amyg.com

ADVENTURES IN FERTILITY

We're really trying – Calendar and Thermometer
We're really really trying – Pee sticks and Computers
That’ll teach ‘er.
The Stress Factor
It’s not me, it’s him.
It’s not him, it’s me.
Going Caving: HSG
The Clomid Tango
Your period is a disaster.
You’re the baby in this office.
Roller Coaster
Melissa and Robert
That’ll teach ‘em.
Progesterone-free Zone
Very Superstitious
The word is out.
Getting Fertile
Guided Imagery
Fertility Gods
It's a go.
Waiting
Still Waiting
Disappointment is an understatement.
Oh, those golden ovums.
Laid off?
Once more into the dark.
Hyperstimulation
News from the dog pound.
Email Announcement to the Masses: Let's just make this official.

We're really trying – Calendar and Thermometer

I bought the calendar and the digital thermometer. I’m tracking everything about my vagina. What she’s feeling, what she looks like, what she’s got going into her and what she’s sending back out. She’s very happy with all the attention, but is caught of guard by it.

<back to top>

We're really really trying – Pee sticks and Computers

I bought a $200 computer at the drug store and the $40 box of pee sticks that go along with it. Now we’re really spending some money on this trying to get pregnant thing. I live by the computer. I pee on a stick every time it tells me to, which is about every day from day 7 through day 17 of my cycle. And it has to be my first morning pee. Most mornings I almost pee on myself – I dance around in the bathroom every morning at 6:30 a.m. waiting for the computer to tell me if I need to pee on a stick. And then the race begins. I have to get the box of pee sticks open, tear open the sterile foil, wrestle the pee stick out of the foil and get the stick underneath me to catch the pee stream.

<back to top>

That’ll teach ‘er.

I’ve told my close girlfriends that we’re trying. Really really trying. I probably shouldn’t tell people, but there’s so much to read, to know… and I can’t keep a secret. I tell my girlfriends a lot of things that I probably should keep to myself. And vice versa. And we always turn the most serious of things into jokes. If you can’t laugh at these trying times with your girlfriends, what are you going to do? Cry?

Well, yes. A couple of weeks after I told my girlfriend Christine that we were really really trying, we were together in the office and she suddenly turned to me out of nowhere and said, “(Gasp) Are you pregnant?” This just happened to be the morning that I had gotten my period. The timing was not good. But we’re so open with each other… I was completely caught off guard, not only by her question but by my reaction. I burst into tears.

Wait a minute. How come this is suddenly so traumatic? I apologized to her, as she sat there not knowing what to do, and I ran to the bathroom. After a moment she followed, apologizing profusely. What could I say besides, “It’s okay. No, I’m sorry.”

<back to top>

The Stress Factor

After a few months of the ovulation computer, tracking the basal temperature, making very pretty color-coded charts, we still aren’t pregnant.

My husband says that it’s because I am stressed out. That I can’t handled stress.

Don’t.

Blame.

Me.

I can’t take this.

<back to top>

It’s not me, it’s him.

My husband did his first stint with the sperm test. He went to Unilab, picked up the sterile packaging, brought it home and got on the Internet. Ahhh… the Internet.

The results from Unilab showed that he had a large number of malformed heads. It was translated to us that his sperm were swimming just fine, but then as they were knock knock knockin’ of ovum’s door, they couldn’t get in.

So I’m feeling a little smug. I’m feeling like all these conversations about how we’re not getting pregnant because I don’t know how to handle stress, are all over.

But the gynecologist looks at this “evidence” and says, “Well, it only takes one.” And then she suggests that I undergo exploratory laparoscopy. “Only a minor surgery,” she says.

I have no symptoms of endometriosis. She just said that he has malformed sperm. And she wants me to undergo exploratory surgery.

Is there something totally fucked up here, or is it just me?

<back to top>

It’s not him, it’s me.

My husband went to a urologist. “Soft hands,” he says about his experience. He produced a sperm sample in the office there, after smuggling in his own “material.” The material provided was from 1992 and some of the pages weren’t… well… some of the pages ... were stuck together. Moving on.

He produced a sample there in the office and the doctor immediately looked at the sample himself and counted the sperm.

He called us into his office for a consultation.

He wrote down everything that he saw. Good motility. Great numbers. Some malformed sperm, but great numbers of viable sperm. He let us look at them. They were very swimmy. He told us that the Unilab numbers were measured on a scale that was defined in 1906 and have not been updated since then. I think he was kidding about the date, but I couldn’t tell.

We sat in his office and listed to how great my husband’s sperm is. My husband asked a few questions, the doctor gave us a recommendation for a new gynecologist since I was not going back to the woman who had suggested exploratory surgery as our next step.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t ask questions. I just nodded or shook my head as needed.

My husband and I went out for breakfast after the appointment. As we were walking across the parking lot to the Denny’s or something like it, he asked if there was something wrong.

I nodded. And then burst into tears. “There’s something wrong with me,” I cried. “It’s not you, it’s me. I have something wrong with me.”

We walked back to the truck where he proceeded to hold onto me while I wailed and sobbed. I was surprised at myself at how much I was counting on this being something that we had to deal with from his side. And now we were told that he was fine. And without saying it, we were told that the problem was somewhere within me.

Thinking about it still makes me cry.

<back to top>

Going caving: HSG

The gynecologist tells me that I need to have an HSG (hysterosalpingogram). She describes it overall as shooting dye up into my uterus, and forcing it into the tubes leading out to the ovaries, and the radiologist will take a sonogram as the dye travels through and see if there’s any blockage .

So I make my appointment to see the radiologist. And it doesn’t occur to me until I walk into the x-ray room that I’ve never had a male gynecologist. At this point, however, I feel like I’ve enough people peering around my womb, their gender really doesn’t matter.

The nurse assisting the procedure is a lovely young woman who tries to make me feel at ease, urging me to pee before the procedure and making sure that I had someone to drive me home. I had been told this by my gynecologist as well, but figure this was overkill. But my husband was with me, just in case.

As I got settled on the cold metal table in the x-ray room the nurse told me that I had nothing to worry about, that the doctor was great and so funny. She also told me, “This is how my mom got pregnant with me! The HSG just flushed everything out and cleared the path for her to have a baby, and here I am!” Nothing like speculation from a 24-year-old nurse.

The doctor came into the room in a cloud of formality and efficiency. He introduced himself without looking up from my chart and then started ordering the nurse to move things around so he could get started.

He instructed me how to place my feet on the table and asked, “Did the nurse tell you what to expect?” When I said yes, replied, “Good.” Then he turned on the lights and we were on.

So not so great and really not very funny at all. I started to wonder what assholes this nurse must work with every day to think that this guy was such a winner.

He had a large overhead lamp so close to me that I could feel the heat on my vagina. Then he ordered the nurse to bring him another light so he could see what he was doing. “More light! More light!” he yelled.

She finally asked, “Would you like your headlamp, doctor?”

My sense of humor finally kicked in and I started my normal uncontrolled laughter. “You’re not going spelunking for chrissakes!” I laughed.

He didn’t laugh. Again – not such a funny guy.

He continued down what I was thinking now of “the cave” and threaded the long thin dye injection tube up into my cervix and beyond. When the dye started to flow, the cramps immediately started in. He placed the paddle of the sonogram machine on my stomach and started taking pictures of the dye’s travel. All I could think was, “This is not what it looks like on the tampon box.” The tubes are very long and tiny – like long pieces of thread, curling around and twisting.

When he was done, my husband joined us to look at the film. This was important to me. Up to this point we were getting so many speculative answers and suggestions, I wanted to make sure that he was hearing everything that I was, in the same words and at the same time.

There seemed to be no blockage – everything looked copasetic.

Then I stood up. Ouch. It felt like he may have left something in there. The cramps were low and just above my pubic bone. Very different from period cramps.

My husband drove me home, rented me a bunch of movies, and served me ice cream. I was down for the count for the rest of the day. The cramps came and went, finally subsiding completely the following morning.

<back to top>

The Clomid Tango

My gynecologist prescribed Clomid to regulate my ovulation. This was after the first uterine biopsy came back inconclusive. He warned me that I may feel a little more emotional, or that I may get headaches. And that there was a very slightly heightened chance of giving birth to twins while on the drug.

So I started taking the Clomid every morning along with my daily Folic Acid and my Vitamin C. This first cycle of Clomid happened to occur at the same time as the launch of the new company that I had just started working at. There was a lot to do to get this company pushed out to the public eye.

We had a staff meeting, 3 weeks prior to the launch day and the 3 days after I started the Clomid. The vice president of marketing was at the whiteboard. “Let’s list the top five priorities that have to be completed in the next 3 weeks, then we’ll list the next five and figure out what we have time to accomplish from those.” We all nodded in agreement. He started writing.

“Number one.” It was something about press relations, and I had nothing to do with it. I tok a deep breath and thought to myself Thank God I’m not number one. Literally, those very words.

“Number two.” The website launch. My website. All me.

“Number three.” The book we were publishing in-house. My book. All me.

“Number four.” The 23 whitepapers that we were writing in house. My whitepapers. All me.

I started to hyperventilate. My hands were shaking. I wanted to cry. Now, these tasks and this timeline, even the priority of the projects that I had on my plate, came as no surprise. But, wow! Clomid has an odd way of bringing things into sharp contrast and bringing on the panic.

So I decided to start taking the Clomid at night for my next cycle. Which was fine by the doctor. I figured that if I took it late at night, I could pretty much sleep of the most offensive effects and try to stay calm.

Except that the next cycle coincided with the tradeshow debut of the company’s launch in Las Vegas. I took my first pill just before my husband was to drive me to the airport for the trip.

As we drove to the airport, he mentioned a friend of his that had found himself single again. This friend happens to be so good-looking that his being single is something that will last about 2 days before he picks up the next short-term relationship. I can’t express enough how beautiful this man is. He usually dates models, strippers, actresses.

My husband asked me if I thought any of my girlfriends would be a good set up. After thinking for a moment, I mentioned my acquaintance Gail, a woman with an average-attractive face, but whose body is incredible and who is smart and making good money at her job.

My husband thought for a moment and then said that she wasn’t good looking enough for his friend.

Before you think this is insensitive, keep in mind that he and I talk this way all the time. His friend is truly off-the-scale of a normal good-looking guy. And my acquaintance is merely pretty.

Keeping that in mind, and keeping in mind as well that Gail is really a friend of a friend of mine… imagine our surprise when I went nuts on him. “What the fuck? You don’t think Gail’s HOT enough for your friend?! What kind of bullshit is that?! If you don’t want my opinion on this, then don’t ask me.”

We drove in silence for a moment.

Then he turned to me and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry… And wow. What was that exactly?”

I had to laugh. “I have no idea what that was. I hardly know her. I’m on drugs.”

“Ahhh… right…”

<back to top>

Your period is a disaster.

Just when I thought I’d lost my sense of humor about all this, my gynecologist says something so out of left field, I find myself laughing hysterically through my tears of frustration.

It’s the day of my second, and subsequent immediate third, uterine biopsy (he wasn’t able to get enough tissue that second time). The doctor has done the procedure, cleaned up, and is talking to me about the next steps that we will be taking when I start to get teary-eyed. This doctor, while sensitive and kind, is often in a rush. But as soon as he sees some tears he immediately stops his quick escape and leans up against the counter, asking me what exactly is the matter.

I take a deep breath and admit to simple emotional overload. He cocks his head and starts to try his hand at understanding. “I know… I know…” he whispers, “at this stage, every time you get your period, it’s a disaster…”

A disaster?

I start to laugh. And then I start to really laugh.

“Doctor, nine-eleven… now that was a disaster,” I say through the fits. “Getting pregnant and losing the baby? That’s a disaster. But my period? Not so much…”

And just when I was losing perspective…

<back to top>

You’re the baby in this office.

Just returned from my initial head-to-toe physical with the fertility gods of San Jose/Palo Alto. The woman was very nice -- a nurse practitioner with a masters degree in midwifery. She was very kind.

But no one can say anything right to me. In our conversation after the physical, she says to me, “Trust me, dear, you are the baby in this office. You are so young. You should have no problem getting pregnant.”

Ahem.

If I were having no problem getting pregnant, do you think I would be here talking to you? It's pretty obvious that I am having a problem getting pregnant.

If one more person tells me how young I am, I will clock them with my shoe.

<back to top>

Roller Coaster

So the roller coaster has hit the apex and now were racing downhill. We’re really trying now. (Don’t ask what we’ve been doing for the past three years… ‘cause whatever it was, we’re really doing it now…)

A full physical today, inside and out. Blood tests for me tomorrow. Gonadatropin counseling on Monday. Injection training Wednesday next week. And somewhere in there my husband gets his sperm tested once again and also gets to do a ton of blood tests. And then in 1 month we start the injections and in 6 weeks we do artificial insemination.

I'm going down that roller coaster. Especially when, during my physical today the nurse practitioner had me throw my arms over my head so she could do a breast exam. I thought, "This is exactly the way I put my arms as I go careening down a roller coaster." I wonder what she would have done if I had screamed with terrified delight when she touched my breasts.

<back to top>

Melissa and Robert

And in my spare time, I marry people. Melissa and Robert dated in high school. She was a senior and he was a freshman. What a high school scandal. It seems that the pressure of that kind of age discrepancy (“he can’t even drive!”) took its toll and the young adults parted ways.

Years and relationships later, they re-found each other through a mutual friend, fell madly in love and decided to get married.

But somewhere during these years, Melissa had been diagnosed with cancer. She fought it, and won, after many painful months of aggressive treatment.

Prior to the wedding, Melissa and Robert, who wanted to start a family right away, wondered if she could ever even get pregnant. After the chemotherapy and radiation and subsequent weakness and illness, they were pretty sure that she was “barren.”

Deserts are barren. Women are not barren. There is nothing barren about me.

So they started taking her basal temperature. He was tracking everything, writing it all down, very into the moment and the process.

They got pregnant immediately and decided to have the wedding after the baby was born. They planned the wedding to take place 3 months after the baby was due.

The pregnancy caused the reemergence of her cancer in full force.

Having already been through this once before, Melissa did not panic. She was not able to begin treatment of the cancer until the baby was born, so she concentrated on having a healthy baby.

Baby Aiden was born on time, and with few complications. He’s a beautiful little boy with parents who love him desperately.

Melissa started her treatments immediately. Knowing that she was destined to lose her hair and become very ill through these treatments, they decided to get married right away.

I received a phone call on a Tuesday from a mutual friend our mine and Melissa's. I had performed my first wedding ceremony 3 weeks prior and had told quite a few people about it in my excitement. So when Melissa and Robert asked me if I could marry them on Sunday, I took them up on the challenge and called in the troops of my phenomenal women friends who offered everything from their homes (thank you Linda) to their coordination (thank you Lisa) to their furnishings (thank you Allie). None of these women knew Melissa, but they all were willing to make this wedding happen.

I met with Melissa and Robert on Thursday to write their vows. The house was quiet. Baby Aiden slept on Melissa’s lap for the 3 hours that I was there.

With the fate of their re-meeting, Melissa’s illness and the new baby in the house, the love that I felt in that house was something I’ve never felt before. There was a desperation in the love – as if Melissa and Robert could hardly be out of each others sight. I’m not a mystically oriented person, but I was loathe to position myself between the two of them in the room because of the near tangible connection between the two of them.

Was this because of the baby? Because of Melissa's illness? Because of the impending marriage? I still don’t know. Even after standing in front of the small gathering of their friends and family on Linda’s back porch overlooking the Pacific Ocean, I couldn’t tell what this power was that was so evident in tying these two people, who became three people, together.

All I knew was that I was jealous. Of a girl with cancer.

<back to top>

That’ll teach ‘em.

So I have a new tack for people who are assholes and ask the ever stupid question, “So when are you guys having kids?” We’ve been hearing this question for about 4 years now. We’ve been married for 6 years, together for 8. Apparently people think that we need more pressure to start a family and that the general populous are just the folks to provide that pressure.

So now when I get that horribly insensitive question, I give ‘em the facts – every single detail from my regular cycles, to my progesterone replacement, to Paul’s sperm count. And if they try to escape, I throw in anecdotes about my gynecologists and my mother.

<back to top>

Progesterone-free Zone

I am a progesterone-free zone. Apparently this girl here doesn’t like to produce progesterone. So nothing sticks. Nada. No sticking. Fertilized egg? Don’t matter. It ain’t gonna stick. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe.

<back to top>

Very Superstitious

Every month a new superstition arises. When I first started trying to get pregnant (we don’t even talk about trying to “have a baby” – first things first) I truly believed that once I bought my calendar that was solely dedicated to tracking my temperature, discharge, period and sexual activity that I would get pregnant. It was like I didn’t even have to USE the calendar. Just having it in my possession would somehow make the pregnancy happen.

That was the first superstition.

Then there was the ovulation computer. A friend who had just had a baby told me at a barbecue that she had bought this ovulation computer for $200 and before she even took it out of the packaging, she was pregnant. So she gave it to a friend who was just beginning to try. And that friend got pregnant before she had a chance to use it. Then it happened a THIRD time with a third friend to whom the very same computer was given. I went right out and bought my very own pregnancy talisman, taking careful note of the brand and type.

Apparently I should have just borrowed the one that was making the rounds. The secret is: The magic isn’t in every one of those computers. Just that one. And for all I know it is on its way to Indiana to make the magic baby rounds there now that it has cut a swath of big bellies here in California.

Then there was the HSG (hysterosalpingogram). The HSG is this fantastic procedure where a doctor/radiologist you’ve never seen shoots blue dye up through the cervix, forcing it through the tubes to the ovaries. The nursing assistant was very sweet. “This is how my mom got pregnant with me,” she said. “The HSG just flushed everything out and cleared the path for her to have a baby, and here I am!”

So I held my breath through the 24 hour cramp fest and became convinced that this was the solution. We’ll just flush everything out and voila.

Or not.

Then we started with the Clomid. To regulate ovulation. After hyperventilating in a staff meeting, I started taking that at night instead. Take it at night.

Then we started the progesterone replacement in conjunction with the Clomid. 16 days of pushing a giant plastic syringe full of progesterone into my womb. I sat in front of my computer every day and could smell myself. Psychosomatic? I don’t think so. I was mortified.

Then we took a break. One month of no drugs, no trying – alcohol and caffeine are back on the menu for one whole month. This is where that ever-helpful advice comes in: “We got pregnant when we just forgot about getting pregnant!”

I DEFY you to find a woman diagnosed with infertility to be able to forget about getting pregnant. It’s bullshit, straight and true.

So my superstitions continue.

At some point science will take over. Apparently that point is about 30 days from now. That’s when I begin the superstition of gonadotropins.

<back to top>

The word is out.

People are so careful in the way they word things. Like they don’t know that you can’t have kids, but they don’t think that YOU know that you can’t have kids.

“If you ever get around to having kids, take them to Chevy’s and let them watch the tortilla making machine. They just love that.”

One. YOUR kid loves that. Your kid also loves to stick pennies up her nose and thinks that she’s a horse.

Two. If I ever get around to it? Like it’s something that I’ve put on the back burner. Like cleaning out my closet… or organizing the garage. If I ever get around to that NINE MONTH LONG PROJECT that I keep putting off that will leave me with, not more room for my shoes, but an ass like a sandbag.

Procrastinating.

Procrastination as birth control.

If I’d known that procrastination was an effective method of birth control… Damn. This means that I’ve been practically sterile since puberty. My college years… why was I on the pill at all?! I’ve been a world-class procrastinator since I was born.

<back to top>

Getting Fertile

Tue 09 Sep 2003
I'm less hormonal right now than I've been for the past 6 months. After meeting with the fertility doctor for my initial consultation, I told him that I was absolutely NOT going to continue taking Clomid. He raised his eyebrows and started asking all sorts of health-realted questions about how my body was reacting to the Clomid. To put him at ease I told him that there was no physical reasons for my adamance, but that if I continued to take the drug, I may find myself in a clocktower with a high-powered weapon and that I would not be able to take responsibility for my actions. He tried to laugh it off. I wasn't laughing. He told me that we would stop the drug immediately. Ahhh...

Instead, we're going to start a new drug therapy and I get to give myself injections. We start this round next week after I get my next period. This is the ramping up to the first round of IUI (intra-uterine insemination or "artificial" insemination).

We had to take a class to learn about injecting me. I'll be doing one drug in the belly every day using needles that are already taken a class on how to give me injections last week. The ones that I will be administering myself into my abdomen are using needles only slightly larger than the one's my grandmother uses to give herself insulin 2 to 5 times a day. This is how I keep things in perspective. If my grandmother can do this with total aplomb, so can I. These daily doses are of a drug called Follistim (it stimulates the follicles).

After we get those follicles all stimulated, which takes about 10 days, my husband will give me one shot in my butt with a really big needle filled with a Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (hCG), branded as Pregnyl. The hCG will cause me to ovulate (releasing eggs from all those follicles) exactly 35 hours after getting the shot.

In the injection class we practiced both the belly injection and the butt injection using saline in the needles and under close observation by the nurse who was leading the class. My husband did a great job. It didn't hurt too much and he was not wishy washy about it at all. I however had a hard time giving myself the belly shot. Once I got it in, I realized that it really didn't hurt. But it just seems so wrong to sit there with a needle and poke it into my skin... on purpose.

We start the injections on Day 3 of my cycle this coming month. And then we do the IUI procedure on Days 14 and 15 or 'round about there. Between Days 3 and 14 I will have 2-4 ultrasounds to keep an eye on the follicle formation and to make sure that my ovaries don't go into overdrive and expand too much, which can be very dangerous and very painful. We do the IUI two days in a row to make sure that we have the best chance of those little suckers making it all the way to the egg. Then we wait. And wait. For 15 days. And then we know if we have to do it again.

All this can be yours for the low, low price of $5,400.

We're hoping that this works on the first try. We've saved up a lot of money, earmarked first for the fertility treatments and secondly for a kitchen remodel. If the fertility treatments are successful on the first go-round, we'll still have a lot of money saved up and we can get a new kitchen too. If the fertility treatments don't go well, we'll blow through our savings alarmingly quickly.

<back to top>

Guided Imagery

I know. It's just too California for words. But I'm going to a psychotherapist who specializes in "guided imagery." It's a way to get your brain to help control your body. It's like meditation with a specific goal in mind and is used often for pain management. One person's goal may be to slow their heart rate, someone else may want to lessen the pain of a chronic illness... I want a big ol' healthy egg to be hanging out, ready to rumble when the little spermies get there and for the whole damn thing to stick where it's supposed to. Too much to ask?

I've done my reading and research, and the outcome of guided imagery seems reasonable, even though my family will most certainly roll their eyes at all of this. But I figure, let's cover all our bases here. We're going through so much effort with the drugs and the doctors and everything, I may as well get my brain aligned with the effort too.

<back to top>

Fertility Gods

Fri 19 Sep 2003
Saturday I had a sonogram and a blood test. This was my baseline exam on the 3rd day of my cycle. Things looked good and my estradiol* level was 32.

* estrogen: The general name for one of the two principal female sex hormones (the other is progesterone), responsible for stimulating growth of the female reproductive system (the vagina, the cervix, the uterus and the fallopian tubes) and growth of the breasts. The main estrogen is estradiol, produced by: the developing follicle (and to a lesser extent by the corpus luteum) in the ovary; by the trophoblast of the placenta; and by the body's fat tissues (through conversion from male sex hormones, or androgens, in the blood).

Because things were fine, I started giving myself injections of Follistim in the belly every night in order to stimulate the follicles in my ovaries. Every mature follicle, upon ovulation, will most likely produce an egg.

Wednesday we went back for a blood test and my estradiol level was 288.

Thursday we went back for another sonogram and blood test. My estradiol level was 499 and the doctor could see 1 mature follicle, 1 that was almost mature, and 1 or 2 that were developing but not quite viable yet.

I got a call Thursday afternoon telling me to cut down my dosage of Follistim from 2 ampoules to 1.5 for that night's dosage, and that I would have to come in again Friday for ANOTHER sonogram and blood test.

Today, Friday, we went in and the doctor found 1 fully formed follicle in my left ovary, and 1 nearly mature one in my right. We have not heard the results of the blood test yet for my estradiol level, but that will be early this afternoon.

If today's blood test shows continuing high levels of estradiol, which means that this schedule continues as was expected from the sonogram this morning, we’ll inject a Pregnyl tonight with that dauntingly large needle in the butt.

Pregnyl will cause my body to ovulate in exactly 35 hours.

If all is aligned as expected, tomorrow morning we will go in for one session of artificial insemination, and then again on Sunday morning as well. This will make sure that sperm is in the ready position both when the egg (or eggs) release and also when the egg(s) are hanging around for the 12-24 hours that they naturally survive.

The sperm is "washed" in a centrifuge before the IUI procedure, which means that the semen is separated from the sperm. Apparently putting semen directly into the uterine is extremely painful and can be dangerous. Who knew? They will also make sure that the healthiest sperm are extracted from the rest of the crew and used in the IUI.

After this romantic weekend, we will wait for 2 weeks and then do a pregnancy test. I’m not sure how long we have to wait after a positive pregnancy test until we know if this is going to cause multiple births. There s about a 25% chance of twins with all this. That means double the Ritalin.

<back to top>

It's a go.

Fri 19 Sep 2003
Today s estradiol level is 795. So the IUI procedure is a go for this weekend. Wow.

<back to top>

Waiting

Fri 26 Sep 2003
I'm doing well. I hate this waiting. I have an appointment on Monday to do the final sonogram in this cycle. They just want to make sure that the drugs aren't having a lasting effect on my ovaries, making them "hyperstimulate" which could be very dangerous. But I'm only having slight cramping, so I think all is well, if a little bloated.

<back to top>

Still Waiting

Tue 30 Sep 2003
I had a follow-up exam yesterday, a little over a week since the IUI procedure, just to make sure that the drugs aren't having a lasting effect on my ovaries, making them "hyper-stimulate" which could be very dangerous. There was no sonogram, just peeking inside and pushing on my belly. My ovaries are just fine. No over-stimulation. The doctor was extremely friendly and enthusiastic, but totally guarded about being optimistic. It was obvious to me that he would never be the guy to say something positive and have someone call him on it when they turn out not to be pregnant.

This is a different doctor than I’ve seen before. There are 5 doctors in this practice, and I see whoever is on duty that day. While this may seem disconcerting, after my research I’ve found that this is actually the way to go. The timing of all this is extremely specific. If you're seeing a single doctor in a private practice and that doctor takes a holiday, you could be waiting another entire month to start a procedure. The 5-doctor practice that I go to has someone on staff every weekend and every holiday to make sure that the timing of your body doesn’t have to line up with the timing of a single person's vacation calendar.

Yesterday's doctor told me that a home pregnancy test wouldn't tell me anything definitive until Wednesday, but another blood test would be able to tell me something on Monday.

But he also said that if I were going to get my period it would be this Friday, Saturday or Sunday. So if I don't get my period, do I really need to take that blood test and spend another $110? And if I don't get my period, wouldn't I take a home pregnancy test anyway? Earlier than Wednesday??

So we continue the waiting game. It s a challenge.

I have so many friends going through this same thing. It s surprising once I put out the feelers to find out how many of my close friends are going through exactly the same procedures, some with even the same doctors! A friend told me last night that after 2 round of IUI (it took them 5 months to complete 2 attempts because they re going to a single-doctor practice and they haven't been able to sync up calendars with him!), they have had one round where nothing happened and one round where they were successful but she miscarried within 2 weeks. So they’re moving on to IVF. They’re blowing through their savings account. It’s unnerving to hear.

But I’m thinking VERY positive and feel good about how we’ve handled this so far. With only an 18% success rate, IUI is not something that works for a lot of people. But it's cheap and doesn’t include a surgical procedure, and I keep being told that I am just so darn young that my chances are good.

<back to top>

Disappointment is an understatement.

Thu 02 Oct 2003
Because I seem to be ahead of the curve on these things, we already know that this round didn’t work. I got my period yesterday within an unprecendented 22-day cycle. Prior to the drugs, you could write a calendar based on my cycles of exactly 28 days. But we're messing with some powerful sources here.

Of course I got my period at work. It was terrible to have to sit there in the bathroom and try to pull myself together.

I can't get a conference with my primary doctor at the practice until Tuesday, and by then it s too late to make a decision about what may have gone wrong and move forward with any procedure this month.

Instead, we're going to see whomever we can in the practice and do what we think is right for moving on with the next round of injections. That means we'll have another sonogram and a blood test and see if we re okay to do another round immediately.

If my ovaries are still swollen from the last round, I’ll have to take a month off. If they re not, we'll go on with the injections Friday night and start this all over again.

If it doesn’t work a second time, we’ll consider IVF

Hell, there s really no considering. We’ll just do it.

IUI is only 18% effective, so there s a good chance that nothing went wrong. It’s just luck of the draw at this point. The reason we're doing this first, even though it has a lower success rate, is that it is so much less invasive than IVF and drastically more affordable. And, of course, because I’m just so darn young. Get the theme here? Ugh.

In a sad celebration I had a beer last night -- my first in 6 weeks and it was damn fine. And I’m having sushi today for lunch, because I can.

<back to top>

Oh, those golden ovums.

Fri 03 Oct 2003
We’re taking a month off this time around. My right ovary is about 3x its normal size and it has a big ol’ follicle in there, so we have to wait until that all goes back to normal. Nothing looks out of whack, but I reacted "so well" to the drugs that I’m still feeling the effects. If I went back on the injections for this cycle, one of two things could happen: 1. They wouldn’t work, or 2. I’d end up with the ovaries that ate New York. Either way, it would be wasteful, dangerous or both.

Because my cycle was so short, I’m being told again that I probably have a progesterone deficiency. I was told this once before by my ob/gyn the month before we started the IUI process, and was on progesterone replacement for 18 days hoping that it would allow us to avoid seeing a fertility specialist at all. Obviously that didn’t work.

But I’m a little put out that the fertility doctors didn’t take the prescription of the ob/gyn and just have me continue it. I still have a conference with my main doctor on Tuesday and will ask what the friggin’ thinking was behind that one. If my ob/gyn diagnosed a progesterone deficiency, why wouldn’t we ASSUME that I still have the damn thing one month later?

I’m trying to keep it all in perspective. I don’t want to take out my frustration on these doctors. It ain’t easy.

We’ll most likely start the next round of IUI at the end of October, and after the actual IUI procedure, we’ll do progesterone replacement again.

So here’s to a month of caffeine, wine, sushi and brie. (Eat brie and drink sherry, for tomorrow we impregnate.)

<back to top>

Laid off?

Wed 22 Oct 2003
Well. How odd. I have been laid off for the first time in my life. It's nice that my entire Marketing team was let go all together, so at least none of us are feeling like this is personal. Am I feeling more stress or less stress now? I'm honestly not sure. I know that it will be a pleasure to avoid this 45-mile, 1-hour commute twice a day. But... laid off? Me? I'm not sure how to feel about this. I know that I'm pretty pissed off. But long term? Hmm..

<back to top>

Once more into the dark.

Mon 10 Nov 2003
We started the next round of injections for IUI last week, about 6 days ago. This daily blood tests and sonograms have showed that we're ready to go for the next procedure.

I'm using my energy to concentrate on that. It's not easy to keep the spirits up. Winter has set in this week on the west coast, which means going from 90 degrees to 40 degrees and raining within one day. I think I would be a little more positive with better weather.

I'm so far beyond being private about this. I actually sent this email to every girlfriend in my world tonight:

subj: Good thoughts please

Okay girlfriends, time to mobilize. Paul and I are trying this artificial insemination gig again tomorrow and wednesday. We're about to give me the HCG shot tonight that will kick everything off, and then we go in for 2 days in a row to try to get pregnant. So I'm writing to you all to mobilize you into a good thoughts army. Time to meditate, pray, send good vibes, whatever it is that you believe in.

Deep breath... here we go again.

<back to top>

Hyperstimulation

Tue 18 Nov 2003
Are we pregnant? We have no idea. But in my days of being laid off I went to see a matinee movie yesterday and, when laughing, doubled over in utter pain out of nowhere. It didn't go away. Any jarring of my stomach muscles was excrutiating.

Today we went in for a follow-up sonogram and we were told that, yes indeed, I have developed the dreaded hyperstimulation. This means that my ovaries just kept on growing after I stopped the injections for this round and have become large enough to put pressure on my other organs. The most drastic danger is that either ovary can actually flip over, cutting off the blood supply to the ovary. This would result in immediate surgery to un-flip it. If the blood supply is cut off for any amount of time, the ovary could suffer irreperable damage -- like, it could stop working all together. After all this... what the f*?

In order to keep things calm, I am now relegated to the couch. No sudden movements. No sports. No volleyball final playoffs on Thursday. I've had to call my team and break the news to them that not only can I not play, but they have to get a substitute within 2 days for the game. I can't believe this crap.

<back to top>

News from the dog pound.

Wed 26 Nov 2003
My girlfriend Sophia and I were at the dog pound today. We got laid off together. Now we're spending our time between frantic interviews looking at stray dogs.

My cell phone rang amongst the barking -- the fertility clinic. I excused myself from Soph's general vicinity and answered the phone.

"You are SO pregnant," said the woman on the phone. I just stood there. "Are you there?"

I made some gurgling sound that came across as, "Uh-huh."

We've been in and out of this office so many times, we know all the women who work behind the desk. And they know us. This young woman asked specifically if she could be the one to call me and break the news. I can't remember what else we said, but I have to go in again for more follow-ups and blood tests and who knows what.... but the news is: Pregnant.

I had to pull myself together and make a quick get-away so I wouldn't let Soph know what was going on. I had to get in touch with Paul. I had to stop this idiotic smile.

Sophia and I left the pound soon and I dropped her off at her house. I'm not sure if I even stopped the car before booting her out into her driveway. I made it all the way to the end of her block before pulling over and calling Paul.

He had a similar reaction to me. Silence, then goofy laughing tinged with terror.

Since his parents knew about our engagement a couple of days before I told my family, I was determined to let my family know this bit of news first. I went home and started calling: Mom, sister, aunt, grandma, dad.

I figured since tomorrow is Thanksgiving and we're up at his parents' house, we would break it to them there. But Paul couldn't wait for one more minute so we ended up making the drive to his folks' place late tonight and let them in on the secret. They are thrilled and already treating me like I need to be packed in cotton.

<back to top>

Email Announcement to the Masses: Let's just make this official.

Th 22 Jan 2004
In a bizarre turn of events, where I would normally rail against anyone who would accuse me of being a stress case, allow me to say: okay maybe I was.

This is evidenced by the fact that 2 weeks after becoming unemployed for the first time in my life and actually chilling out, we ended up pregnant after 3 years of trying. We're officially at 12 weeks this week, but the "morning" sickness continues in great form, ALL day long. Paul is incredibly enthusiastic about this pregnancy, and I plan to be as soon as I can stop throwing up.

Because of an impending maternity leave, I'm not looking for a permanent position until we get this offspring sprung. It's a weird feeling to not be working and to sort of be just... idle. But it seems that idleness is what this body needed for a while, so who am I to argue?

Brimming with hormones, AmyG.

<back to top>