What? I have a blog?

Oh my gosh...I think I have trouble with commitment. As in, committing to consistently posting on this blog.

So many things have happened, but everything has managed to stay exactly the same.

1. We have IVF coverage! 3 Tries, fully covered. Good, good news.

2. We have to switch doctors. We have IVF coverage! but not with Dr. Fabulous...Damnit. His lab isn't contracted with my insurance company. We're looking at Cleveland Clinic because we're pretty sure they would be contracted. According to his IVF coordinator, "Your company doesn't reimburse enough, and we can't lose money." Whatever, lady. I bet she has, like, 7 kids. All accidents.

3. I am sick of dealing with doctors and nurses, and insurance companies. And anyone who is over-worked and probably under-paid and is just generally a pain in my ass. I can't get a straight answer from anyone and I'm just taking a break. One more month of no baby is a drop in the bucket after 22 months. Who cares at this point? Not me, and not everyone who is sick of my complaints and my un-fun-ness.

4. Everyone is pregnant! I keep thinking it will stop, because hello? Everyone is pregnant already. But no! There are more everyones, and they're all pregnant! And happy! Bastards! Pregnancy glory hogs!

5. I am fat. I blame it on infertility. Not on my habits of shoving food into my mouth and watching tv until my butt hurts from sitting. It's infertility's fault.

I can't wait for 2007 to be over. 2007 beat me like I was its red-headed stepchild.

2008 is going to be cute and fabulous, and it will love me and take me shopping and we will have good times. Like Carrie and Stanford, 2008 and I.

So cheerful, it's almost gross.

I had a wonderful day today!

I will save you the boring details, in case you are not interested in the excruciating bore that is my life: MY MEDS ARE COVERED!

$6,675 for IVF and that's it!

Now for the boring details.

I was in a good mood today.

If you're dealing with infertility, you know how great it is to have the fog clear for a day and to just feel good. And normal and happy.

I got to work and got a bunch of stuff done!
I cleared out my inbox and returned all of my emails!
I successfully dodged my boss for 4 hours!
I planned out our budget until July!
I made a very yummy spreadsheet with formulas and workbooks!*
I finished my Christmas shopping during my lunch break!

I was feeling good, productive...I was kicking ass. Not taking names. No time for taking names!

Then I checked my cell and had a message from the insurance billing coordinator** at the RE office. She called my insurance company to verify that my meds are covered and they are. THEY ARE! Yessssss <------ Napoleon Dynamite style. The one true flaw for the day is that I did not get to enjoy a Frosty. I have a coupon book for 10 free Frosties (right? the plural of...ah, fuck it). I made the mistake of going to Wendy's at 12:30.

I couldn't even pull into the parking lot and I almost wrecked into a total douche driving a Lexus SUV, smoking a cigarette, and yelling into a cell phone while driving like Nick Hogan.****

So I decide to park and go in, but when I get to the door, I find that the line is actually out the door and around the building. In 30 degree weather. Call me crazy, but I said screw the Frosty.

*Organization = Orgasm

**I have no idea how Dr. Fabulous runs his office because it is insanely busy and I can always get an appointment, and I never have to sit in the waiting room. However, he has all kinds of staff with different titles, all containing the word "coordinator." IVF Coordinator. Finance Coordinator. Insurance Billing Coordinator. Nurses Coordinator. Coordinators Coordinator?***

*** I'd like that job. I bet I could really coordinate all of the coordinators. I'd coordinate the shit out of them.

****I hate rich people. I should have let him hit me, then filed a law suit for damages in the amount of $6,675.

Oh, Hai....

What? Am I pregnant?

Ah hahahahahaha! No you silly goose! I am not, but thank you for asking.

Not only am I not pregnant, I am having the worst. Period. Ever.

And also - we need to do IVF.

See? I'm so much fun to be around these days! If you haven't been around me, you're missing out. I am a barrell of laughs. I have many interesting and funny and witty things to say, and people's eyes do not glaze over as I talk about ANOTHER setback in trying to just have a damn baby. I am so not bitter. I'm so happy for the million people I know right now who got pregnant after a few months of trying. I'm so excited for the holidays so I can see people who will all say the wrong thing. I can't wait to have to talk about our adventures in baby-making - because damn this is all so much fun! Wheeeeee!

You know how sometimes you get on an amusement park ride or roller coaster? And after about 30 seconds you just want to scream to the controller - "STOP THIS RIDE! I WANT OFF!"

That sums it up. I need a break.
And maybe copious amounts of alcohol.

Me? I'm PUPO!

PUPO = Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise
Me = PUPO

We did our inseminations on Wednesday and Thursday this week. It was pretty painless.

The worst part was when Mark was singing all of the late 80s/early 90s songs on the intercom while I was laying down for 10 minutes afterward. While he does a great Gloria Estefan, I still hate to worry that all of the sperm will squirt out from my hysterical laughing.

Our counts were just OK on Wednesday - 10 million, 85% motile. The doctor said that would be considered average but 20 million is what you want to see.

Thursday, we had 20 million, 92% motile.

30 million sperm all in my body.
One of those fuc*ers better fertilize my egg!

Clomid is boring.

I was expecting to have a license to be a complete bitch. I was really looking forward to yelling at Mark for simply being a man. I wanted to feel the desire to claw someone's eye out.

No such luck. I have had no side effects at all. Woe is me.

Tomorrow is my ultrasound, and hopefully my shot! Then inseminations on Monday and Tuesday.

Boring, right?

Jabba's still in da hawse *updated*

I still haven't pooped.

The good news: I may or may not be growing a small continent in my bowel. I plan to connect it to California when it breaks off and floats out into the Pacific.

The bad news: Have morphed into a senior citizen who discusses bowel habits with any other adult who will listen. Am gross.

More bad news: There is a version of the Black Eyed Peas song "Where is the Love" going through my head, but instead of love it says poop. "Where is the poop? The poop? Where is the poop? Poop? Where is the poop; the poop; the poop?"

Again with the bad news: Actually said to Mark, "I am not going ANYWHERE until I take a shit! Any. Where!"

I lied. I went to Arabica to study. I got so excited because I had a GURGLE - I jumped up out of my seat, let the chair deafeningly scrape against the hardwood floor and hightailed it to the restroom.

The Women's room was occupied, but the Men's room was wide open. I briefly considered waiting like a rational 27 year old woman, but then went right into the Men's room.

I may have actually let out a squee of delight as I locked the door and sat down - finally! the poop! squee!

Sadly, no dice. Or poop. La saga continues.
Shit.

*Update*
I pooped! It was not all that I thought it would be. But it was a start.
I've never been so happy to take a crap in my entire life.

Egg Factory is a Go

I got my Clomid and HCG today!

I took the first Clomid an hour ago and guess what! I'm not crazy yet!

My internal ultrasound went fine - no cysts and my "uterus looks wonderful." That is what Dr. Fabulous said. I bet he wanted to say badass.

Clomid for five days, then on 11/11 I go in for an ultrasound to see how my follies are growing. If they are the right size, they will give me the HCG shot to make me ovulate. Inseminations are the two days following the HCG shot.

In other exciting news: I haven't *ahem* dropped the kids at the pool since Monday. My stomach is killing me - like a sharp pain every time I take a step. I am so bloated that someone at Target actually thought I was Jabba the Hut and asked for my autograph.

On Sunday I weighed myself, and on Wednesday I weighed 10 POUNDS MORE! I am so full of shit (literally) and gas and water that I gained 10 pounds. I even took a laxative and added Benefiber to my yogurt yesterday and today. I swear, I am about to go buy a tub of prunes and eat until I go.

Pray for a poo here soon, folks.

My Ovaries and Uterus are Badass.

I'm back from surgery! Sorry, no Grey's Anatomyish stories to tell. Although I was wondering if there were some interns in a closet getting it on Meredith and McDreamy-style...

Sunday night, I had to drink a 10 ounce bottle of Magnesium Citrate. Not good times for moi. I gagged the entire time and had to really not focus on throwing up because oh my god please don't make me drink any more of THAT! Blech.

I waited and waited and waited for the poo, but nothing happened. So I gave up and went to bed. At about 6 a.m. I woke up and thought "Wow, I feel crappy." Then I realized that I literally felt crappy. And then it happened: The assplosion. Just, wow.

The whole experience was not bad. At all. Never one to disappoint, I had a diva experience while getting my IV and passed out. The nurse was very sweet and used an alcohol swab around my nose instead of smelling salts, and that kept me alert. They had to try twice before finding a good vein, but once it was in I was A-OK.

The surgery was fine - I don't remember anything after I got in the operating room.

I woke up fine, no nausea because I asked for medication for that before the surgery (thanks, Sus). I was just super thirsty because I wasn't allowed to drink anything all day. I went to Eat N' Park and got a turkey sandwich and chicken noodle soup, and it was the best meal of my life! Or maybe I was just starving. Either way...

The rest of Monday night I pretty much just slept. Today I feel OK. My throat hurts from the tube they put in there, and my stomach is pretty sore. My chest feels like Starr Jones (pre gastric bypass) is sitting on it. But I really feel way better than anticipated.

Dr. Fabulous didn't find any endometriosis or anything that needed to be removed. So I basically did it for nothing, but I'm glad I did. It's worth the peace of mind. The only way to check for endometriosis is to have the surgery and I know I would always be worried that I had it.

Soooo that's it. I have to wait to get my period, then call and schedule a baseline ultrasound to make sure that I don't have any cysts. If I don't, then I can start taking clomid and we can do an IUI this month.

I'm not that kind of girl!

Tuesday, Dr. Fabulous did my follow-up ultrasound to make sure my cyst was gone. It was.

But excuse me if I can't help but feel like maybe he should get to know me a little better before he...well, gets in there with that thing! You know, take me out to dinner, or learn my favorite color, or ask me about my hopes and dreams.

Really, what is the difference between this lovely Pure Romance dildo and the internal ultrasound wand? Sure, you may say the ultrasound wand doesn't vibrate, but how do you know for sure? It might.



Turns out my hormones are fine. Fine fine fine. We are going to go ahead with the laparoscopic surgery on October 29 to check for endometriosis. I have my pre-op appointment on the 25th (I think), then they shall blow up my belly like a fat whale and get rid of the gunk inside. Great times.

Dr. Fabulous said that the average couple has a 20% chance each month of getting pregnant. Mark and I have a 5% chance (sperm issues, see below). Because of our decreased chance, he thinks that we can conceive naturally, but he thinks it could take about 5 years. No reason for us to wait that long, so we are going to move forward with some fertility treatments.

Now Mark's results, well, we've got an issue. Not a major issue, but still something we'll have to deal with. It turns out that Mark's morphology is a little off. Meaning, they're shaped funny and have a little bit of a hard time getting in the egg. We are going to try some vitamins and extra-healthy eating for the next two months to improve the morphology.













It might be the little hats they insist on wearing. And I think my eggs may be a little nervous about pirate sperm, given the immediate association with butt pirates and also the fear that the embryo will want to sport an eye patch and parrot.

I digress. The plan is for me to get the lap surgery, then try 3 IUI (Intra-uterine insemination) cycles with Clomid. He said our chances with Clomid and IUI are 20% each time, which puts us on pace with normal people. After three cycles: reevaluate.

Since I am a horrible lazy whore who is bad about giving updates, here is the information you will need to figure out what the hell I am talking about:

IUI - Intra-uterine insemination. The sperm are taken from Mark (by masturbation or fear tactics, whichever works) and washed, then put directly into my uterus with a catheter. Washing them weeds out the unhealthy sperm and gets rid of any debris in the seminal fluid. This is timed with my ovulation to up our chances of conceiving.

Clomid - a pill that I will take for a week at the beginning of my cycle to make my eggs grow. It helps to improve egg quality. Will make me feel crazy, fat and bitchy. Good times. 10% increase in the chance of conceiving twins, less than 1% chance of triplets.

hCG - a hormone that induces ovulation. I will be monitored by ultrasound to see when the Clomid has developed a few eggs. When I'm ready, I will get a shot of hCG to cause me to ovulate. Two days later, I will have the IUI done on back-to-back days.

Did you seriously just say that?

What NOT to say to someone who is trying to get pregnant.
These are all things that people have said to me. For realsies.

"Just Relax."
Thanks for that gem! So useful and helpful to my situation.
I'll tell you this: the first 6 months, I was SO relaxed. I was Al Bundy, hands down my pants while sippin a brewsky and watching TV, relaxed. Guess what? That didn't make me pregnant! I know, hard to believe, right?!


"Just get really drunk, then do it!"

You're probably right! I bet alcohol really kicks the old reproductive plumbing into gear! I bet all the infertility drug companies are marketing Absolut in pill form as Clomid and charging all us dumbass infertiles triple. Fucking geniuses!

Just because someone you know, or a friend of a friend of a sister's brother in law got pregnant at a massive kegger, doesn't mean that it was the alcohol. It was the fact that she forgot to take her pill and didn't make the guy wear a condom. I know it sounds really OUT THERE, but trust me.

"Just Adopt! As soon as you do, you'll get pregnant!"
Wha wha what?? I really don't see the relation between making the decision to adopt and getting pregnant. If you're thinking it would make me relax, you're wrong (and also, relaxation does not a baby make. See above).
"Try *this* position!"
Really? I've tried top, bottom, top then bottom, bottom then top, froggy style, doggy style, wheel-barrow, reverse cowgirl, from the side, and in the ear. I've been screwed 7ways to Sunday until the cows came home, put on their pajamas and watched Leno. None of them have worked so far, but I bet THAT position will do it!


"Stand on your head after sex."
Hey, I'll try that! I'll also make sure to kick you in the face, after I recover from my very serious
neck injury and my chiropractor says I can kick people in the face again.



"Go on vacation!"
You could be correct. First, I will try relaxing. If that doesn't work, I will spend a ton of money on a vacation. It must be the magical combination of sand crotch and semen and friction. It doesn't even matter when you go - I've heard that you automatically ovulate every day at noon in Cancun. Siesta my ass! They're all making babies!


"Put eggwhites in your vagina"
You're gross. Don't talk to me ever again. Ever. Also, don't ever plan on getting pregnant, because your husband will permenantly lose the ability to create an erection after you suggest this.
"Have more sex!"

Really? Sex makes babies? I TOTALLY wasted that $5000 deposit at Storkbabydelivery.com. I better get a refund! I wonder if they are a BBB member??

"Have fun trying!"

Ok, even I know this is innocent. I know people say this because they are uncomfortable and are trying to be positive. But it's obnoxious. If you say this, stop immediately.

"I wish I could give you some of my fertility, because I. Am. Fertile!"

This could be best shown by example, I think.

What? You lost both of your legs in a tragic sledding accident? Wow! I wish I could share my legs with you, because I have TWO and I am so lazy. I hate walking around. I would sit all the time if I could, but I just have so damn many legs!

*do you see what I did there? rubbed my legs in your stump-ass face?*
Please do not rub your fertility in my face. I think you're an asshole, and I keep that to myself. Also, I think your ass looks fat in those pants, yet I refrain. Please: return the favor.

"When are you going to start a family?"
AKA: When are you going to have kids? When are you going to get pregnant already? Have you started trying for a baby? Why not? Tick tock!
Oh my sweet baby jesus christ! If there was an Emmy for nosiest motherfucker, you would win! Ask once, and if you don't get an answer, then TAKE A HINT!


Here's the bottom line: The only right thing to say is "I'm sorry, that really sucks. I hope it happens for you soon." It also doesn't hurt to just listen.

Since you asked...

The jig is up. We've got some slightly defective reproductive plumbing. I think it's pretty obvious at this point, right?

So here is the deal.

When Mark and I got engaged, we discussed our future plans in great detail. You see, I am a planner, and I must plan even the most mundane minutiae of my life. We agreed that we would be ready to have a baby any time after the wedding since we had almost two years of shacking up logged before we were legal.

In October 2005, I stopped taking my birth control pill. It was giving me horrible migraines and I figured why not? I'd be trying to get pregnant soon enough. Plus, it's not like we were having premarital sex or anything...

From March 2006 until around September 2006, we were not taking any precautions. Normal couples who do not prevent pregnancy will become pregnant within six months. I started to worry. Not only were we not preventing, but I was actually timing our intercourse with ovulation. I mentioned it to my OBGYN at my annual pap, and he said that he knew I would be pregnant by spring, and if I wasn't, to come back and see him.

Of the couples under the age of 30 who do not become pregnant within 6 months, half of them will become pregnant within a year. Infertility is defined as the inability to become pregnant in one year of unprotected sex.

In December, I decided to start charting my basal body temperature to time our baby-making efforts more accurately. I also started using ovulation prediction kits.

Our one year anniversary was bittersweet. It marked the first year of a happy marriage, but it also marked the dreaded day that we went from being normal to being infertile. For me, the challenge started a while ago. I don't know if it's really dawned on Mark yet, even now. I called to make an appointment with a reproductive endocrinologist.

In May, we met with the endocrinologist, who was a total douche, and who I call Dr. Condescending. While we got no help or answers, he did order us a hysterosalpingogram and a semen analysis. My uterus is normally shaped and my tubes are clear. Mark's counts are all great, but the sample did have a high number of white blood cells, which is usually an indicator of a prostate infection.

Mark saw a urologist in June, who said he does not have a prostate infection. To eliminate the white blood cells in the semen, he prescribed Cipro and Motrin, for seven days starting at day 5 of my cycle for the next four months.

In August I decided to contact a different reproductive endocrinologist in order to preserve my sanity. So I met with Dr. Fabulous in September and got the action I was looking for. He ordered cycle day 3 blood work and another semen analysis. He said that we can move forward, we have waited long enough, and he will be aggressive with us.

So that's where we are. Waiting for semen analysis results and blood work results and a plan. I go back on Tuesday to get the results and to check on the cyst on my right ovary. And to see what is next.

Trying to Conceive: A month-by-month guide.

Month 1: We're SO going to be that couple that gets pregnant the first month trying.



Month 2: Ah, practice makes perfect! BDing is so much fun!



Month 3: Hmmm...Maybe ED instead of EOD? That'll work for sure.



Month 4: Damn it. I'm going to have so much sex it's CRAZY! I'm getting pregnant this month.



Month 5: Fuck.



Month 6: I still have 6 months before I need to worry. No big deal at all.



Month 7: Fuck.



Month 8: Start Charting!



Month 9: Understand charting, will totally get pregnant now!



Month 10: Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck.



Month 11: *browses covered RE's in the insurance provider book*



Month 12: Head explodes, Ovaries still intact. No visible injuries to the penis. Good to go. Also, can't get an appointment at the RE for 3 months and must maintain a good attitude.



Month 13 - Infinity: FUCK!