Enough with the procrastinating already.
IUI #3 (with Clomid) worked.
Yuppers.
Ten weeks on Monday.
(Stunned? I still kinda am too.)
While I know it would be exceptionally bad taste to immediately start bitching and moaning, I believe I've earned the right to at least point out the following:
Weight lost in September...21 lbs.
Weight gained (all in the last week)...1/2 lb.
To be continued...
Showing posts with label TTC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TTC. Show all posts
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
3 Doors Down
Over the weekend I was visiting with my friend C at her house just down the street and having a grand old time. After a few hours I finally got up the courage to ask if her 13 year old son might be available to watch the Cracker during our IUI even though we won't be able to give him much notice. Her hubby is a Paramedic and she does medical billing from home, which some how made it seem easier.
"I'll do it! I'll watch him!"
Turns out they are waiting to see the same RE. Imagine that.
We were both so thrilled to have someone to talk to that we spent the next few hours discussing everything. Her husband, P, was sitting with us and listening, but only came into the conversation a couple of times to ask things like "so have you ever made J do it while you still had the thermometer in your mouth?"
"Want to see something funny?"
"Always."
She looks P in the eyes and slowly says "cer-vi-cal mu-cus."
He instantly paled. "Oh God! You have to stop doing that! Ugh...yuck!"
"That's a neat trick!"
"You two are like the women on Sex and the City, except you talk about ovulating and gardening."
"I'll do it! I'll watch him!"
Turns out they are waiting to see the same RE. Imagine that.
We were both so thrilled to have someone to talk to that we spent the next few hours discussing everything. Her husband, P, was sitting with us and listening, but only came into the conversation a couple of times to ask things like "so have you ever made J do it while you still had the thermometer in your mouth?"
"Want to see something funny?"
"Always."
She looks P in the eyes and slowly says "cer-vi-cal mu-cus."
He instantly paled. "Oh God! You have to stop doing that! Ugh...yuck!"
"That's a neat trick!"
"You two are like the women on Sex and the City, except you talk about ovulating and gardening."
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Warp Speed
Yesterday, bright and early, we had our first visit with the RE.
After discussing all of our test results and history, his main concern was viscosity just as it had been with useless OB wanna be RE. While he agreed that morphology and motility are low, he told us that he wasn't concerned since the overall count was good and we had gotten pregnant before. (No hamster eggs for us.) Based on the above, he suggested that he was leaning IUI and felt our chances were very good. Above average good. Cool. He did ask that I repeat the CD #2-3 tests (FSH and friends) since those test results seem to have disappeared from the OB's office. I will also get a chromosome analysis done at the same time to see if there are any obvious answers to my sucky m/c rate.
Woo hoo...vaginal ultrasound time. Right ovary had 7-8 follies, 3-4 on the left. (CD #5.) It was all happening so fast that while I heard him mention "a few cysts, but that's okay" it didn't register enough to ask any questions. Nor did I get any measurements on the follies, though I'm not even sure measurements this early in a cycle would mean anything anyway. As far as he could tell, my ovaries and whatever else are looking really good. (Tubes, of course, can't be seen this way, so who knows.) No signs of ageing beyond my years, which I was relieved to hear since early menstruation and early menopause run in my family.
Are you familiar with OPKs? Yes. We recommend Clear Blue because... Yes. But not the monitor. Yes. Have you charted before? Yes. Today is CD #5? Yes. What day do get a positive OPK? CD #13. Alright, let's do an IUI next week. Let's start with two or three rounds unmedicated. If that doesn't work, we'll try meds for a few months. If you still haven't conceived, then we will reevaluate.
WHAT? IUI NEXT WEEK???
Next week.
Oh, you mean, like, next cycle.
No, next week. You are set to ovulate next week, aren't you? (Flips through my chart and nods. Yes, his short term memory is intact.)
Yes...but this next week?
Yes.
Next week. I'm sorry, I'm not hearing you correctly. You said next week?
Yes.
Should we see a Urologist first?
It's up to you. We have a great one right here in town who I highly recommend who specializes in IF, but I feel confident based on your case that this is the next step.
What about repeating the SA? Shouldn't repeat the SA first?
Again, that's up to you.
What about the CD #2-3 blood tests? Should I do those first?
No. Next cycle is fine.
IUI next week.
Yes.
Ummm...do I have to?
Yes, I actually asked if I had to. Not once, not twice, but at least a half dozen times, even after he'd left us in the care of his nurse, who very nicely reminded me that their job is to get me pregnant, but that we would proceed when I was comfortable.
Because mentally I was back on long term TTC thinking. Meet him, spend a few months running more tests, wait a few months to get into the Urologist as a new patient, maybe actually decide on a plan in 3 or 4 or 6 months. Out of all the scenarios I'd been running in my head there was ever a next week one. Hell, since filling out the paperwork a few months ago when I'd been a friggin saint, I *just* started drinking a cup of caffeine most days again, just started getting lazy about taking prenatal vitamins, just started having the occasional glass of wine after the 2ww was over. The good girl crap was getting old.
False hope? Scam? No, the dude's got an excellent rep: this clinic, which he started when there were only a handful in the entire country, was one of the pioneers of IVF in the early 80s. He's been featured as one of the best by reputable sources, sources we've all heard of. His IVF rates are well above national averages. And he's local, which is just freaky, since we live where we do which is not a major city.
And I feel like an ass, because of course we're going to do it next week. Or at least we plan to unless we get there and are told we should cancel. I just needed a little bit of time to process it all. Because, seriously, suddenly there's a real plan: a plan that starts next week.
After discussing all of our test results and history, his main concern was viscosity just as it had been with useless OB wanna be RE. While he agreed that morphology and motility are low, he told us that he wasn't concerned since the overall count was good and we had gotten pregnant before. (No hamster eggs for us.) Based on the above, he suggested that he was leaning IUI and felt our chances were very good. Above average good. Cool. He did ask that I repeat the CD #2-3 tests (FSH and friends) since those test results seem to have disappeared from the OB's office. I will also get a chromosome analysis done at the same time to see if there are any obvious answers to my sucky m/c rate.
Woo hoo...vaginal ultrasound time. Right ovary had 7-8 follies, 3-4 on the left. (CD #5.) It was all happening so fast that while I heard him mention "a few cysts, but that's okay" it didn't register enough to ask any questions. Nor did I get any measurements on the follies, though I'm not even sure measurements this early in a cycle would mean anything anyway. As far as he could tell, my ovaries and whatever else are looking really good. (Tubes, of course, can't be seen this way, so who knows.) No signs of ageing beyond my years, which I was relieved to hear since early menstruation and early menopause run in my family.
Are you familiar with OPKs? Yes. We recommend Clear Blue because... Yes. But not the monitor. Yes. Have you charted before? Yes. Today is CD #5? Yes. What day do get a positive OPK? CD #13. Alright, let's do an IUI next week. Let's start with two or three rounds unmedicated. If that doesn't work, we'll try meds for a few months. If you still haven't conceived, then we will reevaluate.
WHAT? IUI NEXT WEEK???
Next week.
Oh, you mean, like, next cycle.
No, next week. You are set to ovulate next week, aren't you? (Flips through my chart and nods. Yes, his short term memory is intact.)
Yes...but this next week?
Yes.
Next week. I'm sorry, I'm not hearing you correctly. You said next week?
Yes.
Should we see a Urologist first?
It's up to you. We have a great one right here in town who I highly recommend who specializes in IF, but I feel confident based on your case that this is the next step.
What about repeating the SA? Shouldn't repeat the SA first?
Again, that's up to you.
What about the CD #2-3 blood tests? Should I do those first?
No. Next cycle is fine.
IUI next week.
Yes.
Ummm...do I have to?
Yes, I actually asked if I had to. Not once, not twice, but at least a half dozen times, even after he'd left us in the care of his nurse, who very nicely reminded me that their job is to get me pregnant, but that we would proceed when I was comfortable.
Because mentally I was back on long term TTC thinking. Meet him, spend a few months running more tests, wait a few months to get into the Urologist as a new patient, maybe actually decide on a plan in 3 or 4 or 6 months. Out of all the scenarios I'd been running in my head there was ever a next week one. Hell, since filling out the paperwork a few months ago when I'd been a friggin saint, I *just* started drinking a cup of caffeine most days again, just started getting lazy about taking prenatal vitamins, just started having the occasional glass of wine after the 2ww was over. The good girl crap was getting old.
False hope? Scam? No, the dude's got an excellent rep: this clinic, which he started when there were only a handful in the entire country, was one of the pioneers of IVF in the early 80s. He's been featured as one of the best by reputable sources, sources we've all heard of. His IVF rates are well above national averages. And he's local, which is just freaky, since we live where we do which is not a major city.
And I feel like an ass, because of course we're going to do it next week. Or at least we plan to unless we get there and are told we should cancel. I just needed a little bit of time to process it all. Because, seriously, suddenly there's a real plan: a plan that starts next week.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Oh the Horror!
Want to incite a riot? Let your 2 year old have a pacifier. Even sweet little old ladies will try to kick your ass.
BTDT.
When you're a first time parent, and then you don't have a second child in the socially acceptable amount of time, the number of crazy things with your firstborn that you most likely wouldn't do again the next go 'round increases exponentially. I'm an only child myself, so I get it.
Guilty.
(And let me just take this opportunity to thank all the people over the years who've told me that for an only I am not a freak like the all the rest. Yeah...uh...thanks.)
Here's to hoping the damage isn't permanent.
So here are a few admissions (and justifications):
At 4 years, 1 month and 2 weeks he still eats Yo Baby because he claims to hate all other yogurt. (He can't drink cow's milk and always prefers water over soy milk.) (I actually blame our granola Pediatrician on this one because she insisted that we not introduce other types of milk until he stopped breastfeeding at 19 months.) (And it's not because he's drinking juice, which remains high on his list of the world's evils.)
He still takes the majority of his meals at home in his high chair. (He can't get up while eating, which makes eating faster and cleaning easier.) (And he hasn't used a high chair in a restaurant since he was 2.)
We put on all shoes that aren't slip-ons.
He still wears a diaper at night to catch the occasional accident. (Cheaper than Pull-ups and Overnights.)
He still sits happily in a stroller. (BUT it's a jogger, and we only use it because A) we like to hike and he's too heavy for the backpack and B) after 2 miles under his own steam forward progress comes to a standstill.)
Believe it or not, we have made some progress in the last year:
He now dresses himself.
We no longer let my parents spoon feed him.
Yes, you read that right. Well into 3 the Cracker would insist he couldn't feed himself when the my parents were around. And they'd happily sit there for hours after squabbling over who had won the honor the last time. Hands in his lap, all he had to do was open wide, chew and swallow. Even I admit it made me a little sick.
I like to tell myself it's not all bad. If you're on his top 10 list of favorite people he will ask to "cuddle" with you and his magic blankie no less than a dozen times a day. I like to think his future partner is going to thank me for that one.
Last week at preschool I was making chit chat with one of the teachers and a couple of parents (we have an above average number of metrosexual stay-at-home-dad's in our Co-op) when I stupidly volunteered that the Cracker had only recently moved out of his crib.
Insert the look of horror.
"You mean a toddler bed."
"No, we never converted it. And he slept so well we figured why mess with a good thing?"
"Weren't you worried he'd hurt himself climbing out in the middle of the night?"
"He never climbed out. He climbed in, but never out."
Okay, so maybe we are turning him into a freak.
I had been telling myself we'd convert the crib to a toddler bed by his 4th birthday at the latest, but we were 2 months away and had yet to make a move.
This time the universe intervened.
I was wandering through Costco with my parents when we came across my deal of the year: the last unopened nearly identical evil twin of the Pottery Barn Boat Bed on Costco clearance and priced to move for $199. Yes, the 9 foot long mostly wooden complete with trundle whose coordinating nightstand alone is $299 + shipping + tax. (Ours is the Bayside Furnishings La Jolla Boat Bed also available at Home Depot online if you dare to compare.) And while I like name brands as much as the next gal, the fact that the base price of the PBK one was 4.9967 times more than our first car I was thrilled. G'parents bought the bed as an early birthday gift and we bought the mattress.
(Trundle doubles as storage for all those kid’s clothes we hope to use again. Oh the storage!)
If you're still shaking your head let me tell you that transitioning at 46 months was a breeze compared to stories I'd heard long ago from my colleagues. "This is your big boy bed and you will stay in it until morning" totally worked. Okay, he didn't always remain horizontal, but at least when we would peek in he was always sitting on the edge swinging his legs back and forth in a criss-cross pattern talking to imaginary seahorses.
The mornings went almost as well. We had one "Daddy why aren't you wearing any underwear in bed?" and two apparently not early enough interrupted sex sessions. (Because, of course, the week he got the bed was also the week that I was ovulating.)
On the plus side, we were able to imprison him in his high chair, slap a couple of Yo Baby's down, buying ourselves 10 more minutes of uniterrupted adult time.
Next up: wiping his own ass. With toilet paper.
BTDT.
When you're a first time parent, and then you don't have a second child in the socially acceptable amount of time, the number of crazy things with your firstborn that you most likely wouldn't do again the next go 'round increases exponentially. I'm an only child myself, so I get it.
Guilty.
(And let me just take this opportunity to thank all the people over the years who've told me that for an only I am not a freak like the all the rest. Yeah...uh...thanks.)
Here's to hoping the damage isn't permanent.
So here are a few admissions (and justifications):
At 4 years, 1 month and 2 weeks he still eats Yo Baby because he claims to hate all other yogurt. (He can't drink cow's milk and always prefers water over soy milk.) (I actually blame our granola Pediatrician on this one because she insisted that we not introduce other types of milk until he stopped breastfeeding at 19 months.) (And it's not because he's drinking juice, which remains high on his list of the world's evils.)
He still takes the majority of his meals at home in his high chair. (He can't get up while eating, which makes eating faster and cleaning easier.) (And he hasn't used a high chair in a restaurant since he was 2.)
We put on all shoes that aren't slip-ons.
He still wears a diaper at night to catch the occasional accident. (Cheaper than Pull-ups and Overnights.)
He still sits happily in a stroller. (BUT it's a jogger, and we only use it because A) we like to hike and he's too heavy for the backpack and B) after 2 miles under his own steam forward progress comes to a standstill.)
Believe it or not, we have made some progress in the last year:
He now dresses himself.
We no longer let my parents spoon feed him.
Yes, you read that right. Well into 3 the Cracker would insist he couldn't feed himself when the my parents were around. And they'd happily sit there for hours after squabbling over who had won the honor the last time. Hands in his lap, all he had to do was open wide, chew and swallow. Even I admit it made me a little sick.
I like to tell myself it's not all bad. If you're on his top 10 list of favorite people he will ask to "cuddle" with you and his magic blankie no less than a dozen times a day. I like to think his future partner is going to thank me for that one.
Last week at preschool I was making chit chat with one of the teachers and a couple of parents (we have an above average number of metrosexual stay-at-home-dad's in our Co-op) when I stupidly volunteered that the Cracker had only recently moved out of his crib.
Insert the look of horror.
"You mean a toddler bed."
"No, we never converted it. And he slept so well we figured why mess with a good thing?"
"Weren't you worried he'd hurt himself climbing out in the middle of the night?"
"He never climbed out. He climbed in, but never out."
Okay, so maybe we are turning him into a freak.
I had been telling myself we'd convert the crib to a toddler bed by his 4th birthday at the latest, but we were 2 months away and had yet to make a move.
This time the universe intervened.
I was wandering through Costco with my parents when we came across my deal of the year: the last unopened nearly identical evil twin of the Pottery Barn Boat Bed on Costco clearance and priced to move for $199. Yes, the 9 foot long mostly wooden complete with trundle whose coordinating nightstand alone is $299 + shipping + tax. (Ours is the Bayside Furnishings La Jolla Boat Bed also available at Home Depot online if you dare to compare.) And while I like name brands as much as the next gal, the fact that the base price of the PBK one was 4.9967 times more than our first car I was thrilled. G'parents bought the bed as an early birthday gift and we bought the mattress.
(Trundle doubles as storage for all those kid’s clothes we hope to use again. Oh the storage!)
If you're still shaking your head let me tell you that transitioning at 46 months was a breeze compared to stories I'd heard long ago from my colleagues. "This is your big boy bed and you will stay in it until morning" totally worked. Okay, he didn't always remain horizontal, but at least when we would peek in he was always sitting on the edge swinging his legs back and forth in a criss-cross pattern talking to imaginary seahorses.
The mornings went almost as well. We had one "Daddy why aren't you wearing any underwear in bed?" and two apparently not early enough interrupted sex sessions. (Because, of course, the week he got the bed was also the week that I was ovulating.)
On the plus side, we were able to imprison him in his high chair, slap a couple of Yo Baby's down, buying ourselves 10 more minutes of uniterrupted adult time.
Next up: wiping his own ass. With toilet paper.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Out
If I wait until I have the time and energy to write one big fat post about where we've been so far pursuing an IF diagnosis I think we all know it will never happen. So instead, here are some memorable moments:
Waiting 2 months to get J in for a complete physical with his PCP, only to have him come home and tell me that all they did was check his weight and blood pressure. Oh, and btw, the latter is high. (He has since decided that the doctor was wrong and that the nurse who checked it at his office is right. But he refuses to prove it to me at any of those little pharmacy stands.)
(This is me, banging my head against the wall.)
The moment when we started getting taken seriously after a PCT done just to humor me/shut me up.
(Ah ha! "Everything has come back perfectly normal, so let's just wait a year" MY ASS.)
Having evil nurse swear that she called the lab again and that those darn semen analysis results still aren't available *2 months* after the fact. Picking them up directly from the lab in person and handing them to a stammering her.
(I believe I said "ours, but we'll allow you to make a copy.")
A late Saturday night, working our way through reams of paperwork at the kitchen table sent over by the RE, frustration with each other mounting as we try to agree on whether or not to check high blood pressure (see above) when SNL begins replaying Dick in a Box.
(A truly great moment.)
Ovulating at the in-laws. Suggesting we visit a naughty shop to get him in the mood for perfectly timed sex at his parent's while his entire family is congregating downstairs in a not-so-big house. And having him announce to everyone that his wife is looking for a sex store. And then having someone comment that I am looking for a new dildo I'd seen on the internet. And then having my FIL question whether or not I know that dildos don't make babies and aren't you guys ttc?
(And guess what? I'm expecting a positive OPK Thursday night, with travel back to the in-laws scheduled for Friday. Two months in a row? How sexy/conducive to baby-making is that?!)
And let's never forget the panicky last minute oh-shit-I-forgot coiffing.
(Hurrying is always a bad idea.)
(And I have to give a big thank you to those of you who have listened to me whine, complain and cry up until this point. It's so not over yet.)
Waiting 2 months to get J in for a complete physical with his PCP, only to have him come home and tell me that all they did was check his weight and blood pressure. Oh, and btw, the latter is high. (He has since decided that the doctor was wrong and that the nurse who checked it at his office is right. But he refuses to prove it to me at any of those little pharmacy stands.)
(This is me, banging my head against the wall.)
The moment when we started getting taken seriously after a PCT done just to humor me/shut me up.
(Ah ha! "Everything has come back perfectly normal, so let's just wait a year" MY ASS.)
Having evil nurse swear that she called the lab again and that those darn semen analysis results still aren't available *2 months* after the fact. Picking them up directly from the lab in person and handing them to a stammering her.
(I believe I said "ours, but we'll allow you to make a copy.")
A late Saturday night, working our way through reams of paperwork at the kitchen table sent over by the RE, frustration with each other mounting as we try to agree on whether or not to check high blood pressure (see above) when SNL begins replaying Dick in a Box.
(A truly great moment.)
Ovulating at the in-laws. Suggesting we visit a naughty shop to get him in the mood for perfectly timed sex at his parent's while his entire family is congregating downstairs in a not-so-big house. And having him announce to everyone that his wife is looking for a sex store. And then having someone comment that I am looking for a new dildo I'd seen on the internet. And then having my FIL question whether or not I know that dildos don't make babies and aren't you guys ttc?
(And guess what? I'm expecting a positive OPK Thursday night, with travel back to the in-laws scheduled for Friday. Two months in a row? How sexy/conducive to baby-making is that?!)
And let's never forget the panicky last minute oh-shit-I-forgot coiffing.
(Hurrying is always a bad idea.)
(And I have to give a big thank you to those of you who have listened to me whine, complain and cry up until this point. It's so not over yet.)
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