bring it on.

I hope

Today, in my mind, I see a baby girl with a mop of dark hair like me. 

Big almond shaped eyes, cute cupid bow lips, no dimples, but thick eyebrows like Apeman (she can always pluck those when she’s older).

She is a stubborn little girl, bit like her mother, very much like her father, so stubborn that her hair literally stands up straight.  Her grandma marvels at how much she looks like me when I was a baby.

She has chubby cheeks, with a little rosy tint, a little dry from the weather, fingers are short – like her father, and when she finally sleeps she sleep not too soundly, she shivers as she is having a very exciting dream, in her sweet dream she was chasing a golden retriever puppy, a puppy her dad got for her as a birth present because he wants to raise her without fear towards animals.  She is going to grow up and tell her friends in kindergarten that she has an older brother, and he is a golden retriever. 

Day 6 today.

And it's bleeding...

So the first sign of bleeding showed up on thursday, friday came the faint red river flow, then it was Saturday. Day 1.

Easter Saturday was a bit of bollocks. I went to the clinic to get my `Day 1' blood test. I thought I was cute for showing up earlier than expected for a Saturday, only to discover another 30 or so women had the same idea. They were all waiting patiently as the under-staffed clinic tried to cramp as much blood taking they can in two hours. I wasn't too fussed - waiting in a cramped room with crampy women reading well-read magazines is like a walk in the park these days. What's new.

An hour later my name was called. And after three attempts I was told all veins have collapsed and I was to wait for another 10 minutes and get myself a coffee for hydration. Fuck. Well I guess it's better than let's have a look at your feet to see if we have anything there.

For some reason I was feeling sad after all that jabbing and probing around under the skin. Just plain sad. This would've been piss easy for me and I would've taken it in the chin like any other day. But for some reason that day I just felt like plain shit. I walked out of the clinic (en route to the coffee machine) crying. Pathetically crying. Sob sob sob sob sob crying. And worse still, as I walked out of the clinic I saw a man (who was about to walk INTO the clinic) eyeing me up and down. Yeah thanks.

I think I was feeling vulernable. I really fucking hate blood tests. Anyhow everything is okay. At base line on saturday and on sunday I was allowed to start my injections. I want to grow big big big eggs. Please.

I signed all the papers - everything from the `Yes please I want to be wheeled into an operating theatre' to the `Yes please use the new government non-approved fluid to grow my embryos' to the `Yes please use my eggs or any genetic material extracted from me or my husband'.

I don't even know what to say. I want to be a mommy so incredibly bad. I was holding my sister in law's baby girl on the weekend and saw how much she looks like Apeman's brother. I want a little girl with big brown eyes who calls Apeman daddy, and hug him until she falls asleep and breathes her baby breathe.

I am going to take this one day at a time. Today is Day 4.

Easter Wishing

There are days when you think to yourself, oh wouldn’t it be nice to get knocked up naturally, your period never comes and you get tested positive for pregnancy.  Especially a week before you were meant to start an IVF cycle.  Oh the cliché!

But no.  Mine’s here, exactly 14 days since ovulation.  No surprises for me – it’s like I don’t even dare to think it may happen to me.  Sigh.

Sometimes I like to read up on other people’s success IVF stories just so I can psyche myself for the excitement of a fresh cycle.

But I am not in the mood for it today.  I better in better mood next week because I am going to need it.  Somebody said to me today the whole bollock of IVF process is like rolling a dice – you have to keep rolling and eventually your number will be up soon.  Well my hands are getting really tired.

And congratulations Panda!  Well done you sparkly, sparkly gur-fren.

Happy Easter everybody!

 

Huh?

As I eagerly awaits for the Divine Panda to experience the ultimate experience in life (ha), I went for a blood test this morning just to confirm I did indeed ovulate and can start down-regulation for my fresh cycle this month.

Was quietly sitting in the blood room on a blood chair waiting for the blood nurse to fetch my blood file, I overheard next door's conversation.

"You got all your meds for this cycle?"

"Oh yes"

"Is this your first cycle?"

"Oh yes"

"Right, so this must be all new to you, so can I have your date of birth please?" (Assuming it was meant for Medicare related purposes)

"24-June-1984"

I snorted (quietly and discreetly of course).  Doesn't 1984, make her, like, 21 years old?  What is she doing here?  She should be out in the sun, dancing, bearing midriff lining up outside a nightclub waiting to get in, experience assorted hallucination drugs, join the Greenpeace, learn how to break-dance, get a degree, anything.  Anything but strapped willingly to a blood chair waiting to check her hormones to start a gruesome IVF cycle.  It was ludicrous.  When I was 21 I didn't even know I have two ovaries.

But once my selfish-I-do-IVF-so-leave-me-alone self recovered from that little titbit of information, I reasoned with myself that IVF is for everybody who wants to start a family - even if it means you are 21 (or 14).  But then again even if I had the knowledge when I was 21 that I am infertile, I still won't go through IVF at such a young age.  No-fucking-way.

And on that note – things are looking good hormonally and we are due for a start when the witch shows up in a week or so.  Bring on egg collection.

Wishful thinking

It was Sunday morning, me and Apeman managed to drag ourselves out of bed early (ie. 8am) and went for a drive to a not so local nursery (plants type) to buy some plants.  We want to beautify the garden.

Ape:  “Want a coffee?”

Me:  “Yeah why not.”

So he took a left turn and we were at McDonald’s drive through – and placed an order for one of new Macca’s brewed coffee.  It tasted like crap but hey, it’s decent enough to keep us awake.  We didn’t buy two coffees – we bought one cup.  We always share one of everything ever since we were both 20. 

As we were taking turns to sip the coffee, I made a comment about not being able to do what we’re doing if we have children.  ie.  We can’t just drive off in the morning and do whatever we want if we have a baby in the house.  He said yeah.  But it will be nice if we have a baby won’t it? 

So there I was, trying to make our bleak situation as beautiful as possible. 

There is a guy here whom I work with.  He just couldn’t stop talking, it is as if he is possessed by some demon and all he talks about is his wife, house and mortgage.  So today, against my will, even before I was allowed to go and get my coffee, he went on about his big plans.  He wants his mortgage repayments to be reduced to $200 a month first, then his wife shall become pregnant, then the next nine months will be spent on renovating his house and maybe put in an extension for a few rooms for his unborn children, his wife will then quit her job and they will live on a single salary for the next three years until his wife returns to the workforce.  I was losing interest in his waffling, partially because he is so dull and boring and talks about himself all the time, and partially because I get annoyed when people talk about having children as if they can control when and where that will happen.  Because this is one of the things I no longer have control of and even if it happens it will be nothing short of a miracle.  If it happens I will worship whichever God and run down the road naked because I will be so blinded by happiness.  It is just something this workmate of mine will never understand because the chances are all those things he mentioned will happen to him at the time he said it will.

I need a new workstation.  Or a new job.

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. 

Just scared.

Think am cramping already. 

The more you do this the scarier it becomes. 

This just plain sucks.

 

One more day

Pessimistic side of me: 

Supporting parties include my knees (for injuring themselves despite my non-involvement in any kind of sport except for yoga, my brain (for thinking up too much rubbish so I worry myself more), the pimples that comes and goes according to hormonal fluctuations, my uterus (for taking perfectly good embryos and not giving them a good home), and finally, my hair (for not behaving regardless of use of products or blowdrying techniques). 

 

Optimistic side of me: 

Supporting parties include my right ovary (for being there and stayed calm during my reproductive years), my left ovary (for going and coming back), my hands (for washing dishes in restaurants and working in factories so I can put myself through university, and for trying - but unsuccessfully, put injections on my stomach, my stomach (for taking all those injections without complains), my eyes (for staying strong despite the hardship I put through them - including taking on a LASIK surgery to correct my vision, ouch that hurts), and finally, my feet (for picking myself back up again after each disappointment and for the hardship they have to endure for wearing my trophy heels).

 

Pessimistic side chanted this morning:  What makes you think it is going to work for you this time?  This is your 7th embryo from this batch, your 7th FROZEN embryo, from the final three, it didn't work last time, or the time before, or the time before that.  Ha it never worked.  Just get on with it and wait for your period.  Oh by the way Hair is looking pretty crap today, you look like you are wearing a wig.

 

Optimistic side retorted:  (Note:  Feet are wearing shiny flats today, so the comfort factor helps).  It is going to work.  It is going to be SWEET.  You just wait because it is your turn this time, it is your time.  It didn't work before because it simply wasn't your time.  Your body is in top shape, you had a nice surge, the embryos are top grade blastocysts, you have a fantastic shoe collection, you bought the 4WD so the baby IS coming.  A baby is going to come into your lives and you are going to be a mom.  You just wait for the positive pregnancy test.  You hang in there. If I'm you I will get on with that shopping for pregnancy shoes.

 

Looks like it is time to give myself that really, really short haircut.

In Peace

I am finally at peace with Deirdre - my forgotten ovary.  Last Friday she gave me a much needed dominant follicle and we had a lift-off at LH=42.  Deirdre started off as my nasty bitch from endometriosis hell, and then reduced to nothing, only to grow back six months later to give me minor pain and suffering.  She's now back on my follicle production line and I suspect she will stay there for as long as I need her because it is nature intended. 

If everything goes according to plan (yeah right, what plan?), we are looking at a transfer on thursday.

Eternal optimism and inner-calm dissipates.  Panic sets in.

Welcome to cycle numero 11.