Supergirl: Hussy or Heroine (Double Edited Version)

My hormones are a ragin'. I'm on a natural cycle while we decide what to do with my Eggs O' Crap. Natural cycle means, no meds, wait for ovulation, club DH over the head, drag him into the bedroom and have my way with him. No more romance in this humble abode. It's all business.

Actually, that is not totally accurate. We practically went on a date last night. Went to see the movie, Superman Returns. It was good, looks like there will be a few more sequels which is promising. It wasn't overly sentimental, but due to the hormones coursing through my innards, I cried several times during the movie. The most ridiculous cry came when Superman tore off his shirt and showed the big, red *S* on his chest right before flying away to save some poor person in Metropolis. Yes, I cried over his underwear uniform. What's next? Weeping over my Thin Mints because Girl Scouts wear a sash? I'm not even on meds which means it's my own natural hormones making me a pile of mush.

Men are so lucky. How nice to not be at the mercy of hormonal mood swings. I bet Superman doesn't have mood swings. Remember Supergirl? Maybe not, she never caught on like Superman- maybe the world couldn't handle her Super Moodiness. Hmmm, how cool would that be? Picture it, you're in the luteal phase, too much progesterone in your system, p.o'ed at the world, and you have the ability to fly and throw people around? The only drawback is trying to fit into that hussy uniform while bloated. Supergirl should be allowed to wear sweats while fighting crime. It's only fair.

*Editor's Note: Meri-ann saved the day! She noticed that I had a picture of Wonder Woman and not Supergirl attached to the link above. I've fixed the problem. I was thinking Wonder Woman was Superwoman/Supergirl. Silly me. I could easily be Wonder Woman. Just have to eat a lot of Wonder Bread, right?

** Editor's Second Note: Okay, I'm going batty. It was Meg that saved the day and mentioned my reference to Wonder Woman when I meant to say Supergirl. Apologies to Meri-ann. Slowly losing my mind. Please forgive. It has been a very difficult weekend. Long story short, we had to put my dog Schuster to sleep today. Am feeling outrageously unfocused and scattered. Will share more later. Must keep self busy and productive around the house until sadness subsides.

Tagged!

I got tagged by the uber-cool Meri-ann! I'm not sure how I got lucky enough to get noticed by such an awesome blogger, but I'm very grateful she took notice of my little blog. Here are my responses to the tag:

7 things I'd like to do before I die:
1. Hear my child call me mom
2. Love my body
3. Open a rescue shelter for animals (cats, dogs, goats, pigs, horses, anything that needs rehab or a home.)
4. Marry DH (again) in Las Vegas by an Elvis impersonator. Seriously. It sounds like a fun way to recommit to each other.
5. Sell a piece of artwork or publish a book
6. Market one of my ideas/inventions. (Sounds hokey, I know, but I've got a few product ideas for disabled people. Wouldn't make a million bucks, but would probably pay for an ivf cycle.)
7. Shave my head so my hair was as short as a 3 year old boy. DH says I need an angular face for that. Maybe when I'm 65.

7 things I can't do:
1. Eat meat without feeling guilty or sad about the death of an animal
2. Keep a hairstyle for the whole day. By afternoon, hair is in a ponytail or off my face with a funky barrette.
3. See roadkill without saying a prayer
4. Let my fingernails grow. When they get too long, it feels like my fingertips can't breathe (By the way, I know that's weird)
5. Touch cotton balls- they give me the creeps, especially the squeak they make when torn apart. Really, there is a sound. Go to your bathroom and try it, just make sure I'm far away and occupied.
6. Sleep a whole night without waking up DH for a chat. He's such a good sport about this. He answers questions and makes comments on my musings when I can't sleep.
7. Get a tattoo. I'm too afraid of the pain, but I'd love one.

7 things that attracted me to my husband:
1. His voice (deep, southern drawl)
2. His intelligence, he's really smart, almost too smart for his own good
3. His sense of adventure (past and current hobbies: ice climbing, hiking, rock climbing, flying)
4. He is a great cook and bakes bread from scratch- no bread machine
5. He's an "old soul"
6. His willingness to dance with me even though he couldn't find the beat if it slapped him in the face
7. He often looked (looks) at me in a dreamy way, like I'm an angel. (Guess the hair hides the horns.)

7 books (or series of books) that I love:
1. Outlander series by Diana Galbaldon, I'm on book 4 out of 6 and am actually nervous about finishing the series. I'll miss the characters when I'm done. Hated the first 100 pages, am now addicted.
2. Harry Potter
3. No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander MaCall Smith
4. All vegetarian cookbooks
5. Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
6. The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
7. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

7 Movies I'd watch over and over:
1. When Harry Met Sally
2. Sixteen Candles
3. Say Anything
4. Rebecca by Alfred Hitchcock
5. Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman
6. Freaky Friday (the original with Jodi Foster)
7. The Sound of Music

7 people I'd like to tag:
This one is rather difficult for me because I'm supposed to list bloggers here and those tagged bloggers are supposed to do their own list. Well, the problem is, I don't think many other bloggers read my blog. So, instead I'll list some great blogs that I read with the hopes that you'll go check out some of the sites. (And if any bloggers are out there, PLEASE leave a comment and your address, I'd love to pop in and see your stuff.)

1. Dee at Chasing China
2. Vanessa at Twisted Ovaries
3. Stella at Better Than a Soap Opera
4. Meg at Journey to the Center
5. Flicka at the Vacant Uterus
6. Juliana at Positive Chaos
7. Yorkchic at Yorkshire Life

There you go people, more things than you ever wanted to know about me.
Don't forget to pop in and catch a few other bloggers. And anyone else itchin' to blog, come on in, the waters warm!

The Eagle Has Landed

We went flying on Saturday. It wasn't too bad. Turns out DH is a much better pilot than driver. At least I think he is. I don't know enough about flying to know what to complain about or be afraid of. Strangely enough, on the way home, DH had to slam on the brakes several times to avoid hitting the car in front of us. This is what it sounded like (remember he's a southern boy.)

Me: Gosh, are you watching the guy in front of you, you've slammed on the brakes 3 times in five minutes?

DH: Ah'm drivin' purfect

Me: I wouldn't call slamming on the brakes perfect

DH: Weel, it's purfect enough

My question is, what is "perfect enough?" And what does "perfect enough" flying look like? Hopefully, I won't have to find out for a very long time. Sigh.

The flight itself was uneventful. I was tense but didn't let it show. The night before, we had a disagreement and he said, "Ah cain't fly with ya if ya keep actin' scared 'cause ya get mean when ya git scared." I envisioned us going down in a blaze of glory with him shouting, "Ah should have niver got ya up here, yur too tense!" So, I steeled my emotions and acted cool as a cucumber. DH commented on my great attitude more than once. We've decided to fly again soon so I can continue to get used to it. DH is over the moon. But he knows he owes me big-time. Now, I'm racking my brain trying to think of what that little excursion was worth. Diamonds come to mind. He made me a baked potato and called us even. We'll just see about that.

Here are a few pictures of our excursion. I've included one of myself. I don't think it really looks like me. At least, I hope it doesn't.

Technology: Too Much of a Good Thing

I was offline this week due to difficulties with my cable connection. Difficulties meaning, our neighbors who moved out this week, cancelled their cable so the technician that came to cut their line, cut ours instead. Apparently, attention to detail is not a job requirement with Comcast Chicago. The cable company, in it's endless wisdom kept telling me there was an outage in my neighborhood so they couldn't send anyone to my house. I was told to wait it out while they fixed the problem remotely. This was hard to swallow considering I told the company from the beginning I saw someone on the pole outside CUTTING MY WIRE.

Anyway, I'm back and more than a little embarrassed at the level of discomfort I felt being unplugged for so long. We had no cable TV, no internet access and no house telephone. I felt like a pilgrim, except for the fact that I got many loads of laundry done and none of it entailed soap with lye, hand-wringing or even breaking a sweat. Not very colonial of me, huh?

I guess I just have to accept that I'm a slave to convenience products. In fact, a few years ago when our microwave broke we high-tailed it to Home Depot so fast you'd think I was in labor. I wasn't of course, just in fear of labor, as in, actually cooking something instead of just heating it up. We do cook a bit around here, we are not totally lazy, but when those frozen Taquitos call, I've gotta answer and I'm not waiting for the oven to heat up when the microwave takes a mere 45 seconds. I'm lazy when I'm hungry, so sue me.

To celebrate being back in the world of keyboards and remote controls, DH and I are going out to dinner and a movie tonight. It may be my last hurrah because tomorrow morning...

I'm going flying.

The plane is fixed, weather looks good and I'm out of excuses. DH and I are taking our maiden voyage with him behind the wheel. Is there a wheel in an airplane? I think he steers with something, but I'm not sure it's circular. Blast, it's all so confusing and annoying. How can I be in control of the situation without even knowing what to call the darn things? What should I say, "Hey buddy, keep your hands at 10:00 and 2:00 on that wheel-like thingy that steers the plane." No one has power when using the word - thingy. Sigh.

Nervous? Who's nervous? Not me. I always write a farewell letter to my family and friends before an outing with DH. (By the way, it's in the top right drawer of my bedside table. Tell my dogs I love them them and don't put my cat in a shelter, he's too delicate.)

Those that live in the Midwestern part of the U.S., if you see a small white plane flying a little too low tomorrow morning,

be afraid,
be very afraid
and then run.

I'll take my camera and snap a few pics to share with you so you can see the craziness I call my life.

Dodged a Bullet

My DH is an adventurer at heart. He is a low-level adrenaline junkie. His hobbies have included ice climbing, rocking climbing, hiking and most recently- flying. DH became a pilot about 2 years ago. He pours countless dollars and hours into this new diversion. I can't really blame him. As I pursued our dream of having a child, he pursued his dream of flying. I'm glad at least one of realized our dream.

I'm proud of DH. He has his instrument rating which means he can fly in bad weather with no visibility, just using his instruments. He is also very close to getting his commercial pilot rating which means he could fly freight or banners over a ballgame. I hope he does the latter, but those jobs are apparently hard to come by.

As I've established, DH is a safe, qualified pilot, yet I've never flown with him. Many of our friends have gone up, but I'm chicken. He has been pestering me lately to fly. I've always been able to avoid it with excuses about doctor appointments and added stress. I'm out of excuses. I'm not cycling, not pregnant, I think I have to do it. I have to fly with him. It's his passion, if we don't share the experience, we will grow apart instead of together. I know this and I hate it.

As a wife, it is difficult to believe my husband can fly an airplane better than he can drive a car. He admits, he's a bad driver but swears he is a good pilot. Hmmm, I'm hoping that since there are no pedestrians in the clouds I'll be less inclined to be a backseat driver (pilot.) Do birds count? We are sharing the sky with them. Who has the right of way? I must look into that before take-off.

Today was the day, we planned on going flying in the morning and having a picnic lunch on an airstrip not too far from home. But, as the title of this post states, I dodged a bullet. The plane is in the shop, no flying for us. One of these days though, I'm going to be up there, white-knuckled and barely breathing. Oh, the things you do for love.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

Summer is the season to unwind and relax. I've done my best to follow these guidelines but a few thoughts keep plaguing me so I thought I'd share them with you in an effort to get them out of my head.

First off, I need to lose weight. I'm very uncomfortable with my body. I suppose these feelings may come from my experience of my body's betrayal via infertility, blah, blah, blah. No dime-store psycho analysis needed here. It's obvious, my body's a mess, not even a fixer-upper, probably just a lemon. Never going to work properly, would trade it in for a more reliable model if I ever got the chance. And since we're onto this stellar metaphor, let me add, I've got so much junk in my trunk (ahem, a big booty) I'm not allowed to walk down streets with signs that say, No Oversize Loads. Yeah, I'm no fan of my bod these days.

These feelings have become somewhat exaggerated since last weekend when a matronly woman from church pulled me aside and in her best, motherly voice said,

"I can tell you have gained weight. I can see it. You must lose this weight."

I was speechless, mostly because we were in church and four letter words (besides God's Will) are frowned upon. So, I've been dwelling on my extra pounds and planning ways to cut calories and be more active. On a positive note, I've been riding my bike and walking to stores and places that I would normally drive. I've even considered getting of these. I haven't bought it yet, not quite sure I want to completely jump ship and go from normal urban gal to Super Urban Gal, through rain, sleet, snow and dark of night- always pushing the grocery cart. Nope that's not me, not yet.

Okay, this post has me practically winded, everything is out of shape, including my typing fingers. I'll tell you more about what weighs on my mind later. Now, off to plan ways to avoid matronly advice, better known in the IF world as- assvice.

Ovulation: An Exercise in Futility

I'm ovulating. The sticks don't lie. I've used so many home pregnancy tests and ovulation predictor kits that I'm developing weird muscles in my legs and arms from assuming the position trying to catch FMU (first morning urine.) The muscles used in that morning feat of physical fitness are rather odd, not often used. Funny how I'm totally squishy and out of shape from all the hormones yet I can hold a squat better than a five year-old frying a bug on the sidewalk with a magnifier.

I'm not sure how I feel about ovulating. In a way, I'm always hopeful that this is the month I'll get pregnant. But when I allow myself to think about the years of cycles exactly like this one that ended up with nothing, I feel daunted. I still wake up in the morning feeling normal, looking forward to the day, then I remember- I can't have children. Life washes over me like a tidal wave and I suddenly lose the energy to get out of bed. It is still unbelievable to me that I can't have children. I wonder if the shock will ever wear off.

Summer Update:
Rode my bike to the grocery store and Blockbuster today. Yesterday, I changed the tires on my lovely Schwinn and she rode like a dream. I tried to stay out of the way of the serious cyclist. A few gave me wry looks. I held my head high and tried to get this picture out of my head.

Lazy Days of Summer

I'm a teacher and summer is almost here. Some say the best reasons to go into teaching are June, July and August. I admit, there is a definite upside to working in a school. We get all of the major holidays off and a few random ones. Our work day ends by 4:00 and we don't usually have a boss breathing down our necks. Depending on the age of the kids you teach, your 20 little bosses could be breathing down your elbows.

It is difficult being infertile and working in a school. I simply can't get away from children and some days, like after my doctor gives me terrible news, children are the last thing I want to see. My students are disabled and I have all ages in my classroom, kindergarten thru fourth or fifth grade. Most days are very interesting, never a dull moment in my classroom.

Working with the disabled has helped me keep things in perspective. Due to the nature and location of my teaching position, I often have students for up to six years. Their whole elementary experience is spent with me. By the time they are ready to move on, we have usually formed enough of a connection that they feel like part of my family. They don't feel like my children, more like my cousins. After six years my stern teacher phrases have lost some of their shock value. The older students look at me like- is that all you got? Six years is a long time to be with some of these kids. In 10 years of teaching I've only had one student who I wish never went away. Of course, she moved away early with family members who are less than moral. It haunts me.

So I approach every summer break exhausted, excited and terrified of being bored. I generate several to-do/goal lists in a spiral notebook weeks ahead. My failed cycle has inhibited my planning so I decided to take a moment and write my list. Here are my summer to-do's and goals in no particular order.

1. Consult with one more doctor/ investigate laparoscopic surgery
2. Travel to the southern states to visit in-laws
3. Plant flowers and mulch in front yard
4. Ride my very cool red Schwinn bike at least 2x per week
5. Complete at least 2 more stained glass masterpieces
6. Lose 25 pounds
7. Get together with girlfriends at least 2x per week (possibly on the schwinn)
8. Housetrain dog (yes, Fidget is still a work in progress)
9. Spend no more than $250 at IKEA
10. Touch up navy blue living room wall paint
11. Touch up burnt red hallway paint
12. Touch up paint on ceiling
12. Get hypnotized so I never paint home anything other than eggshell

Not bad as a start. I expect to check off at least three of these things by August.
Wish me luck, will keep you posted.
Thanks for being there.

Confessions of a Serial Killer

I'm back, beginning to rise from the cocoon of disappointment that has insulated me since Friday. I can't think of anything except how guilty I feel for hurting my embryos. I feel like I killed them. Weird, morbid, dramatic, I know. I imagine my current mood is a combination of rising estrogen, progesterone withdrawal, exhaustion and plain old self-pity. Not an attractive combination, I assure you. Reality is, the embryo's chromosomes could have been abnormal thus resulting in their demise. Unfortunately, another likely explanation is, my body attacked the embryos because my immune system is in overdrive as evidenced by endometriosis and various other symptoms. At the end of the day though, when I'm lying in bed at night, I can't help thinking that I did it, I expelled the poor things instead of welcoming them. Can't get the thought out of my head.

I'm losing faith, feeling like I should stop the madness. I'm beginning to succumb to the finality of infertility. I actually considered what life would be like living childfree. In the world of infertility there are categories of resolution. We have (a) success, (b) success by other means (donor egg/sperm, surrogacy, adoption) and (c) childfree. I'd love success, am considering success by other means and until now simply banished the thought of living childfree. I never thought I'd feel living childfree would be less painful than infertility, until today. Today, on the way to work, I thought- I could live childfree. We'd travel, have a nice house maybe even a summer beach place. I surprised myself. I was happy picturing life without children. It felt luxurious. I've heard some people say that it's time to stop pursuing infertility treatment when the pain becomes worse than the need/want for a child. We're getting close to that line folks. Hopefully the break I take this summer will lure me back to the warm fuzzies of family planning. Right now, all I can think of is- I better not get pregnant. God will soon lose patience with a woman who coaxes embryos into this world only to reject them before they get a foothold.

Possibly as a penance, my period this month is horrible. I'm passing clots so large you'd think my ovaries just gave up and fell out. The good news is, I'm finally able to take Excedrin Migraine again. Oh, how I've missed my lovely white pills that take away the pain. I've also been indulging in caffeine every day. Yes, I said every day. If I'm going to be miserable, I'd rather have the energy to be a proper miserable person- honking at inconsiderate drivers, glaring at people who cut in line at the store, a gal needs energy for that. That's right ladies, you don't want to meet me in a dark alley these days. I'm a long way from cuddly.

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The Toxic Uterus Strikes Again

A bad B-movie title? Nope, just the story of my life.
Pregnancy Test: Negative.

I'm am so sick of my freakishly flawed body, I can barely stand to be in the same room as myself. Do you remember that feeling back in high school when some boy or gaggle of girls hurt your feelings so bad you felt sick? Don't we all have a memory or two like that? A situation that was so awful you know you'll never forget how it felt to live through it? I think this is one of those days. The only word to describe how I feel is gutted. As if someone carved out my organs and left a brick in their place. Gosh, what would I feel like if I hadn't been prepared for the negative? I shudder to think of it.

My last cycle left me sad. This cycle has left me angry. I can't believe I gave up chocolate and sushi for this.

Will post more later when I'm able to form a thought without an expletive.

Mother's Day, Schmuther's Day

It is Mother's Day, I feel compelled to post something. I'm not sure what I want or need to write, well, actually I do know what I'd like to write but there is no need for a potty mouth on a Sunday. I just took communion for goodness sakes, I'm going to try to keep it clean until dinner at least.

And so, Mother's Day. Talk about a Hallmark holiday, gosh the amount of money invested in the promotion of this day is mind-boggling. There are even commercials dedicated to mothers. I simply can't escape the sugary images of doe-eyed moms, lovingly cooking dinner, surrounded by hordes of adoring children. I feel sorry for all my diabetic peeps out there, the sugary sweetness in the air can't be good for them. It must be getting in through their pores. Beware, good friends, the air is fraught with deadly nectar, keep your insulin close at hand.

I know I sound bitter, I guess I am, a little. But not for the reason you think. I betcha all think I'm bitter because I'm not a mother, right? Nope, that isn't the reason. I've never liked Mother's Day, not even when I was little. I didn't grow up in a Hallmark household. My mom wasn't the kind of mom you see in TV commercials. At least not at home. To the outside world she was soft spoken, kind and doe-eyed. Apparently, the effort required to keep up the charade took a lot out of her because when she came home she was pretty much the meanest bully I knew. Yet, every Mother's Day teachers would make us create sweet cards and wrap silly little art projects for our moms. All the kids would be so proud and excited to take them home. Blech. All I could think of is, what a way to waste a perfectly good paper doily and star stickers.

70's TV was filled with images of the way moms were supposed to act. I'd have given anything for a Mrs.Brady, Mrs. Ingalls or heck, I'd even take Mr. Roper. Instead, I got a cross between Thelma from Scooby Doo and the Hulk. In a nutshell, an angry know-it-all. My mom didn't really raise us, she basically gave birth and then did her best to avoid or humiliate us. I'm the youngest of three girls, I'm 34, sisters are 35 and 36. Some people would say my mom had it rough with three girls so close in age. The stories are legendary about how difficult it was with 3 kids in diapers at once. Everyone laughed at the recollections, but not us. My sisters and I knew we had already paid for any inconvenience we had created by being born.

Growing up in that atmosphere gave me the survival skills I'm using to get through my infertility struggle. This is bittersweet because, while I'm grateful to say I'm a survivor, I'd rather be able to say, my mom is helping me through my infertility struggle. She is not. When I grew up and was no longer her legal responsibility, my mom walked away and didn't look back. She keeps up with my life through my sister and knows enough about me to be able to brag to others about my successes. Although she never contacts me to acknowledge my accomplishments. My mom also knows about my infertility struggle, but she has never offered advice, support, or even given her fertility background so I can unlock the mystery of my fertility.

I spent some time on "the couch" and worked out my demons with a good therapist and a few too many trips to Target. And here I am, a perfectly functioning adult, not needing her support but always secretly wishing my mom would WANT to support me. Alas, she is MIA, as they say. My mom is still living in the house I grew up in, but she changed her phone number and never gave me the new one. That's sad, isn't it? I got over it a long time ago. I hardly think of it anymore, except on days like today, Mother's Day. I really don't understand my mother, she threw away the opportunity to be a parent, and I'd sell my soul for it. No, I'm not bitter about Mother's Day because I'm not a mom, that is something I have the power to change. I'm bitter because I don't have a mom, and I'll never be able to change that.

A Southern Kind of Sorry

After transfer some doctors tell you to stay in bed for a few days. I've even heard one doctor recommended no bending at the waist. Other doctors say it is okay to move around because it is helpful to get the blood flowing to the embryos and uterus. Patients that move around are supposed to take it easy. My doctor is in the second camp, thus my conundrum is, what does it mean to “take it easy?”

In my book, The Lazy Women's Guide to Life, taking it easy means, DH cooks for me, does the housework and tells me I'm pretty so I don't have to waste valuable energy putting on makeup or doing my hair. Is that going too far? Does that level of laziness mean I am not getting enough blood to my uterus? Maybe I should fix my hair and put on a bit o' blush. Actually, my doctor may not like that because I'd have an artificial glow which would mask a pale face thus not allowing us to see how my blood flow truly is. Dangerous, right? I agree, no makeup. He must just tell me I'm pretty while he is cooking and doing the housework. Now, if only I could get DH to agree.

On the day of transfer, I pretty much glued myself to LifetimeTV. For blood flow, I played with the dogs, walked to the bathroom and read a trashy novel. The day after transfer, yesterday, I did a couple loads of laundry, bathroom, made lunch, trashy novel. Today, my plan is to do a load of laundry, bathroom, trashy novel and TARGET. Yep, I am venturing out. Is that a good idea? I am suffering from an extreme case of cabin fever and feel the need for retail therapy (i.e. shop the Target clearance shelves.) Tomorrow is my last day off work this week. I plan on doing the ultimate in retail therapy, shoe shopping at DSW Shoe Warehouse. Nothing gets my blood moving like a roomful of discounted shoes. And since its strappy sandal season, I'm over the moon.

Which brings me to my question, am I lazy or just an obedient mother-in-waiting? Am I taking it too easy? My southern born and bred husband calls lazy people "sorry" as in, pathetic. An example of it's use in my home:

Me- Why haven'’t you taken out the trash yet?

DH (with southern drawl) BaCawse I'm bein' sorry

Me- Are you going to take the trash out soon?

DH (slowly drawls)
Ah thenk I'm gonna be sorry all day,
but you kin check agin tomorra

Loads of people and things are referred to as sorry in our home. He hasn't used that term in reference to me, not yet at least. In fact, a few times he has told me to go sit down and "take it easy."” Clearly, the definition of taking it easy is subjective. So, off to Target I go and if I drop something, I promise I won't pick it up, just in case bending at the waist really is bad for me.

I'm PUPO! (Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise)

It was a great morning.
We transferred 2 embryos.
An 8 cell and a 5 cell.

An 8 cell is as good as it gets for a day 3 transfer. Embryos can be fragmented but still viable, my two were not fragmented at all. DH and I are very pleased and feel as though we've leapt a large hurdle. Our last ivf left us with one 4 cell to transfer. After that, we feared we were simply unable to create normal embryos. Today's result has calmed our fears. There are many hurdles ahead of us, implantation being the most vexing, but what happened today has renewed our hope.

Now, my plan is to relax on the couch for the remainder of the day. The only drawback is Lifetime is showing reruns. Heck, I'm feeling so good today I'd watch ESPN (okay, I take that back, I'm happy, not crazy.)

Thank you all for your support, will check back in soon.

Holding My Breath

Dare I say it... the 2 embryos are still alive... and growing.
Transfer tomorrow at 9:30.
Won't say anymore because I'm way too superstitious, fearful of jinxing anything.

Except, may I take a moment to say,

OH MY FREAKIN' GOODNESS, THEY ARE ALIVE!
ALIVE, I TELL YOU, ALIVE!

Picture an old movie, mad scientist raising his hands to heaven screeching

ALIVE, THEY ARE ALIVE!

and you've got a picture of what is going on in my head.

Prayers, good karma, positive vibes needed. Thanks.

Friday Update

Got the fertilization report today. Out of 8 eggs retrieved, 6 were mature and 2 fertilized. If those 2 keep up the good work, we will transfer on Sunday. I'm nervous. I had 2 that fertilized in my last cycle and one of them arrested, or stopped growing (i.e. died) before making it to transfer, thus leaving me with one embryo at transfer. Of course, that cycle ended in a negative pregnancy test, I'm trying to push those thoughts out of my mind and keep my eye on the ball with this current cycle.

I'm hopeful, but cautious.

At times, I feel as though I'm standing on a train track watching a train coming toward me, unable to get out of the way. It's a nightmare in slow motion, I see disaster approaching yet I'm unable to get out of it's path. Then my thoughts usually turn toward optimism as I remind myself that I had two good eggs in my batch of 6. Thirty-three percent fertilization is a respectable number. So, I get happy, light-hearted, looking ahead- only to see the train approaching again. I feel certain I will, one day, look back on my cycles or this blog and wonder how I got through it. Kind of like the way I look back at junior high- how the heck did I get out of there alive and sane?

The nurse will call me tomorrow and tell me how the little ones are doing. I'll do my best to check back in and give an update.

Thanks for being there.

I Am Chicken, Hear Me Roar (A Retrieval Story)

Retrieval went well. We had the first appointment so didn't have to bite our nails in the waiting room too long. Since my veins are notoriously uncooperative, they didn't miss an opportunity to give me grief. The nurse anesthetist, put the IV in my left hand, then said the vein wasn't good (hurt like a bugger) and she made an attempt to put it in my inner elbow. After taking a painfully long minute to ponder the problem, the nurse put the IV in my right hand.

All the while, I was naked from the waist down, my legs stirruped high in the air, all my goods hanging out, as another nurse prepped me for the upcoming procedure. Nurse B, (as in between my legs) was trying to empower me and said something like, "this is your procedure, you're in charge" I told her it was hard to be brave and powerful with your cooch on display. Mercifully, she threw a sheet over me.

The best part of the morning was when my friend came to visit me in my holding cell, I mean my waiting room. I met L and her delightful family through infertility channels. It was a huge coincidence that she had a retrieval on the same day as me, in the same office. In true female-unity, we talked on the phone the night before and agreed to meet up and wear the same outfit- a slinky little number that tied in the back. L and her DH came to my room to chat as they waited for their turn with the needle. The DH's discussed man-stuff while L and I pondered egg count, egg quality, miscarriage and IVs. We must have looked quite funny socializing as if we were sitting in a quaint French bistro. Those of us struggling with infertility know that we'll take any port in a storm. Please keep L and her family in your thoughts and prayers. She has helped me immensely through this craziness.

Now, the numbers: 8 eggs were retrieved this morning. Currently, they are probably in the laboratory doing a dance with DH's sperm. Hopefully, it's a nice tango that will result in an embryo tomorrow. I'll get a fertilization report Friday afternoon. Last time, out of 9 eggs, 4 were mature and 2 fertilized. If you are the praying kind, please send one up for my eggs and also L's, I'd be much obliged.

Not sure when I'll post tomorrow. It's definitely going to be nail-biter until I know if any of the eggs fertilized. Time to batten down the hatches. Am getting scared, but trying to remain positive and powerful. I am chicken, hear me roar.

Prelude to a Pregnancy

I'm feeling shiny today. Eager, excited, the whole 9 yards. It is almost a giddy feeling, similar to the one I had when DH and I started trying to conceive eons ago. Back then, I had no idea our family-making journey was a one-way ticket on the Titanic. Now, I am sufficiently jaded, grumpy, and no longer bathing in my ignorant bliss. Yet, I am beside myself with joy and anticipation.

I know this reaction is, in part, due to the knowledge that if this cycle fails, like the last one, I will bounce. I'll hit the floor hard, then rebound back onto my feet. Possibly, a little bruised, but poised for battle. So, I can afford a bit of optimism and I'm going to ride this wave until I capsize.

My egg retrieval has been scheduled for 8:00 a.m. Thursday morning. I have butterflies in my stomach. Hopefully, they are making a nice nest for the little embryos.

Stats for the record:
Follicles
Left ovary: 21.5, 21, 19.5, 19, 14, 13.5, 10
Right ovary: 17, 13, 12, 11, 10, 5
e2> 2500

Sometimes You're the Windshield, Sometimes You're the Bug

Today, I'm the Windshield.

My ultrasound and bloodwork came back with good news. The follicles hit a growth spurt, I've got 5 that are currently mature. Here is the lowdown, (reminder: anything above 16 is considered mature.)

Left: 18, 17.5, 17.5, 17, 13.5, 13.5, 13.5, 13
Right: 18, 12, 11, 3 big cysts

I'm considering this a minor victory. I didn't even mind the vein excavation that needed to be done to get a blood sample. I'm just happy that my body is cooperating. Could it be that my luck is turning? I'd pinch myself, but figured that would be overkill since I'll be sticking sharp needles into my tummy in a few short hours.

I've been on medication for 15 days straight and given myself 78 shots. During this time I've had one overdose, one underdose, 3 glasses of wine and a Starbucks coffee. All things considering, this was an easy stim cycle. I basically thought it was doomed since day one so I breezed through it thinking it would be cancelled any day. Unfortunately, this also means I indulged in wine and a Starbucks coffee during spring break. No use crying over spilled milk (or broken eggs, as it were) so I'm thinking positive and looking forward to retrieval.

Tentative plan of action:
Tuesday- 7:00 a.m. bloodwork and ultrasound
Tuesday evening- I give myself shot to trigger ovulation
Thursday morning- Egg Retrieval
Thursday thru Saturday- go crazy worrying if eggs fertilized or embryos grew
Saturday or Monday morning- Embryo Transfer

Stay close, will keep you posted.

These Eggs Were Made For Hatchin'

Today's ultrasound appointment showed some major follicle growth. DH called me a hen today when I told him about the numbers of eggs in waiting they found. Hopefully, things are kicking into gear and we may do an egg retrieval on Thursday. Mature eggs are around 16, mine look like this:

Left: 16.5, 14.5, 13.5, 13, 12, 12, 12, 9
Right: 15, 11, 3 big cysts

Not sure what the bloodwork result is yet. The nurse had to really dig for the vein again today, chirping, "ohh, you're right, they really do roll away." If she had not already speared my arm, I would have given her the shut-up-and-focus look. It appears they will have to draw blood every day until retrieval. I was told if they could not get a vein in my arm they will try my leg or foot. Makes me wince just thinking about it.

In light of the current follicle growth, I have decided to become a very positive thinker. I have maligned this cycle from the beginning, dousing it with negative energy, imagine what will happen if I pour on some positive energy.

I will be the picture of positive thinking (or craziness)
Fingers in the ears, humming,

*These eggs were made for hatching
And that's just what they'll do,
One of these days these eggs are gonna
Hatch right into 2*
(Twins, that is. thinking big.)

More later.