My Stork Got Lost

Well, guys. The question was finally asked. “Why don’t you just adopt?”

Usually questions like this don’t bother me too much.  I get asked any number of inappropriate questions about our struggle with infertility, but I usually just roll my shoulders and move on.

This one affected me because of my sister.  My dear, sweet, loving sister set up a fundraising page for me and Quincy, to try and raise money for our upcoming IVF.  In case you’re wondering, you can find it here.

It went “live” about a week ago, when my sister shared the page on social media.  Other people saw it and started sharing it, too, which was incredible, and I’m so thankful for that.  Everything was going well and she was raising a bit of money for us. I told you she was awesome.

I checked my facebook last night and realized that Genia’s father-in-law had also shared the fundraising page.

(And no, I don’t know what my sister’s-father-in-law is to me except an honorary family member. Especially since my sister’s husband is my brother, period.  None of this “in-law” nonsense. He gave me away at my wedding. I love him to pieces.)

Anyway, I realized that Genia’s FIL had shared the page and tagged me in it…and I saw the comments. First one, right off the bat…

“Why don’t they just adopt?”

I want to address this right here and now, because not only are questions such as this extremely insensitive and hurtful, but it completely undermines what my sister was trying to do with her fundraiser.

We are going to adopt. There’s no question of “if,” it’s a matter of when. My husband and I are already planning on doing so, and have been since before this struggle started.

But.

In my opinion, and what I’ve known as a personal Truth my entire life, is that the most perfect, feminine thing a woman can do is grow a child inside of her. To carry another life in her womb and give birth to that little miracle. I’ve wanted to get pregnant and feel a baby kick and listen to her heartbeat and deliver her from my womb and raise her into adulthood for as long as I’ve known where babies came from. It’s a deep seated, visceral need.

Some people may not understand this, and that’s okay. However, this is my own personal Truth, with a capital T. I can’t change how I feel or what I believe in.

Adoption, without exhausting every option for a biological child, involves a loss. If we don’t keep trying, we’re admitting defeat. We’re losing everything we’ve dreamed about. I’ve been through four miscarriages, and they were all horrible…but giving up all hope will hurt so much more. With every miscarriage, with every failed IUI, there was always hope that it would work the next try.

Jumping into adoption while I’m still in my child bearing years is giving up that hope, and losing yet another unborn child.

I lost a part of myself when we first discovered I was infertile. I’ve lost another little piece with every IUI. I can’t begin to describe the loss that came when a doctor told me that I will never conceive, never carry life inside of me, without drastic surgical intervention. I lost a huge chunk of what makes me a woman then, and I’m still grieving that loss. Getting pregnant and having a child is something every woman takes for granted… until that possibility is taken away from them.

So I can’t give up hope. Not yet. I can’t face that huge, final loss of another child. I believe in a God of Hope. I believe that if I’m meant to conceive and carry and deliver and breastfeed my own child, my God will see that happen. And if not, He’ll let me know. But I’m not giving up on Him just yet.

Adoption is also a huge emotional and financial burden. It’s not as simple as just walking into a pound and rescuing a puppy. I just witnessed an old friend finally get paired with a birth mother and, after nearly 4 years and several failed matches, they finally carried their baby home. After three-plus years, and at I’m sure a huge emotional and financial strain on their family. There is no easy “fix” for infertility.

So. That’s why we don’t “just adopt.”

Please don’t do this.  Please don’t ask an infertile couple trying to have a baby why they do what they do, or why they don’t do something else.  Our decisions are our business. Please don’t make this harder on us by minimizing our situation or suggesting we’re doing something wrong.  We’ve thought long and hard about every step we’ve taken and we’ve weighed all of our options more heavily than you can possibly imagine.

No decision is easy.  No option is perfect.  But trust me, we have our reasons.

Well.  It’s been a little over a week since we decided to go ahead and move forward with IVF.  The cost is astronomical, but the end result – if successful – will be priceless.  I had an amazing conversation with my mother in law and she said something that completely changed my perspective on the entire procedure.

She told me to take the cost out of the equation.   She asked me, point blank, what we’d do if money wasn’t involved.  Would we go through with it?  Or would we keep trying IUIs or move on to adoption?

The answer was clear.  Something this important shouldn’t be decided with dollar signs and interest rates.  So…we’re doing it.

That said, because of my history of miscarriages – the medical term is recurrent pregnancy loss (RPL) – Dr. Landay suggested a series of blood tests to rule out genetic and chromosomal abnormalities that could cause embryos to not thrive.  I’d already done a huge genetic work up before we started the IUIs, which tested for over 300 disorders that could be passed down to my children.  I tested negative on EVERYTHING.  From the big ones like Down’s Syndrome and Cystic Fibrosis to less common ones I’ve never even heard about.  I’m not a carrier, which is a huge relief.

That said, there are several other chromosomal disorders that could render an embryo not viable and explain why I never make it past 5 weeks.  So, Dr Landay suggested we test for them before moving on to IVF.  I agreed – and we drew the blood for the tests today.

Eleven vials.

Eleven vials of blood.  I have never in my life had that much blood drawn in one sitting.  Don’t get me wrong – I handle blood draws really well.  I never pass out; I never even get queasy.  The worst part is I can’t bear to watch, so I just stick my arm out and tell them to do their worst while I stare at the floor opposite my arm.  It’s never been a problem…but eleven vials of blood. Oh man.

The phlebotomist and I were joking all the way through it, mainly about my husband.  He is not like me. Just mention  blood work to Quincy and he passes clean out.  It’s scary, but also kind of endearing – this huge 6’2″ man getting the vapors like a woman in an old silent film. He had to have blood drawn in the office before we started the IUIs and he was a big baby about it, turning white as a sheet and passing out not once, but twice.

That’s not me.  I’m rock solid.  I talk to my pheb the entire time, then hop up immediately without skipping a beat…except when they suck eleven vials of blood out of my veins.  Then I get dizzy. Whoa, man do I get dizzy.

I was fine after a minute or two, never coming close to swooning like a man (see, I can say that!!!).

I’ll get the results in a week or so, but I’m really not concerned about them.  I’ve been overcome with this strange peace of mind ever since we decided to go through with the IVF.  Knowing there’s nothing more we can do on our own was actually a relief.  I’ve given it all over to God.  I have to believe that He’s lead me down this path for a purpose and that He has an end game.  I may not be able to see it, but I have realized subtle changes along the way.

I’ve definitely grown as a person through all of this.  Quincy and I have gotten closer as a couple, even though I’ve probably been a little harder to deal with, with all the hormones and mood swings and crying spells.

People say I’m strong.  I don’t feel strong, but I do – finally – feel at peace.  I’m in a better place about all of this than I have been in years.  It feels good.  Really, really good.

So, suck eleven vials of blood out of my arm.  Charge me $22,600.  Stick me with dozens of needles and put me in the hospital for a day.  I don’t care.  Bring it on.

We’re going to have a baby.  A beautiful little miraculous rainbow baby.  Praise the name of Jesus.

Well, it looks like we have a little longer than we thought to come up with a decision on IVF.  Why?

Because I have a cyst.  Oh, joy.

They’re not uncommon when you’re on fertility drugs, so I’m actually kind of surprised this is the first one I’ve had since the whole nonsense in January.  But it makes sense, seeing as this was the first cycle I was 100% on injectable hormones and had all those little follies pop up so close to ovulation.

Anyway, I have a cyst.  I’ve been having some back pain and cramping on my left side and remembered the feeling.  Also, even though my cycle is like clockwork, I haven’t surged yet.  I’m on CD 13.  I always always ALWAYS surge on CD 11, which means it’s actually interfering with my cycle.  That’s wonderful. Said no one, ever.

I kind of figured something was up, and when I called Dr. Landay and started explaining what was going on, she immediately said that it sounded like a cyst.

I guess if there was ever a good time to get one it would be now, since we’re in limbo with Decision 2016 looming over our heads.  Not the election.  The $22k procedure.

If I don’t surge in the next couple of days, I have to go back in for another ultrasound.  It either has to dissolve on its own or I’ll need laparoscopic surgery to take care of it before we move forward with the IVF prep.

Argh.  Also, looks like I won’t be hopping on a treadmill for the next several days.

Well, we consulted with Dr. Landay this morning about the whole IVF process.

Here’s the thing. Have you ever been car shopping or house hunting and you found the most perfect thing in the whole wide world?  The house or the car of your dreams, with everything you could possibly want and more?

And then you look at the price tag, realize you’ll never be able to afford it, and start to feel deflated, useless, and miserable?

That’s about how today went. Let me break it down.

Because I have been infertile for so long with no apparent cause other than decreased ovarian reserve, and I have a history of RPL (recurrent pregnancy loss), she recommends the whole enchilada.

Meaning we need IVF with ICSI and genetic testing of the blastocysts, because any number of male or female genetic factors can contribute to infertility, failure to implant, and ultimately miscarriage.

If there’s something genetically wrong with the eggs, they won’t thrive. No matter how many IVFs we do, I won’t get pregnant. Genetic testing eliminates the bad eggs, so there’s no wondering whether or not it’ll implant due to some abnormality within the blastocyst.

She also says that no matter how healthy the sperm, some just don’t fertilize well, which may be another one of our issues. Hence the need for ICSI, which is where they physically inject one healthy sperm into each egg using a microscopic needle.  This pretty much guarantees fertilization.

For the actual IVF, Dr. Landay does a package deal.  It’s $10,000 for everything – all the ultrasounds (follicle monitoring), all lab work, the actual egg retrieval, ICSI, and a fresh embryo transfer.  That’s when they just take your eggs and transfer the 5 day blastocyst back into you, with no genetic testing.

But we actually need the genetic testing, so in addition to the $10,000 there’s a $3400 genetic screening fee right off the bat. Then after the genetic screening, which takes about a week, they have to freeze the embryo because I’ll be past the point in my cycle where fertilization can take place.  So we wait till the next cycle to thaw the critter and transfer, which is another $3200.

Medication leading up to the retrieval will cost between $3-5,000, and she’s hoping to get 8 eggs from me (which all depends on how many follicles I have start of the cycle, and how they all mature).

So, total cost, start to finish, we’re looking at around $21,600.

She’s given me two different forms to fill out to get discounts on the drugs, so I could get up to 75% off the $5K drug cost. Or nothing.

Actual process looks something like this.  On my cycle day 2-3, we’d do another baseline ultrasound to see how many follies I have.  On that day, she’d put me on some form of estrogen (like a birth control pill) to do something called down-regulation and synchronization.  This stops my body from trying to ovulate, so Dr Landay has full control over the whole process.

After about 2 weeks, I go back in for another ultrasound and get my stimulation meds – the injections.  For about 12 days, I take daily injections of FSH and LH, going into the office every other day for yet another ultrasound, starting on the fifth day.

Then comes the trigger shot, once my follies are big enough, and 35 hours later we do the egg retrieval, where I’ll be completely knocked out with IV anesthesia.  Then, they send the blastocysts to a lab 5 days after fertilization, genetic test them, and freeze them. Depending on the results of the genetic tests and how many healthy eggs we get, I’d get the frozen embryo transfer the following cycle.

Dr Landay only transfers 1 healthy blastocyst in women 35 and under (hence the genetic testing to get a healthy critter).  Then, I can freeze the remaining healthy, fertilized eggs, and in a couple years, if we want another munchkin, they just defrost my egg and transfer it back inside me. I’ll only need 1 egg retrieval for multiple IVFs. Hence the $600/year embryo storage fee.

There’s a ton more information, but facts are:

Since she only transfers 1 blastocyst…chance for multiples is less than 1%.  There’s always the chance my egg splits on its own and we get identical twins, but there’s nothing you can do about that.

With genetic testing,  there’s a 78.4% chance of a healthy pregnancy. She says this year, every single one of her procedures has been successful –two women miscarried later, but every single woman got pregnant.  She says 100% is rare, but nationwide, the way she does it, there’s a 78% success rate.  That’s incredible. (She’s really good at what she does!)

Also, before we start anything; provided we can dig up $22,000 (HA!!) – she’s doing more blood work on me to try and figure out the whole RPL thing.  There are three more tests she can do that should tell us if I’m prone to miscarry and what they can do about it, if anything.

So, productive morning.

Anyone have a few thousand extra bucks lying around?

Had another beta test today.

Negative.

There’s not a whole lot I can say here, other than this is my worst nightmare come to life.  The IUIs aren’t working, and we have no idea why.  I’m not creating as many follicles as she’d like, but everything else seems normal.

But we’ve tried and tried, and outside of the couple chemical pregnancies, it’s not working.

We need IVF.

She did say we’re good candidates for IVF, but that’s not very helpful.  My bank account isn’t a good candidate, that’s for sure. I don’t know where upwards of $20,000 would magically appear.

It’s laughable how back in May, I was so sure that one IUI would be the solution to all of our problems.  How I wasn’t even hoping for a pregnancy so much as hoping for only one baby – not the twins or triplets that comes with Clomid and IUIs often enough we had to sign a waiver.

I can’t believe we’re just a few months removed from those days.  I’d gladly take twins now.  Or triplets.  Anything.

The odds of getting pregnant by IUI decreases dramatically after each attempt.  If you try 3 times, the likelyhood of getting pregnant is so slight it’s not even worth it anymore – like, in the single digits.  Basically, Dr Landay say us down and said that if it hasn’t happened by now…it’s not going to happen.

We tried Clomid.  That didn’t work.  We tried Letrizole and shots.  That didn’t work.  We went all in with a full round of injectables, and my body just refused to cooperate. We’re at the end of this road.

 

This past weekend was nuts.

Life can’t revolve around fertility treatments and trying to get pregnant.  I mean, it kind of does, but just because we’re trying so desperately to have a baby doesn’t mean that there are other aspects of our lives that can’t go ignored.

That little reminder hit me full in the face this weekend.

So last Thursday evening, I triggered in the bathroom of a supermarket.  Great.  Ready for Saturday, full steam ahead.

And then my husband and I get home, make dinner…and our eldest pup, Wesley, hurts himself.  We have to rush him to the Emergency Vet at 10pm.

Stress level begins to rise.

He has to stay overnight at the hospital, which breaks my heart.  Quincy picks him up Friday while I’m at work, but when I get home that afternoon, he’s still a wreck.  He’s still super dopey from the anesthesia, he’s thrown up, and he refuses to even move from the middle of the hallway floor.  On top of that, he refuses to eat.  It’s been 24 hours since his minor surgery, and he won’t move, won’t eat, won’t drink water, and – most importantly – we can’t get him to take his antibiotics and pain meds.

Stress level now hits yellow alert.

I call the vet back and explain to them what’s going on.  He has a large incision on his chest and therefore needs his antibiotics, which he’s refusing.  They reassure me he’ll be fine for a day or so without them, but if he’s not better by Saturday afternoon, he may need to come back in. Saturday morning is our IUI…

Shields up.  Red Alert.

Saturday morning rolls around and he still refuses to eat, drink, or take medicine.  You can tell he’s feeling a bit better; he’s at least holding his head up and watching us step over him, but I’m entering panic mode with my pupper. Remember, this fat little furball is our child – but now we’re running super late for the IUI.  We’ll only be gone a few hours, so we give up and rush out the door, intending on trying again with food and medicine as soon as we get back home. I’m already texting Dr Landay and letting her know we’re running late.

The IUI goes well.  I mean, amazingly well.  I must have been ovulating as she was looking at the ultrasound, because some little follicles were still attached, but there was one that she could tell had already popped (the empty space where it had been was full of fluid), and another one had either just released the egg or was about to.  So, definitely two good sized follicles released eggs.  On top of that, Quincy’s sample was once again amazing, and since we were the only ones in the office on a Saturday morning…Dr Landay lets me look at them under the microscope.

I know, it sounds weird, but it was incredible.  I was looking at live, active sperm, in real time, with my own eyes.  It was so cool.  Those little swimmers could eventually become half of our baby.  It was really cool.  I always see my eggs on the ultrasounds, but to see the other component was really fascinating.

Anyway, after the IUI, we had an appointment to get brakes put on the car, which took two hours.  Then we headed home. So we were gone maybe 5 hours, 6 tops. Sometime between the last time I checked in on the kids with our pet camera around 1pm and the time we walked in the house, though…someone got Wesley’s pain pills off of the back of the kitchen counter.

And ate them.

All 11 pills.  And we have no idea which dog ate them, or if it was a combination of all three. Panic, anxiety, fear – I’m having a panic attack.  That medicine was poison.

Saturday afternoon was filled with not one, but THREE puppies rushed to the animal hospital.  Two of them (they youngest) ended up having to get their stomachs pumped, IV fluids, charcoal and blood work.  Poor Wes got out lucky – they pumped his stomach, realized he hadn’t eaten in the last 24 hours due to his surgery, and send him home to rest.  He had a horrible weekend. We ALL had a pretty horrible weekend.

It’s Monday morning.  I don’t know if this IUI is going to work this month at all, mainly because of all the stress the last few days.  We’ve had our puppies going on six years and nothing like this has ever happened before.  Sure, Wes ate an entire colander full of grapes when he was a baby and we were brand new puppy parents, but we’ve never had to deal with something this serious with all three kids.  It took everything out of me. I’m an emotional wreck right now.

I’m supposed to start the progesterone tomorrow night, and then go in for a beta test Aug 26.  I’m still super crampy from the IUI – I feel like I’ve done a thousand crunches, but that can be pretty normal after an IUI.

I guess we play the waiting game, but I dunno how hopeful I am anymore for this month.

Life has to go on.

Hold the phone, guys!! I have FOUR follies!!! FOUR!!! All four should mature and ovulate! This is exact number she wanted! I think it’s amazing she knew EXACTLY how much FSH to dose me to get the follicles she wanted, first try.  Good doctor.

I love me some Landay!

Anyway…I have a 14mm, 16mm, 18mm and a 20mm follicle.  They’re still fairly small – but we trigger tonight and I’ll get the IUI Saturday morning, 830am.

They should be bigger by then.  I got pregnant with a 25mm follie, so hopefully the 20mm will at least get that big in the next day or so.

Only slight downside is that in the last couple days – since my last ultrasound – I had 13 additional follicles pop up.  They won’t mature, they’re really small, but that’s 13 eggs that are just going to waste.  This will prolly be my only chance at a natural baby.  This entire thing, not just this month.  I’m blowing through a TON of eggs in fertility treatment.  But I’m okay with that.  We’ll foster/adopt the rest of our family.

Oh, and by the way, I’m a badass.  Why?

This afternoon, Dr. Landay called with the results of my blood work.  Everything looks great, so I needed to do my trigger shot at exactly 8pm last night  to prep for the 830am insemination Saturday morning.  So far, so good.

Natasha showed me how to prep the shot while I was at their office yesterday morning, and I checked the size of the needle.  While the one you use to mix the two vials is big – like a 12 gauge, the one you use to inject is only a 27 gauge needle.

I’m bomb-ass with 27 gauge needles.  No worries.

Except – see, Quincy and I carpool.  He was filming yesterday at work and got off late…meaning he didn’t get to my office to pick me up until about 730 last night.  We live an hour away.

So, short brainstorming sesh with the hubbie and we come up with a wonderful plan.

1. We have nothing thawed out for dinner
2. I needed to do my trigger shot in 30 minutes.

Solution?  We head to the supermarket.  Time to kill two birds with one stone.  While Q is wandering around grabbing stuff for dinner, I head to the restroom.  I wash my hands, prep the syringe…and give myself a trigger shot in the bathroom of a supermarket.

Boom.  Done.

The rest of my evening went down the toilet pretty quickly – our puppy hurt himself, but I’m here, I have my coffee, and today is Friday.

TGIF, y’all.

I now completely understand why babies cry.  It’s not that they’re upset about a dirty diaper, or that they’re hungry, or that they can’t reach the electrical cord to the hair dryer and chew on it.  It’s just that they have so much stuff going on in their little heads and they have no other way to express it.

They can’t talk, they can’t really move around all that much, and even if they could talk, they simply wouldn’t be able to put all that’s going on with them into words.

This is exactly where I am today.  I’m a hot mess.

There is so much going on in my head right now – not all of it is bad, but there’s just too much stuff in there, and the only thing I can do is cry.  I’m sitting at my desk with a huge lump in my throat and a dwindling box of tissues and the sad thing is, I’m not even too upset about any particular thing at the moment.

It’s just everything is all jumbled up right now, there are so many emotions and fears and doubts and questions and…everything. I can’t even describe exactly how I’m feeling right now or process it all. So I’m pretty weepy and gross.

What’s going on today?  Let’s catch up.

We upped the dose of follitropin to 150 IU daily, starting on CD3.  On my CD 3 baseline ultrasound, I had a total of 8 follicles, which was more than ever for me.  This was last Wednesday.

I had my CD7 ultrasound Sunday with Dr Koopersmith, after 4 nights of 150 IU follitropin injections.  She and Dr. Landay switch off working weekends, since fertility cycles don’t ever take days off.  Anyway, of the 8 follies we saw on my u/s, 7 were growing.  This was good.  But, according to Dr Koopersmith, only 1 or 2 looked like they would eventually mature.  I had a 12mm, an 11mm, a 7mm, three 6mm, and a 5mm follicle. The smallest ones would never mature in time.

Yesterday I used my last 150 IU dose of follitropin and went in this morning for my CD 9 ultrasound.

Of the 7 I had Sunday…we’re down to 5.  A 15mm, two 14mms, a 12mm, and a 6mm.  So, we’re down follicles, but there are now three – not just the 1 or 2, that may actually mature and ovulate.  The 12mm one is really iffy – it may or may not.  But Dr Landay said she wanted to see 3-4 mature, so this is good. It’s actually great.

But – they’re nowhere near big enough right now. And they only grew 1-3mm in 48 hours.  They need to be over 20mm, and I don’t see that happening.  Last cycle I got pregnant with a 25mm follie, so seeing the small ones take the wind out of my sails a bit.  This also means I have to spend an additional $400 today on another round of follitropin, which I totally hadn’t planned on.  I’ll need 2, possibly 3, more days of the injectables.  We did a blood test today to check my Estrogen and LH levels to see when I may ovulate, and they’ll adjust the meds accordingly.

This is a very expensive month.  We can’t keep doing this forever.  It’s not just about the money, which is a burden itself, but it’s the roller coaster ride, the injections, everything.  It’s a lot to process, and I’m not handling it as well as I could be today.

We can handle the money, just barely.  Months of ultrasounds and IUIs and blood tests and various other procedures without having any of it covered by my insurance is really taking a toll on our finances.  I hadn’t expected it to go on for so long, really, and I don’t know how much longer we can dump all of our discretionary income into this. We have very little wiggle room in case something happens to one of us, one of the critters, the house or the car…it’s not a good place to be.

I remember when I started on the first cycle of Clomid I thought I’d get pregnant instantly.  I remember thinking that since my diagnosis was “unexplained infertility”, there was still a possibility that Q and I were just messing up our timing or doing it wrong or something (teehee…literally…).  But turns out, that’s not the case.  Now there’s talk needing IVF, which we can in no way afford on our own…and that weighs heavily on my mind.

This cycle, my follies are small, even though I have more than before.  I’m worried that if I couldn’t get pregnant with larger follies, the small ones have absolutely no chance of success.  Dr. Landay assures us that it’s not about the quantity of follies or their size, but about their quality. She’s seen successful pregnancies with small follicles.  This is where the AMH factor comes in, and mine is good.

But it’s still a worry.

Also, I have three follies this cycle that may mature and ovulate.  Those three could potentially produce multiples.  Or nothing at all.  I understand the risk with multiples, which is a little greater on injectables than on Clomid or Letrozole.  There’s about an 11% chance of multiples on injectable hormones but only an 8% chance on Clomid.

Of course, there’s an 18% chance of multiples on the combination Clomid and injectables, and that didn’t happen last cycle.

So, I understand the risks.  And I can do math…the chance of multiples resulting from 3 mature eggs is greater than 1 or 2 mature eggs.  So, the risk is greater this cycle, and it’s not something I really want.  I will be thrilled with whatever happens, but I’m concerned about the risk to myself and my kiddos if I carry more than one.  I’m a small person.

I’m thinking of double (or triple) child care costs when I have to go back to work.  I’m thinking about the cost of raising one child, and the difficulty raising just a singleton, and I don’t know if I have it in me to raise two or more at the same time.  So, it scares me.

All of it is just a lot to process.  I’ve got a nice roaring stress headache right now.

Happy Monday, everyone!! I made it through two more doses of my prep-yourself injections over the weekend, and I didn’t reacquaint myself with the kitchen floor.

That, my friend, is progress.

So…word of advice?  Don’t freak out about the size of the needles.  Through all this, I have yet to actually feel the needle.  I’ve hurt myself worse shoving an earring into my lobe after a few days of not wearing jewelry.

And seriously, jab that sucker in there. Don’t mess around. Don’t take your time; don’t try to do it slow and steady like I did.  Just shove it in, release the juice, and yank it out.

Well…I mean, cram it in, then slowly release the juice, and then yank that little booger back out. It’s a thousand times better that way.  I am an old pro at this now.

I had my CD7 ultrasound yesterday.  This is a little bittersweet.  All 7 of my follicles are still lurking around my ovaries, which is amazing.  I’ve never grown this many follicles.  The stronger FSH really IS working!

But… only 2 look like they’ll mature.  I have a 12mm, 11mm, 7mm, three 6mm, and a 5mm follicle.  I’m a little bit freaked out because I’ve had 14mm follicles on my CD7 ultrasounds before…these seem a little dinky.

I’m trying to stay positive about it all…they have at least 4-5 more days to grow before we trigger or I ovulate naturally (usually around CD12-14 for me), so we’ll see how everything looks.

I have another ultrasound tomorrow so we can check the progress. I think I take my last injection tonight, too.

You know what?  I am positive about it.  Team May, right?  May babies are the greatest.  I was a May baby.  My best friend is a May baby.  My dad, grandmother, niece and nephew are all May babies.  It’s Mother’s day.  Seems like a great month to me.

Team May.

 

Dr Koopersmith told me to stay positive, and not to focus on what my body can or can’t do.  It’ll do what it does, and there’s nothing else I can do to change that.  It’s a very Zen way of thinking.  She’s right, though.  I work out.  I eat healthy.  I get plenty of sleep.  I take all my prenatals and hormone supplements and shoot myself in the belly like I’m supposed to.   I can’t do anything else.

 

So we wait.

I had to mix my own dose of FSH yesterday evening.  I had a 300 IU redi-pen from my doctor’s office and a 600 IU multi-dose vial from the pharmacy, which you have to mix, prep, and fill the syringe yourself. It was cheaper that way.  So, yesterday was my first dose from the vial.

It wasn’t difficult, but I think I psyched myself up about it too much.  First of all, there’s always an irrational fear that you’re going to kill yourself injecting strange things into your person.  At least, there is with me.

Is that an air bubble? Did I sterilize the needle enough?  Better smother it in alcohol again. FREAKING AIR BUBBLES I’M GUNNA GIVE MYSELF AN EMBOLISM!!!

See?  Completely irrational.  I had to remind myself over and over that they don’t just pass out syringes without some method in place to idiot-proof the dosing.

And idiot-proof they did, in the form of a full color, two page instruction sheet with a step by step guide on how to not kill yourself with follitropin injections.  They didn’t word it like that, but I read between the lines.

I got the vial out of the fridge and warmed it up a bit in my hand (no more icy cold burning hot lava, thanks).  Then I shot the liquidy-stuff into the powdery-stuff, made sure it was clear, and popped open my first syringe.

The needles were bigger than the pre-filled ones.

Holy Crap.

Not hamster-to-kangaroo bigger, but when you’re dealing with needles and you HATE needles, any subtle change induces a minor freak-out.  Insert minor freak-out here.

My old needles were 29 gauge.  See?  Really small.  These new needles were 27 gauge.  Slightly less small…more like hamster-to-morbidly-obese-hamster-with-his-little-cheek-pouches-stuffed-full-of-popcorn.

I didn’t know if I could do this.  On the one hand, my husband is standing there swearing the needles are the same size and calling me a weenie.  I wanted to cram one in his eye.

I didn’t, I promise.

On the other hand… a couple days ago, the difference between 100 IU and 150 IU had me reliving tequila shooters from my bachelorette party.  So I’m in new territory here.  Boldly going and all that.

I could do this.  I HAD to do this.  I am WOMAN, dammit.  If I couldn’t inject myself with a slightly-less-than-tiny needle, how could I handle an epidural?  Or childbirth in general, for that matter?

So I prepped my injection site. Next to the belly button, off to the left; swabbed down with alcohol.

Then I prepped it again.  I wasn’t stalling.  Not really.

I go to slide it in…and it won’t go in.  I’m getting dizzy now.  Q is standing there all sexy and smirky, I have the site prepped, but the stupid needle won’t go in.  This is nuts. I’m used to easing them in no problem, like a warm knife through butter.  But this needle WON’T FREAKING PIERCE MY SKIN!!

I close my eyes and shove.  And shove harder, all the while thinking how painful the injection will be when it eventually pierces my skin. Finally, I feel a weird little pop and it’s in my belly.

Huh.

I open my eyes and see the little syringe just hanging out like some emo belly ring and I get really dizzy, even before I press the plunger and shoot the follitropin in there.  So I did what any red-blooded American woman would do.   I shoved down the plunger, ground my teeth, and waited for the worst.

The worst came in a rush of icy cold burning hot lava (what the hell? I thought it was warm enough), and then a really disgusting squishy sensation when I removed the syringe.  Slowly.  Like an idiot.

I seriously swooned.  I remember thinking that was gross and then…hey there, linoleum.

And lastly… wow, we should really sweep the kitchen.

Good thing my husband was standing there smirking, because I went DOWN.  He got an ice pack and put it on my head, and I just laid there on my kitchen floor, wondering what the heck just happened.

I was fine after a bit, but between psyching myself out about the bigger needle and the head rush from the FSH…I needed a minute or three.

Then I was all like, “DID YOU SEE THAT?!?! HELL YEAH!!! I AM WOMAN!!! I CAN DO ANYTHING!!!”

Crushed it!