Second Beta

Second beta was today.

Are you wearing a diaper? Because I nearly shit my pants when I got the number, and I have an exceptional sphincter, so I'm just saying...hold on to your shorts.

Beta #1, 15dp3dt: 964

Beta #2, 22dp3dt: 27,820

Just to verify that I didn't add a zero or carry an extra 1,000: 27,820.

At this point, you're probably wondering exactly what I'm growing in this uterus of mine.

My best guess? A Wildebeest.

My ultrasound would have been this coming Tuesday, but we will be on a Caribbean cruise all week. So it will be 7/8, the Tuesday after we get back.

But you better believe that I will be eating for at least three after THAT beta. HOT DAMN!

Here's how I'm feeling:

Tired. So very, very tired.

Bloated. So very, very bloated.

Nervous. So very, very nervous.

Hungry. So very, very hungry.

I bought a pregnancy book (smug, I know. I'm sure something will go wrong now that I've been so bold as to buy a pregnancy book) and it is kind of pissing me off. It is Your Pregnancy Week by Week.

First of all, they expect you to only gain, like, 3 pounds during your first trimester. Bitch whaaaaa? I gained 3 pounds at dinner tonight! And they are all, "Oh, you will be able to wear your normal clothes until, like, 14 weeks. Or else you are a total hoss and should step away from the refrigerator."

I'll just let you know that none of my clothes fit. I know I've been over this, but for realsies people: even the fat infertility pants won't button without a tub of margarine, a wing, and a prayer.

I read way far ahead, but got really bored at 26 weeks.

I think I'm a better infertile than pregnant person.

I'm Embryoated

You know, that is the one downfall of IVF compared to IUI (Intrauterine Insemination). When I had IUI, I could come home and declare: I'M SPERMINATED! But with IVF, the only thing I could think of was: I'M EMBRYOATED! And even I can admit that it just isn't as cool. (If you have better ideas, leave 'em in the comments. I'd be happy to steal your one-liners!)

Anyway, my transfer was fabulous. All my favorite nurses were working (except Sally, she wasn't there), and even my favorite ultrasound lady was there (I lurve you, Martie). The best part was the reappearance of Dr. OLGA and you know I can't resist...



This time, instead of skewers, she was armed with a soft, flexible catheter. I liked my chances of survival, if you know what I'm saying. And this time she was talking about the Sex and the City movie. I asked her how it was and she said, "Iz fairytale." HAHA!

Dr.OLGA! She's such a card!

My ovaries? Are gigantic. They are so big that they are touching - they meet in the middle of my abdomen. Martie said that they were kissing, and I thought that it figures - my ovaries are sluts.

It was a big relief to leave my transfer laughing and feeling good, since last time I left there ugly crying and popping Tylenol 3's like they were mini Reese's cups.

This time, I got my Valium. Took it about an hour before the transfer happened. I was all "Psh. Valium is bullshit." I didn't really feel any different.

Then I came home and took a 7 hour nap, then went to bed for the night two hours later. So maybe Valium isn't bullshit after all?

At my last fert report, we had 12 embryos between 2 and 4 cell, and 3 more that didn't divide but were hopeful.

We transferred 2 perfect 8 cell embryos, and froze 2 more. The other 8 of 12 are going to hang out to blastocyst and whatever looks good at day 5 will be frozen. The other 3 slackers did end up dividing, and so they are being watched until blast, too. I'm happy with that...I do hope we have more than a couple more to freeze, though.

While I was marathon napping, Mark snuck out and bought me Juno and The Office: Season 3. And maybe you don't realize how sweet that is. Because I am really, really weird, and have always wanted to watch things over and over again. When I was little, I watched Back to the Future every day for, like, two years. Sometimes twice. I'm like that with any shows or movies I like. So Juno and The Office will provide me with hours and hours of entertainment during bed rest and forever, really.

I'm off work until Wednesday and am planning to be a good little bed rester.

Cluck, Cluck, MOO!

Hot damn I'm behind on the whole blogging thing! My most sincere apologies. You see, I haven't really mastered the art of blogging while I sleep 23 hours a day. It's hard, because everything comes out like this:

f;adjna;iokjnerga;oekjgr'aszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I had my retrieval and already have had two fertilization reports! AND I do my transfer tomorrow! So get a beverage and a snack, this is going to be long.

First: The Retrieval

This? Is Xena Warrior Princess. She looks like the doctor who did my retrieval. I shall call her OLGA.



OLGA came in to introduce herself, and the only thing I understood through the thick, thick Arnold Schwarzeneggeresque accent was "I Dr. OLGA. I retrieve zee eggs."

So after much smiling and nodding and not understanding, I headed back to the retrieval room. This is an interesting experience, because you are put on a table with your arms straight out to the side like you're gearing up for a crucifiction. But for added pleasure, your legs are also strapped on to giant padded leg stirrups and your vagina is out there for the entire room of 10 to see. I'd like to think that's OK because I have a really nice vagina.

At my IVF #1 retrieval, I went into the room and was knocked out as soon as I was situated. I don't remember much, except saying that I couldn't focus because I didn't realize that they had started the IV. Then I woke up to Mark and my mom in the recovery room.

This time? Well. I was awake for a long, long time. Which means I was awake after Dr. OLGA said, "Now, I clean zee vaginal cavity."


If anyone thinks that cleaning zee vaginal cavity sounds a little bit like, oh I don't know, HELL? You'd be right.

OLGA takes a long, metal skewer (probably from her grilling kit at home) and attaches gauze soaked in cleanser. I need to ask you a question right now: have you ever seen a liposuction video? Where they jam that sucker thing in and out of the person's flesh and you're all "OW that looks really rough and horrible!" Have you ever seen that?

That is how OLGA cleans zee vaginal cavity. With 4 long skewers and sterile gauze, jammed in and out of zee vaginal cavity while she talked about the details of her son's graduation. It wasn't zee Xena Warrior Princess sword, but it felt like it!

I was so annoyed. By the time she took out the 4th skewer, I was yelling, "OH MY GOD CAN I JUST BE KNOCKED OUT FOR THIS?!!" OLGA's reply? "Iz almost finish." Of course, two seconds later, I was knocked out. Damn.

The end result was awesome: 21 eggs retrieved!!
Jennepper = Best Hen EVER!
So somewhat worth the pain of zee vaginal cleansing. And now my vagina is so clean you could eat out of it! You know, if you ever felt compelled to do so.


So maybe the Duggars have 18 kids, but I had 21 eggs! So suck it, Mrs. Fertile Duggar! (And if the Duggars cousin is reading? The one who left me a comment? I'm freaking kidding so take a joke. Damn.)

Next: 1st Fertilization Report

On Friday, I got the news that out of the 21 eggs retrieved, 17 of them were mature and 16 of them fertilized. This is great news!

For my first IVF, I had 13 eggs retrieved, and 11 that were mature and fertilized. So this time we're starting out with a lot more embryos to choose from.

What they do is just put them back into the fake uterus incubator thingamajigger until the next day.

Finally: The Second Fertilization Report
Today.

I found out that of the 16 that fertilized, 12 are on track at between 2 and 4 cell. Three more aren't quite there yet, but are looking hopeful and are still being monitored. They may or may not catch up, but I'm still thrilled with 12!

Transfer will be tomorrow (Sunday).

Right now, I'm feeling really sore and totally bloated. I look 4 months pregnant. People are going to start asking questions. I look and feel like a total cow.
I completely expect to grow udders any day now.
At least we'd save on milk...

Conceive Magazine

Conceive Magazine is on my list.

And really, who isn't on my list these days?

But seriously, there appears to be an overstock of Conceive Magazine at my RE's office.

They have this ceiling to floor display of magazines, and 90% of it is covered in CONCEIVE magazine.

And have you seen this magazine? Well. Every issue has a picture of the cutest baby ever, close up so you can see every detail of its delicious little face. And sometimes? You can also see their thighs. Big, chubby, lumpy little baby thighs. In the office of your fucking reproductive endocrinologist. Anyone else find this just annoying? Anyone? Or just me? (You can say if it's just me...I'm kind of used to that, being a complete and total weirdo and everything).

I think I should start a magazine called "INFERTILE WHORE." All the articles will be rants from me and my fellow infertiles, and there will be no pictures of cute babies and pregnant women (which do show up in Conceive. Lots of bellies in that magazine.) There will be lots of pictures of martinis, and ads and coupons for Ben and Jerry's and Coldstone. There will also be a column where people ask for my advice, and I tell them ways to act completely inappropriate in public.

My magazine is going to be like a money tree. Because think about it: my readers are in it for the long haul! If this magazine already existed, I would have been a subscriber for TWO WHOLE YEARS (plus three months)!

If you were a good little blog reader, you already clicked on the link to my Redbook blog on Infertility Diaries, and you know that Mark was with me while I went off on a rant about the cover of Conceive magazine at the office this morning. And he suggested that I come up with a better cover photo.

The thing is, I think it would be a better photo for the first issue of INFERTILE WHORE...I call it: Infertility (sigh). What do you think?




I was going to flip the bird, but I thought it would be too much for the first issue...

* * * * * * * * * *

In real-deal IVF infertile whore news: I had another follow-up today.

Estrogen = 2803, which is good enough, thanks. Please stop rising so quickly, mmmkay?

Lots of follicles, all around 15-16 mm (thanks for the correction, whoever told me it wasn't centimeters last time. Yes, we're making human embryos, and not some type of mutant bovine-human.)

I'm doing one more 150 of Follistim and then going back again tomorrow morning. The doctor thinks I'll be ready for my trigger tomorrow, which means retrieval on Thursday and transfer on Sunday or Tuesday.

It's almost harvest time! I'm about to be a good hen and drop these eggs (gladly).

* * * * * * * * * *

SOMEONE MADE ME AN INFERTILE WHORE COVER!!!!  Click here to see it!

Back In The Saddle...Well...Stirrups

The stirrups in the ultrasound room don’t have covers on them. Which sounds kind of inconsiderate, but I’ve developed an elaborate explanation for the lack of soft covers on the shockingly cold metal.

Dr. Goldfarb told me that every afternoon, all of the doctors get together and review every patient file. They have to do this, because they are very busy and work as a team, and this helps them to all be familiar with every case. And that all seems like a very good idea, except nobody ever knows who the hell I am without going through my entire file while I sit and watch, thinking, “Seriously? I’m going to be late for work.”

But my theory is that one day, while at one of these daily afternoon meetings, one of the doctors started complaining about how all the patients fall asleep on the ultrasound table between the time they tell you to STRIP! From the waist down and when they come back to view the girly bits.

Who hasn’t been tempted to just take a teeny little nap on that ultrasound table? Sometimes you have to wait for, like, two minutes! That’s two whole minutes of precious sleep! I mean, we’re on Lupron after all…and we can’t have caffeine, because it’s clearly Satan in a Styrofoam cup…

So the doctors came up with the brilliant scheme to keep us awake. Are you ready? Because I’m about to blow. your. mind.

I think that one of the doctors, or maybe an ultrasound tech or a nurse, had the brilliant idea to set the room temperature to a frigid 22 degrees. And just in case the arctic blast of the room wasn’t enough? Let’s not cover the stirrups! Let’s leave the metal bare, and maybe even rub it with ice cubes before each patient, so that when they lay down, they can’t nap! Because it’s cold!

And everyone at the big wooden table does a long, evil belly laugh…

Other than the frostbite that I got on my pinky toe during today’s ultrasound, everything else went well. The regular ultrasound lady, Martie, is back from Paris – so no more Teeny McShortarms. And Martie? Is fabulous! She explains everything – not in a condescending way – and says things like, “your antral follicles are like ladies in waiting,” and “your uterus is lovely, and your ovaries are really working hard.” And Martie? Calls you in by first AND last name. No confusion of the Jennifers when Martie is in charge.

And she wears cute shoes.

It sounds like maybe I have a girl crush on Martie, doesn’t it? Clearly not, but I think we’re going to get along juuuuust fine.

One ultrasound down. One million to go.

Are you doing treatments right now? If so, where are you in the process? And also, do they cover the stirrups at your office??

I'm 1 Day Pregnant!

According to my "perfect case scenario" I am 1 day pregnant on this very day.

Things I am going to do, now that I'm pregnant:

Park in the "Expectant Mother" spot at the grocery store.
I mean really, would anyone challenge me? I think I could make it work, especially since my father-in-law called me Miss Piggy the other day.*


Let my fat roll hang right out.
Why even try to suck it in? I'm one day pregnant, after all. Maybe I'll even invest in one of those shirts that says, "I'm not fat, I'm pregnant."


Eat 7 chocolate chip cookies after dinner.
Because the baby wanted them. Not because I am a total hoss.



Talk nonstop about my day-old pregnancy.
Loudly. In the lobby of the fertility clinic. In front of all the baby-lusters waiting for their daily meeting with the vag cam. Hoping they won't have to come back next cycle, and wanting to kill me for my obnoxious bragging.


Wear a Bella Band
Because seriously, you've thought about it. Don't lie. Who needs Thanksgiving Pants when you have a Bella Band? Clearly, I'd be wearing it because I am totally pregnant, and not because I ate 7 chocolate chip cookies.


Tell me: WHAT ELSE SHOULD I DO??





*Then promptly told me not to put it in my blog.**
**Pfft...like I wasn't going to blog that. Come on, now

It's Obligatory, Man.

Here is my impressive stash.
Yes, I keep my fertility drugs right by my knives.
You have a problem with that? Huh?

IVF # 2: Jen ain't takin no shit this round.

I really needed that sharps container, because I was keeping my used needles in this shitty coffee can.

JUS GIMMEH MAH LUPRON, LADEH!

As we know, last week I had to fight with my favorite nurse Sally to do another fresh cycle. It was not that bad, because I'm good at fighting and can usually end up getting my way. So when we left off, Sally was going to call and order me my injectibles. I fully realize that ordering injectibles through my insurance is a royal pain in the ass, and when I get involved, I am always glad that it's not my job to handle it from the beginning because GAWD! Just send the drugs, people! They are not fun, high inducing drugs! They suck ass, so don't worry…I won't sell them to elementary school kids!

Yesterday, on my lunch break (totally on my lunch break, and not during work, at all….) I called the specialty company that handles the drugs for the fertility-challenged. Just to check and make sure my order was in the works. Because I'm not sure if you realized? But I start project sleepy time Lupron on SUNDAY! So I need my drugs, preferably by Friday. And nobody has called and asked for my $100 copay (yes, am lucky) so I figure they haven't even processed my order yet.

I call and am annoyed immediately:

Jen: Hello random lady, I am doing IVF and would like to check the status of my injectible order.

Random Lady: OK, sure, let me just check… *click, click, click * I see that the meds were shipped to you at the end of February. Did you not get them?

Jen: Yes, I got those ones…?

Random Lady: Great! Is there anything else I can assist you with today?

Jen: Yes. I have a new order. I need to check the status of that order. Not from February. From now. Like, last week. For use this coming Sunday…? Is any of this ringing a bell….?

Random Lady: Already?!

Jen: Um, yes, asshole. My IVF failed. Am doing another. Status? Murder? Rage?

Random Lady: Really? Another IVF already? That's so soon!

Jen: Sally? Is that you?

Random Lady: Usually they aren't so close together! Well, let me just check to see if there is a new order… *click, click, click…. *

Jen: Don't bother. I just gouged out both of my eyes, and now I am going to throw myself down the stairs…

Random Lady: Oh, I see. Yes, you are doing another IVF.

Jen: Really? Great. Thank you for confirming, because I wasn't sure. But now I am. You should get a raise and maybe free dinner.

Random Lady: The order is loading now…so you really want to do another IVF so soon? It's really hard on your body, you know.

Jen: Yes, I know. I love putting my body through unnecessary, painful processes. After this phone call? I'm going to sneak down to the bathroom and self-flagellate in one of the bathroom stalls.

 

So seriously, this phone call was really annoying, but I was nice to Random Lady, and today I did get a phone call to confirm my order. The only problem is that Novidrel is backordered for an indefinite amount of time. Which is stupid! MY GOSH! So I had to get Sally on the job again (she is awesome, seriously. I love her) and she ordered me Ovidrel instead. What is the difference? Who the hell knows?!

My big box of drugs will be coming on May 1^st, and you know I'll be taking pictures again. Because I am that much of a loser.

I must also give my most sincere apologies for my sucky blog commenting. School is kicking my ass, and it's ALMOST over – next week is finals! So I'll be a way better random internet friend after next week.

 

 

Panic! about the IVF*

OR: Multiple Personalities Much?

Tuesday was a day filled with so many switching emotions, that I considered calling for psychiatric consult to sort through what must obviously be my multiple personality disorder. In the early morning? Exhausted. In the late morning? Hopeful. In the early afternoon? Pissed off. In the late afternoon? Happy! In the evening? Stressed!

When I talked to Dr. Goldfarb last week, he said it was fine to move forward with another fresh cycle. I discussed my reasoning with him, including the fact that we have two vacations coming up (Caribbean! Vegas!). He seemed to think it was fine. Told me to call on my cycle day 1.

Speaking of cycle day 1 – what has been happening since Tuesday could only be described as PURE MENSTRUAL EVIL! Just…wow. And not cool.

Anyway, after the commencement of PURE MENSTRUAL EVIL, I called the office to get my prescription for birth control pills so that I could get started. And I was so excited! Because I got Sally! My favorite!

Except! She seemed to be really annoyed that I had the nerve to schedule TWO vacations this summer when hello? I’m infertile, I should know better than to try to plan something other than vag cam visits and bloodwork.

I should know better than to, I don’t know, enjoy my life. How selfish of me! And maybe it is selfish to need to have something to look forward to other than sub-q shots and daily violations of my already public vagina. BUT, if the first IVF worked, it wouldn’t be an issue now, would it? No. So maybe we both screwed up, Sally. How ‘bout them apples? Sour, aren’t they?

So Sally was annoyed with me, and was telling me that they weren’t going to let me do an IVF before two vacations, and then changed her mind and said maybe between the Caribbean and Vegas (which still makes no sense), then went back to no! No IVF for you until September!

From what I could gather, her rationale was this: if I am pregnant after IVF # 2, I don't know how I'll feel. Will traveling harm a potential pregnancy? Well, no. But still! You might not feel good. And do you have travel insurance?

My rationale was this: if I am pregnant after IVF # 2, it's not like I get a 9 month pass to sit at home if I don't feel good. I'll still have to go to work and school, and resume life like normal. So either I can go to the Caribbean, lay on my ass all day, and eat lots of food. Or I can go to work from 8 - 4:30, then to school from 5 - 8, then get home and go to bed at 9. Which sounds more relaxing to you?

Our conversation ended with Sally saying that she would consult with the doctor and call me back, and me being irrationally angry at the prospect of waiting until September to try this all again. I mean, do you have any idea how many more pregnancies, baby announcements, baby showers, and birthday parties there will be between now and then? Too many, that’s how many.

Four hours later, Sally called back and pretty much acted like we never had our earlier conversation. She called in my birth control prescription, and said that she would call and order my medications. While the doctor didn’t really think the vacations were a super big deal, we will be overlapping my birth control and Lupron for a week in order to move the retrieval and transfer up a week. That way, if IVF # 2 does work, I’ll have two betas in before I leave for the cruise.

Have I mentioned that I love getting my way?

The short version: crisis averted, IVF # 2 started yesterday. (If I was nice, I would've put that at the beginning so you didn't have to read the entire thing. If I was really a jerk, I would've put it after the dumbass footnotes.)

*Have you heard the crap news about Panic! at the Disco? Apparently, then have changed their name from: Panic! at the Disco, to: Panic at the Disco. Why would you ever ever do that? Well, I had that exact same question! Apparently, people were having a hard time finding and downloading their songs on iTunes because of the “!” and so they are changing it so that they can make more money. I think they should change their name to: Sellout! on the iTunes. Money grubbing whores. Mostly, I’m just mad because now, when I hear one of their songs, I can’t yell “PANIC!" (at the top of my lungs) "at the disco" (at a whisper).” **

**Also, Panic (no !) at the Disco has also lost it’s coveted #1 spot on my List of Awesome Band Names. Maybe you’ve never heard of my List of Awesome Band Names, and that’s your problem. You should know that it is a highly sought-after(ish) honor in the entertainment industry. And Panic! at the Disco was #1, just in front of #2, Butthole Surfers. But Butthole Surfers is now #1, and #2 goes to a tie between Limp Bizkit and Mr. Mister. ***

***OMFG! I have hit a new low, haven’t I? It’s sad. Send nachos.