Sunday, January 30, 2011

So much for my privacy

Why do I write this as Roccie?  Why don't I own up to all of this?

I am deliberate about keeping myself under the radar.  My name is fake, husband's and IVF#2 toddler's name is fake.  My fertility clinic is disguised.  I even disguise the other clinic where I did my first IVF cycle and I don't owe them a thing.

Role call: anyone here from real life reading this right now that found me through a well intended "like" from my King Dipshit brother?

Sigh.  I have been outed.

My guess is they would quickly become bored and stop reading.  My fear is all they take away from this is that I am a nutcase and bought a skin baby.  Damn.

I have been thinking a lot about my fit with the baby cloning comment.  While she is stupid, I don't think she was actually calling donor egg babies cloned.  I googled that business up and low and behold, some fucker in Italy is actually doing it.  Sigh.

Why would I jump to those conclusions?  Why am I so defensive about using donor eggs?

I cannot answer it yet.  I need to figure this out.  Why do I care if someone in real life reads this?  I don't know what I am trying to hide.

Yeah, I am a little embarrassed I am taking anti-depressants.  I joke about it a lot, but mostly because I feel worse if I pretend I am not.  Does the real life reader take the time to understand how a stillborn daughter affects you?  Probably not.  That reader doesn't read enough to understand what not being able to have children does to you.  All they take away is that I cannot cope.

I am glad I took the time to write it out.  I don't care who knows about donor eggs in real life.  But why would I jump to conclusions and want to throw down over the cloning comment?  I don't know but I need to understand it.

In other news, no period in sight.  I will head back into Large Fertility Operation this week to vag cam it up and see what lingers.  Aunt Flo you are a miserable cow but please come pick up your equally hated Cystic Bitch Sister.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

You think IVF is baby cloning? Are you kidding me?

If I hadn't been there myself, I would have thought the story was exaggerated.  I mean, she is an adult.  In the free world.  She is allowed to drive a vehicle, for fuck's sake.

Here is the story.  I won't draw the conclusion for you, but I am interested if you come up with the same one as me in the end.

This has a happy ending, for anyone who is already worried.  I did not show the inner rage that was making it difficult to hear the ignorant bullshit flowing from her giant yap.  She should thank her lucky stars I was not on Lupron.  I would likely have ripped her tongue out and stuffed it in her ear.

I knew this woman was trouble the day I met her.  Despite my early warnings, our friendship has progressed to occasional coffee before we pick up at school.  Why didn't I trust my gut?  I think I was too geeked up to have my first "mom friends".

This is as close to verbatim as possible.  I resist all embellishments or color commentary.

She knows I have an IVF baby.  She has the potential to know we have endured over a year of failures, but only from brief references to it.  We don't talk about it.

But it came up today at coffee.

I was explaining how baby number two was a little harder than The Common Fertile might understand.  How we have had to cancel a lot this year.  She has no idea what that means.  I bundled it all into one anonymous bucket - retrievals and transfers - to cancelations.  She knows nothing of the donor eggs.

She said she thinks Assisted Reproductive technologies are "a blessing".  Then she goes Mel Gibson on me.

The Mouth: I am all for organ donation - like a liver or something.  But I draw the line at cloning babies.

Me: No one is cloning babies.

The Mouth:  Yes, they are.  Most people don't talk about it.

Me:  No one is cloning babies.

The Mouth: Oh yes, they can grow them like skin, then donate them. (She wrinkles her nose, like she smells something bad.)

Me:  They are not cloning babies.

Then, I cannot really hear the rest of the conversation, as the blood is boiling so loudly in my ears.  It gets a little awkward from my point of view.  She senses something is off and I am doing my best to pretend I am listening to her.  

What.  Are you still talking.  I think so.  I see your mouth moving.

My initial question in this post was to confirm she was talking about donor eggs.  I don't care anymore.  Though I think she was.  I want to take this chance to document why I didn't let loose The Rage of a Mother in Limbo.

I do this for my unborn child.  I do this for my nine babies on ice.  A cutting response that puts The Mouth into place doesn't further my cause.

I have at least 5 years before this "issue" might come to light when my yet-unborn baby announces to the kindergarten class that s/he is from a Special Gift Egg.  I have a long, long time to get my head around that unavoidable and potentially awkward moment.

I can educate the parents and the children.  If the mother thinks like this, the child will too.  All that ugly stuff is learned.  Instead of cutting her to the bone (immediate satisfaction) I can sit with my story and let it marinade a little longer.  Tell the story they way it should unfold (long term opportunity).

Parenting is some hard ass stuff and this baby isn't even born.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

How to give yourself a Black Swan Massage


How to Increase Blood Flow to Your Ovaries

as told by Roccie

  1. Place your fingers on your pubic bone.  Where is the pubic bone?  Push, you can feel it.  Depending on your waxing status, it may be just in the top of your hairline.

  2. Walk over about 2-3 fingertip lengths to the side.  It isn't that far.  Feel for a little recession in your abdomen, or in my case, a bulging mofo cyst.

  3. Use your middle and ring fingers to rub in small circles.  Massage both clockwise and counter clockwise.

  4. Enjoy this blood invigorating massage for several minutes.  Invite your cyst to hit the fucking road.

  5. Rub the heel of your hand over the area downward a few times to settle the ovary back into place.  Point your fingers upward, like you were kneading bread.  I think this is how you knead bread.

  6. Do both sides, regardless of cyst residence.  You don't want to be uneven.

For Black Swan style?  You didn't think I was going to ruin the movie, did you???

Cyst is back.  Cyst is bigger.  February is canceled.

My doctor called to break the news.  I always know it is a shit show when she is on the line.  My fantasy?  She calls after our FET to tell us we are pregnant next time.  No way in hell I am ever POAS again.

Even though we have canceled a January and February transfer, this has only been around since 5-Jan.  We give it a month and wait for my period which likely also indicates the cyst has ruptured.  

Maybe I pull a move like our friend R?  There is a waaaaaaaay outside chance there is an egg in there.  Go, R, go.  I celebrate your heartbeat with all I have got!

Please head on over to R's house and celebrate the legend.  I got nothing to report here.


The Roccie Ass Road

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Things my thera-puncturist is peddling

I love my acupuncturist with everything I have got in me.  It is good to be back up on the table. 

I let myself slide over the holidays.  Aside from the predictable food and drink binges the season brings, I got lazy.  I haven't seen her but once since the failed DE cycle.  I had a quick, rushed visit before I headed out to visit Rocco's family after Christmas.

She walked me through the past several months - plotting out Aunt Flo, medication schedules, and major events.  Her theory is my body is trying to slow me down.  She tells me the Lupron and hormones are strong, but my body's will is stronger.  

I made a joke about recognizing my body as being in command and she plainly responded, "Don't tell it that.  It already knows that."  As close as I have ever seen her to miffed.


Who on earth do you know who is protective over someone else's body's feelings?

I love her.

So we jabbed and heated and restocked my oils.  Learned how to give my ovaries a massage.  It makes me think of Black Swan.  I plan to do it at home behind closed doors.

And I jacked up my crazy meds by 50%.  What.

Going in tomorrow to check on my mofo cyst.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

More wine, more cyst, and more delay

It is still there.

The cyst is as big as it was last week, producing estrogen (110+?).  Enough to push us back one week to see what happens.

See if it start to "shrivel" on its own.  Their words, not mine.

It sounds like my RE is not contemplating aspiration at this point.  It is actual real, live surgery where I go under.  Probably not covered by insurance, right?  Anyone know?  We are in a waiting game to see what Cystic Bitch does.

Our transfer in February is now at risk.  Unless all is perfect next week, we will be trying for a March transfer.

I need to connect with my thera-punctarist.  I know she will come up with a way for me to digest this.

I am not a fan.  

Coffee, wine, and falling dreadfully behind in my commenting,
Your old cystic friend,


Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Me, a bottle of wine, and a big fat cyst

Thirteen days of 20 units of Lurpon and all I have to show for it is a canceled FET.

I am disappointed with an extended investment in Lupron for no good reason.  Aside from not reaching the ultimate goal, I have some petty reasons too.  

Hair loss.  I can see into my hairline.  Even my stylist notices it and she is an educated professional; trained to tell people they look good no matter what.  She rejected years of discipline to confirm the truth.  I am shedding like a banshee.

Sometimes it is a field mouse sized hair ball in my drain when I shower.  Other times, I get a proper chipmunk.  Shitballs.

I used to have a really short hair cut.  Boy short and darling, darling, darling.  But I was young.  And thin.  Now I am not so young and wearing my fat jeans thanks to my schedule in 2010:

  • FET #1 Miscarriage, 
  • IVF Cancel #1, 
  • IVF Cancel #2, 
  • Failed Fresh DE #1,
  • DE FET Cancel #1 and
  • eating cookies for breakfast cause I just gave up.

The Year of the Take Home Baby has 12 months.  Back in for labs and ultrasound next week to see about next month.  Dammit.  

I am really disappointed but not crushed.  Is it the meds or is it just not the right time?  I don't know.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

King of the Dipshits Award

Hello my friends and welcome to 2011.  

The Year of the Take Home Baby.

I am back on my feet.  I feel like my normal self.  This is as close to laid back as I will ever get and I like it a lot.

If I didn't know I was taking the medication, I would think it was all me.  I would credit myself for: Putting Things in Perspective, Staying in The Moment, and Appreciating Life as It Is.  Fact is, the new meds are much better and work just as they are supposed to work.

We have a lot to catch up on.  I won a contest.  I want to brag about it.  Is that okay?

I am a reader of Mommy Wants Vodka.  The author Aunt Becky has a lot of signature sayings, my personal favorite being "SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH".  She has emblazoned it on to quality apparel to spread the message.

Aunt Becky was interviewed over at Mompetition.  The interview is celebrated with a giveaway contest and Aunt Becky shared one of her SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH shirts.

Here is the contest:  Tell us why you would wear this shirt, or, who you would give it to and why.

Meet my brother, Andy.

Let me set the mood.  I love my brother.  He is the baby of the family and he is everyone's favorite.  It isn't fair and it isn't right, but if you met him you would agree and toss in your vote for him as Family Favorite.  You think this would make a sister bitter, but it does not.  This is the power of his charm. 

I went to see a concert this fall with my brother.  I took a whole day off of work.  Rode the train into the city to his place.  It felt great to be back in the city I lived in for so many years.  I was a suburban mom in the city with a hall pass.  It was great.

Andy and I sat outside at his local having a couple beers.  He isn't much of a talker, but when he and I are in the right place at the right time, we can talk for hours.  And my brother really says things.  Things that matter.  This was one of those times.

When it was my turn to talk, I broke the news to him about not being able to have children on my own anymore.  I told my brother I needed to use donor eggs.  I had a lot of explaining to do.  What happened in the last canceled retrieval.  How did it compare to the first canceled retrieval.  What is a donor.  What is a recipient.  How do you pick a donor.  What was she like.  The medication.  The cost.

As you can imagine, we talked a long time.  I had a nice little buzz from the beer and the conversation.  He was understanding it and he was interested.

When I finished, he kept his head down for a bit.  He looked away, then looked back at me and said "You want a baby that bad?"

Shut your whore mouth.

Happy New Year my friends.

I am so lucky to have you.