The Spirit Is Willing

Hi there. Long time, no post.

I would say I’m sorry (because I am) but I have no real words to offer up in defense. I think of posting often, and have many things I’d like to say to you. But by the time I’ve run through my day of up early/commute/work/pump/commute/pick up baby/home/put baby to bed/eat dinner/sit on couch with no pants I’m totally spent, you know? After dinner is when I could totally try to make something of the dozen-odd half formed posts that live in my drafts folder, but at that point It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open while I prep the baby and myself for the next day.

As they say, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

So how about a quick run down? The baby first, because, well, she is our raison d’être.

She’s almost 9 months now. Can you believe it?!

She sleeps mostly well. We sleep trained (Ferber, which sucked massively but goddamn if it didn’t work exactly like it’s supposed to) at 4ish months. She took to it in a few days and then we tackled night feedings by once a week dropping a minute off the time that I nursed her. Once we were down to about 5 minutes per nursing session she decided waking up wasn’t worth her time and started sleeping through the night. For the most part she goes down by 7PM and wakes up around 6AM, although recently she’s been waking up around 4 or 5 which is decidedly not cool and makes me dread the end of Daylight Savings Time. We’re going to be putting her down a few minutes later every night this week in hopes that it will help recalibrate her clock. It probably won’t work, but then, I’m your resident pessimist.

She eats VERY well. She has three big bowls of solid food a day and has recently gotten the hang of self feeding via soft bits of carrot and peas and cheerios and her beloved puffs. Over the next few months I figure we’ll transition to more and more self feeding and do away with the baby food (which she LOVES).

I am working on weaning her from breastfeeding, which I am both sad and excited about.

Breastfeeding was really hard in the first few months. She initially wouldn’t latch due to her tongue tie, I had massive engorgement, she ate round the clock (seriously, she was either attached to the boob or screaming – I was her pacifier, and no plastic substitute was acceptable) and I got little to no sleep. For weeks I would sleep in half hour bursts which drove me to the very brink of my sanity. The gaping maw of insanity is a very dark and terrifying place. PPD is not a joke, my friends. Tread lightly.

On the other hand, I spent some heart achingly sweet time cuddled up with my girl, and I was (and am!) so damn proud of myself for being able to feed my daughter from my very own body. After all the shit infertility put my sense of self through, being able to nourish and sustain my long fought for child from my very own body (sorry, that needs to be repeated) went a long way toward healing.

So why am I stopping? Well, I went back to work and my supply tanked. I did the fenugreek, the water, the oatmeal, the extra pump sessions, the power pumping and blah blah blah. It helped some, but not enough and I was killing myself trying to make quota every day. So we started supplementing, which further tanked my supply, and it’s been dwindling ever since. My hope was that I could feed her mornings and nights and just not worry about pumping during the day, but Ellie just seems frustrated that she gets a measly few ounces first thing in the morning when she would greatly prefer a hearty breakfast of about 7 or 8 ounces.

And while it’s sad, it’s also exciting. If I never have to pump again it will be too soon. I might burn that damn pump. Seriously. Set the fucker on fire and dance around its charred remains. If there is anything more sucky (ha) about pumping, please don’t bring it to my attention because god almighty there is enough shit in the world.

So. The end. Sob. (Yay!)

Ellie loves her daycare. We had a few bumps as we all got adjusted, but it’s worked out beautifully. She has two sweet little friends in her class that she plays with every day and the teachers help gently encourage skills that routinely blow me away. It’s like, what do you mean she can hold her own bottle/clap hands/wave bye-bye/blow kisses/hold hands with her friend (omgsocute)/etc. I didn’t teach her that! It’s like she’s an independent person! That can be taught things! Weird!

She is crawling like a champ, and pulls herself to stand. We think she’ll be an early walker, probably by Christmas, according to her teacher. She would be around 10 or 11 months then.

And how are her mamas? We’re well. We’re both a little shell shocked from her infancy, and honestly, we’re just starting to recover. Tammy gets visibly upset if anyone mentions having another baby (because obviously it would be the easiest and cheapest thing to get pregnant) and is adamant about wanting to be one and done with Ellie. I go back and forth on the issue but don’t want to commit myself one way or another. There are pros and cons to both.

One thing that Tammy I and agree on is that Ellie’s infancy was, frankly, the most difficult thing we’ve ever done. Now though, it is so, SO fun. So worth it. This is what I wanted when I fought so long for a child. Watching her discover and explore and learn and grow. Her whole body smile. Giving her one last kiss on her fuzzy little head when I lay her sleep heavy body down in her crib at night.

Like they say, the days are long but the years are short. I hope you all are well. xo

Insurance Can Kiss My Ass

I have no insurance coverage for infertility, other than an initial diagnostic appointment (that doesn’t include any, you know, diagnostic tests like blood work, HSG, ultrasound, etc., because that would be too fucking logical). Everything else was 100% out-of-pocket. I am so envious of those of you who a) live in states where there is mandatory coverage and b) can utilize those benefits. We used to live in a state where there was coverage, but HAHA SUCKERS it didn’t apply to us. It only applied to those individuals who used their husbands sperm. i.e. no lesbians or single women or hetero couples with severe MFI who decided to use a donor. Because obviously, those of us in the previously mentioned categories do not deserve to have children. Obviously.

ANYWAY, moving on swiftly. I had an experience today that reinforced my need for an insurance vendetta.

As I stated above, I have no insurance coverage for infertility; no monitoring, blood work, ultrasounds, procedures themselves (IUI or IVF) and definitely no prescription drug coverage. HOWEVER, once I got pregnant (ultrasound tomorrow to confirm that I am, in fact, actually still pregnant and not newly awakened from a month-long delusion/psychotic break) certain medications that I took for infertility (estrogen, progesterone) are now covered due to my pregnancy “status”. When I called to order more drugs after my BFP, I told the pharmacists my new “status” and asked joyfully what the co-pay was. The pharmacist responded that they needed to have my doctor’s office call my insurance company to confirm that I was, in fact, pregnant. This was a month and 3 refills ago. Each time the pharmacist tells me they’re going to call over to my doctor’s office and ask THEM to call my insurance company. Of course, they don’t fucking do that. Today I got a little royally pissed off vexed in a MOST ladylike way, and told them what was up.

30 minutes later, I got a call from someone at the pharmacy asking if I was pregnant. OMFG. I only told you all that a fucking MONTH ago. She promised that she would call over to my doctor’s office to have them confirm the dates of my pregnancy, so they could retroactively reimburse me for money paid out-of-pocket for the last 3 refills. An hour later I found out that my doctor’s office would only confirm my pregnancy as of May 29th, and I had called for a refill on May 28th. So that $400 haul of drugs won’t be covered.

Reading over what I wrote, maybe I should be more irritated at the pharmacy and my doctor’s office, instead of the insurance company. And yes, the pharmacy definitely dropped the ball on this one. And I’m going to have a little chat with my doctor’s office tomorrow to see WHY they claim me pregnant on May 29th when I had my positive beta on the 24th. But you know what? All of this mess would have been avoided if I had coverage in the first damn place. God.

**UPDATE: I just got my meds delivered to my office building (damn right they deliver) and the workers in the mail room made many HILARIOUS jokes about my “drugs”. HA.HA. Hilarious. Lets talk a little louder about my DRUGS when the CEO is just down the hall! Fabulous idea.

It’s Aliiiiive

I just got a call with my second beta (that was done 4 days after my first beta, due to the long weekend).

First beta (at 10dp5dt): 372
Second beta (at 14dp5dt): 2032

That’s a doubling time of 39.19 hours.

The nurse that called me said this was “good.” My next appointment won’t be until I’m between 6 and 7 weeks pregnant (if I make it that far*) to see a heartbeat.

No more betas!?! No more appointments for over a week?! I feel adrift. Can I come in for blood draws for fun? What about visiting my old pal, Monsieur DildoCam? Or could I come in to breathe the heady, intoxicating scent of sadness and fear that permeates the waiting room? I’m still generating plenty of that pungent elixir to contribute. What if your stores are depleted without me around??

Another hurdle has been cleared. I keep trying to tell myself that I’m farther (further?) than I’ve ever gotten before. But poor Tammy had to talk me back from the ledge over and over this weekend, repeatedly fielding my teary questions of “what if it’s dead?” “what if it doesn’t double?” “what if I’m a fucking lunatic for hoping this would ever work?” (that last one was only in my head)

But so far**, my fears have been for naught. I am assured by What to Expect When You’re Trying to Freak Yourself the Fuck Out that our baby is the size of an orange seed right now. The heart is beginning to function at a rudimentary level, although it will be a few weeks until we can see it on an ultrasound if we get that far.***

Tammy and I also engaged in extremely risky behaviour this weekend: we looked at baby stuff while we were at Target, and talked about a possible/future/maybe nursery.

And THEN I held my friend’s baby for hours on Sunday, wiping her little teeny baby butt, kissing her baby toes, rocking her to sleep, and drinking in the perfect sweet/sour baby smell of her head.

Is it possible that I actually, maybe, possibly might end up with a baby of my own? Boggles the mind.

*I have GOT to stop doing that. Industrial strength asshole = me.
**That was the last one. Promise.
***Ugh. I’m the worst.

Heavenly Day

Heavenly Day
By Patty Griffin

Oh heavenly day, all the clouds blew away
Got no trouble today with anyone
The smile on your face I live only to see
It’s enough for me, baby, it’s enough for me
Oh, heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day

Tomorrow may rain with sorrow
Here’s a little time we can borrow
Forget all our troubles in these moments so few
All we’ve got right now, the only thing that
All we really have to do
Is have ourselves a heavenly day
Lay here and watch the trees sway
Oh, can’t see no other way, no way, no way
Heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day

No one at my shoulder bringing me fears
Got no clouds up above me bringing me tears
Got nothing to tell you, I’ve got nothing much to say
Only I’m glad to be here with you
On this heavenly, heavenly, heavenly, heavenly
Heavenly day, all the trouble’s gone away
Oh, for a while anyway, for a while anyway
Heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day

**********************************************

The doctor called with my beta results. As of this morning, my hCG was 372. With my last pregnancy it was a 17. Obviously, this could mean absolutely nothing for the long-term. I could miscarry this baby just like the last one. But today, at least, I’m chosing happiness. I’m chosing joy. I’m chosing peace.

Stick around, little one. Your mamas can’t wait to meet you. We love you already.

I Held Out for as Long as I Could

So this happened.

tests2

Beta wasn’t scheduled until Tuesday, but I broke down and emailed my nurse yesterday, begging her to let me move the blood test up. She agreed, so my beta is tomorrow morning (when I will be 10 days post a 5 day transfer, or 15 days past ovulation).  I guess that makes me officially 4 weeks pregnant today.

I don’t really know what to think or how to act. I’m excited, of course, but I’m also scared out of my mind. There’s a large part of me that feels detached, like this is happening to someone else. I feel like I’m watching a movie, sitting back and saying, “Huh. Well, that’s interesting”. Tammy suggested I feel this way because I’m scared it won’t work out, that I’ll lose this pregnancy like I lost the first one. She may be right. Which is why I wanted to move the beta test up. A strong beta number will help to ease my mind (a tiny bit). And if it’s strong, I’ll worry about the second beta doubling appropriately. And then I’ll worry about the 6 week ultrasound to see a heartbeat.

I told a friend of mine yesterday that I was pregnant. He responded that since I was doing IVF, he didn’t realize it was a question if I was or wasn’t, that he thought it was a “done deal”.

HAHAHAH! At “done deal”!!!! OMG. Wiping away tears of laughter (and a little bit of bitterness). Don’t I fucking wish it was that simple. Take some drugs, get lots of beautiful embryos, pop one or two or three back in, and just wait to find out how many! Then have a blissful, worry free pregnancy, a textbook delivery, and a happy & healthy baby.

God. I fucking wish.

Anyone have suggestions about how to be calm/happy/enjoy the moment while I wait for my beta number?

 

Edited to Add: Sorry the bottom test is so yellow. That’s disgusting. No idea why it’s so yellow (I did pee on it, but why has it gotten so yellow? Barf.) Also, I cropped the picture to take out the pee stick part. There were droplets (DROPLETS) visible, and I do have some pride.

Things that Irritate Me Today

ITEM:
The fact that I take a fist full of vitamins daily. I’m too paranoid to stop taking them.Vitamins(clockwise from the top red one: prenatal + DHA, fish oil, estrace, colace (I *heart* colace), royal jelly, CoQ10 x2)

ITEM
The fact that I can’t remember if I took my estrace this morning. And I’m having an internal panic – do I take another one just in case I DIDN’T take it? Can you overdose on estrace? Do I NOT take one in case I DID remember to take it? Called my nurse but she hasn’t responded yet. Grump. Anyone have any suggestions?

ITEM
The fact that I had this email waiting for me when I got to work (excerpt):

Over the past couple of days they have had “heavy” coverage of [redacted] issues on their web site and also, I noted in the “paper” edition of this morning.

NO. Just NO. Your quotations license is revoked. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

ITEM
The fact that my clinic starts counting the two-week wait when you have your transfer, not when the embryos are made. So REALLY I have a two-and-a-mother-fucking-HALF week wait.

The Pirate has Commandeered the Mother…Ship

The transfer went well yesterday. The appointment was set for 9:15, but we had to be there at 8:45. Due to the general suckitude of the traffic, we decided to stay in a hotel 1/2 a mile from the clinic, and that was an AWESOME decision.

Tammy has to travel for work more often than we’d like, but the upside of this is that she has hotel points. Cashing in those suckers was SUCH a good idea. We didn’t have to pay for the room (which is good, because we have no mas money after paying for all this IVF shit), got to sleep in, had an awesome breakfast at the hotel, didn’t have to sit in traffic, and got to the clinic in literally 3 minutes.

When we got to the clinic, I was told to put on booties (AGAIN WITH THE BOOTIES) but didn’t have to change into anything else. Except take my pants off. (Isn’t that a given?)

booties

They made Tammy put on booties as well. On one hand, I don’t really understand WHY we had to put on the booties, but it made it seem more sanitary (I guess? Like are they worried they’re going to drop the blast on my dirty foot?).

I got another ID wrist band.

wrist ID

And then the doctor came in and ran us through the stats:

23 eggs retrieved
18 mature enough for ICSI
15 fertilized normally (I found out an additional one fertilized abnormally – WTF is that? I didn’t even know that was a THING)
Day 1: 14 in the 2-4 cell range (GOOD) 1 at 7 cells (BAD)
Day 2: 14 still growing at the appropriate pace
Day 3: Down to 12 – 2 have slowed down and don’t have as many cells as they should
Day 4: No update, they just leave ’em in the incubator (MY BABIES ARE ALL ALLOOONNNEEE)
Day 5: 5 at the transfer/freeze stage (blastocysts), 5 more just one step behind that they’re going to watch until Thursday and potentially freeze.

The doctor strongly (STRONGLY) recommended that we transfer 1. Tammy and I had discussed this ad nauseum, and were still somewhat divided. (HA! Get it?! I made a cell division joke! Divided?! Cell division?! Nevermind…) We decided to wait and hear the doctor’s recommendation to help make our final decision. My waffling decision making on this issue looked something like this:
Transferring 1
-Same pregnancy success rate at my clinic as transferring 2 (60%)
-Would be easier on my body to carry 1
-Would be nice to be able to focus on one baby at a time
Transferring 2
-Would get the whole “having babies” thing out of the way in one go – only have to go through this (emotionally, physically, financially) once
-It would be fun for our kids to have a friend to grow up with that was their age.
-The “luck” factor. If my chances are roughly 60% with this IVF, what if we transfer 1 and it wasn’t THE one? What if it was the unlucky embryo? Wouldn’t transferring 2 give us more of a shot?

But like I said, the doctor STRONGLY recommended that we transfer 1. And Tammy was STRONGLY leaning in that direction also. The doctor got me to agree by telling me how much higher the miscarriage rates are for twins than a singleton. Now, I know as much as the next person that miscarriages can happen regardless of how many are in there. But having experienced one, I’m fairly desperate not to go through that again (my heart goes out to all you RPL ladies. You are so strong and it is so unfair. I’m so sorry).

So one it was. And it was a beautiful one.

Perfect Blast

Internet, meet Captain Jack Sparrow. It is currently chilling (hopefully NOT chilling – get to WORK young man*. We’ve got IMPLANTATION to do) in my uterus. They put a picture of it on a TV screen while the embryologist brought it in. Tammy’s first comment was “look how big it is!” Mine was “look how tiny!”

Speaking of wee, you must have a “moderately full” bladder for the transfer. And by “moderately full”, they mean HOLY GOD YOU ARE ABOUT TO PEE ON THE DOCTOR LOOK OUT. I actually asked the doctor if anyone had ever peed on her during transfer and she said only once, but the woman was under sedation for the transfer and didn’t have control over her bladder. Then she told me she used to be in obstetrics so a little pee and a little poo don’t faze her. “Now VOMIT on the other hand, I don’t do so well with,” she said. (Duly noted. I will aim my vomit on the nurse.) I only had a FEW panicky moments when the damn nurse pressed on my stomach with the ultrasound wand, but I was distracted by the small flash of light in my uterus, which was the moment the doctor ejected Captain Jack into my uterus. You can’t actually see the blast, of course, but the flash is the fluid surrounding it.

After 5 minutes of laying still, and about 5 minutes of blissful peeing, I went home and I climbed into bed to do my 24 hours of bed rest. Normally I enjoy nothing more than some downtime to laze around and read or watch movies. But yesterday I was bored as hell. Apparently sometimes I can be a wee bit stubborn and contrary. Just a teeny tiny bit.

The next two weeks are going to be agonizing.

*We both for some odd reason think it’s a future boy. NO idea why. But IF this sticks, and IF it’s a girl, well, Captain Jack Sparrow is still a badass name.

Day 1 Report, Plus WTF Happened Yesterday?

As I said in my groggy, blurry post yesterday, I had 23 eggs retrieved. I just got the day 1 report:

23 eggs retrieved
18 were mature enough for ICSI
15 fertilized

The doctor said that’s a higher than average fertilization rate, so WOOT to that. Right now we’re aiming for a 5 day transfer, but we’ll (ok, they’ll) watch for the appropriate division/development over the next couple of days while we decide. A nurse told me that the average rate of drop off between fertilization and transfer is 50%, so that would leave me around 7 to mess with (1 or 2 to transfer, 5 or 6 to freeze).

I’m feeling a lot better today than I did yesterday. I don’t know why, but I fully expected to LEAP out of bed as soon as the retrieval was done. Now I’m all, HAND OVER THE DRUGS. Let me back up though, and run through the day. I found these play by plays extremely helpful before I went through it, so I hope others benefit from my reading this. If not, sorry! That’s five minutes of your life you’ll never get back!

My retrieval was set for 8AM at the fertility office 45 minutes from my house. HOWEVER, we had to be there at 6AM, and traffic in this city is absolutely ass-tacular. I wanted to leave an hour and a half to get there. Tammy’s argument was that traffic wouldn’t be THAT bad at 5AM, and we didn’t need to leave THAT much time. So she woke up at 4AM to shower and get ready, while I lay in bed (having showered the night before but woken to her alarm) and FUMED because she wasn’t getting ready fast enough. How had she not read my mind to know that we’re going back to the original plan of leaving at 4:30?!

Tammy very helpfully talked me back from the edge, and we left at 5. And then got there at 5:30. We were literally the first people in the parking lot. Poor Tammy. She asked me a few times if I was SURE the nurse said to be there two hours early. And we couldn’t go sit in Starbucks while we waited because a) are Starbucks even open at 5:30? and b) I couldn’t eat or drink anything. Boo.

Anyway, we finally went inside when a few other couples showed up, and sat in the waiting room, all nervously sneaking glances at each other. You could tell who was there for egg retrieval – fuzzy haired, bespectacled, sans makeup, etc. I’d seen plenty of these women during morning monitoring, and it was pretty funny seeing them in their natural state.

We were called back fairly quickly to the recovery room where I changed into a hospital gown, booties, and cap. DEFINITELY a good look for me, let me tell you.

IVF Feet

A nurse came in, confirmed my identity and gave me a wrist band.

IVF ID

Then an anesthesiologist took my medical history (“ever had anesthesia before?”) and hooked me up to an IV bag of fluids. He said this would make me feel better later.

IVF Feet & IV

And then we waited. The doctor doing the retrieval came in and introduced himself (it’s a large practice, and I hadn’t met him before). I nervously went pee a few times, holding my gown closed in the back, wheeling along my IV. I felt about 200 years old doing that. Finally, at 7:45 they told me to empty my bladder once more. Then they escorted me into the OR while Tammy went back to the waiting room. I had always pictured myself being rolled in on a stretcher, but alas, I walked. Not nearly as romantic.

The OR was kind of creepy, though. A little chair type thing, laid flat, and a million tubes and wires and utensils (shudder). Also a million people. An embryologist came in and asked for my ID wrist band. I thought she was trying to shake my hand, and she laughed at me and told me she WOULD shake my hand, but she needed to confirm my identity first. So we had this weird, limp wristed hand shake while she read my badge. As she asked me to recite my social security number, the anesthesiologist said in the background, “I’m just going to give you something in your IV. It’s not going to make you fall over, but it’s going to start the process.” I remember thinking to myself that maybe they should have me recite my social BEFORE they give me a sedative.

Then an OR nurse came over and fussed with my gown, pulling it open in the back. It’s probably an indication that the sedative was working that I cared not at all I was flashing my ass to the room. Then she helped me hoist my legs into these stirrup things. They weren’t the stirrups that you place your feet onto during a gynecologist exam, but rather you place the back of your legs (the knee-pit) INTO them, feet dangling down. The last thing I remember is thinking, “maybe I should lay down”.

Then I woke up the recover room, with Tammy holding my hand. I could feel the warm blanket they had placed over me and the heating pad on my abdomen. And then I felt both a sharp pain and a dull ache. I started to cry, not because of the pain (although it DID hurt) but because I was confused and scared. I don’t remember this, but apparently the nurse came in and asked why I was crying. I told her I didn’t know. She asked if I was having pain, and I told her yes so she gave me a shot of something in the IV. I distinctly remember the feeling of the painkiller flooding my body. It was like the pain melted away. Awesome. God bless painkillers. It was just after the pain melting experience that I told the nurse I loved her (apparently. I do not remember this). I drifted in and out of sleep for a while.

When I would wake up I’d ask Tammy the same questions over and over. How long was I out. What time is it. How many did they get. I also kept telling her I didn’t remember anything, and was quite distressed about that, apparently. My Tammy was an absolute star. I think I made far more fun of her when she was waking up from wisdom teeth surgery. Still tease her about some of the things she said. Bad wife! Bad!

The nurse checked on me a few times. I got another delicious shot of painkiller. Tammy filled a prescription of painkillers to take with us. I demonstrated that I could eat, drink and walk. And then we were allowed to go home.

I slept for a few hours once home, waking up occasionally to pee. I was warned I might spot, but so far there’s been nothing. The pain is better today, but it’s most definitely still there. I’m trying to stick to Tylen0l today, so I don’t slur on the phone with clients.

I’ve also been warned to eat lots of protein and drink lots of fluids as my ovaries were “quite large”. Hopefully this will help mitigate the risk of OHSS. Also, the large/swollen ovaries explain in part why I may be having more pain than average.

To sum up: needles in your vagina hurt, painkillers are awesome. If they suggest taking an OTC painkiller, give them a withering look and hold out for the good stuff. And take it easy the next day.

More Updates and I’m a Hot Mess

I’ve had daily ultrasounds and blood work for the past week including my damn birthday on Sunday (Happy Birthday! POKE. Happy Birthday! STAB). My follicles have been growing nicely, and my lining has thickened up beautifully – I’ve never seen it this big, actually.

I’ve got somewhere between 15 and 20 follicles (the number seems to vary, depending on who’s doing the ultrasound), of which, probably around 15 will be mature at retrieval. This morning most of them measured in the 17mm – 20mm range. My estrogen has been going up nicely. Yesterday’s results were 2,254. Trigger will most likely be tonight, for a retrieval on Thursday morning.

And a note on the trigger – my doctor is switching me from an hCG trigger to a Lupron trigger. Has anyone ever done this? She says she’s not worried about OHSS for me, but that she thinks I can produce enough LH on my own, so I don’t need the hCG shot.

The two main things I’ve extrapolated from the Lupron v. hCG decisions is that with Lupron I a) do not need to test out the trigger – if I get a BFP it’s a real BFP; and b) Lupron is sub-cutaneous, and hCG is intra-muscular. Would MUCH prefer the sub-q.

cookieOn the emotional front, I’m a hot mess. I’m working reallyreally hard to lock.it.up. with varying results. I’m sore, and bloated, and uncomfortable, and exhausted. I fell like a pincushion. I’ve been poked and prodded and dildoed (what are they DOING in there?! It feels like you’re vacuuming in my vagina for God’s sake) within an inch of my life.

On Saturday, Tammy ran a 5k with her company to benefit the Wounded Warrior Project. I dropped her off before the race and ran (haha! Don’t be ridiculous, I drove) over to my vagina check. I got back to the race in time to see her cross the finish line. I have absolutely no idea why, but I burst into hysterical tears when she rounded the bend. In my defense, the song playing over the loudspeakers was this, and HOLY SHIT. Commence ugly cry. Her company should SERIOUSLY know better than to play emotionally charged music when there are women hopped up on hormones watching their beloved cross the finish line!

And then last night the pharmacy was late delivering meds I needed for the morning (damn right they deliver. I’m paying out-of-pocket for all of this so I’m taking the perks where I can). I was extremely agitated waiting up for it. What if they didn’t show up?! That’s my anti-ovulation/antagonist med! What if I don’t get my meds in time and I ovulate and lose all my eggs? What if this has all been for nothing?! When the delivery FINALLY showed up (10:15pm!!!!) I nearly ripped the box out of his hands. I tried to politely smile at him, but it probably came out more like a snarl.

mandrill-snarl_2110219i

So now we wait. So much hurry up and wait! Hurry up and get to your daily 7:30AM appointment. Wait for results. Hurry home and inject yourself! Wait for more meds. Now I’m waiting on blood work results and final word if I’m triggering tonight.

I want this to be over. I want this to work. I want. I want. I want. Pleaseletthiswork. Pleaseletthiswork. It’s my mantra, chanted over and over to myself as I lay there, dildo shoved halfway to heaven, counting the little dark circles of hope on the ultrasound screen.