PLEASE NOTE: If you are struggling with infertility or are currently trying to conceive and you DON'T want to read about my pregnancy (which I totally understand), I recommend starting at the beginning of the blog (March 2010) and reading from there. I find out I'm pregnant in June 2011 so there is a lot of trying to conceive posts in between that you might find funny, helpful or relatable. Wishing you all the luck in the world!

Monday, February 21, 2011

To Wallow or Not Wallow? That is the Question

There is a quote by the great philosopher, Homer Simpson, that I’ve always loved. So much so that I’ve mentioned it quite a few times on this blog. It goes like this, “You’ve tried and you failed. What’s the lesson? Never try.”

This quote always cracks me up. Do I completely agree with it? No, but it still makes me laugh every single time I hear it. I mean, let’s face it. We can all relate to that feeling, can’t we?

Yesterday, I began to notice that I was spotting. I hoped it was implantation bleeding but this morning, when the spotting became almost a whole sentence, I realized the Rudy, the lone embryo may have become Rudy, the no embryo so I called the nurse at the clinic.

My blood work was supposed to be on Friday, the 25th. When I explained to her what was going on, she advised me to take a home pregnancy test. If it was negative, she told me to come in tomorrow morning. If it was positive, she told me to just wait until Friday. So, I took a home test, and it was negative. I immediately wished that when I sent my husband to buy the test, I told him to pick up some maxi pads. Sh*t.

Now yes, I realize there is the slightest chance that the beta may show something but let’s face it, it’s very unlikely. And as I think about the events of the last few weeks and as I once again consider Homer’s words, I ask myself, “Should I have even bothered trying?” The answer, as annoyingly chipper as it is, is of course, yes.

When someone offers you a free IVF as part of a clinical trial and you’re a person who has both unexplained fertility issues as well as unexplained lack of savings, you take it. I don’t care if it’s someone on a street corner with a sign that says, “INVITRO - 5 Cents”, you smile and say, “Yes please!” I had to try it. I did the trial; I did my best and even though I have nothing to show for it other than some extra progesterone and a grainy picture of the embryo that couldn’t, I can still say I tried. It ain’t much but I’ll take it.

Next month, it’ll be officially two years that we’ve been working towards getting pregnant. We’ve never succeeded. Not once. The only positive pregnancy tests I’ve seen are the ones pregnant friends of mine have posted on Twitter or Facebook. This was our second IVF to fail despite having produced eleven eggs, using ICSY as well as assisted hatching and we even threw in the very best of intentions. But, as it stands now, it’s two years later and we’re still exactly where we started. It’s a hell of an annoying purgatory to be stuck in and what’s worse is it’s a purgatory you even get CHARGED to be stuck in. Really. WTF?

Now, I’m not going to lie: there have been a lot of tears in the last two days and I’m beyond frustrated with how this clinical trial went down. It was supposed to be a blessing: A free IVF that even covered freezing left over embryos. “How lucky are we to have the financial aspect removed PLUS it includes a back up plan!”, I thought. And then, to have produced so many more eggs than our first IVF! Things looked like they were finally falling into place.

But as you know, for reasons no one can explain (which has been a theme of my life lately), we only had one embryo. When even everyone at your fertility clinic is stunned at the results, you know it’s impressively bad and even though I always like impressing people, I prefer to do it in a more positive manner.

All bets were placed on the lone embryo. It only takes one! Everyone is rooting for him! Keep hope alive! But today, like clock work, Aunt Flo showed up and left me with a choice: I can be depressed and wallow in this, or I can choose to move forward. Don’t ask me how exactly but I’m forcing myself to move forward.

I’m upset and I plan to be upset for at least a little while. I’m going to have tequila and ice cream today (feel free to join me) and I’ll probably cry a little more but come tomorrow, I’m joining Weight Watchers again, I’ll make an appointment with the doctor, I’ll schedule a hair cut and I’ll look at my Savings Account and figure out a way to get at least $5000 more dollars without resorting to petty theft.

No one has told us we can’t have children and the last time I checked, I’m not dead so even though I’m down, I don’t yet consider myself out. I still have my sense of humor, I still have a great rack and I still have all of you.

And although I do feel like I’m in abusive relationship with hope, we are at least on speaking terms… so that’s something.

As always, I want to thank all of you for your emails, comments, Tweets, Facebook messages and texts. This has been very difficult but to know there are people out there that care and find your fertility issues as amusing as you do is a huge comfort. It also goes without saying that if any of you happen to have any extra hormones, money or babies lying around, I hope you’ll consider giving them to me.

Now… on to the next disaster…

Friday, February 18, 2011

Wish You Were Here

I have a running joke at my day job. Note that I always call it a “day job” to remind myself that what I do from 9am to 5pm is not actually my life. Anyway, the joke goes that if you live in New Jersey or if you have a small child, you always have a ‘Get Out of Jail Free Card’.

I’ve lost count of how many people haven’t come into work because they either have a sick kid at home or the weather in New Jersey is so bad that they couldn’t possibly make it in to Manhattan, which is where I work. There is public transportation available, but for some reason, whenever there is snow, there simply isn’t a New Jersey employee to be found. Maybe they’re afraid of snow? I’m not sure.

The reason I mention this is because I took off a few days last week for my IVF. Monday was the retrieval, Thursday was the transfer and Friday was the day I watched crap TV while trying to comfort my sore uterus.

When I had asked for the whole week off, my boss was not at all agreeable. As you may remember, I told him about the clinical trial in the hopes that he would be understanding and flexible. It became clear by his reaction however that I was wrong and he was anything but. Instead, I ended up getting a lecture about how busy things are at the office and at some point, I needed to ask myself if I’m capable of keeping up with work and dealing with “this fertility thing”. This fertility thing? He made it sound like a hobby. It had the same tone to it as someone saying, “When are you going to give up on this whole acting dream of yours? Be happy with your job as an accountant!

I tried to explain to him that neither myself of the clinic could reason with my ovaries on the state of our current work flow. My ovaries have follicles and these follicles know nothing of the business world. All of us: me, my husband, my family, the doctors, my therapist, and even my boss are basically at the mercy of my female organs.

His response was, “Look, we had four kids without any problems so I don’t know how it all works for you…”

I said, “I’m happy that you don’t know how it works. I wish I didn’t know how it works because it’s annoying.”

Well, I don’t know if I would use the word annoying.” he said.

You don't have to use that word because I just did. It is annoying but again, you wouldn’t know that.” I was losing my patience.

As he launched into a monologue where he tried to be sensitive while stressing his needs, I began to think about the Oscars and how they get winners to wrap up their speeches. Wouldn’t that be great if you could do that in real life? If someone is going on and on about something you think is total B.S., you could just start humming an orchestral piece and get them to shut the hell up. Think about it. I think it could seriously catch on as an effective device.

In the end, we agreed that any day I could come in - I would. This sucked donkey balls as having the whole week off would have been a huge help but I really had no choice. However, as far as he knew, I only took off Thursday and Friday. The reality though is that I actually took off Monday as well, but he never knew it. Many were out that day for a meeting, including him, so thanks to the assistance of a few of my co-workers and my handy blackberry, we pulled off ‘Operation-No-Really-Jay’s-in-the-Office”. I think at one point in the day, I even emailed someone, “What do you mean you don’t see me at my desk? I’m sitting right there!

Working Tuesday and Wednesday was not at all fun. I was uncomfortable, hormonal, tired, bloated and frankly, pissed off and resentful that I had to be there. If you could take off because you had a sick kid, why couldn’t I take off in order to acquire a sick kid?

This week, when I returned to the office, I received an email from my boss double-checking that I used my vacation days for Thursday and Friday. Had I known those two days were my vacation, I would have taken more pictures to show my colleagues when I returned. Never mind photos of me sunning myself on a beach! Here’s a picture of me in a hospital gown getting knocked unconscious!

Better yet, perhaps I should have sent him a post card, “Wish You Were Here!” with the words, “So I could stick a needle in your vagina and extract your eggs!” hand written in.

“Fertility things” (as my boss so delicately put it) are medical issues. They are not hobbies, vacations or even something I would describe as remotely fun. I would think they would count as either sick days or perhaps if we all signed a petition, we can get “infertility days” instated.

It’s also worth noting that a woman who holds a similar role as me at my day job is off this entire week on a cruise. Why she gets to take a cruise without getting as much crap as I did remains a mystery. Maybe my boss likes me better and just doesn’t want me out of the office. Maybe going on a cruise is far more acceptable than getting an invitro. Maybe if I had the invitro in New Jersey, this all would have been a non-issue. I haven’t a clue. The only thing I do know is this whole matter was handled poorly.

For now though, I’m focusing more on my two week wait. I’m following the doctor’s orders, trying to remain calm, taking deep breaths and visualizing Rudy, the lone embryo implanting. Hopefully, this cycle will be successful. For if it is, I’m immediately moving somewhere it snows a lot and giving my kid an ear infection so I can stay home.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Rudy, The Lone Embryo

Rudy - The Embryo
On Wednesday night, right on time, the TV aired their usual, “It’s 10pm. Do you know where your children are?” segment. Lord knows I’ve asked myself that question a lot in the past two years. This night though, I could at least say, “Yes. In a petri dish in midtown New York.

The transfer day was yesterday, and I must apologize for not blogging about it sooner. It’s hard to type when you’ve spent most of the day with your legs up in the air. This is probably why there aren’t a lot of blogs written by working prostitutes. That’s just my theory though.

As you know, we had just the one embryo to transfer. This has been difficult for me to accept. In general, I’ve taken a Queen of Hearts from ALICE IN WONDERLAND response to this disappointment and have very much wanted off with someone’s head. This is not like me. I’m pretty resilient and can put a positive spin on most things. I am also a firm believer that if you make something funny, you can immediately make it better. The trouble has been though that either due to hormones or exhaustion, I’ve had a harder time being all zip-a-dee-doo-dah over recent developments.

While throwing one long fabulous tantrum (I even had my own soundtrack for it featuring such hits as the Rolling Stones, “You Can't Always Get What You Want” and “Please, Please, Please - Let Me Get What I Want” by Morrissey), my husband started referring to the one embryo we produced as “Rudy”.

For those of you who don’t know, he was referencing Daniel "Rudy" Ruettiger who is famous for wanting to play for the Notre Dame Fighting Irish football team, despite being merely 5'5" and 165 pounds. Somehow, despite all odds, he ended up playing for the team and in a final play of one game in particular, he sacked the opposing quarterback, and was carried off on the shoulders of his teammates. Rudy was the first of only two players in Notre Dame history ever to be carried off the field by his teammates. This was all depicted in a movie called RUDY starring Sean Astin. Leave it to my husband to take a problem stemming from eggs, sperm and embryos and somehow turn it into a sport reference.

Thanks to my husband’s new nickname for our embryo, despite our fears and concerns over having only one, we began rooting for it like he was an underdog who desperately wanted to play football… or implant in my uterus… or both. We deemed ourselves Team Rudy.

It's a small team but we've got great t-shirts.

Before the transfer, I went to acupuncture and that was a help. I know different things have been said about the connection between acupuncture and IVF success rates but for me, whether it has conclusive medical benefits or not, it’s just damn relaxing. I mentioned to my acupuncturist that we were now calling the embryo ‘Rudy’ and without missing a beat, she said, “After the football player? I love it!

Clearly, we recruited another member for Team Rudy.

As I lay there looking like the lead character in the movie HELLRAISER, I didn’t visualize anything or even fantasize about making out with Jon Hamm (as I sometimes do). I just stopped thinking about everything altogether and listened to the wind flute CD my acupuncturist had playing in the background. Mind you – I won’t be downloading this CD on my mp3 player anytime soon but it was still lovely at that moment.

I headed to the clinic feeling calmer and ready to meet with the embryologist. He came in with a nurse, sat us down and explained that eleven eggs were retrieved, ten were mature, all received ICSY (Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection) but for reasons they don’t understand, only one embryo multiplied. He also added that they were shocked by this as they expected at least six embryos.

On one hand, it was nice to feel validated. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder where the hell these six expected embryos went! I haven’t even had kids and already, they were abandoning me.

In an effort to focus on the positive, the conversation quickly turned to Rudy. The doctor told us that the embryo was a clean 7-Cell embryo as of Wednesday and they used assisted hatching to give it a better chance of implanting. Sam told the doctor that we were calling the embryo as Rudy and before we could even explain why, he said, “Ohhhh! I love that movie!” Rudy wasn’t even transferred yet and he was making friends all over the place!

As I lay down and they put my legs up in the stirrups, the doctor came over to me and said, “Just so you know, we just checked Rudy and he’s now an 8-cell embryo so he’s still multiplying! He’s a real fighter!” I took a deep breath and hoped the doctor was right. Everything feels like it’s riding on this one embryo. I tried to think positively and relax despite the fact that I had a full bladder and a catheter up my ying yang. “C’mon Rudy… implant. Please just implant…” I whispered.

After the transfer, they had me lay flat on my back for a half hour. One of the nurses came in and handed me two pieces of paper. One was a report card of sorts. It listed IVF 2 onto one little index card:

EGGS RETRIEVED – 11
MATURE EGGS – 10
ICSY – 10
EMBRYOS – 1
ASSISTED HATCHING - 1

The other piece of paper was a black and white picture of Rudy. Since I couldn’t get up and there was nowhere to put them, I lay there holding them both and reflecting on all that had happened.

After a few minutes, my husband came in and sat down next to me. We sat there quietly for a bit before Sam smiled and said, “You know… I have a good feeling. Maybe Rudy said to the other embryos, ‘Back off! I got this!’”

I tried to smile back. “It really depends on how this story ends. If we get pregnant, then this whole thing will make sense. If it doesn’t, then we’re back to square one."

I held up the report card with my right hand and said, “I just can’t understand what went wrong.

Sam took the report card out of my hand and said, “I think we should pay less attention to this piece of paper, and more attention to the other one.” And he motioned to the picture in my left hand of Rudy, the lone embryo.

And he’s right. I still can’t help but be disappointed and confused but at the very least, we have one strong embryo that has a whole lot of people rooting for him. It’s going to be a tough two week wait but I’m going to do my best to remain optimistic, continue writing, taking it easy and maybe... just maybe I should consider actually seeing the movie RUDY.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Are you there God? It’s a Pissed Off Infertile

This morning, I did something I haven’t done in a while; I went to church. I’m agnostic through and through. I don’t know if there is a god or that there isn’t. I truly don’t rule it out but I don’t rely on it either. I say this not to convert anyone to my beliefs or to offend anyone. It’s just more where I’m at and what I’m comfortable with.

However, in an effort to cover all my bases and be proactive while I try to make sense of the fertility report we received yesterday, I thought a leap of faith was in order. Besides, if god could get Mary knocked up and she never even had sex, he would perhaps be the best guy to help me.

God, Reproductive Endocrinologist Extraordinaire.

When I entered the church and didn’t get hit by lightning, I thought it was a good start.

Although I toyed with it, I almost began my prayer with, “Look, you don’t like me and I don’t like you…” but that seemed to be rather hostile. Truth be told though, if god does exist, I don’t think he hates me. I just think he’s got bigger fish to fry and can’t be bothered with some fertility-challenged New York writer. Let’s face it though – if this were the case, he’d have a point. There ARE bigger issues in this world. Despite my agnostic status, I always get annoyed when I hear a singer thank god for his or her Grammy win. I mean, really… I would hope god would be more concerned with people who are dying or in pain then making sure your recent album gets the respect it deserves.

That all being said, I did speak from my heart. I acknowledged that I’m not the best person in the world nor am I someone that keeps in touch often but if he had a moment, I’d sincerely appreciate the help. I prayed for getting another embryo or at the very least, have the one that currently exists staple gun itself to my uterine lining.

I felt satisfied with my prayer and as I went to leave, I looked down to see an empty cup of holy water. I’m trying not to take this as a sign.

Right near the church, there’s a Chase bank. They are having a promotion that if you deposit more than a thousand dollars into your savings account, you’re entered into a lottery that could double your deposit… or something like that. Since I’m always on the lookout for extra money, especially if I end up doing another mother fucking IVF, I went to the bank to sign up for the offer.

Somehow, and I still can’t quite believe this, the two customer service representatives I met with asked me about my savings in general and I mentioned that I had a separate account that wasn’t with Chase. When they asked why, I figured, “Screw it…” and I explained it was for an invitro if I needed one. This led to me basically giving these two total strangers in blue Chase sweater vests my entire fertility history. I don’t know what was weirder: That I was sharing this much with my bank or that they genuinely seemed very interested.

In the end, I told them that if my transfer was successful tomorrow, I could close my other account and put all my money into my Chase Savings. “One good transfer deserves another”, I mused. My final statement to them, other than ‘thank you’ was, “See? It’s in your interest that I get pregnant this week!”

It wasn’t even lunch time and I had already begged both god and my bank representatives to help get me pregnant.

After managing not to unload my current fertility concerns on anyone else, 4:15pm rolled around and I got a call from a nurse letting me know that it’s still just the one embryo. When I asked the quality of it, she said they’d tell me more tomorrow but all she knew was that it was viable so she’d see me tomorrow.

If I’m being honest (and why wouldn’t I be? It’s my blog), I’m not optimistic at this moment. I know I should be and I know that there’s still a chance but again, I’m just not feeling hopeful. Perhaps tomorrow the doctor will say something inspiring or maybe I’m still dealing with my disappointment, but overall, right now, I’m not feeling very ‘Go Team’. I’m more in a ‘Go F*ck Yourself’ kinda mood.

Rest assured though that I’ll do everything the clinic tells me to. I’ve got acupuncture set up for tomorrow. I’m prepared for bed rest. I’ve stocked up on walnuts (because I heard they were good for implantation) and I’m going to do my best to literally bond with this embryo. I can only hope that if god did hear my prayer today, he’ll be forgiving & help a pissed off infertile out. Time will tell.

In the meantime, I just want to say again how much I’ve appreciated your comments, emails, texts and Tweets. I was truly overwhelmed today with how many people thought to say hello, offer some words of hope (or humor) and simply make sure I was hanging in. There are simply not enough words to thank you. I promise you – no matter what happens, I will not lose my sense of humor and I will root for all of you as much as you’ve all rooted for me.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The WTF Fertility Report

It was around 1:30pm today that I got the call regarding my fertility report. When I heard the nurse say, “So… you had eleven eggs… and it looks like you only have one embryo...”, I thought perhaps my cell phone was playing tricks on me. It’s new and I’m still getting used to it so I was hoping that my Android Incredible was simply malfunctioning and turning what should be positive statements into negative statements.
One? Did you say one?” I asked in total disbelief.
Yes.” She answered as if I shouldn’t be concerned.
But we had eleven eggs.” I protested.
I know… sometimes that just happens.”
It just happens? You know what else happens? Shit. That’s what else happens.

With my last IVF, I had five eggs and managed to get three embryos out of the deal so I can’t figure out what went wrong this time. Did they forget to do the ICSI? Did the universe realize it was being good to me and quickly correct it? Was this woman actually a nurse from the clinic or some cruel bitch playing a joke on me? Really people – WTF?

They are going to keep checking and maybe, somehow, another embryo will make a grand entrance before it’s too late. The thing is that with the clinical trial, they do the transfer on day three no matter what. I even offered to kick in some money if we could wait till Day five but they can’t do that. The trial said day three transfer so day transfer three it is. So if there’s another embryo ready to emerge, they’ve got till this Thursday to do it. I hope they have a day planner and an alarm clock because the clock is ticking.

Now I realize that the reality is that it only takes one. I know this. I was never good at math but I do know that in this case, one is better than nothing. I just can’t understand how this has happened. Of what guarded optimism I had, this news has pretty much taken a piss all over it.

I phoned our “Clinical Trial Guide”, Drew Barrymore (again, not her real name but just as lovely as the actress) and left her a voice mail letting her know what was going on and that I was shocked and confused. She called me back almost immediately and said she’d get my doctor to call me.

As I waited to talk to the doctor, I started to get even more worried that he was going to say something that would make me feel worse. That my eggs were crap. That my husband’s sperm lost the will to fertilize. That the one embryo we had was a long shot. That this was all somehow my fault. Anything and everything ran through my mind.

Eventually, he called me back and I’m happy to say it was not the worst conversation I’ve ever had. He said they were surprised at the outcome as well but the one embryo we have seems like its good quality and it’s entirely possible more may spring up overnight. He doesn’t think it’s the clinical trial I’ve been doing as the study in general has been going well and he also doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with my husband or me so at least we have that going for us.

Any which way, it’s clear we’re not going to have any embryos to freeze. I suppose the upside of this is I won’t have to worry about knitting teeny tiny mittens.

Perhaps I should at least contact the clinic and ask them to play Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" to the one viable embryo we've got going for us. Who doesn't get inspired by that song?

In the end, I guess there's really nothing to do now but hope for the best, finish this out, see what happens and prepare to go on to the next step if it isn't a success.

Well, that and perhaps drink heavily.

As always, truly from the bottom of my heart, I thank each and every one of you for your support. You are my human form of Prozac.

The Golden Retrieval

I awoke this morning to a note I had left myself the night before: “Don’t forget to stick progesterone gel up your cooch!” Clearly, today is the day after my retrieval.

Ever since January 28th, I have been heavily into hormone shots, daily visits to the clinic and doing my damndest to not let my over producing ovaries effect my outfits or my day job. It’s a delicate balance but I do feel like I managed the task at hand.

Every single morning, I was at the clinic for blood work and a sonogram. As annoying at this was schedule wise, I can honestly say this afforded me way more attention than I got with my first IVF. I didn’t just visit this clinic as much as I feel like we were in a committed relationship. If the wand they used for the intravaginal sonogram vibrated, then we’d really have something special going on. Someone would definitely get a Valentine’s Card out of that deal.

Happy Valentines Day! Thank you for the hot sonogram action...

Of course it’s not fun being shot in your stomach with hormones, having your veins opened for blood work, being prodded for an ultra sound or getting an injection in your thigh every single day to keep you from prematurely ovulating but I dare say you get used to it. Still though -- I’ve never had so many foreign substances stuck in me as I’ve had the last ten days. Now I know how Jenna Jameson must have felt during her porn career.

One of the odd advantages too of doing a clinical trial is that they didn’t give me too much information. I realize that may sound odd as so many fertility challenged people like to know how their uterine lining is doing, how many follicles they have and how everything is looking but during this process, they really didn’t go into details. I never realized how much of a relief that could be.

Every day, I’d usually one woman or another and she’d look and say, “Everything is looking good. You’re right on target. You can get dressed now.” And that was it. Even if I asked, she’d rarely elaborate. She’d brush me off with a, “Too early to tell but things look fine.” It occurred to me that this was probably the better way to go. I mean if she did tell me anything like, “Your uterine lining isn’t looking good...”, what the hell could I do about it anyway? I can’t go home and work on that so why know it and have it ruin my day.

There was one day though, out of nowhere, I got what I can only explain as a very chatty, fabulously gay male technician for my sonogram. It was an all around welcome change from the glum women reporting on my uterine situation. I have since nicknamed him “Chatty Cathy” as he was the only one that actually gave me details. Well, I should say ‘details’. I should say a running commentary of why my organs were spectacular!

When he started the exam, the first thing he said was, “Your uterine lining is gorgeous!” If he gave me three snaps after saying this, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

He went on to tell me that I had quite a few follicles on both ovaries and that everything was looking down right fierce. That’s right. For one moment, my fertility was fierce. I didn’t just want this man to do my sonogram from here on out, I also wanted him to come over in the mornings, pick out my outfits and do my hair.

I mentioned to him that my left ovary tended to always lag behind so some of my doctors didn’t have much hopes for it producing many follicles. He looked at me with utmost sincerity and said, “Well honey. I think your left ovary has seriously been misjudged.” Have I mentioned that I love this man?

On Saturday morning, we found out that the retrieval would be on Monday. I still can’t believe how quickly this all went but I’m grateful for it. When I arrived at the clinic, I found out that my usual doctor happened to be working that day and he would be doing the retrieval. This made me extra happy. Mind you – any doctor there I’m sure is gifted but my logic is that this man has already seen my va-jay-jay several times. He did my Sonohysterogram and removed my uterine polyp so there’s history there. He knows his way around my lady parts.

It was lovely to see him in the operating room and we exchanged pleasantries. He asked how the trial was going and I told him it was pretty damn good. Not what I would call fun, but so organized and planned that I didn’t really have to do a lot of thinking which was nice. What’s interesting to me is he said the doctor’s felt the same way. The trial is planned down to every last detail (how many embryos will be transferred, when they will be transferred, what the doses are, how often you visit the clinic, etc.) that it kind of takes away last minute changes and over thinking. Yes, it’s definitely more cookie cutter but there was nothing that they did that I disagreed with or that I thought was careless… plus… let’s not forget this whole thing was mostly for free so who am I to argue? I’m a financially and fertility challenged woman. I’ll take what I can get.

Right before they knocked me out, they asked if I was ready. Because of my last blog post, I HAD to say, “I’m bikini waxed and ready to go!” After a brief pause where I imagine they were debating whether or not they could laugh, they all ended cracking up. I was proud of myself for saying it but in the recovery room, I couldn’t help but wonder if while I was out, they said, “Wow. She really did. Check that out. It's like a topiary bush...

In the end, they retrieved ELEVEN eggs. With my first IVF at another clinic with another doctor, I only had five eggs. Although five eggs are respectable, let’s face it, eleven is better. I mean, that’s almost a dozen and if it’s good enough to sell in supermarkets, it’s good enough for me. And who knows, maybe the waxing helped my ovaries feel more attractive that they wanted to rise to the occasion. At least I’d like to think so.

Today, I’m back at work. I’m not happy being at work at all but my boss was a big pain in my ass about me not being here so I figure it’s better to be here after the retrieval then push myself after the transfer. I’m sitting a lot and of the few co-workers who know what’s going on, they are helping me out which is lovely. I’m taking my Doxycycline and Tylenol and passing the time till I can get my sore uterus back home. And yes, I took my progesterone this morning. I’m glad I left myself that note though. Who doesn’t enjoy a post-it when waking up about sticking something up your twat?

The transfer will be this Thursday no matter what and the trial will only allow for two embryos to be placed into the uterus. If there are extras, they’ll freeze them. Even though I’m hoping with all my heart that the two they transfer will take, I wouldn’t mind having a few on ice just in case.

Other than the bloating and the cramps and the fact that I’m at work and not at home in my pajamas watching mindless television, I’m feeling fine. I look like hell and I think some of the progesterone is dripping out of me… but again, I’m fine. If nothing else, I least I know my “uterine lining is gorgeous”. That’s a comfort.