Hey, it's cheaper than therapy.

I used to post on a super secret bitching blog. That blog was really different from this one because I posted some really emotional crap there, and I didn't tell anyone I was doing it. (Except one person, but she swore not to spill the beans and I don't think she ever did.)

When we started going to the RE a lot, I decided that I would make a new, public blog that I would use to update friends and family on the progress of our fertility treatments. However, it turns out that my friends and family don't read blogs! I think most of them don't really know what blog is or don't really "get" the concept.
For example:

Friend or Family So, what's going on with your fertility treatments? Any news on the baby front?

Me: Have you read the blog? I've posted tons of updates there.

F or F: Oh, I forgot about that blog-thingy. What is that address again? So, what? You just go there and write stuff? What's the Internet, now?

Me: * sigh * Forget it.

I've been trying to formulate a delicate way to tell people that I am just really sick of discussing our progress, because honestly? I'm so tired of my own complaints, negativit-ay, and having to explain things over and over and over. And over.

It is a hard thing to address with people, because let's face it: I do talk about it a lot. It is THE thing going on in my life right now. It consumes me. My thoughts and my plans and my entire life revolve around making a baby right now. And a lot of times, I need to vent and I have trouble doing that with some of the people in my life because they don't understand and don't know what to say, and usually they say or do the complete wrong thing (on accident) and end up upsetting me more. (And maybe they're sick of my run-on sentences! GAWD put a period in there somewhere, bitch!) Sometimes I don't want to talk about the specifics - especially when I've told you and you've forgotten!

The people in my life do care about what's going on, I think. For the most part. Some of the don't, and I couldn't care less about them either, so it works out. I do get tired of updating people over and over, and having to tell them the same things because they don't even remember what I've told them. It's like I never said it at all. It's like they are only asking to ask, because it would seem rude not to ask. Nobody ever just asks me how I'm doing (mostly shitty), or if I'm OK (not really), or if I've killed anyone and hid them under my bed (I haven't).

I get that IVF and all of infertility is confusing. I'm confused sometimes! It's a lot to remember and it's a lot to absorb, and I've had two years of research and learning to get it all straight. I've earned my Google M.D. I know that my FSH level, or my cycle day, or the number of days I have to take Lupron are all things that will not stick in the minds of people who have no idea what any of those things mean. I don't expect that. But I do get so discouraged when people, especially those people very close to me, don't take time to really listen to what I'm going through and keep track a little bit!

After all, I've kept track of pregnancy milestones, due dates, shower dates, birthdays, birthday parties, get-togethers, work-related news, vacations, etc. for the past two years. Even when they didn't even remotely apply to my life.

I saw a funny retro picture of a little girl praying, and above her head there is a bubble that says, "So where's my fucking pony?" And I can't help but feel like that! Because I've put myself out there for people, and done things for people, and now that my road is pretty rocky, I'm stuck here going it alone.

Do I hate that I feel like that? Yep, it's so lame, and pretty damn selfish. But it's how I feel. I could deny it, but why?

It's not one thing, person, incident, or time that has upset or offended me. It's two years of built up frustration. Basically, it's my problem, but this is my blog-thingy, and it's my outlet.

Answers to your burning questions.

I actually hate that saying. For some reason it reminds me of burning pee, which makes me think of STDs, which is yucky.

Here are the answers:

1. I have never been to Sea World.
True! I've always wanted to go, and used to live within an hour of Sea World, but never went. Boo-frickety-hoo.

2. I have a tattoo on my lower back of two little cherries. And have seriously considered getting a Pac-Man tattoo beside them, because COME ON! That would be so funny!
False! I don't have any tattoos, or piercings. Tats aren't really my thing. I can't think of one single thing I want to have on my body for the rest of my life. And I'm allergic to metal, or some crap like that, so I can't have piercings. Boo-frickety-hoo.

3. Growing up, I had a one-eyed, blind dog. His name was Winker.
True! He was the best dog ever! We paid $50 for him because he was the runt, and also had a deformity on one of his eyes. They were going to euthanize him because they thought he would only live a few months. We had to put him down last year...he was 14 years old.

4. I am an only child.
True! And I love it!

5. I played Rizzo in Grease in my high school musical.
False! I can't sing for crap. I was in Grease, but was just a dancer and part of the chorus. And of course I wouldn't play Rizzo, she who gets "into trouble." Who gets pregnant that easy?

6. Mark and I met on the Internet.
True! We met on Match.com. We're not weirdos, I promise.

What's going on with me: in photos

Some people are annoying assholes.



Cleaning is for weenies.



I really like shopping. I am a firm believer that it does buy happiness.



I'm pretty sure people think I'm crabby. (they are annoying assholes)



No coffee for over a week.

Four Truths, Two Lies

Kara tagged me for this two days ago, and I'm sort of going to do it.
I'm not going to tag anyone, because I still don't know how to put links in my posts, and I am too lazy to figure it out (and also, I have a giant accounting test on Tuesday for which I should be studying RIGHT NOW). And also because I think everyone has already done it, and I don't "know" that many bloggers.

Maybe you can do it, Katie? :)

Here we go:
1. I have never been to Sea World.
2. I have a tattoo on my lower back of two little cherries. And have seriously considered getting a Pac-Man tattoo beside them, because COME ON! That would be so funny!
3. Growing up, I had a one-eyed, blind dog. His name was Winker.
4. I am an only child.
5. I played Rizzo in Grease in my high school musical.
6. Mark and I met on the Internet.

This makes me laugh.

Except that squirrel at the end. That squirrel pisses me off.

Side effects? Yes. Fun? Not so much.

I've officially been knocked off my high horse. 100 mg Clomid = many side effects.

I was feeling really good until Thursday, when the shit apparently hit the fan. Here is a list:

1. Visual Disturbances: It is hard to describe, but my peripheral vision is all shaky. It's like it vibrates. Very strange.
   
2. Hot Flashes: Like being moved telepathically from Alaska to Africa in two seconds. "Feelin hot! Hot! Hot!" There were several times in the past few days that I looked like Dom Deluise.*
   
3. Exhaustion: Went to bed at 6:30 on Thursday, and 7 on Friday. Well, going to bed is an exaggeration, as I fell asleep sitting up like the elephant man** and Mark had to wake me up to go upstairs.
   
4. Night Sweats: Wet pillow. Yuck.
   

Overall it isn't horrible. I feel good enough to be working and going out and stuff, but it is still a little sucky. I'm not too bloated, but I've read that bloating comes later on closer to ovulation. So we'll see. I did manage to lose another pound this week so I was happy about that. Also, not really very bitchy or emotional. I'm generally bitchy, anyway, so it would blaming it on Clomid would be unfair. To Clomid. I don't want to piss Clomid off at all.

*From Knocked Up? Love that movie.***

**From Sex and the City? Love that show.***

***I wouldn't have anything to say if I couldn't quote movies and TV.****

****Wonder when I will stop thinking that these footnotes are a good way to compose entries? Probably not any time soon.

Cycle Day 10 Bloodwork: Donesky.

And holy crap! Dr. Goldfarb (the king himself) was there. On a Saturday. And drew my damn blood.

I might never wash this arm again.*

So anyway, I got the results of my CD 2 Bloodwork, and the doc said, "they couldn't be better." Well, good, because I like being all that I can be. (Not with the Army or anything, but just in general.)

My FSH was 5.9, and he threw out some other number that was really good, but I forget because HEY! MY FSH IS ALL THAT IT CAN BE! ***

I didn't pass out during the blood draw, but I was laying down so I don't think it is cause for back pats on my part. And Mark was smirking at me the whole time, like "you dumbass." However, he gets woozy too so next time he gets blood drawn I am going and I'm going to smirk at him the whole time, like "you dumbass."

I'm supposed to hear from Dr. Goldfarb today about my results, which I find amazing. One because it is SATURDAY. And two, because what the hell Dr. Goldfarb? Why are you so awesome that you would have time to call me? On a SATURDAY?!** I'm thinking the doctor switch was a little lucky on my part, since the other Dr. Fabulous wanted to bring me in for an appointment if he had to say one word to me about anything (read: $20 copay, $150 from my insurance company, Vacation in Maui for Dr. Fabulous). They blame it on HIPAA, but whatever.

Monday I have to use OPK's again. A friend of mine calls them a tool of the devil, and I agree. Evil, evil, evil. I can never tell if the lines are the same color because infertility has made me totally unable to read OPK's or Pregnancy tests. (Is the line the same color? Is that a second line, or an evaporation line? Did my Clearblue Easy Digital just tell me to fuck off? AHHHHHH!)

On a non-fertility-related note, I'm going to see Wicked tonight. It was my Christmas present, and I'm pretty excited. I love an excuse to get dressed up. Plus I've purchased, like, 7 dresses lately and it gives me the chance to say, "See? I needed this dress! Don't you want me to look pretty?" Musical theater isn't really Mark's thing, so I'll be enjoying it alone, I think. We saw Phantom of the Opera on the night we got engaged, and he didn't like it. However, I loved it! If I had an unlimited supply of money, I think I would want to see shows all the time.

 

*I really hope Dr. Goldfarb doesn't Google himself and find this post and think, "Ew, icky stalker patient!"**

**Just in case: Dr. Goldfarb – I love you, but not in THAT way. Don't worry.

***FSH = Follicle Stimulating Hormone. According to Taking Charge of Your Fertility: "the hormone produced by the pituitary gland that stimulates the ovaries to produce mature ova and the hormone estrogen." If your level is high, it indicates that your ovaries are failing, which means poor egg quality, which means suckage. They like to see the number under 12 in the beginning of the cycle, so 5.9 sounds pretty good.

COMMENTS! Me likey.

I have to say, I love the comments!

It is so fun to check my email and see that hey! I have 3 new blog comments!

Then I whip out my I-phone*, put on my cape**, and go to my bloggers because they need me! To publish their witty comments!

GAWD, am so important and fabulous.

 

 

*Yes, I have an I-phone. Yes, I do love it. Yes, it was really expensive. No, you cannot touch it.

**My cape has a big logo on it, kind of like Superman, but better. Instead of the S, there is a giant sperm wearing an eye patch.***

***A lot of people mistake it for a hammerhead shark, but it's not. It is a sperm with poor morphology.

Proof that I read something besides blogs.

I'm over half way done with When Nature's Not Enough: Personal Journeys through In Vitro Fertilization by Diana Olick.

It is the IVF book that Mark found in my car on Tuesday, and I'm glad he did. You know, because now I can read it. And also because I won't have to pay the library for it.

The author has gone through IVF, and she tells her own story and mixes it in with the stories of four other couples. She's not outright funny, but she has a light sense of humor. I don't think it's a book for the husband folk. She and the other couples tell about their experiences with the drugs, the doctors, and the overall ridiculousness that is IVF. I felt like I was reading a very well –articulated version of my life for the past two years.

One thing I hate so far is her need to call IUI…turkey basting. TURKEY BASTING! Yucka yuck yucko! WTF? Why?! Diana Olick you have ruined Thanksgiving for me (and my readers) forever. If you were a fertile, I would never forgive you.

I absolutely love the male parts of the interviews. You get to hear about how they felt, what they thought, and how hard it was to express it all.

It made me feel bad for being hard on Mark for not understanding and not showing his emotions. I know men are different – I get that.

Being half done reading, I don't know how it ends, but I'm sure they all end up as IVF Success stories, and that's OK.

I like this book very much. I started reading it at the perfect time because I've been (secretly) feeling really apprehensive about my upcoming IVF. I've been faking excitement over the beginning of the cycle, because to me it really feels like I'm on my tippie toes at the edge of a cliff and when I take that first shot of Lupron, I take the big leap. The big leap being IVF, and IVF being OUR LAST CHANCE.

When I first wandered into the world of infertility, I used to surf blogs and message boards trying to find people in worse situations that me. I would read the Trouble TTC board on the Nest and see signatures with "TTC 24 months, MFIF, 1% Kruger Morph" and think, "Shit, I'm glad that's not me."

Now that it's me, I feel an intense amount of pressure. Pressure to do this cycle while working and going to school. Pressure to be a mother. Pressure to provide my husband with a biological child that he could not have without science. Pressure to give my mom a grandchild because I am an only child. Pressure to make this life that I want to happen, happen.

Back in the beginning, I felt like there was a long line between myself and IVF. Temping, then OPK's with Temping, then 3 Clomid with IUI cycles, then IUI with injectibles for a few cycles, then if hell fucking froze over, IVF.

It's awfully cold here in hell.

I promise not to lose my baby.

Like I almost lost that IVF book from the library.

I felt like such a bad citizen because I lost a book on IVF that I checked out from the library. I was waiting around in hopes that I would find it but I looked everywhere and couldn't find it. Mark found it when he cleaned out my car yesterday. (yes, he was off work and cleaned out my car for me, AFTER he took it to get an oil change and before he made me dinner. Am lucky. In your face!)

After many phone calls (and near brain-numbing calls transferred around the insurance industry) I got all of my IVF meds ordered. I should be receiving my stash in a week or so.

Clomid is going well. No side effects so far. I get my CD 10 bloodwork on Saturday, then my IVF protocol on Monday or Tuesday.

Also, have had ZERO caffeine since Friday.

You know how I said before that I quit coffee? I lied. I didn't really. I just wanted you to feel like a bad infertile for drinking coffee while I sacrificed for the good of my nonexistent fetus. (Really, I was weaning myself off, and Friday was D Day (D=Dammit I want some coffee rightfuckingnow please)).

But now, no coffee. Am sad. Send chocolate and maybe guns.

I do not have an original thought in my head.

The more I read infertility-related blogs, the more I realize that I don't have an original thought in my head. I maybe say it a different way (read: add lots of cuss words), but I haven't written anything that someone else in my very same position hasn't written or thought before.

Not that I'm trying to be exciting and different – there's no new fun way to spin the fact that I want a baby and don't have one. But hey, it makes me feel normal, I guess.

I start my Clomid tomorrow, so keep your fingers crossed that it makes me really bitchy. I need SOMETHING to blame my bitchiness on, and Clomid would be such a convenient excuse.

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM! I hope you have a wonderful, relaxing day. I love you!


(Yes, I let my mom read my blog, even though I swear like a sailor.)

My Aunt Jane Knows More Than My RE

If you haven't seen this, you're missing out.
It's from thetowncriers over at Stirrup Queens (see sidebar, because I am not smart enough to post a link).

Cycle Day 2 Bloodwork - Done!

I got my CD 2 Bloodwork done today after much drama.

Bloodwork is such a pain in the ass for me in the first place, because I pass out like a wee little baby. It's ridiculous. Something about needles makes me want to grab onto my mom's leg and throw a tantrum in the doctor's office. This is a problem, because IVF requires much bloodwork, and also because AM GROWN-UP, sonofabtich what is my problem?! AHHHHH!

So I am always all worked up for bloodwork, because I pass out and am all "woe is me, I passed out" for the rest of the day whenever I have to get it done. I went over on my lunch break, and the damn place was closed. For lunch. Because it was lunchtime and the worker at Quest thought it was OK to break for lunch! On MY cycle day 2! (the nerve)

So I had to wait 40 minutes for her to come back. I should mention that there was a woman at the office who was CLEARLY there for drug testing (and CLEARLY about to fail fucking miserably), who filled out atleast 32 entries to win a $50 gift card, and only stopped filling out said entries because she used up all of the cards. Wow. And she was really excited that this particular Quest just opened because it was really convenient for her. And I was so happy to have made a new friend who wouldn't stop talking to me.

She took down all my information, then asked for my insurance card. And guess what? No. damn. insurance card. I even dumped the entire contents of my giant purse out on the counter and she helped me look. And then she said, "You irresponsible douche, you don't deserve a baby! You can't even remember your insurance card! How will you remember your baby?"

(so she didn't really, but, you know, I felt like a real asshole and I wouldn't blame her at that point.)

I went back to work, printed out a temporary card, and took it back. She said she didn't think she was supposed to take it, but would because she knew I had to be testing with my cycle and didn't want me to miss my window. Then I asked her to marry me, but she said no and I was OK with that.

And I got a little woozy after the bloodwork, and she told me that sugar would help. Which was really cool because there was a Cold Stone next door, and so I got myself good and sugared up afterwards. You know, phlebotomists orders.

Many words just to say: CD 2 Bloodwork - done! 3 days to Clomid, 19 days to Lupron.

Happy Valentine's Day! I got my period!

I'm so glad that good old Aunt Florence could show up and be my Valentine. I am glad she's here for once, but I still think she's a whore.

This officially starts our IVF cycle! In 20 days I will take my first shot of Lupron.

I am going to get my bloodwork done tomorrow, then on Monday I start the Clomid.

Happy freaking Valentine's Day!

The things I'll do to avoid studying...

NOTE: Am painfully aware of dumbass links NOT WORKING. If anyone wants to email me and help me fix the dumbassedness, I would be so so great-full.

The Baby Chaser tagged me for this, and I'm going to do it because I am awesome, sexy, and just generally a fabulous person.*

I will proceed to participate, then tag three other suckers who will experience the same panic of Aw Hell, Who Will I TAG? (I don't care if you don't like it. So ha!)

Here are the rules:

1) Link to the person who tagged you.

2) Post the rules.

3) Share six non-important things / habits / quirks about yourself.

4) Tag at least three people.

5) Make sure the people you tagged KNOW you tagged them by commenting what you did.


Here are Six Non-important things/habits/quirks about mah-self:

1.) I hate the word PANTIES.** And when I say hate, I mean I want to slap people in the face when they use that word. HHHHHHaaaaaaAAATTTEEEeeee! It's just gross. Call them underwear, people! UNDERWEAR.

2.) Really soft things make me gag. Cotton Balls? My mouth fills with prepuke spit just thinking about them. Soft stuffed animals? EW. Gross, no thank you, you can keep them.

3.) I have really short legs. I am 5"1', so I'm just small in general, but my legs are...um, freakishly short. Short as in: have to buy size short in pants then take them immediately to Alterations Express and have them cut off about 2 inches short so that they will fit. With heels.***

4.) I really love the smell of a freshly blown-out match. Is it sulfur? I don't know, but I love it. And I find it amazing that it covers the smell of poop! I really think that Yankee should come out with a jar candle that smells like lit match.

5.) Cutting my toenails is one of my favorite things. I love freshly cut toenails. I get really excited to cut them. I keep my feet very well-groomed overall, actually.

6.) I just won a cruise! I had a Pure Romance party in the fall and was entered for being a hostess, and I WON! HELLS YES I DID! And I never win anything. It is 5 nights, to the Caribbean and we will probably go in the summer.****

So now for the tagging....I tag
Bev at A Baby? Maybe... ,
Mrs. Higrens at Does this Suit Your Copperosity? , and
Io at Who Shot My Stork?


*Also, I don't want to read my Auditing book.

**I will not buy UNDERWEAR from stores where they call the underwear PANTIES. So no Victoria's Secret for me. I get them at Old Navy (because I like their thongs and thus am allowed since they call them thongs) and American Eagle (AE Underwear = a little piece of heaven).

***One of my favorite party tricks in college was to bet people that my leg was as long as their arm. It always was. (It was funny when I was drunk. Now...not so much.)

****And as I'm sure you know, I WILL be pregnant when I get back, because apparently that is all I need to do to get pregnant. You know, relax, on vacation.

Fun with Drug Paraphernalia

Tah Dah!

Here is the giant stash I got yesterday at the RE.

Please note: big sack o’drugs has not yet arrived.

This is merely the ouchy needle sticky part of the blogram.

Left to Right: Follistim Pen (so cool, by the way), about 100 diabetic needles, 2 big scary needles I hope I never use, alcohol swabs, extra Follistim needles, and gauze.


Just to show you just how much time I had on my hands yesterday:

My Follistim Pen

Should be called: Injectibles for Dumbasses

It. Is. Awesome.
It looks like a pen, so if you have to take your shot out with you, you won’t look like a weirdo freak.

The clicker at the top measures the medicine, you just spin the yellow part.

The needles containers look like little coffee creamers. (cries a little over void in life since coffee is gone)




Eff You, Needles!




Oh Clomid. Dear, sweet, innocent Clomid. How I miss thee and your feelings of innocent hopefullness. (You are a total bastard for not knocking me up on demand.)











Follow the Orange Syringe Road! (but watch your step. That shit is SHARP!)

Big scary needle.

I’m sure she put these in by accident.

Right?

Not for those evil intramuscular shots that I won’t have to do because I am SPESHUL (dammit!).

Right?

Are you scurred?

I am, you know, a little scurred...

Dr. Goldfarb = the bestest.

We had our appointment today!

It went really well. I liked Dr. Goldfarb very much, and I liked all of the nurses and administrative staff I met. They seem busy, but very nice and very willing to take time to answer questions.

We discussed our overall situation, and Dr. G felt that we could try a few more IUI cycles, but we could also move on to IVF, whichever felt right. And I said, "Bring on the science, bitches!"*

Then he said something that totally took me off guard: You can start your Lupron TODAY if you want.

Then I said, "What you talkin' bout, Willis?"*
Or maybe I said, "I'm not mentally prepared for February. I am mentally prepared for March."

The words tumbled out of my mouth like drool after a dentist appointment, and I was completely surprised. After 22 (very soon to be 23) months of trying to get pregnant, I totally wussed out at jumping on a pretty-sure thing. Weird.

Since we're basically skipping February, Dr. G suggested trying the Clomid Challenge to check my hormones the first and second parts of my cycle to see which IVF protocol will work the best. I think it's a good idea! So I'll be on 100 mg of Clomid this month on cycle days 5-9.

The cool part about the Clomid thing is that I will make some good eggs, so we can try on our own without any science. Not that I mind science, me and science are LIKE THIS! But it makes me feel like I'm being proactive instead of sitting on my ass and eating carbs and generally cursing life for a month.

I will start Lupron to suppress my egg development starting on cycle day 21. It is safe to take while pregnant, so if hell freezes over and we do get pregnant on the Clomid cycle, it will all be fine.

After the Lupron....well...it gets a little fuzzy. I'm pretty confused. There are about a billion things that need to happen, and will happen, and I'm sure someone will tell me to be at whatever place at whatever time. I'm sure dumber people than I have figured this out.

Other things involved are needles, Follistim, and needles. And HCG, needles, needles, and Progesterone, and needles.

Needles.

I asked about the Progesterone in Oil shots, because they are intramuscular and let's face it, I am a pansy ass. I don't think Mark can do it, and I don't want to do it. Dr. G said that there is no real proof that the vaginal progesterone is not as good as the shots, so we can use that instead.

Basically, he said everything I wanted to hear, and that's probably why I liked him. I like getting my way.

Here's some good news: I managed to stay awake while getting blood drawn! So I guess I now join the other 99% of the population who can get blood drawn with their big girl underwear on, and not crap their pants and pass out! Go me!

Bottom Line: We will start all the meds in early March, and we should get our negative or positive test results in early April.

*No I didn't. I'm not that funny in real life.

Oh Miranda, I relate.

I'm so nervous for our appointment tomorrow.


Nervous, like, want to shove food into my mouth nervous.



*chomp chomp chomp chomp*
*burp*
*chomp chomp chomp chomp*



This picture is from SATC when Robert ( hot doctor) gave Miranda a giant cookie that said "I Love You" and it freaked her out, so she ate the entire cookie.



If Dr. Goldfarb tells me we can't do IVF in March, he may as well frost it onto a damn cookie, cuz I'll need to be eatin'.



In other related news: I have given up coffee. My favorite thing.








Oh sweet lover, how I will miss your warmth and energy in the mornings.

*violent sobs*


Just so we're clear, I am not giving anything else up. Especially not my second favorite thing (saying fuck as sport) or my third favorite thing (Perez Hilton).

But really, it's pretty sad that I have a massive headache and a stomach ache because I didn't have my coffee today.

Bein' off the junk is hard work. *



*I don't really know if it was the lack of coffee, or the existence of Chipotle today that made me sick. I ate a ridiculous amount of Chipotle. So much that maybe we'll have a mexican baby.

You be the judge.

RE appointment at Cleveland Clinic: 2/7

20% Off Everything at the Body Shop: 2/7

Coincidence?

I think not.