Our RE, Dr. G, might as well be called Dr. Careful. Surprisingly, this is a-okay with me (right up until he won’t let me do what I want to do which I don’t think will happen). Guidelines such as: only exercise allowed after embryo transfer is walking. I mean, a reasonable, rational person knows that embryos aren’t going to be jostled or mountain biked out, but let’s get real, no women and few men who are doing IVF are reasonable or rational at that point in the game. Anyway, I am grateful for Dr. Careful and will be, even if this doesn’t work.
I’m utilizing masking tape to quilt in straight rows and I think it is the coolest thing ever. Also, in case you don’t read the blog about our mundane life, I quilt. For other peoples’ babies. Because I am a sicko like that.
C is right, purchasing and using birth control pills while actively trying to get pregnant is weird. I will need a refresher course in how to take them. Seriously. One of my friends mentioned the same thing as she went on bcp for a year to take a drug therapy for her newly diagnosed MS – taking bcp while being in the right place and wanting a child, again, so weird.
A double dose of the children’s gummy multi-vitamins have a nutritional edge on the sour gummy prenatal vitamins. More zinc and more folic acid. I’m still forgetting to take both.
The front office personnel at the RE’s office knows me. Like actually knows who I am. I should bring them cookies. I always arrive winded after racing up four flights of stairs (side note: will that be prohibited after embryo transfer?).
It’s too bad that the next baby quilt I make can’t say “My mom kicked infertility’s ass!” because it should. That girl deserves it. Her soon-to-arrive baby boy is testament to her perseverance. Instead, I’m thinking grays and purples for the baby prince.
My sister thinks that injection class sounds cool. Until I explained intramuscular shots vs. subcutaneous shots and the mixing of vials and the possible burning and stinging at entry. Now she’s freaked out. I’m thinking of either making her give me one or watching an injection when we get to that point. Just to be cruel, you future lab tech, you.
I was considering a last minute tattoo in the belly region as an FU to the fates (either that or the purchase of a convertible and I don’t want a convertible). As usual, C thinks my ideas are dumb and as I glimpsed the injection hand out, I think there will be enough needles going into my belly in upcoming months.
No sex for two weeks + after egg retrieval, or is it transfer? I need to look at that again. It’s going to be a long haul. Three weeks total? Or is it until the first US? So I might have a viable pregnancy, but can't have sex? That's got catch-22 written all over it. I still need to read that book.
Even with all the craziness (reminder, bcps still contain hormones), we are actually doing okay. Mostly. On good days. Yeah.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Monday, August 29, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Dates
I have dates. I didn't want to say anything because I don't want to share them. I don't want anyone to ask how many eggs or how the embryos are doing or how many we ultimately transferred or (especially) when the pregnancy test is. I don't want to be backed into a corner where I feel forced to answer these questions because the person asking cares so much for us and what we're going through.
Which isn't to say I'm not asking for your love, positive thoughts, prayers, smoke signals, love, encouragement, support, love and understanding, because I am - somewhat desperately asking for all of these fantastic intangible gifts. Which also isn't to say that I won't (double negative) share some of the specifics - I might. But on my terms. When it's all over, I know I'll talk about it and be eager to share, to educate. Unless I'm engulfed with grief and then I'll do whatever I need to in order to get through it.
So, I'm an anxious, emotional ball of a mess. I will be this way for awhile. Good news** will scare me and bad news will devastate me. But I'm willing and allowing the tiniest smidgen of hope to creep in.
**C is the sort of man that cannot keep a good secret. He just can't. He won't last the 12 weeks I would like us to wait to tell friends and family about any possible good news (I can already tell how these presumptuous words will hurt me later), so the deal is that we won't say anything until after seeing/hearing a heartbeat. And since no one knows the exact timing of everything, no one will know when to anticipate good or bad news. Sounds like a plan to me. I think.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Which isn't to say I'm not asking for your love, positive thoughts, prayers, smoke signals, love, encouragement, support, love and understanding, because I am - somewhat desperately asking for all of these fantastic intangible gifts. Which also isn't to say that I won't (double negative) share some of the specifics - I might. But on my terms. When it's all over, I know I'll talk about it and be eager to share, to educate. Unless I'm engulfed with grief and then I'll do whatever I need to in order to get through it.
So, I'm an anxious, emotional ball of a mess. I will be this way for awhile. Good news** will scare me and bad news will devastate me. But I'm willing and allowing the tiniest smidgen of hope to creep in.
**C is the sort of man that cannot keep a good secret. He just can't. He won't last the 12 weeks I would like us to wait to tell friends and family about any possible good news (I can already tell how these presumptuous words will hurt me later), so the deal is that we won't say anything until after seeing/hearing a heartbeat. And since no one knows the exact timing of everything, no one will know when to anticipate good or bad news. Sounds like a plan to me. I think.
- Posted from my mobile phone
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