hold

It’s hard to wait, as we often say in my classroom.

Part of the issue, maybe, is that I have no structure to my days now that my stint at summer camp is over. The ttw for this try exists in this limbo state between work and travel and while that seems smart on some levels (rest and relaxation) it seems foolish on others (lack of structure, lack of distractions). Anyway! That’s how it is.

The part that becomes the easiest to obsess over is the timing of the beta. My old and dear RE, in combo with the Richmond RE, always did betas at 14 dpo, or 14 days after retrieval. The cheater RE has scheduled one at 16 dpo, in which “o” means retrieval. Which is sort of ok and sort of not.

I mean, I guess I feel them with wanting an unambiguous number, but if there’s an early miscarriage – sorry, I mean a “chemical pregnancy”, then that’s useful information to have, in my mind.

On the other hand, in this case – i.e. Last Best Hope – who the hell cares about useful information?

The other Issue At Hand (you can tell I’m bored by extra capitals), is that I’ll be doing the aforementioned traveling when it’s 16 dpo. Hell, I’ll be doing the aforementioned traveling when it’s 14 dpo. But there would still be enough time for a quick trip to the lab before I get on the plane.

I’m of two minds about the testing day:

  1. make a fuss so they will write me a slip for a beta 14 dpo because knowing shit sooner is better.
  2. go for the 16 dpo one, even though I’ll be out of town because then I can assume I’m pregnant for two extra days.

Y’all. I have gone back and forth about a million times.

Then factor in whether to order more PIO….. (There is enough to get me a couple days past a 16 dpo beta, but it has to be compounded and then shipped, so one needs to order in advance and I’ll be, well, traveling.)

And do I try to get a progesterone check thrown in there, too? Because I love labs?

Ugh.

There were some fun pseudo-symtoms earlier: cramps (that’s the only one I can actually associate with prior pregnancies, well, that and crying), crazy tired (which could be just my general state), some bloating of sorts (my clothes fit funny at least) and the need to pee all the damn time (decidedly *not* normal for a preschool teacher).

But those all disappeared a couple days ago and were probably just the giant dose of HCG I gave myself before the retrieval.

Now I’ve got nothing but tiredness and being teary over the million novels I’ve been reading.


if i had a nickle

Alternate Title:

it only takes one

Y’all, I have had a lot of transfers. Six, if my count is correct, plus today, which makes seven. They are, for me, no big deal. Hell, I could do those fuckers in my sleep. With the two valium I took today, it was sort of close to that. Ok, not really, but two valium is fun!

My friend M, of do-your-PIO-shot-while-lying-down fame, was kind enough to drive me this morning. (The appointment was late enough that I got to make my usual trip to the market to pick up my CSA.) I obediently drank a fuck-ton of water – because this is A Full Bladder Appointment, you know – after I got back from the market and took my two valium (I thought three was overkill and told them so) at the correct time and M drove up and collected me and my big bag of medications that I was going to happily unload on the nice people at the cheater RE’s (they will donate them to people in their egg donor program). And off we went! It was a fun trip. Because of the valium. And because M is nice.

We were in the same little cold room as I was Wednesday for the retrieval, and then they wheeled me into the adjoining Room Full of Medical Things, which I thought was just an OR, but apparently is used for all sorts of things. Funny. Anyway, the lab guy (to whom I’d spoken on the phone earlier in the morning to get the lay of the embryonic land: ok, but not top of the class – much like me) came in and explained the procedure, which M and I listened to with great seriousness (she was serious in a blue hair net thing) because the lab guy is serious as well as really nice. They covered me a million bankets and used the big girl external ultrasound to see if my bladder was full enough (it was) and then my name and birthdate came up on a tv screen in the corner. Weird! Once I confirmed that was me, the screen showed my embryo. M said it was “very cute”. She’s a good friend.

And then in went the speculum and then in went a catheter – it was Dr. Soap Opera, btw – and then the lab guy came in the the embryo in it’s own little catheter which was threaded through the first catheter that was threaded through my cervix (“straight, or true north” comment Dr. Soap Opera, when I offered that my old RE had said it was NE). There is a name for this sort of transfer, but in my valium-induced fog, I have forgotten it.

And then it was all done and I was wheeled back to the small cold room to lie down for 20 minutes before they would let me up to pee.

M took me to acu, which was pretty much a repeat of Wednesday with the needles in different places. Which is to say, great. And I’ve been here on the couch ever since. S brought me coconut soup for dinner.

Ways In Which The Cheater RE Is Not Like Richmond:

  • transfer takes place in the catch-all room, which is also for retrievals – in Richmond, you stay in the fancy room and they bring the embryos to you in their chariot, aka incubator.
  • embryos get screen time – on screen, not watching things themselves; the AAP would never condone that.
  • there are fewer staff people – maybe this is a Saturday thing? Today was the lab guy, Dr. Soap Opera and one of the clinic nurses. In Richmond, I’d get at least two nurses, Dr. S, the embryologist and then often a bonus person who  was there to do… something? It always felt like a party. Or maybe that was the valium?

For all the times I’ve done this, for all the cold ultrasound gel and the need to pee, for all the tubes and face masks and the virtual strangers leaning over my nether regions, the moment of seeing that tiny glowing white bit that is my embryo pop into view on the ultrasound monitor will never cease to amaze me. One of the (few) bonuses of infertility, I think, is that there is this feeling of community: everybody seems to be on your team, even with this round robin of doctors; everyone is working toward a goal that we all genuinely *wish* to reach. Who says science is cold and heartless? Not anyone who’s be there for that moment of collective breath-holding, as we all watch to see that speck of light appear and then settle into place, carrying any number of people’s hope along with it.

Here’s to it only taking one.


and in the other corner

So school is its usual first-few-weeks-rough-edged self and my ass is kicked. Is it Fatigue or is it An Early Sign? Only my uterus knows for sure.

You’d think I’d be too tired to think about the 2ww, but you’d be wrongity wrong wrong, as Catherine has said for years. Just wrong. I’ve got phantom symptoms (Headache? With a side of sort-of-weirdly-timed-but-not-really-maybe-normal CM? Thanks, I’ll take mine to go, please.) and quickly squashed fantasies (Do I have my positive HPT blog post written in my head? Why, yes, I do – I mean, no! No, I don’t! That would jinx everything!), and hours of chart-obsessing and ttc blog reading under my belt.

Between the start of school and the ttw, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

CD 28, 11 dpo *sigh*


now for some more ambiguity

And my temp is back up again.
But I overslept and so took it an hour later than usual
But no positive test to go with it.
Lord.