Merry Christmas!

What are you doing Christmas morning? Me, I have an early morning date with a dildo cam. The good news is this means the stimming phase of my IVF cycle will take place over my Christmas break, which is nice. The bad news is that means my retrieval and transfer will most likely take place the first week of January. Nothing like using up those fresh, shiny new sick days in the first week of the year! Oh, well. That's what they're there for, right?

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, and I wish everyone health and happiness in 2010.

This whole thing is surreal

So, if I'm doing the math correctly, I could be pregnant in three weeks. Pregnant. In three weeks. I have to tell you, after trying for so long, that sounds about as realistic as saying, "I'm going to fly to Mars in three weeks."

For so many months (years), I was mentally prepared to get knocked up any given month. Calculating due dates, imagining what events would pass during my pregnancy, decorating the nursery a few times (eighty or so) in my head. Eventually that all faded away. Who was I to imagine a due date? What on earth would I do with one of those? And don't even get me started on the adorable Hawaiian baby quilts I was coveting. They're entirely too expensive to buy for the dog, so there's no reason for me to drool over them.

Now that science has taken over, the thought that I could actually be knocked up in a few weeks is kind of freaking me out. Not in a, "I changed my mind about getting pregnant" kind of way. Not at all. But actually having a child has taken on such mythical proportions in my head, it's overwhelming.

I know women turn up pregnant every day. Believe me, I see evidence of this everywhere I turn. But not me. You see, me turning up pregnant at this point would feel approximately the same as being told I now have a unicorn in my back yard. Weird, right?

I don't think I'm even nervous about this IVF cycle at this point. After all, trips to Mars don't happen, right? If this thing does actually work, one of you is gonna have to show up with a shovel to pick me up off the ground. Or just leave me there with the unicorn. That'll work, too.

One down, eleventy billion to go!

So, I survived my first injection. Of course. It wasn't bad, although the area around it did get red and itchy. It went away after an hour or so, so I figured it wasn't worth calling the doctor about. (Irritation at injection site is something to watch out for, but it's not like I broke out in hives all over or anything.)

Then I made a mistake. I googled some videos on administering injections, how to mix Menopur, you know, fun things like that, and I made the mistake of watching a video of someone giving themselves a PIO shot. (Progesterone in Oil). Holy cow, that's a big needle. Fortunately I don't have to start that one for a while, so I'm going to try to block the memory of that video out and be proud of my ability to handle the little needles for now!

In other news, I have officially finished my Christmas shopping and have the turkey in the fridge. Short of wrapping a few more presents and cleaning up a little around the house, I do believe we are ready to host our second major holiday in under a month! This one will be for a much smaller crowd, though, so I think we'll survive.

'Tis the season!

First shot tomorrow

I'm sure it won't be any big deal, and this time tomorrow I'll be posting about how easy it was.

I mean, this one's prefilled and everything. No mixing, no plunging, no measuring. Just pinch an inch and stab it in!

I'll still be glad when it's over. And I'm not even afraid of needles. I don't know how women who have that very valid fear survive IVF. My hat's off to them!

Parenting fail

So, I'm driving to work this morning, and I see this poor little dude riding his bike to elementary school. Frantically. Pedaling his little heart out. And in addition to his gigantor backpack, he's got a full-size piece of poster board clutched in his right hand. It's waving all over the place, and it looked like he was going to lose it at any moment. Now, the colored side was facing away from the road, so I couldn't tell exactly which class it was for, but it was obviously an end-of-term project he was taking to school.

I'm sure you're thinking, "What's the big deal, Flojat? Kids have to ride their bikes to school all the time!" Except in Florida right now? It's pouring down rain. Has been since yesterday. Flash flood warnings, the whole nine yards.

Now, my first thought was, "Why didn't a parent drive him to school today with his project?" Then I realized that there could be some very valid reasons why that wasn't possible. Maybe baby brother was sick. Maybe dad had an important meeting early this morning and is trying desperately to hold on to his job. So, I get it. There could be a very good reason why this little dude had to ride his bike to school in the rain.

What I don't understand is why a responsible adult in his household didn't roll up his poster board project, throw a rubber band around it, and drop it into a plastic garbage bag to protect it? That couldn't take more than two minutes or so, huh? And if they had really wanted to go hog wild, they could have taken another thirty seconds and fashioned a little strap for it out of duct tape so he could sling it over his shoulder and steer his bike safely.

In another lifetime -- when adults could be helpful instead of instigating STRANGER DANGER!!!! at the slightest bit of eye contact -- I would have picked him up, thrown his bike in the back and delivered him to the front door of his school. Today, I had to drive right by him and could do nothing more than avoid splashing him with a puddle.

I hope he has a good, understanding teacher. I hope he gets an A on that soggy, smeary project he's going to have to turn in this morning. And if I'm lucky enough to have one, I hope I'm never to busy to help out my little dude.

It's on!

My first estrogen patch, that is! We're officially in IVF cycle #1. If I'm doing the math right, stims should start some time during Christmas week, and ER and ET could be as soon as the first week of January!

I wonder if I can hold my breath until then.

Winning the lottery

I've been bouncing back and forth between being really excited about our chances with IVF and being dismally, completely, not optimistic at all. 40% chance of success. That number sounds so low compared to what other women I know get. In fact, the more I think about that stupid number, the worse it sounds.

Then the other night, J and I had a little pow wow.

As we were sitting there chit chatting about our days and the upcoming cycle (and joking about the oh-so-fancy sharps container that is sitting on our buffet in the dining room, just waiting for empty needles), I told J, "You know what? If someone offered to sell me a lottery ticket for $17,000 and told me I had a 40% chance of winning 30 million dollars, I think I'd be all over that."

He looked me in the eye and said, "And having a baby is worth so much more than 30 million dollars. It's priceless."

So, I think we're currently in the glass-is-half-full camp. God bless my husband.

Our poor little tree

So, we're not doing a real tree this year because my parents are coming to us to celebrate, and my mom's insanely allergic to evergreen trees. We decided it would be more fun to have her be able to actually be IN the house, so J brought home an artificial tree from the theater.

Of course, once he got it home we realized it's the tree WE donated to the theater several years ago when we started getting live trees. Circle of life? Circle of plastic and fake pinecones? Something like that.

So, we've got Barbie up, and she's pre-lit, so she's already got her lights glowing. (What? You don't name your trees? I normally name them something really cool like 'Bob', but J dubbed this one Barbie 'cause she's pretending to be a real tree, but still looks fake. I threatened to smush in some of her middle branches to give her a more hourglass shape, but J didn't seem to think that was such a good idea.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah. She's up, and she's lit, but she's mostly naked. At this point her only decorations are a small decorative pumpkin left over from Thanksgiving (my contribution) and a Ravens baseball cap for a tree topper (J's contribution.)

We can't decorate this weekend, so she's gonna stay like that until at least Monday.

Poor Barbie! At least it's marginally better than spending the holidays stuffed in a box in the basement of the theater.

Today's the day

I officially start OPKs tonight, and once I get a positive we will base the start of my IVF meds off of that date. And speaking of the meds, they should arrive at my office today. The charge was so high that my bank put a block on my debit card yesterday and I got a nice little phone call from the fraud department. No, this is not part of my normal spending pattern. Yes, it is a valid charge.

Yikes.

Here we go!

I hate my phone

I took a really funny picture on my way to work today (I know, it's bad to use one's phone while driving. I promise I won't do it again. Often.)

But the camera on my phone is so bad that the picture didn't turn out. I mean, really didn't turn out. Here, I'll show you.

See? I told you so. And even though it looks like I was driving at a safe distance behind this van, I was actually dangerously close to his bumper. Not only does my phone suck, it has the ability to warp spacial relationships.

Anyway, the reason I was taking this picture was specifically to share it with you, sportsfans. I know you can't read it, but scrawled all over the back of this white van was really sloppy black spray paint that read, "Grupo imaginacion." Now, I know my Spanish is rusty, but I believe that roughly translates to "The Imagination Group". (Gringa, help a girl out if I'm wrong.)

Oh, and there was a completely illegible phone number spray painted on there, too. I don't know, it just made me giggle. I give them bonus points for effort, but somehow I'm thinking that I'm not going to hire a couple of guys with bad handwriting and a penchant for self-graffiti for their imaginative skills. Maybe that's just me.

Or maybe I'm translating it incorrectly, and it means something closer to, "The Resourceful Group." For that, I might give them a call. Or I would, if I could read their phone number.

Where did that come from?

Someone on a public forum just asked the question (after trying for six cycles to get pregnant), "How do you keep the hope?"

Before I knew it, my fingers were typing something and this is what came out:

Here's the deal. Whether it takes one month or eleven, a simple roll in the hay or invasive medical procedures, most women who want to will get to be a mother eventually.

Personally, I try to remind myself that I would like there to be some of "me" left by the time I get there. If I'm only about TTC, or my infertility, and I let my other interests and relationships die, who will be left to be a mother if and when that time comes?

It's easier said than done, but you have to remain yourself and not let this process take over your life. It is but one aspect of who you are.

***

I don't know where that came from, but I'm glad it did. As soon as I typed it I realized that I needed to hear that exact message.

And I'm glad I'm going to be busy being me this weekend. It's nice to feel normal again.

Roller coasters

Well, today we start the roller coaster that is IVF#1. Had my baseline ultrasound and blood work done this morning; lots of antral follicles, and I should get my blood work results in an hour or so. All my meds have been ordered, but I still don't know how to give myself a shot. I'm sure we'll figure it out!

So, to celebrate, the husband and I have decided to go to Orlando this weekend to ride some less metaphorical roller coasters. It's been ages since we've done this, and we thought one last hurrah was in order before we get knee deep in syringes and out-of-control hormones.

Every time we've gone to Orlando over the last three years I've thought to myself, "I wonder if this is the last time I get to go before I get knocked up?" Well, this time I'm really, really, really hoping these are the last of my roller coasters for a while. Both kinds -- the ones where your body and your heart need seat belts.

I'm ready to get on that ride that involves dirty diapers, new baby smell and a beautiful little life to call our own.