That's It

It appears to be official that every woman I've been saying "as long as I get pregnant before her" about is pregnant. Everyone who got married after me - I was the first of pretty much all of my friends and everyone my age, for that matter, except for the extreme religious girls who got married and knocked up by the time the rest of us were collecting our college diplomas - is either expecting or already on her first or second child at least. 

I don't know why I bother to go on Facebook; I know it's the catalyst for all bad infertility feelings, but I just can't help it.  Particularly since I've been out of commission this week, it's as though I've become obsessed with keeping on top of all of the people I don't even care about. Today the one woman I secretly expected to see in my clinic waiting room one of these days posted a photo of an extremely pregnant belly, stating that she's expecting twins any day now. Did not see that coming.

 I would describe the feeling as a gut punch, for those who don't comprehend the desperate feeling of seeing people so easily achieve what you cannot. Yet a gut punch would be a welcome sensation compared to the physical and emotional reaction that washes over me each time I'm disappointed with my inability to conceive and the jealousy of those who can. I do not begrudge a single person for a situation so beyond human control, but it's impossible for me to be happy for these women or to even be able to see them at all. 

So that's it. Aside from the child-free crowd and the single & fabulous woman, it's just me. Even the lesbians I graduated with got knocked up during their closet days and now happily raise their children together. I am it. The cheese stands alone. 

                        

                             Figured since this is a downer post it could use this.

                                

One Week Post Retrieval

You can read about my retrieval experience  Here and   here.

It has been exactly a week and, while my mentality and outlook on the situation have done a 180,  I thought I would share my physical recovery experience that they just did not warn me about prior to the retrieval*.

                                      

                                          You'll want a heating pad for you recovery. Bonus if you have dogs that like to act as heating pads on top of heating pads. Mine have been rotating turns on the belly all week. **beware of jumping dogs**

• If they end up retrieving eggs from you, you're probably going to develop OHSS and it's going to be uncomfortable. During an ultrasound I ended up having yesterday - more on that later - the tech informed me that my "ovaries are kissing!" Sounds wayyy cuter than it is. 

• The follicles that you've been watching grow for the past week and a half will not start to shrink, rather they will fill with water and which will cause you to look like you're either already in your second trimester, or a giant boozebag. 

• You will not be pooping any time soon. 

• You will want to lie down, this will make it oh so much worse. Try to recline only, at all times, including during sleep. 

• You'll be hungry at first and happy that you're being encouraged to indulge in high-sodium French fries and saltines. Then you'll realize that you aren't pooping any time soon and the novelty of eating altogether will wear off. I particularly enjoyed the nausea on top of the bloating that I experienced. 

• The bloating is not going down in 2-3 days like they promised. Try more like 2-3 weeks. 

• The novelty of having big boobs also wears off quickly. They're sore, you feel every small movement in them, and they just look gross when your body isn't meant for them and neither are any of your bras.

I really like to think that I have a high tolerance for pain, I'm a tough bitch, and it's not that my recovery has been painful past the first few days, it's just been uncomfortable to the max. The idea that I wasn't getting a transfer when I had planned also added to the annoyance of the pain: I can't say for sure, but I have the feeling I would've accepted the recovery process much more had I known that it was with the goal of getting a sweet, sweet, embryo into me on day 5. C'est la vie, though, and as 

 I'm sure I'll learn many other valuable lessons throughout this process, I wanted to share my experience for anyone else wondering what you might expect. 

*Bearing in mind that all experiences are different and that, because of the absence of the transfer-preparation hormones, my body is slightly out of whack and trying to produce extra progesterone, etc. 

Trigger Happy

This title is super duper fitting in light of the Aaron Hernandez arrest. 

The past nine days have included:

-6 days of blood work

-5 ultrasounds (the dildo camera kind)

-23 stim shots

-6 mornings of up and out the door by 6 (which means all of the days are like that now. Thanks, scumbag inner clock).

And last night was 10000 units hcg and we have triggered!

                                    

                 The needle that went in my ass last night. Looks worse than it feels

My abs and back got a bit sore the past two days, but only in that "I just had a great ab workout and it hurts when I laugh" way. I'm actually shocked that I even remember what that feels like- I've absolutely gained a few pounds and have been doing no working out other than my normal daily movement (arguably more than most people's daily activity*). Bonus: my boobs look fantastic, despite being so sore that I have to grab them when I go down the stairs. 

Now my stomach felt a little crampy this morning, but here's hoping that is just the feeling of plentiful eggs growing in there!

So tomorrow is the big egg retrieval. I know some people get weird about procedures and stuff but I'm sweating the "no makeup, nail polish, or contacts" rule. I don't want my eggs to be retrieved out of a hideous creature.

*By "most people" I just mean those morbidly obese people at Walmart who use the motorized carriages. 

The Stim-sons

You guys have NO idea how much I wish I had a more clever "Stim" title. And I thought about it a lot. I do have the Simpsons theme song stuck in my head though.

Tonight will be night 6 of doing Gonal F injections. It's kind of like a cool little spy gadget pen mixed with a bee sting (I'm still doing my own injections- it's a bit empowering to do them all myself). It only stings a bit during the injection process and occasionally leaves a bruise and I sometimes feel really full (which could be the reality due to amount of food I'm consuming) and I feel like I look bloated but, again, the eating could be the cause. Other than that, I haven't noticed much of any side effects. I've been a bit weepy, which means I've teared up a couple of times in the car when I let myself think about our family dog who needs to be put down or when I hear 'I Will Wait' by Mumford & Sons - thanks a lot to whomever put it in my head to relate that song to my desire to have a baby. 

                      

Thursday night I added Menopur to the mix, which brings me up to three subcutaneous injections (in my stomach) per day. The Menopur is mostly just a pain in the ass because it has to be mixed every time but it kind of makes me feel like a mad scientist. Thursday was also the first time I received any empathy from Husband during this entire process, because he saw the welt from the Gonal while he helped me prep the Menopur for the first time and he kind of went "wait, what's the mark?" upon realization of the amount of shit I'm putting myself through - although yes, I did tell him multiple times that day how many injections I'd be doing* - he looked shocked and told me he "felt really bad" don't think that I won't try and milk that for as long as possible. 

The Menopur stings during injection but again, haven't felt much. I'm starting to think maybe something isn't going right because other women complain of ovary pain and swelling and being emotional and I just kind of feel like I'm too full (which could totally just be the case as I've been eating as if I already am eating for two...or three. 

I've done the math and today was my seventh blood test since this began, and my third this week. I've had two ultrasounds this week and I can't even do the math for the injections I've been doing over the past two weeks. It's all going to be worth it. 

*Are we surprised he didn't hear me? Do they just all suffer from partial hearing loss?

                                           Day 5 on Gonal

                    My obsessive "am I bloated?" photos- bonus dog. 

                           

                                                        Day 6 

                                     A couple of barely there bruises 

The Lupron Diaries

Been emailing myself symptoms daily, with hopes to help out anyone who will be taking Lupron in the future. Keep in mind that most hormones and injectable exacerbate emotions or feelings that are already dormant - or not so dormant- inside of you and reactions will vary. I have not found this drug to be too horrible. *

*For those unfamiliar, Lupron(Leuprorelin) increases testosterone in the initial weeks of use and essentially causes the female body to believe it is in menopause. So the cycle is interrupted and the goal is for there to be no period, so that you can then go on to inject more hormones to make the body ovulate, etc etc (don't worry, you'll all hear all about the later injections...later).

Day one: Could not do it. Needles never bothered me until I had to do it myself. Husband did it in seconds flat. I think he gets a sick pleasure out of being able to stick me with a needle, no matter how tiny.

 Day two: Stuck myself. Quick and no problem. Partially because husband was sleeping and also bc I'd had no coffee yet....no time to think. Feeling a little anxious but could be PMSish or the rainy weather or just the situation itself. 

Day 3: Woke up a little late as it is Saturday, husband assures me it's not a big deal to take the shots an hour or so apart here and there. Stumbled into kitchen, shot my tummy. Last night I woke up feeling hot and with a sharp pain in stomach but fell immediately back to sleep. Not sure if I'm feeling a placebo effect or this is starting. I'm not going to say that's it's not that bad because that is a surefire way to wake up in excruciating pain tonight.

Day 3 update update - more picking on hub this afternoon. His Offense- he left clutter. In my defense- he has been home and out of work for two months. Two full, long, months. 

Day 4- so hungry. Bought Entenmann's donuts and raspberry strudel (only bc they were BOGO free) donuts are almost all gone. Still hungry. Husband is encouraging me to snack on carrots. Fuck. That. Shit 

Day 5- Jittery, tired.  Irritable.  Could easily just be me.

Day 6- Tired. Irritable

6still - feeling warm but not bad bc I'm usually always cold

6 cont- tired. So tired

Day 7- Headache.

Day 8- emotional. Not even 10am and already teared up twice. One at a Pharma commercial.

Day 8 cont- headache, day 2. I'm a migraine person so it's not the worst that could happen by any means. 

Day 9- Soooo tired. Not sure if due to  week of rain or meds. How's it possible to be SO anxious with racing heart and yet soo exhausted. Cannot wait to go home and be lazy. Not even 10am yet.

I think my boobs are getting sore, is that supposed to happen?

Day 9- Welcome back, headache. Not really, you ugly little cunt. 

Day 10 - so much anxiety. Also tried to go to local fair but preggosEVERYWHERE.

Night 10- Oh, what do you know? headache. And boobs are definitely a smidge sore. Not PMS sore, but a smidge sore. God I hope they grow during all of this. 

Day 11midnight, or day 10 midnight? Let's say it's day 11, just after midnight. Got my period. Spent entire night freaking out because nurse told me that was not supposed to happen. No sleep because of freak out. Call nurse at open and she assures me I'm on perfect track to be seen tomorrow for bloodwork and ultra sound as planned. Thanks a lot, first nurse. 

On no sleep and headache turns to migraine by noon, while I'm trying to help my dad celebrate Father's Day. It is full blown want to puke status by the time we make it to our second event of the day- a one year old birthday party. Did I mention I got no sleep?

Day 12- Tired. Start Gonal tonight. 

Well, now that I read that I sound like a whiny little bitch but it hasn't been as bad as I made it seem here, those were just the feelings at the exact second of the email. I went to work every day no problem, slept every night no problem (and took naps at work no problem) just a quick heartbeat here and there, usually in the first hour after the morning injections.

That Time I Almost Bawled My Eyes Out At the Nail Salon (Or, Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed In Public During Cycles)

I was going to write about the first few days of Lupron, but it'll have to wait a bit.

Background: I'm not a crier; I'd say I cry maybe four times a year, give or take. When I do cry though, it comes out like Niagara Falls because of all of the stuff I've been holding in since my last cry. This can be a blessing and a curse - great that I never had to worry about being labeled "crybaby" in school or "unstable" in the work place, or worse, "emotional" or "PMSing" by every dumbass male who sees a female cry more than once. Not so great when I want to make my husband feel guilty or when I don't want to look like an Asperger's case at a funeral. The largest consequence of my inability to cry is the above mentioned: waterworks central at inopportune times. 

Scene: Local nail salon. Went to get a pedi and it was fan-fucking-tastic. I just started feeling a little anxiety this morning and the massage chair and those little hands massaging my feet and legs were just what I needed. Perhaps it was because I was so blissed out that what happened next did unfold.

To dry, I was sat at the station next to a woman of about 50 and across from another who looked to be at least 70. We ended up chatting, which I usually tend not to do with strangers*, and the conversation somehow turned to children - as it often does between women. The 50 something started talking about her own son and I just started panicking about the inevitable "do you have any children?" that I knew was coming my way. Normally I will answer with a quick, "not yet" but today I just knew it wasn't going to come out that way. As the two older women continued to talk, I fought back tears as I pretended to listen and continued to fret over what I would say when the words "not yet" came out of my mouth, because I just knew that I would not be able to hold those tears back any more once I opened my mouth. 

I never in my life have fought tears back so hard. I've tried to force out, sure, but the idea of losing it in the middle of this bustling salon and the embarrassment of having to explain my struggles to strangers killed me inside. Somehow I believe the eldest woman saw something in my face, or perhaps she just tired of the talk, because she changed the subject and we soon were off on separate ways. Whatever it was that kept me from looking like an emotional, unstable, crybaby, PMSing mess in the middle nail salon, I am thankful yet weary of my ability to continue to keep it together during this journey. 

*This is the reason why I tend to stick to myself

Now Offering: Syringe Trade-In Service

I hate to curse myself with terms like "good news" but it looks like I will be starting a round this coming week (fingers crossed, barring no surprises*). Husband got into an appointment early and I pushed, I mean I stalked my clinic to get everything in under the gun. Lo and behold, the pharmaceutical distributor - which just so happens to be located about 20 minutes away - called and asked when I wanted my meds.

The package arrived, ice cold, despite coming off a truck that I'm fairly certain came from being parked in Hades all day, this evening and I'm oddly like a kid in a candy shop, laying out my meds and taking them out of their cute boxes and carefully tucking them back in and saying goodnight. The amount of syringes though? I feel almost guilty that there are junkies, poking the same rusty needle into their eye day after day** and I have enough syringes to keep Keith Richards supplied for a few days at least. 

                    Sadly, the nail polish was not included in my package. 

    Just happened to have the perfect sized container for the non-fridged stuff. I get way too excited for stuff like that; I had to stop myself from slapping stickers all over it. 

*Why is it that, when you become an adult, surprises stop being the fun kind?

**That is how being a junky works, right?