Disclaimer

I had to make some changes to my blog. It seems that I have unwittingly offended some persons near-and-dear to my heart, BUT who were unable to vocalize this to me directly, and told Mr. DD instead. I would understand this if they were wanting to feel me out on how I would respond if they took me aside and frankly informed me that some of my comments had made them feel “uncomfortable.” This appears to not be the case. Instead, Mr. DD instructed me to “smooth things over” so that everyone could be friends again. Unfortunately for him and the parties involved, I have taken the defense. This is MY blog. The comments, observations, feelings expressed are purely MINE. If I had to edit myself because I was afraid I would offend someone, I would never post anything outside of, “Today the sun rose and later it will set.” If they feel they are not comfortable with me, then we are not as close as I had hoped we were.

I’m ashamed that I had to change the URL address of my site based on someone else’s feelings instead of my own. But, be warned from here on out: If you are of such a delicate nature that brutally honest observations; swearing; incorrect use of grammar and lack of a spell check make you cringe…move one, nothing to see here. This is the chalk outline of my soul. Lurk all you like, but any motion sickness you experience on MY roller-coaster is at your own risk.

Mr. DD said if I wanted to express my feelings, write it down in a journal. Not doing it. I chose this medium for a couple of reasons:
1. I have found a great deal of comfort in other blogs detailing their struggles with infertility. The feeling of kinship is indescribable. Their experience and emotions mirror mine except in style. Mine pretty much sucks. I would only hope that maybe my blog helps someone else thru what is an emotionally and physically trying time.
2. I wanted a way for my friends and family to check in on our progress (and lack thereof) without having to tell the same story a dozen times.
3. There’s the anonymous aspect of the journal. I don’t necessarily know you and you may not know me, but I welcome your comments.

So, I will continue to post minus the guilt-trip. I have enough issues as it is.

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Originally published September 2005

Nutshell

Due to computer glitches; Max’s inability to humor himself for longer than 5 minutes; and complete exhaustion, I have let the past few days go without comment as if they were uneventful. They were not.

Wednesday p.m.: Max’s caregiver confessed that Max’s inability to get potty-trained is wearing her down. She suggested a change in scenery may do him so good. Also, she delivered an unpleasant surpise by announcing that if we did get pregnant, she would not have room for a baby. The news is a blow.

Thursday a.m.: My RE appt was "productive." I have one 22mm on my left and five 15-18mm on my right. I was given a gentle reminder that with the number of follicles in waiting, there is an increased risk for multiples, and I need to be aware that selective reduction may be a probability. I responded that yes, in my head, I know that more than 3 babies can be very sick babies, but in my heart I would find such a decision very difficult. Let’s worry about getting a positive first.

Thursday p.m.: Jerry and I struggle to remember how to do the trigger shot. I resort to the web. What was life like before the computer became as common as having milk in the fridge!

I skip to Saturday a.m.: Jerry and I spent the night in the big city as he had to be at the RE’s clinic by 7:15a.m. Max stayed at Grandma’s this time. The hotel Jerry picked, though conveniently close to the clinic, was rather suspect. I have a hard enough time with hotels, with all the black-light surprises the news gives us. I’m glad I didn’t bring mine. I counted 4 pubes on the bathroom floor and the tub, though probably as clean as it could get, was stained from years (decades) of hard water. I had another moment of where I was thankful I had showered Friday before we had left in an effort to cut back on the amount of crap packed into a suitcase.

Jerry got up first and walked to the clinic and returned within the hour. I got myself ready (makeup/hair) and also walked to the clinic. After a short wait, Dr. D, who is Dr. M’s partner arrived for the IUI. She gave the bad news that Jerry’s count/motility were still down and that we may want to look seriously at moving onto IVF if this does not work. Her announcement again reminds me of how the planets must be aligned just right for any couple to get pregnant, including those couples considered "fertile."

The IUI itself was more uncomfortable than the first and as I clenched up, Dr. D. apologized explaining that she had to "get them up as far as possible." As a result of the procedure I was unable to enjoy the little bit of furniture/appliance shopping we did afterwards. If you know me, then you would know that has to be alot of pain to keep me from shopping for ANYTHING.

My RE also believes in the "little" plug for post-procedure. If you have not heard of this, it is a surgical sponge incased in one of those condom-type protectors used for the ultrasound wands, and tied off with a string. The sponge is approximately the size of a golf-ball going in and a basketball coming out. Not really, but you try it and see what you think. Either way, it sucks!

I start the progesterone supps on Tuesday. They have scheduled the pg test for 10/8. I will have a few things to keep me busy until then. Our builder has completed the walls and floors of the basement and the floor of the garage. The next step in building looks to be the framing. We still do not have electricity or a well but we finally have been assigned an address.

Also, Jerry wants me to get things "smoothed over" with Max’s caregiver. She claimed to him that she had no intention for us to find Max someplace else to go. Even if she and I came to be on common ground, it does not change the fact that Max cries almost every morning when he has to go. Let me clarify that his unhappiness is not due to any neglect or mistreatment. He just doesn’t function well under stress, and the stress he has been getting from her is the constant drill of going to the bathroom. He’s just not ready and everyone, including us, needs to back down.

And there it is, the past few days in a nutshell. Whoda thunk that what was real drama at the moment could come down to just a few paragraphs in a single blog-post?

Time Keeps on Ticking

I found out Friday at my Dr’s appt that I didn’t goof up like I thought I had but goofed up in another way. I was supposed to only take 150mg of the Follistim, not 175. The mistake came up when at my appt, Dr. M. told me she was probably going to bump my inj up as my ovaries were still sleeping from the month before: only two little follicles and both on the right side. I had told her that I had only did 150mg on day 3 and that’s when she told me that’s what I was supposed to be at. It now appears that the extra 50mg over 2 days wasn’t harming anything, much less helping as since Friday I am at 225mg.

It was also on Friday that I had to give Jerry a lesson in the difference between “bitchy” and “tired.” I was awake at 5:30a.m, a half hour before the alarm was set and I figured, what the heck, and got ready to make the looonnggg boring drive to my RE’s office. I was taking my FIL’s truck as the Men had decided that a spray-in bed-liner would be perfect for a truck-bed that would NEVER see more than a leaf or two that would haphazardly fall inside, much less anything that could potentially scratch the new paint. Here’s how my day broke down:

* 2 ½ hours drive time down. Perk: listen to favorite morning radio talk-show w/o static!
* 20 minutes in the RE’s office. Perk: free package of 600mg Follistim.
* 2 hours driving around the city looking for Open Model Homes (never found anything other than duplexes). Perk: None.
* 30 minutes looking for the place that Jerry had scheduled the bed-liner to be done at. Perk: None…again.
* 3 hours sitting at the bed-liner place reading Motor Trend, Men’s Fitness, and Outdoor Life magazines. Perk: read the 5 steps in how to make your girlfriend moan in bed and the new 2006 car models and how they rated.
* 1 hour of well-deserved shopping at one of my favorite clothing stores. Perk: 1 sweater, 2 tank tops and a scarf.
* 20 minutes waiting for one of the best pizza’s in the state. Perk: PIZZA!
* 5 minutes on the phone before Jerry said I didn’t need to be so bitchy before I hung up on him. Perk: A moment of angry satisfaction.
* 2 ½ hours drive time home. Perk: You’ve got to be kidding?

I then had all weekend to look forward to another Monday a.m. drive. I made arrangements to stay at our niece’s and her husband’s home a little closer to the clinic. This is the niece that I just found out was expecting. I’m not sure if she hasn’t got too excited about her future addition or if she felt uncomfortable talking to me about it because she certainly wasn’t too forthcoming with any info. Definitely no tidbits given voluntary.

Monday’s appt showed I had now one 1.5cm, two 1.2cm on the right and one 1.1 cm on the left. I’m supposed to come back again Thursday. I’m thinking I’ll be doing the trigger shot Thursday nite as I’m already showing early ovu signs. I’m just praying I don’t “shoot my wad” before then!

Moving Forward

This past weekend was bitter-sweet. On 9/11 last year, Jerry and I announced our new arrival to his family through an anniversary card to his parents. We had signed it, "Jerry, Dawn, Max and Baby." I remember my MIL got it; my FIL did not. I never would have thought in my worst dreams that a year later I would not be holding a 4 month old, much less struggling mentally and physically to hold a pregnancy.

I probably wouldn’t have remembered the details of a year ago except my SIL called to let me know she was going to be a first-time grandma. Her daughter, my niece, and her husband, who are also Max’s Godparents, had been talking about getting pregnant this year so I shouldn’t had taken it so hard. However, it felt like a blow to the chest: the reminder of how NOT pregnant we were; and the guilt of feeling sorry for myself instead of the excitement and joy I should feel for my family sharing great news. I actually ended up not going out for the in-laws anniversary dinner because I felt so crappy.

Jerry went and when he got back I felt torn between getting any details of her pregnancy and not wanting to hear anything about it. It was gut-wrenching. Now since a few days have passed, I know that I need to get a hold of them. The longer I wait, the more uncomfortable things will get. Plus, I’m sure they are not getting enough first-baby advice and my two cents will insure a stress-free pregnancy (read: sarcasm!).

I also finally started my period over the weekend. I went to see my RE, Dr. M. on Monday a.m. to see what my baseline US would show, hoping the cysts had resolved. It was the first time Dr. M. had not done my US and I was a little concerned as I had some questions for her. She was there, but a tech did the US instead. She never told me her name and I took an instant dislike to her, but was glad when she announced I was all clear and would see Dr. M. for my program instructions. Dr. M. is starting me on 175mg of the Follistim, which is a considerable increase from our first cycle of 75mg. I’m scheduled for a follow-up on Friday. And, as you could probably already tell, I’ve decided not to go to the local OB and go with my gut instincts.

So, here we are…today is day 4. I started the follistim last night, which I screwed up by only taking 150mg as I couldn’t remember what I had written down. I’m not going to let that 25mg get to me. I want to stay positive. I need to remember that things could be worse, much worse. I have a supportive husband, an incredible soon-to-be 4 year old son, and a foundation on our new house. It’s time for me to start looking up and assume the best.

Who’s Freaking Out?

I am one stressed out woman! I feel like I’m on the edge, but of what, I am not sure. It could be due to one of many recent factors, and unfortunately, I am not known for my tolerance, diplomacy or ability to stay calm.

It could be due to the fact my job allows me to interact almost daily with people who amaze me with the ability to make what should be a very simple task into rocket science.

Maybe it’s due to the realization we are building a house. A hole has been dug and the contract has been signed. It’s too late to look back now. Instead I’m going through worst-case scenerios: what if they can’t find water? what if the water isn’t potable? what if they put the power transformer right in the middle of the future lane? what if the dairy farm 1/2 mi. away decides to become corporate? what if the fricken’ sky falls!? Snap out of it!

However, my stress may all be building from trying to figure out what I’m going to do on our next IUI cycle. Dr. V., the local OB, is NOT giving me the warm fuzzy I was getting from Dr. M, our RE. IUI is not his specialty, delivering the outcome is. He’s much closer: 10 minutes compared to 2 1/2 hours. As far as our pocketbook goes, it’s iffy. Overall the US, labwork, and actual procedure are higher priced than Dr. M. BUT, I’m not forking out the big $$ for gas if I stay local; OR losing a half-day of work 2x a week…aaak!

I have to work this out in my mind and soon. I think my stress maybe a little exacerbated by a little PMS (finally!). Who da’ thunk anyone who is trying to get pg would be so pumped to get their period! I’m just praying no little cysty blobs on the ole’ ovaries! You know on an US, the image of an ovary with a cyst looks like an egg, sunny-side up? I think I’m ranting. If you have ever been a fan of the Seinfeld show, you would remember the episode where Jerry’s character is having to deal with his agent who tells Jerry as he’s going on stage to do his stand-up routine that the pilot of his next flight is in the audience. He doesn’t understand why she has just told him this, and she says that she didn’t want him “freaking out.” Later in the episode, he screams, “I’m freaking out! I’m freaking out!” THAT phrase goes through my head ALL day!

You know what? With that big new hole dug where our house is going to sit overlooks an old river valley 100′ below and I’m going to tell Jerry that I want to go up there with Max tonight with some fast food and have a picnic. A little diversion is called for and I think that might be the ticket.

Ingorance = Fertile

Friday’s visit to Dr. V., a local OB, to discuss the follow thru of our next cycle’s IUI, was uneventful to say the least. The most notable experience was when Max and another little boy discovered my unattended hot coffee and purse while I was at the receptionist desk explaining something about my insurance. Max comes up to me holding a wrapped tampon and asked, “What is this?” Of course, the other waiting patients, receptionist, and anyone else within hearing distance all found it funny enough to giggle, but with respect to my embarrassment, no out-and-out guffaws.

The only thing I could think of to tell Max was that it was Mommy’s and someday, I would tell him. I’m hoping I didn’t take the wimpy way out. However, that’s when I realized that not only had Max been in my purse, but so too a little tot of about 18 months who managed to get my $4 coffee spilled all over his socks. His mother dashed over immediately (where the hell was she a minute ago!) and ripped off his socks when I mentioned that the coffee was probably hot. It really wasn’t, but I thought she needed a good scare.

By the time we got into the room, 40 minutes had passed and with a busy 3 ½ year old, it might as well have been 4 days as he went from being tired, hungry, thirsty, bored, to tired, thirsty, hungry, bored, etc., every 5 minutes. All this to hear Dr. V. say that he would go ahead and follow Dr. M’s (my RE) “protocol” for the next IUI cycle. Yeah, I should’ve asked what exactly did he mean because I got the impression that they do not do the lab work which can tell if the drugs are messing with my estrogen or not, but instead they use the ovulation predictor kits (OPK). I guess I’ll take a wait-and-see attitude from here.

Saturday night I had the onset on the most horrific headache I have EVER had in my life! I took some Advil and went to bed. I woke up nearly every hour with my head pounding and feeling pretty sick. At 4:30 a.m. I had to have Jerry get me two more Advils as I couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed in bed all of Sunday morning taking an Aleve at 9:30 a.m. By noon I had had enough and Jerry drove me to the local urgent care. It wasn’t busy so I was quickly seen by a very sweet doctor who was completely empathetic to my plight as of course I had to give her my recent medical history down to starting the Pill 2 weeks ago. She diagnosed me with “hormonal headache” and suggested I quit the Pill. After she said it I’m sure she had wished she hadn’t as I was bawling like a baby. How could I stop the Pill if I wanted the cysts to go away? Why did my hormones have to rebel against me in such a malicious manner? I did, however, get 2 very painful shots in the hip that left me with quite a pleasant buzz for the rest of the day. Ah…the power of narcotics!

I’m so sick of the reminders of infertility I could scream and scream. The evening my headache came on I was over at a friend’s house who had a bunch of people over for a college game. One of the girls there, who doesn’t know me or the problems we are having with conceiving, told this story about one of her friends who had sex with her husband 7 times in one night so they could get pregnant. It took every ounce of will power not to bitch-slap her. It wasn’t her fault, she was just telling the story. But come on! Are people, adults for that matter, that seriously ignorant?!

Unfortunately, it appears that being stupid and ignorant is a sign of fertility. Of course, that’s coming from someone who thinks she’s fairly bright and informed and INfertile!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

There are going to be some major changes around here. Yesterday, Jerry and I took a huge leap of faith and signed a contract with a general contractor to build our new home. We had purchased an acreage just outside of town back in Spring 2004 and had been working with this builder for a year now. In fact, it was important to us that we made sure that Max’s and the baby’s room be on the other side of the house. Even though we still don’t have the baby or know if we ever will, we still refer to that 3rd bedroom as the Baby’s Room. I think I had been intentionally dragging my feet even though I desperately wanted to build a new home. Even now it’s hard to think about what will happen to that room if there never is a baby. If we decided at some point to turn it into a den, it would break my heart every time I would go in and see the computer, treadmill and bookshelves in the places a crib, changing table and dresser were supposed to go.

M.P., our builder, told us they will probably break ground this weekend and get the basement in by the end of September. I have a little meloncholy already starting for the house we are currently in, which was the house Max came home to from the hospital and the place of so many little boy giggles and firsts. I have to remind myself that it’s 4 years of memory here compared to what I hope is the rest of our lives in the new house.

Another change I’ve decided to make is to go to a local OB, Dr. V. in town who does IUI in his office. I didn’t realize when my own OB had referred me to the big city, that this doctor was available. I wasn’t referred by my own OB due to him being the competition as far as OBGYN services. Taking into consideration the ridiculous gas prices, our gas-loving Soccer-Mom-SUV, and insufficient health insurance, it would be prudent for Jerry and I to consider whatever alternatives we can find. Building a new house and going through infertility treatments is not real conducive to maintaining a healthy checkbook, much less my sanity. Making the drive that would take 10 minutes to the clinic leaves a lot less time to dwell on how bloated I’ll get on the injections and more time for me to design the kitchen.

In fact, tomorrow at 9:30 is my first appt with Dr. V. Maybe he’ll tell me he can’t help and recommend we not burn any bridges with Dr. M. in the big city…who knows? It wouldn’t matter anyway, as we have decided that if IUI doesn’t work by the end of the year, we’ll move onto IVF, which would require me to drive 2 1/2 hrs one way. We may only be delaying the inevitable, but we’re praying we’re not.

Oh! I almost forgot: today I had been pretty wired with the signing of our contract and scheduling a doctor’s appt that I really didn’t need any more drama. However, at 1:30 I received a call from one of the preschool’s office personnel. I was told Max had “soiled himself” and that I had to come pick him up. I was off in a flash. I get to his classroom door and his teacher escorts him out the room. Max knows what has happened because he asks me to change him there so he can go back to school. I took his hand and calmly but firmly dragged him out the door and into the Soccer-Mom-SUV and explained that he was not going to be able to go back to school today because he had pooped his pants. With the realization of what had happened coming over the poor kid like a storm-cloud, he sobbed all the way to our day care giver’s home. Feeling like I owed the care-giver more than to just drop Max off at her house in poopy pants, I took him to the bathroom with a change of pants.

I carefully pulled down his shorts, being cautious not to make a mess, and I was absolutely flabbergasted with what I saw: he was clean AND dry! I was on the phone to the school outraged! Why didn’t they check him?! Why hadn’t I checked him?! His teacher, bless her heart, told me this: they had been outside on the playground and Max had come up to her and said that he had had an accident. At first she thought he had fallen down, and when she asked what kind of accident, Max said he had pooped his pants. They came inside and Max even laid on the floor as if to be changed out of a dirty diaper. She said that since Max was such a smart boy that she figured he knew what he was talking about and it wasn’t that terribly unusual for 3 yr olds to have accidents. It appears that Max had probably “tooted” and guessed that he had pooped as well. The teacher said he was welcome to come back and finish the period with the class and away back across town to school I went.

His teacher said she would sneak a peak next time. I think I better do the same.

Ignorance is NOT Bliss

I realized this a.m. that I had forgotten to take my Pill yesterday. It has been so long since I had been on the Pill, I had to go to the web for some instructions on what to do, which is to take the one as soon as you remember you forgot and then take your normally scheduled one…for anyone else afraid to ask.

The last time I was on the pill was for a few months after Max was born early 2002. I was so freaked out with the thought of two babies in my inexperienced care that it was one of the first things I got my OB to take care of for me. Little did I know how much having a newborn in the house was effective enough birth control for the average couple.

Anyway, after today I will have gone through one whole week of the Pill, leaving only two more time-defying weeks to go. I’m sure when Dr. M. said that it’s ONLY for three weeks, she wasn’t counting the hours and minutes while she golfed, swam, went to yoga classes, or whatever the heck she did to keep her trim little arms and legs buff. I swear she looks like a mini Linda Hamilton from her head to her toes with the exception that she is at the most 5′-2″.

I keep thinking each time I was going in for my first round of IUI ultrasounds that I should ask her if she has any children as a way of breaking the ice, but I’m not sure if I want to know. I would think it’s only fair for as “up close and personal” as she’s getting with the US wand, she would be a little more free with her personal life. However, if she tells me that she has 4 all under the age of 10 (she’s my age), I would be even more depressed as I can’t seem to get rid of the back-fat from having 1 baby almost 4 years ago!

Maybe most REs don’t think their patients are interested in their personal lives. It would be easy to believe the other patients are already so wrapped up in their own life’s drama that they don’t care anything about the RE except their medical capabilities. When I see Dr. M. again in two (long) weeks, I’ll make sure to ask something personal about her as I would like to know more than just her name.

Isn’t It Ironic?

Monday a.m. was a total bust. Instead of driving down to a friend’s house the night before, I decided to get up at 5:00 AM to make the trip to my RE. After an unusual delay in the waiting room, I prepped myself for the baseline US and was initially excited when Dr. M. informed me that they were going to boost my Follistim to a higher dose. That excitement was immediately squelched when the US found two ovarian cysts, one on each ovary. I was devastated and Dr. M’s words of wisdom, “Don’t stress out, it’s only 3 more weeks.” for which I replied, “That’s easy for you to say.” did nothing for my mood.

Now I had been told when we were getting ready for my first IUI that if there were any cysts, I would have to wait another month AND take birth control pills. I didn’t want to admit my ignorance and ask why and luckily, at that time, I didn’t have to. Out of embarrassment, I didn’t ask Monday, either. I stepped out of the exam room and was handed a month’s supply of birth control pills with the instructions to call when my next period started. I walked out of the office choking back tears.

It wasn’t until I got back home later in the afternoon that I was able to get my question about the cysts answered via the web. One of two things probably happened: 1) the follicles that were created from my first treatment with FSH did not release eggs and cysts formed; or 2) the eggs were released and then the cysts formed from the left-over follicle. Ovulation can aggrevate these cysts and potentially create more. Cysts left unchecked can grow, twist upon themselves and cause major problems. Ovarian cysts on pre-menstrual girls or post-menopausal women have a high percentage of being malignant. Cysts on anyone in between usually are benign. Since ovulation can aggrevate these cysts, birth control prevents ovulation, reducing my risks. From what I have read, it can be 1 – 3 months before cysts resolve themselves. I’m holding out for the one month option.

So…not only have Jerry and I been faced with the difficulties of getting pregnant when we want to, now I have to make sure we DON’T get pregnant by choking back the Pill! That’s irony.

I had hoped that we would have been pregnant with a due date before Baby May 2005’s due date. As of now, that little bit of comfort has flown the coop. At the rate we are going, I’m now thinking I’ll be lucky to be due by my 39th birthday in July. How f***ing depressing is that!

Not only did I cry Monday, but did a little crying yesterday as well: Max started preschool. I took him to his classroom for his first day, and after he watched the teacher get down a box of cars for another 3 yr old wailing for his mommy, he was hooked on school. I kissed his head and snuck out of the room, again choking back tears. My baby is growing up.

2 Negatives Don’t Make it Right

I took the HPT Thursday a.m. and shock and suprise! it was negative. Not only was it negative on Thursday, but Dr. M and Nurse W. insisted that I take it again this morning to verify as this was the scheduled date for the test. Because of the limited hours my RE has for doing the standard US and lab and the length of time it takes for me to drive there, it was impossible for me to get there after my negative test and take the baseline US, which will now be delayed until Day 6, Monday.

I’m miffed to say the least. I’m indignant that they made me go buy a HPT just to prove what I knew a week ago. I’m confused over the big deal of making sure I’m not pregnant after the first IUI, but they never ran a PG test before the procedure. I will now have lost 3 days of hormone therapy before I get to start.

It’s incredible that it has been 9 months now since we have been trying and I thought the time would never pass. Before now I couldn’t conceive (forgive the pun) how any couple could maintain this mind-numbing pace for years, living their lives in 2 week cycles. If I could convince some nice head-doc to let me drift through the two weeks after I ovulated on wellbutrin, or some other happy, happy drug that wouldn’t get me hooked, I could snap out of it in time for a PG test and then drift over the next couple of weeks waiting again for the next big O.

I’m thinking Max wouldn’t find me so much fun if I was comatose, especially when he was so concerned about Mommy being sick after the MC. I don’t think I would have ever got out of bed if it wasn’t for his little voice asking me, “Are you going to get better?” How could I have ever said no even when I felt like saying it?

I’ll have to look at the bright side: these few days off from the hormones will give my zit-prone skin a break.

Sad Reminder

This morning I started spotting, my body’s warning to make sure I pack the appropriate number of tampons/pads for the week. I called my RE’s office and spoke to the Nurse W.. She said it was possible that it was just spotting and not the start of my period so I should continue with the suppositories (which I stopped doing a week ago) and take the HPT on the scheduled date of 8/20.

I told her I was fairly confident that I was not pregnant and that my period was imminent. I wanted to make sure that if I had to make that 2 1/2 hour drive, I was able to give a heads up to my employer. But Nurse W. said IF my flow did start, to take the HPT tomorrow a.m. first thing and call with the results.

Later in the afternoon, my “spotting” had turned to “flow.” I called the RE again and spoke to Nurse W. to confirm it was Day 1. To make things easier for me, she said I wouldn’t have to come in until Day 3, which is when I would start the Follistim again. They would do the baseline US Friday a.m.. BUT, she still wanted me to do the HPT. Seemed to me a waste of a perfectly good test I could use as a “cheater,” but now I better make sure I can prove to her that I’m not pregnant.

Ironically, it was this time EXACTLY last year that Jerry and I conceived Baby May. It’s hard to believe that the days, weeks, and then months have dragged by and brought us back to where we started. It’s one of the many anniversary dates coming up that will be especially painful reminders to what never will be.

Botox cured my PMS!

Today I am totally in the “down phase” of my PMS, taking away the 1% chance that I was clinging to that I may really be pregnant, just not showing the typical signs. I even decided to keep my appointment for botox.

Now before anyone thinks how vain I must be, this is the scoop: back in March, I attended a local non-for-profit company’s money-raising event. They had a botox consult and treatment on one of the silent-auction items that no one had bid on last year so I thought if I could get it at the starting price, it would be a steal. So there I was at the end of the night holding a gift-certificate for botox.

After months of putting it off because I was sure that “this time” I was pregnant, I asked my RE who said I might as well get it done before I get pregnant as opposed to after as the pregnant female body tends NOT to process things the same way it does not pregnant.

I kept the little ice pack they used to numb the space between my brows (my trouble spot). I think it will be a nice to use on my thighs when I start up the lovely Follistim later this week. As an added benefit to the whole thing, a day later those little worry lines have met their match. My RE was right, this initiation to botox was just a way to suck me in for more. No wonder so many get it done.

Now for the next few months, I’ll look worry-free on the outside while I’m completely stressing out on the inside. I’m sure that can’t be good.

Virgin (to my own blog)

Forgive me if my first attempt to do my own blogging (instead of being a “lurker” to other’s) seems stilted and cumbersome, if not down-right boring! I bore myself with my open discussions with fellow co-workers about the joy of progesterone suppositories and graphic descriptions of our first IUI on 8/6. They proceed to tell me that I shouldn’t get so down as I should be lucky/happy that I have one healthy child.

I have no idea why people think that comment makes any sense as I feel even more grateful for having Max then if I had no child at all and was struggling with infertility. It was a wake-up call to my busband, Jerry, and I how much of a miracle he is and how so many billions of things have to go just right in order to give birth to a baby.

…anyway…I stopped taking the progesterone within 4 days of the procedure as I just knew that it was a waste of a good panty-liner. I’ve been pregnant twice now and the signs I were hoping for were not there: sore boobs, darkening nipples, swelling labia (reads like a porn story!), etc. so I figured I would save them for next time.

I will call my RE (Dr. M.) sometime in the upcoming week to find out what we are to do next. She has been wonderful so far and I’m grateful after reading about so many who were either rude, uncaring, fat-fingered or all of the above. Her office is 100 miles away, a 2 1/2 hour drive from my small town, pop. 20,000 in rural town west of the Mississippi.

For now, I’m gearing myself up for round 2 with my Follistim pen.

Lowering your expectations since 2005.