The State of My Uterus.

Oh, people. I am nothing but dramz. Click away now, or get your pointer finger ready. You might want to make the whole gag gesture and I would hate for you to throw up on your khakis.

So. Wednesday. The day before my beta. I go pee and guess what? Spotting!

Now, I've spent a ridiculous amount of time over the past four years checking the toilet paper. Trying to get pregnant, being pregnant, trying to recover from being pregnant, trying to get pregnant again. It's just reflex at this point to wipe and look. 

Luckily nobody was in the work bathroom after I pulled yet another wipe and look and was all, "UGH of fucking course."

Pink and brown and disgusting and just offuckingcourse, you know?  So I go back to work.  And a few hours later when I leave, I call the doctor and they're all, "hey, it's probably fine!  See you tomorrow, drama queen!"  They said it's really common, and brown and pink is a good sign because it's probably old blood and blah blah blah.

The spotting stopped that evening, and since there may or may not have been (ahem) some loving going on at our house the night before, I chalked it up to mah sensitive cervix is a whore, the end.  Mark chalked it up to something else and if you don't know what then I'm not telling you.

Now it's Thursday and I have my beta.  I'm totally calm all day.  My beta is good: 5119 - doubling every 1.7 days and things are looking up!  I'm genuinely excited.  I download a pregnancy app on my iPhone, which was probably my big mistake because 5 minutes later I go to the bathroom and guess what?

Red blood!  Yippee!  And, the entire night was full of a fun array of colors seeping from my Lady Business.  Brown!  Pink!  REDRUM!  Hell, I even ruined a pair of Victoria's Secret underwear.  I mean, my life is virtually complete at this point.

I didn't even call the doctor yesterday, because what are they going to do?  Nothing.  At all.  I will either stay pregnant or not.  I'm strangely detached from the whole thing and am now twisting it to get my way.  For example:

Mark: Are you going to take the dogs out?
Me: I can't, I might be having a miscarriage.

Who can argue with THAT logic?

I hoped for a little reprieve from the action in my underwear, but this morning was kind of like the first day of my period when I woke up, except it was dark and sludgey..  So...yeah.  It's kind of hard to throw up jazz hands over a nice rising beta while wearing a panty liner.

I hate the word panties.  (Making the gag gesture right now.)

I'll probably call the doctor today, but I'm sure they'll be all It Might Be OK So Suck It Up.  My ultrasound is in a week.  Hold on to your panties underwear, it's going to be a long wait!

--

One Year Ago: Reflux for Dummies
Two Years Ago: Parking for Expecting Mothers Only

Destined to be a Hoarder. Or, a Pirate.

Here is my darling daughter, trying to carry her cup, sunglasses, a fork, and a teapot.  May the toy gods strike you dead if you try to help.

What you can't see is that she is trying to carry all of these things while she plays with a push toy that plays chimes when it moves.  See?

Someday, she will look back at these pictures and think, "I should have worn the sunglasses" as she adjusts her eye patch that she must wear because her incompetent mother let her run around with a fork!  Outside!  The humanity!

These pictures were taken last month, and her ability to carry massive amounts of shit around has greatly improved.  She has now taken to pushing a garbage can all over the house so that she can fill it with random treasures and then scream her fool head off when it is too heavy to lift up on to her chair. 

I would love to post a picture of her smiling face, but she is totally too busy for my picture-taking bullshit.  This was her reaction when I said her name and told her to smile:

It's like, help me or get out of my way.  I don't care if you gave me life, I am bizzay.  Also, go get me some milk.
But seriously.  Spying on the neighbors in only a diaper is so boring without a garbage can full of toys.

Oh, but sixteen months?  SO MUCH FUN YOU GUYS!  So much fun.  Olivia is so freaking adorable all the time.  Her newest tricks are:

-spinning in circles and yelling "woah"
- saying no
- climbing up into chairs by herself
- reading books (well, sitting still for 2 minutes while we look at a book.  Progress!)
- eating every meal with a fork
- fake laughing when anyone around her laughs

It's just not possible to have a bad day with a sixteen month old.

--

One Year Ago: Daycare, Because She Asked So Very Nicely
Two Years Ago:  So My Insurance Company Continues To Be Fun

A Little Pregnant

Do you read Julie's blog? A Little Pregnant is Julie's blog, and it is my favorite blog in the entire world. I'm not kidding.

I don't usually get caught up in Blog Awards/Voting.  I get sick of reading blogs that ask you to vote for them every day.  It's annoying and I don't like it.  But Julie is nominated for a RESOLVE award, and I happen to love both Julie and RESOLVE.  So this time I will make an exception.

(If you aren't familiar with RESOLVE, it is a non-profit dedicated to providing infertility support.)

I have a theory that Julie's is the first blog that everyone finds when the begin their infertility Google frantic search. Her blog was the first one I found, and I landed on a heartbreaking post about a miscarriage that was...funny. I mean, she was having a miscarriage and it was horrible, yes. But funny, too.  And insightful.

I read the entire blog after that, beginning to current.  I started reading in 2007, and I've been a huge fan ever since.  And if you read "big" blogs, you'll know what I mean when I say that I remember the first post I was brave enough to comment on.  It was a letter to Jennifer Lopez (read it here) and I could not click away from the post without telling Julie that she was the wind beneath my wings.  (My favorite part: "long have I found you most thoroughly fly.")

But anyway.  My point is this: Julie is nominated for an award that she deserves to win.  Other lovely bloggers are nominated, yes, but A Little Pregnant has never won an award.  It's time.  She has been nominated for the Team RESOLVE Choice Award for Best Blog.  Even if you don't read infertility blogs, take my word for it.  She should win!

CLICK HERE TO VOTE for Julie's blog, A Little Pregnant.  You don't have to sign up for an account or anything.  You only have to enter your email address for tracking purposes.

Alright, Alright, I got my beta.

And don't be offended, I didn't tell anyone when I got it, unless they asked.  Because I was totally underwhelmed by the number: 285.

14 days after transferring two blasts, 285 just seems low to me.  Maybe it's a completely normal number, but 14 days after transferring two 3-day embryos, my beta with Olivia was over 900.  And yes, that was a freak of nature beta that had me convinced that I was carrying a wildebeest, but still.

285.

The nurse left me a voicemail because I was on my work phone, and left no indication that it was a bad number.  "Hi Jen, it's Sally from the Clinic.  Just wanted to let you know that your beta HCG level was good, 285, looks like you're pregnant.* Keep taking your estrogen and progesterone and come back next Thursday between 7 and 9:30 for your second beta."

*No exclamation point.  Sally is sweet as can be, but doesn't really exclaim anything, ever.  If you go there, you know what I mean.

I know someone wants to throttle me right now for being such a complete asshole about a positive beta.  I've just got the creeping feeling that I'm going to get my repeat next week and it will only be 300 or something.  Probably the same creeping feeling that made me nervous enough to take eleven  twelve pregnancy tests. 

Anyway.  My two week wait has turned into a three week wait.  I'm not confident at all that my next beta will be good, and I am Debby Downer.  The end.

Or, not the end.

My blog layout is a hot mess right now.  I made the mistake of playing with the new Design Template option, without having the time to actually figure out how to use it.  So, sorry for the hot mess blog.  Blah.

--

One Year Ago:  Need Sleep Advice
Two Years Ago: Beta Beta Bo Beta

Because it's more of a challenge than peeing on a $50 bill.

Confession: I have taken 11 pregnancy tests.  Do not believe me?  Let me show you a bunch of sticks soaked in my urine:

Do you smell something?  Is it pee?

Or desperation?

I don't know what has come over me.  One day last week?  After I got my positive?  I took a test mid-day just so I could stare at it while I did my work. 

I could have just whipped out a $50 and peed directly on it, flushed it down the toilet, and went about my day.  But what is the challenge in that?  A $50 is at least two inches wide.  Any whore off the street could pee on that.  I do fertility treatments, which means that my entire pubic area is exceptional.  I can pee on a half inch of absorbent material better than any fertile person. 

In a world where I didn't have a blog (a perfect world for you, perhaps), I would never, ever dream of smugly announcing a pregnancy this early in the game.  But this blog makes it impossible to keep a secret.  And I promise you that I'm not going around saying, "I'm pregnant!"  I am going around saying, "I tested positive but my beta isn't until Thursday." 

(I like to keep if vague.  Like, maybe an annoying person will just assume that I tested positive for Ebola and leave me alone.  I've got to work this all to my advantage.  If I play my cards right, I may be able to avoid social interaction altogether.)

Next thing you know, I'll be wearing a t-shirt that says BABY with a big arrow pointing to my belly. With crocs and pigtails, naturally.  And then I'll say really infuriating things, like, "I'm preggers!" And then I'll make you listen while I tell you about my journey. Mah journeeeeee!

In which I sprinkle my First Morning Urine

on a First Response Early Result

but NOT on my hand, because I'm no rookie newb.

Taken this morning.

 

No.  I take that back.  I can't promise you that I won't become more annoying, but I can promise you that I will not use the word journey to describe any part of fertility treatments.  I hope that makes up for my lack of posting due to soul crushing exhaustion?

I got my very first faint positive at 7 days past 5 day transfer.   Naturally, I tested at 4, 5, and 6 days past because HELLO NEUROSES GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN OLD FRIENDS!  Nothing at 4 days, and a ghost of a line at 5 and 6 - no color, but I could see where a line should be.  But also, I'm crazy pants right now so there is, like, a 97% chance I made it all up in my mind.  But if I was to ever wax nostalgic about mah journeeeeeee I might make mention of it.

First positive test after FET...
IVF Speak: 7 Days Past 5 Day Transfer

Fertile People Speak: 12 Days Past Ovulation

Right now, I just need my beta.  And the follow-up beta.  And the heartbeat to show up on the ultrasound.  Then I can maybe, possibly think that something as easy as the FET actually worked for me.  And the due date, based on the transfer day, is the same as my due date was with Olivia (based on her transfer date).  Deja vu all over again, eh?

Keep all crossables crossed for my Thursday beta, if you don't mind??

---

One Year Ago: Need Sleep Advice
Two Years Ago: So Much To Report To The Internet!

No New People Got to See My Lady Business.

Mah transfah was Thursday!  Mah transfah was Thursday!

It wasn't until 2:15, so we had time to go out to lunch with Olivia before we took her to the sitter.  I downed my Valium with my required 16 ounces of water at 1:15, and by 1:37 I felt like I was melting into the seat of the car.  I kept looking at the trees on the side of the highway and thinking, "The trees are moving by fast but also slow at the same time."  That's right about when I told Mark that I was feeling the Valium and also called him a pussy but I have no recollection as to why. 

Everything else was very boring for the most part. I did suffer from loud, uncontrollable hilarity when Mark put on his scrubs because the crotch area was totally puffy.  It looked like he had a FUPA something fierce.

The most notable part of the day, aside from being stuffed like a turkey with frozen embryos HOLY SCIENCE BATMAN, was the complete and total dejavuness of it all.

My transfer with Olivia was almost exactly two years ago to the day.  The weather was the same.  The same exact construction was being done on the freeway (thanks for your amazing progress ODOT).  All of the exact same people.  No new viewers of my Lady Business for the Frozen Embryo Transfer.  Same triage nurse, same transfer nurse, same ultrasound tech, same doctor, same embryologist. 

Yes, Dr. Olga did my transfer and Martie was there showing me by giant ass bladder and amazingly catching a picture of the exact moment that the embryos left the catheter and plopped into my Ute of Doom.  I was going to ask Dr. Olga if she saw Sex and the City 2, but as soon as I sat on the table she was all Let Me Into Your Vagina Plz Kthxbai and so there really wasn't time to chat. 

We transferred two blastocysts - they were frozen at day two, cleavage stage and thawed for three days, for all you hard core IVFers.   The doctor and nurses assured us that they could not be more beautiful and perfect. 

These embryos are from Olivia's cycle, so maybe she'll have a sibling that is sort of her cryo twin or whatever.  That should be fun to explain someday, can't wait!

This week has flown by.  Mostly because I am a miserable sack of complaints and nobody likes me so Mark locked me in a closet with a poop bucket and a sock taped into my mouth.  He only lets me out to give me my Progesterone shots (1.5 inches in the ass, baby!  Bring it!), which he throws like darts at my enormous dimpled ass.

My beta is a week from tomorrow.  I'm surprisingly relaxed this time around.  As a matter of fact, I'm so relaxed that I bet I'll get pregnant from the FET and from the sheer relaxation.  My uterus is probably all, "I'm so relaxed I think I'll spontaneously reproduce, no sex necessary."   

The possibility of no siblings seems a lot less daunting than the possibility of no kids ever.  Perhaps I will eat these words later (I'm putting them in Tupperware right now so that they stay fresh!) but I don't see me being devastated if this fails. 

I'll be more pissed that my ass is all sore for nothing.  The Progesterone in Oil is SO MUCH WORSE this time you guys.  The shot I got Monday night got a bump on the skin with a giant welt underneath and it hurts to have underwear touching the skin.  So I've been Porky Pigging it for work.

HA!  I kid.
--

One Year Ago: The Happiest Baby On The Block
Two Years Ago:  My Neuroses: Let Me Show You It

Feeling the FET Funk

Oh, hai. I’m all smack dab in the middle of my Frozen Embryo Transfer Protocol. Blogging about the process would have been lovely, had I not felt like death for the past two weeks.

I’m so far behind, I don’t even know where to start.

First of all, this whole FET/Second Child thing? It’s a lot different than before. Since I’m sure someone out there is furiously Googling “Cleveland Clinic FET Protocol” I will happily oblige. I’ve also promised at least 5 people via email that I would post my protocol.

Cycle Day 1-13: 3 Estrogen pills/day (continue until 12 weeks pregnant)
Cycle Day 13: Lining Check (ultrasound)

Taken at my lining check appointment:

4 of the 37 copies available in the waiting room.

Conceive Magazine at your Fertility Center:

Look at this cute toddler that you may or may not have

based on the outcome of your appointment!

Cycle Day 15: Start PIO (continue until 12 weeks if pregnant), Medrol, Tetracycline, Continue Estrogen
Cycle Day 20: Transfer
2 Weeks Later: Beta

Since I had a very painful transfer for IVF #1, I decided on Valium for IVF #2 transfer. And I will be enjoying Valium for FET #1, because hey. It’s tradition.

The problem with the FET so far has been these fucking estrogen pills. They make me so sick. I haven’t been able to work out at all since I started taking them.

Perhaps I should be eating more hamburgers?

Wait! That’s a lie! I did brave a run during the first week. And I was running running running la de freaking da and at exactly 20 minutes? I was dry heaving dry heaving dry heaving on the side of the road. La de freaking da.

On Saturday, I couldn’t get out of the car after I want to the grocery store because I felt so sick after walking around. So I just sat there, looking at Mark in the driveway.

Mark: What’s wrong?

Me: Oh, just feeling sorry for myself, no biggie.

And I was.  I haven't been feeling much of the Woe, This Won't Work.  But I have been feeling copious amounts of Woe, This is Bullshit And I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Do It, with a side dish of Natural Pregnancy Is Unfair You Lucky Bitches.

So while there haven’t been any MURDEROUS RAGE type situations like with my fresh IVF/Lupron, there have been lots of, “Just to warn you I might vomit right now” type of situations.

And to be totally honest with you, I find that to be complete bullshit. It was so much more convenient for me when I felt fine but wanted to kill people. Now I’m all nice except I feel like shit.  Bitchiness is so much easier on the stomach.

But anyway. My transfer is tomorrow.  My two embryos are developing well.  Am hoping for limited humiliation at my appointment but am skeptical for obvious reasons.

This post is totally boring. Sorry. That’s the other thing about bitchiness: BETTER BLOGS! The good news is that I’ll be showing my vagina to a lot of people tomorrow and so there is usually something ridiculous to report.  Could I interest you in a cute baybee picture?

She steals Cheerios from the cupboard and hides in the corner

while shoving fist fulls into her mouth like some sort of deranged yet adorable

emotional eater.

--

One Year Ago: This Post is Brought To You By: Obligation
Two Years Ago: I'm Embryoated