Roccie Road

What are you mad about this time Roccie?

2012-02-23T12:32:00.000-08:00

I am sure there are great blog posts out there about this subject. In fact, I sent a request to Peggy Orenstein, author of Cinderalla Ate My Daughter, to prompt her on it. I know authors of her caliber don't have time to respond to every question, but let's hope.

In the mean time, here are my most recent rants.

What kind of message are we sending our sons? How are we teaching them to perceive and treat women?

I am painfully aware of the crap we sling at our daughters. Remember the "Too Pretty to Do My Homework" bullshit? The ever present princess. The diva-as-desirable. Remember when diva meant asshole?

The pink. Have mercy on me, the incessant pink. It is familiar territory where I quickly get riled up. Now I have the exposure to what we give our precious corn fed sons.

Shirts that read "Lock Up Your Daughters" or "Heartbreaker".

I saw a couple holiday themed ones. I can only assume it is for Easter as it has a bunch of little yellow baby chickens on it and reads: "Chicks are all over me". This one is countered with the cougar-centric "Older Chicks Dig Me".

Have I totally lost my sense of humor.

Me, Myself and I

2012-02-19T18:58:00.000-08:00

What am I going to do with all that dry clean only.

Maternity leave ended last week. I went back into the office to quit. Tender my resignation. Stick it to the man. Claim my freedom. So why am I the one feeling a little on the low side?

The fucknuttery ran wild at my firm, but damn if I didn't have some fabulous friends there. I am grateful and lucky to have had them. I think the Us vs. Them mentality (Cool Kids vs. Senior Management) made the good ones that much better.

Whoa. Why the past tense there? I did not do that for effect. I only caught it when I read my own words back. I know things will never be the same with my friends and I will miss them. I really miss them.

Please go stand by my friend K. She is one of the friends I am taking with me, no matter where I go. K, you are more precious to me than you know.

I am tempting Fate for you

2012-02-03T11:57:00.000-08:00

We have a lot of our sisters out there in the trenches right now - early cycle days, in The Wait or pregnant. Go ahead and let your fantasies run wild. I will tempt Fate out loud so s/he misses your verbalization of a Take Home Baby.

Toddlerina is on the upswing.

I read a book that compared babies/toddlers/preschoolers to a spiral. Picture a slinky hanging down from the ceiling. That kind of spiral. The upswing is to the whole ages: 1, 2 or 3. The downswing is on the half year: 6 months, 1 and a half, TWO AND A HALF, etc.

(You can read about equilibrium and disequilibrium here and here. It is really interesting. I wish I had known it prior to my own demise.)

I have been a prisoner in my home for the last 6 months. Ok, maybe a little longer as she descended into madness. It is where I got the nick name Toddlerina for HRH. She ruled with a tiny iron fist. And teeth.

Heavens rejoice, I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel. My girl is returning. Oh, how I missed her.

I suppose I will need a new name for Toddlerina. She will be a preschooler this year and hopefully not a tiny tyrant. Jay doesn't have a handle. Not sure why she does.

PreSchoolerista doesn't really roll off the tongue. Maybe I just need to get used to this new little person with her new identity.

The truth about School (aka DAYCARE)

2012-01-24T17:09:00.000-08:00

Toddlerina was in school at the tender age of 16 weeks. I was devastated when I enrolled her. I cried when she started in school and can you believe I cried when I pulled her out to come home with me. I would miss it. What.

We went back to school today to visit Toddlerina's friends. My friends are there too. I didn't realize just how much those teachers had become a part of my family.

Toddlerina RAN into the school director's arms, shouting her name the whole way.

Marla!

Of course I cried. Then they cried, then we all looked at Jay and cried. It was so much fun for so much crying.

I am deeply grateful to stay home with my family and I cannot imagine myself here without a nod of gratitude to our school. It shaped Toddlerina and it shaped me for the better.

Momma. Are you hurting as your baby gets ready for school? I know this post doesn't diminish the pain, but consider it a flash forward into your future. S/he will be so very happy and so very loved.

And when the kids are old enough

We are going to teach them to fly.

(Name that tune. Players?)

So. You had you a donor egg baby.

2012-01-18T11:04:00.000-08:00

Does the issue need a final analysis? A post game review? Do I need to size up my results as compared to my expectations?

I wish I had been a more frequent blogger to document the transition. But I don't know if I could have done it. How do you witness paint dry? One day, it is just dry. You might have noticed the tacky stage where the paint is sticky. I think that was what most fascinated me. The transition stage.

It was his nail beds.

I kind of obsessed on his nail beds.

Obsess isn't the right word. It just got on my radar. I cannot explain it. I noticed it and since I did, I would come back to it. Check it out. Confirm my observations. Then I would move on.

I don't notice it anymore, this is written from memory.

Jay's nail beds are lovely. They are long and narrow. He looks as though he could be a world renowned pianist one day. Elegant hands, even for a baby.

My hands are mannish. Man hands, right out of Seinfeld. I have wide, short nail beds. Even with a manicure (Oh! The Good Old Days!), they still look quite masculine. It doesn't bother me. It is just me. Toddlerina has hands that look like mine. Jaybird looks different.

And that is the end of the differences I have cataloged.

He is so busy being himself, I can never really see him as anything else aside from Just Jay. The same goes for Toddlerina. She is so busy taking up so much space I never look at her as an extension of me. I never did.

I thought I would feel this way, but how do you know. I expected donor eggs to slide away into the non issue bin. I am amazed just how cleanly and quickly it happened. It was almost as if the nail beds were there to provide a point of reference. To show the distance from here to there was not that great, if it even existed at all.

Tell me about this thing they call SAHM

2012-01-17T11:54:00.000-08:00

Cue: music.

Take this job and shove it.

I ain't working here no more.

Cue: celebration.

Welcome to the Shiny New Me

2012-01-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

The one that Gets Shit Done. On time. (Forget "under budget" cause I am on maternity leave and frankly don't have the drive to deliver all that.)

The issue of insurance coverage has been resolved. Floated up to senior management in our HR department and approved.

Baby Jay has been enrolled with full medical coverage, backdated to his birth date.

Let's be honest. I was messing with FIRE. We couldn't even roll over to Rocco's coverage if my firm refused me.

You all probably forgot, but I work with a more than a few bags of the finest douche. I barely presented myself as professional to that bag when I had my final maternity leave planning meeting.

I was so smug. Why should I be nice to her? Why play games? We all know we think very little of the other, so why be fake? I will tell you why, just in case something like this ever came up! Lesson learned.

Anyhow. Out with the old and in with the new. I am loving and forgiving and tolerant and now a BLISTERINGLY organized woman.

Second time around

2012-01-09T12:55:00.000-08:00

I think this post likely has a limited audience. I sort of want to get my thoughts down on First Take Home Baby compared to Second Take Home Baby. And complain slash freak the fuck out.

I have all the books, the required reading: development, sleep and more development. I read them cover to cover for Toddlerina. I recently dug them out and stacked them neatly on the bookshelf. I hope the easy access will prompt my reading. I am kind of winging it with my boy Jay and I hope he does not suffer deeply for it.

Joke. Kind of.

On the other hand, I have his life documented with precision. Law, love the iPhone app and the many, many ways to measure your infant. I know I have some fellow data hogs out there. May you also be blessed with a useless data set of nursing, urine and poopers.

I need to get my birth announcements out. Hell, I need to take the photos. I took some good ones right when we came home, but then I could not control myself and put them up all over FB. Classic, right? Sort of takes the thrill away from this artist. I will blame it on the holidays, but it is mostly me working hard just to stand still.

How is this for a zinger. I forgot to enroll my only son into my healthcare plan. Mother fucker I am such a mess. I don't know yet if they will open the window to allow him in. I should find out today or tomorrow. It makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it.

This is some hard ass work, but I repeat myself.

Now what?

2012-01-03T12:04:00.000-08:00

This isn't going to be a post saying I don't know what to do with my blog (I don't). This isn't going to be a post exploring my current lack of identity (I have none). Oh, but they are a-brewing.

Jaybird is a champ. I am starting to surface a little bit. I need more sleep, but I am not willing to give up the free time I have when both littles are napping, so I must not be that tired. Yawn.

Toddlerina is now home from school with me full time. It is a very busy day doing a whole lot of nothing. I have had two play dates in the last month. Big successes, but no where near relaxing. This is some hard ass work.

The play date that just left was a SAHM for the last 2 months as she switched jobs. Her new job starts up next week. She was so carefree and had no silver roots like me. I noticed she was clean, too. How does she make it look so easy?

Bitch has a nanny come 3 days a week for 5 hours.

Now how is that a SAHM? Course, I would never let on to her that I think she is CHEATING. I like her a lot. I tried to swallow down my personal green eyed monster.

At least I know you need paid help to make it all so easy and I made a hair appointment next Saturday.

Clean will have to wait until Rocco gets home from work.

Here is looking at you

2011-12-20T15:06:00.000-08:00

I always thought those commercials, tv shows or movies that showed little boys peeing into an unsuspecting face to be stupid. Kind of a Little Rascals meets the Three Stooges humor. Not my style.

Pee-in-the-face humor reminded me of Three's Company - Mr. Roper always managed to overhear just the right part of a conversation to allow the perfect storm of misunderstanding.

No more.

That shit is real.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, peace, health, happiness and babies to everyone.

Love always,
Roccie

Not like riding a bike, for the record

2011-12-06T06:51:00.001-08:00

Here I am writing one handed again, but this time the other hand is putting birthday cake in my mouth, not cradling the head of Baby Jay. He was born and several days later I turned 41. Life is pretty great to me these days.

Baby Jay is tricky. I know tricky isn't the right word, but baby freak show sounds mean.

He cries when he is getting his diaper changed (most of the time). He cries when he thinks it takes me too long to pull my 23 pound breast out of its harness. And that is it.

What kind of game is he playing???

I don't understand this baby. After he eats, he sleeps. Soundly. In a bassinet. For hours. The madness. I follow his lead and breastfeed on demand, usually around every 2.5 hours, but I typically see 3-4 hour stretches at night.

What. Baby Jay is a cake walk. I am certain it will all fall apart now that I have written it, but it was fun while it lasted.

Toddlerina slept in a car seat for months. (Please note this was only after a demonstration in the pediatrician's office to ensure it was safe.) She ate almost every hour for most of the day. She never napped. I heard "wakeful baby syndrome" theories.

Breastfeeding is an ass kicker.

Holy cow, I just don't remember it being this hard. I saw blood on my sweet baby's face, had a heart attack, then realized it was coming from my nipples. Brutal, brutal pain. Brutal.

I cry out involuntarily when he latches on. It scares Toddlerina, so I need to turn the yelps into a song. I could win an Oscar cause I really just want to rip my breast off and throw it into the pond. Similac, take me away.

Want to hear my naughty, self medicating solution? I have some hyrdrocodone prescribed to me to manage the c-section pain. I take a modified dose more for my hot zone boobs than for my Frankenstein scar.

I honestly don't know that I could have survived this week breastfeeding without the meds. I am a cheat. Hats off to those Mommas who survived the grim ramping up on breastfeeding stark cold sober. Damn women, let me hear you roar.

Hope this doesn't frighten new moms or mommas in progress. Harsh reality is that breastfeeding is hard. The buy in price is huge, but if you can clear that debt, you get back a bajillion times more. I adore breastfeeding. Love it, just not the first 90 seconds on the right breast.

Much love to everyone. Always reading, just a little comment hiatus in the short term.

Roccie, meet Baby Jay

2011-11-29T19:40:00.001-08:00

He is here and we are in love.

The "we" could be anyone: my family, Rocco's family; my friends or Rocco's. This whole wide world seems to be lining up to love him.

I am pretty tired and sleepless. Stare at him when I should be sleeping. Pecking out one handed posts when I should be sleeping.

I am sitting on top of the world.

Roccie, meet Roccie

2011-11-25T11:25:00.001-08:00

How about that Thanksgiving? It was great. This is the first time I have ever celebrated a holiday without my family. I have to admit, I was feeling a little sorry for myself at first. I thought it would be kind of lonely but it was perfect.

The last hurrah for the Rocco family of three. Or five if you count all those dogs.

We went to cheer Rocco on in a neighborhood Turkey Bowl. It was organized by the neighborhood mom's group. I am not sure why we went. The last mom's group meeting I went to was t-o-r-t-u-r-e. A bunch of northwest suburban moms representing the stereotype at the peak.

Rocco, Toddlerina and I arrived a little late. The games had already started and we kind of milled around, trying to figure out where we fit in. Did we? These people are a bunch of morons.

I get to talking. Everything starts coming with ease. Moms my age. Donut holes. Coffee. I even see flasks. What is not to like?

Yelling in the background. I'll be damned if Rocco didn't just score a touchdown.

I see a baby. I want to touch it. I head on over.

Some of the neighborhood kids attending the bowl are in high school. I see them video taping the mom with the young baby for their psychology class. I noticed a little late, almost walking into the frame of the shot. This is what I hear:

"...I guess I thought I would have kids in my late 20's shortly after getting married..."

She catches my eye, this mom who looks just like me, less the belly, but add a six month old in a pumpkin seat by her side.

I grab my stomach to double over and give a fake, silent Santa laugh. She laughs out loud and loses her train of thought. I don't know it yet, but I might have just met my new Very Best Friend Ever. I wander off to let the filming complete.

Suuuure we will have our babies in our late 20s. Er... make that 30s... Errr....

The video mom and her dog (sans leash) eventually come over to the swings where Toddlerina is shouting with delight. We laugh at the mom's public service message she video taped for the high school students: don't settle. Wait for love, even if it takes a while. Like, uh, an extra 20 years.

She has an incredibly well behaved dog. Key sign of an Infertile, no?

Great and easy conversation. I tell her I will give the public service message to the same girls once they reach college: news flash: believe that declining fertility chart in your gynecologist's office. Just because you are young and intend to live forever, your eggs won't.

Love fest ensues. She is 42 with a six month old. Old girl has me beat and I admire her for it.

Man, did we have a great time. Rocco had to buy a splint for his finger on the way home. I plugged in the heating pad before he asked. What a great day.

Fertiles: making me eat my words, again and again

2011-11-18T09:04:00.001-08:00

Who are these Fertiles - showing care and compassion on a grand scale? My local Fertiles really showed their true colors last night.

I saw email chains flying around setting up dinners for my family once the baby arrives. Do I have any preferences, aversions, dietary restrictions? What about Toddlerina? What does she eat? Would I like to consider a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule to stretch it out - everyone will make large meals to allow for leftovers.

Who are these people? How do these Fertiles have the hearts of an IF veteran? I guess babies can bring out the best in everyone.

I got a call from another neighbor. Her daughter is our occasional sitter. She has a chronic illness that can keep her out of school for weeks at a time. It is not life threatening and she is expected to outgrow it. Her daughter recently had a bout with it and is on the mend.

She had made something for the baby at school. Wouldn't I come down and get it?

I head out the door - half in clothes, half in jammies (it was 730pm after all). I am wearing The Nighttime Bra, the one without the flying buttresses.

Low riders and jammies, I walk into a surprise neighborhood baby shower.

It was great. Everyone swapping stories, trying to scare the new Momma to be then telling tear jerker tales of motherhood.

I would give anything in the world to have everyone here beside me, battle over and war won. Every day I offer up my own thanks, then your names are right behind - asking to take you along too.

It looks dippy in print, but I wanted you to know.

Closed for Business

2011-11-14T13:17:00.001-08:00

Reporting to you LIVE from a Mother In Law Free Zone: Roccie of The Roccie Road.

She is gone now. Sweet rejoicing begin, my house is now my home again.

Rocco took MIL to the airport on Saturday. The three month long occupancy has ended.

The rest of the day I noticed Rocco paying a lot of extra attention to me. My water glass was always topped off and I didn't have to let the dogs in and out. A lot of little things, you know? He made me a nice dinner to boot.

That night, when we crawled into bed, he went to hold my hand. Oh no, Rocco. First of all, it is hard to read with only one hand and second of all, more importantly, nuh-uh, no way, this park is closed for business.

Business Time is over. I am over 37 weeks pregnant, sir.

Please Rocco, I am pulling an extra 30 pounds and while my sex drive may by up, it sure doesn't mean I want to act on it with you. Ahem.

I broke it to him gently and he laughed. I think he laughed at the idea of actually coupling with me, but it IS so preposterous I laughed too.

Rocco wasn't looking for love, but told me he was feeling really connected with me. That he realized just how hard it must have been to live with his mother. He wanted me to know how much he appreciated my sacrifice.

What a good, good man.

I ate 2 Tums, rolled over and went to sleep with a giant smile on my face.

Why were DE so easy for me?

2011-11-10T09:36:00.001-08:00

How is that for a sensationalist title?

Anyone who has been around here knows that title is kind of a load of crap, but true at the same time. I freaked the fuck out when I faced donor eggs, but once I committed, I was in and rarely looked back.

Did I always know I would choose this option to continue my family? Maybe. DE were raised at my first WTF appointment after our 1st IVF cycle was a bust. Was I always a little terrified of my own body? Absolutely. Losing my first pregnancy to severe genetic anomalies wrecked me.

This shirt was given to Toddlerina by well meaning family members (might I clarify his family, ahem).

I hated it the moment I saw it.

I found it again as I pull out Toddlerina's infant wear to use as hand me downs for this DE baby. I only put it on Toddlerina one time. It put me in a foul mood all day long. You know that feeling where you just cannot settle - the feeling usually reserved when you are personally wearing something crappy - too tight, too sheer or way too last year.

I hated that damn shirt.

I don't think hate is too strong a word. It got me all riled up. No, it is not hard to get me going, but this shirt was so damn presumptuous.

Why the fits, Roccie? Is Toddlerina not created by that very fraction - one half you and one half Rocco?

Maybe I always knew I was coming this way, the way of family by donor egg.

I see a lot of folks out there in the middle of or considering their own DE dance and man, oh man, do I wish I could help you digest it all. I try my best to support you by telling you how much I love my DE decision, but I felt I owed you this little bit of truth. Maybe it was easier for me. If your decision isn't as clear cut as mine felt, give it time.

I sit here at term today, 37 weeks. I have one baby by me and one baby via gift egg. I hope it gives me a unique perspective to share with you. I am just so overcome with joy that my family will grow. I hope you can find your path to your family no matter what it takes.

Forgiving Fertiles

2011-11-05T12:43:00.000-07:00

Just when you think another Fertile in your face will make you fall to the floor in convulsions, screaming "Away with you, BREEDER"...

You won't believe what my own personal pack of Fertiles did for me yesterday.

Those Fertiles threw me a baby shower.

Everyone knows you only get a baby shower for the first take home baby. After this initial birth, it is assumed you are now a Breeder too. Subsequent pregnancies will line up like little obedient soldiers. "Second babies" are a promise to the likes of you - there is no need to celebrate.

Speechless.

Not sure how I didn't cry right there in the conference room at work. I think I was too stunned.

All these years, they got it. They knew how hard I was working to get back to this place... pregnant. Another baby.

I am forever grateful for these Fertile friends.

36 weeks pulls all the brakes

2011-11-03T08:18:00.000-07:00

This is my fourth pregnancy. Each one brings its own bucket-o-terrors. Once I passed the level II ultrasound with Toddlerina I felt like I was successfully past the worst of it - danger and risk. I haven't enjoyed the same level of comfort with this pregnancy.

Early bleeding, my SCH and placenta previa put a deep fear in me. I know one family in real life who lost to preterm labor and another who lost a heartbeat at 34 weeks. Last OB appointment I was informed that the placenta keeps aging. Damn, what. I though my Fine Young Egg buried all that ageist bullshit.

Anyone have any idea how the hell the planet reached 7 billion. Yeah, me either.

If I go into labor at 36 weeks, no efforts are made to delay delivery. Gulp. The baby is developed enough to balance the risks of early delivery with the risks of stopping labor. Heavy.

No reason to suspect anything, but I raced home and threw in a load of laundry. You can never be too prepared for this kind of thing.

Peace, love and sleep to my new Mommas

2011-10-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

(Please don't read me if you are in a rough spot meeting your Take Home Baby. This might smell a little like ingratitude. I promise it isn't intended this way, but I remember my desperate times. Words like these would make me want to punch someone.)

Sleep. My love.

Husband? Sure, he is ok, but I would much rather take a nap with my true love, Sleep. I find in the growing complexities of toddler management and making this baby, Rocco slips down the list more with each passing day. Bless his heart.

I remember this place. You think delivery will bring you all the comforts of sleep. Then the baby shows up and you would give anything for one more night of baby-in-the-tummy cause sleep is ANNIHILATED when a little one shows up.

All my love and support to all the new Mommas out there struggling with the dream come true.

This fantasy is some hard ass work, isn't it?

It doesn't mean you still wouldn't sell your sibling for a child of your own. You and I have bled from our bones for these babies.

Needing a lot of support doesn't diminish our love for the babies, these babies who are here with us or those babies who were taken too soon. It doesn't mean we are not the Super Moms we imagined.

Mad ravings caused by a giant uterus

2011-10-19T18:24:00.000-07:00

Rar.

I am impossible to please.

In early pregnancy when I started showing, I was pretty self conscious about my belly button. It was like a giant cave. I could hide a Twinkie in there. It would have been a perfect fit.

Now my button is starting to pop.

It feels perverse.

It makes me really, really self conscious. Belly erections.

I feel like a perv.

Inviting historical figures over for dinner

2011-10-06T18:51:00.000-07:00

Remember that question? What famous person would you most like to join for dinner? Alive or dead.

The first time I remember answering this question I ended up feeling pretty stupid with my choice. I said Jane Austen. The person who asked me the question picked Jesus. Jesus. Well, not sure how you beat that one. I think I picked a good one, but you sort of feel like a heel when you don't pick Jesus.

Yeah, I am not putting my donor on par with Jesus - but I wouldn't pick her for dinner either.

Melissa? This one is for you.

I had a heart squishy post a while back about how much I love donor eggs. Melissa asked questions about choosing a donor and defining the relationship. I am amazed someone succeeded in finding something I don't talk about here. I like to get all my donor thoughts down on paper so I can refer to them later.

It was important to me to find a donor who would allow our child(ren) to meet her when they reached the age of 18. It makes my hands a little sweaty to think about it. Absurd, really, but I bet when it happens it will be a time where I put on a Brave Face for DE child and inside I am scared skinless. But who knows. Maybe by then I will be so damn old that wisdom will have taken residence in my heart.

The option to meet the donor was not part of the standard contract. Our lawyers worked with donor's lawyers to discuss the idea. This is how the communication works. Everything is routed through the lawyers and agency. Our donor accepted the modification to the contract and proposed a change of her own.

Our donor has 2 (healthy! beautiful!) children of her own. She asked that her children have the right to contact our DE child(ren) upon the age of 18.

This broke my heart wide open. I sat there in the conference room on speakerphone with our lawyer, tears streaming down my face. I could only speak with that thick, teary voice. Of course we would accept the proposed change.

Bam. Any reservations I ever had about DE were put to bed right then and there. Another mother who understands what this is all about. Her biggest concern was her children. Just like me. She and I were both looking out for our little loved ones. I look forward to the day I meet her and I can tell her how much peace her request gave to me.

She offered another connection. She offered to meet Rocco and I before the contracts were signed. I said no thank you, dinner with Jane please.

I don't know why. I don't think about it much anymore. I believe I was terrified she might do or say something that didn't match the dreams in my heart and head. Shallow much, Roccie? I know.

I am also ashamed I never gave The Donor Gift. Oh, the process that many recipients travel through to find Just the Right Gift. I could never relate.

I never sent one. I never sent a card. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am ashamed I never did it, but I understand why I did not send it at the same time.

I could explain it all away, but it is weak. I like to pretend I couldn't find the right words. I have the card and draft note in my bag. I carried it around every day. Still carry it. Never sent it. Just never reads right.

What if I give her the same willies I was afraid she would give to me??

Sometimes I am so practical it seems heartless. I just think if I were a donor I would analyze the hell out of whatever came my way. I have an amazing talent to find flaws in the flawless, just ask Rocco. I figured since I wouldn't want a donor gift I would not send a donor gift.

I will probably bring a nice little something when we meet in 2029. I think I will be able to find it by then. She has my heart, gratitude and prayers of thanks in the mean time. I think she is spectacular but I never knew how to tell her.

Patient #367781, we will see you now

2011-09-28T18:17:00.000-07:00

Man, does my OB office suck. The place raises my blood pressure just walking in the door. I do take extreme satisfaction declining follow up appointments with Dr. Evil - loudly.

"No Dr. Evil. Please schedule me with any other doctor." I look around knowingly, nodding to imply anyone who overhears this will know exactly what I mean by it.

Rar.

I have a lot on my mind. Has anyone seen my money tree? I really need it about now.

Lots of late night discussions with Rocco lately around the budget, the debt, the house and how they all cohabitate. We have been running the numbers.

Is it worth working when my net take home pay is roughly 50 cents a day? No. Of course I exaggerate, but I want to stay home. I tend to manipulate the numbers to my favor.

I put out The Ultimatum at work. I have an impending life event and need to make some decisions. It is time for me to get that promotion please.

Denied.

Okay. Well. Then. I don't care about the title, I was really driving for the money anyhow. Please show me how much you value me during raise and bonus time this year.

Lukewarm response.

Okay. Well.

What do you do when you put out feelers for an ultimatum and it gathers no real response? How do you read the writing on the wall when it merely says "You are so very Average".

It looks like I might get to be at home, but I expected a little horse trading to try to keep me. Instead I got a big cake decorated with don't-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-ass icing.

I know there are real problems out there right now but I sort of just threw myself a pity party.

Woe is Average Me.

I hate The Man or Another Reason I Wish I was Canadian

2011-09-23T18:26:00.000-07:00

I had booked a run of the mill appointment with Human Resources at work today. I wanted to plan for my leave and investigate my options for additional time off. I left the office swallowing my rage and shaking my fist at The Man.

Law, I hate The Man.

Flashback to Toddlerina's birth, almost two and a half years ago. I took the 12 weeks FMLA and requested an additional month unpaid leave.

I requested the additional time off in Personal Leave. My flake of a boss denied it and blamed it on the CIO. I was angry but just swallowed it since "I was going to quit anyhow you rotten pigs". Ha. Return to present and I am still employed at the same place and don't see any clear exit yet.

HR stepped in and pushed the Personal Leave through for me. This HR employee pointed out my years at the firm and my good work. The rejection was overturned and I got an extra 4 weeks at home with the baby. I was thrilled.

You cannot imagine what it did for my mental health. I had what I call Labrador Syndrome: pat me on the head and I will work 10 times harder to please you. It meant a lot to me and I tried to show my gratitude by working to the best of my ability. For real.

Times have changed at my firm. That was then and this is now. HR was The Man personified, sitting across from me with over done makeup and excessive accessorizing.

In today's meeting the HR Agent of Heartlessness told me Personal Leave was granted for several reasons. She tossed her flat ironed, over processed head and shared a few examples with me such as knee surgery, taking extended vacation to visit "the home country" or being a contestant on The Bachelor.

I laughed, in an eager to please way. It wasn't funny, but I was a little excited that getting approval was going to be so easy this time. If you can get Personal Leave to be on the World's Most Demeaning Show on Earth, then surely you can get repeat Personal Leave on your second baby.

Things quickly deteriorated when she realized I was asking for the Personal Leave in addition to the FMLA. She asked me if the Personal Leave was for a medical reason. I explained in a joking manner that yes, it was. (I still thought we were going to be friends.) I am a walking medical reason for needing additional time off. I glossed over extended fertility treatments, pregnancy loss and still birth.

She informed me that the leave would need to be approved by both HR and my management team. She said it was not promising to get it approved, in fact the outlook was poor.

Let it simmer....

I icily asked her to confirm she was telling me that HR would deny the request even if it was approved by my management.

She said it was doubtful to be approved - if the additional time was approved for me then everyone would want it.

Let it simmer....

I am a hot head. Thank the law, I was able to show the Ice Anger today. I did not drop a printer on her head. I let her know I was having a very hard time swallowing her examples for Personal Leave.

She said it might have been a bad example. But if I "only wanted the time off to bond with my baby", there was no reason to approve the extra leave.

Begin to boil over....

Cue: Raging Mother; amplify with pregnancy hormones.

Under extreme duress you explode or you speak with a chilling clarity. I spoke clearly and quietly. I told her I could not reconcile the game show contestant with my request. I said a few other things and concluded the meeting.

Folks, we have a battle on our hands here.

He is just my dog again

2011-09-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

What the hell was that?

I felt like my mind was possessed or something equally ridiculous. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Maybe I just had to spew it out.

It reads like complete horse shit today.

I got so caught up in my own little story in my own little world that I forgot there are others here too. We all pick our way through the imperfections. No family story is written by Disney, but I think mine is pretty damn fabulous.

The gratitude I have for the DE opportunity greatly outweighs any additional considerations my family will manage. We will manage it with love and laughter.

It sounds pretty dippy, but if you wash the Hallmark slime off, it rings true. Yeah, once upon a time I wish we had been able to use my eggs... but all that faded away as the pregnancy became real to me.

When we get to meet this baby I know I will thank God we "had" to use DE or this child wouldn't be here. Mind boggling if you really grasp what I am saying, trite if you are skimming.

Shatters my brain.

...and what the hell is a Polish Lowland Sheepdog...

2011-09-17T19:29:00.000-07:00

I am sure there is some symbolism in here somewhere. That isn't the right word... projection? Analogy? Er, maybe metaphor.

Prognostication.

Whatever, I am about to talk way too much about dogs and how it made me think about donor eggs all night long. I expect about 75% of you may want to exit at this point. The ones who remain might only want to play the Name that Breed game.

You know the little man in my life, Huck.

He is a rescue dog who never takes a good photo since the camera sound indicating the image is in focus sounds a lot like his electric fence warning.

Huck is My Baby Before the Baby. Yes, I loved on my dogs with obscene levels of care, but my guess is if you are still reading at this point, you are merely nodding your head. There is no love like the love of a good dog.

We don't know much about Huck. The vet gave us an estimate on his age and that is about it. We often played the What the Heck is Huck game. We settled on Pointer mix. For Rocco's birthday this year I submitted Huck's DNA to see if we could identify any major breeds in him.

The report came in today. I thought I knew a lot about dog breeds. Not one single breed that I thought would be present was identified. Instead I was informed Mr. Huck is made up of the last 10 breeds I would have selected.

Now do you see where this long winded story is going?

I cannot stop staring at my dog and thinking about his real origins.

What does that mean. Real origins.

Is he any different now that I know his roots? His genetic ancestry? I kept thinking about when my child will study those topics in grade school. I remember drawing a family tree. Will my child struggle with his or hers?

Lately I have been sitting all smug in my donor egg loving fog, but damn, what about the child.

What in the hell does this have to do with the fact that Huck is one quarter Basset Hound. Hell if I know. I just catch myself staring at him, thinking how he looks nothing like a Cardigan Welsh Corgi... worrying about my child accepting similar ideas.

The first time I told someone

2011-09-13T17:27:00.000-07:00

I have been all over the board telling people outside my family about donor eggs.

I have no problem telling complete strangers, including the checkout gal at Whole Foods. And Dominick's come to think of it. I must have a thing for cashiers: the bartender for the woman who cannot drink.

Some co-workers know, with varying degrees of success. Previously, any of them who know have been along for most of the mostly miserable ride.

I had practice telling my story last week to a co-worker I had sort of discounted as a pretty boy. I didn't think he had a lot of substance. (Don't I sound like a real joy to have as a co worker? Eek.) Turns out my man has a family by IVF - they suffered many misses before the hits. I told him my very abbreviated donor egg story and he got it.

I liked telling my story. I liked telling it in the hallway where someone just might over hear. I feel like a DE exhibitionist. This is the real deal and I get so geeked UP talking about it.

Rocco and I went to a party again this weekend. Twice in a season, remarkable, really. Guess what I was talking about?

My neighbor and I were swapping stories. She had her kids late, the last one at 40. Hey, neighbor, I am 40 as well. Knowing looks are exchanged. She tells me it was a challenge for them to get pregnant.

Well, you lead this horse to water and she is going to chug. Buuuuurp - there is my whole story sitting in her lap. I gotta say, she was hanging on every word. Asked for clarification in all the right places. Oohed and ahhed in a timely fashion.

It was positively thrilling to tell her. I told her no one in the neighborhood knew. She assured me it was not her story to tell. I don't think she said my "secret" was safe with her - that would kind of imply I had something to hide. She was good about it -- she got it too.

One of these days my kid is going to proclaim "I CAME FROM A SPECIAL EGG DID YOU COME FROM A SPECIAL EGG" at a gathering in front of a lot of people. Who knows the scenario, but I used to fear the sound of a record skipping at the end of all the tracks. I need someone to jump in and respond "yes, yes you did and it is very special" without missing a beat.

I think it will be easy to build that team of people to support him/her when it happens. I didn't realize I was holding my breath about it, but I was. Exhale. Ahhh......

Donor eggs. I love them.

Welcome third trimester

2011-09-08T18:40:00.000-07:00

Yoga pants are fine with me. I am grateful for the chill in the air to allow me to leave the skirts in the closet. I was starting to feel too much friction when I walked and it is a real chore to keep my knees together in meetings.

I wear flip flops mostly. They are made by Croc, rather high end when it comes to flip flops. My ballet flats were getting tight so Target just sold me two new pairs a half size up to get me through the last few months.

Tums Smoothies are really good. They work within the minute. I wish I could get some money promoting them as I am a real believer in the power of Tums.

Thanks very much for all of your coaching after my last post. I was delighted to get so much quality support and advice. I honestly expected crickets but wanted to get it off my chest.

It has been rough but I am eeking out my territory. Kind of pissing in corners. In fact, I just deleted the whole story I was sharing - I sound like a mean, mean beast.

Let's just say MIL is not technically inclined and I don't leave the TV in an easy recover mode after Toddlerina watches her kids shows in the morning. Take that Fox news.

Petty, shallow and mean,
Your Friend,
Roccie

Hiding in public

2011-09-03T12:06:00.000-07:00

So who reads your blog?

I remember my mother in law getting quite annoyed with me when she learned about my blog. She wanted to read it.

No way in hell, MIL, no way in hell.

She asked why she couldn't and I told her it was private. After an uncomfortable silence, she asked what was private about posting ideas for strangers to read.

Sigh. Only a non blogger would call us strangers, huh?

My own mother does not read. She knows about the blog, but I only had to warn her once not to read it. To be clear, I wasn't asking her not to read it, just wanted her to know she would probably prefer to spoon her heart out of her chest than read my posts. I have a couple painful doozy posts and I sure don't think my mom would enjoy the frequency of the F bomb here.

My sister reads. It has put me in the corner a few times and caused me to censor, but I can only think of one or two times. My brother only read when he was featured as the Ass of the Week. Otherwise, I am in hiding with family.

I have been found by IRL folks out here in blogland. Hunted down by the mighty Google. To be fair, she is quite brilliant and can do anything with technology. When she showed me how I was tracked down, it was pretty obvious. Oops. I think I fixed it, but I can still see pointers back to me. Anyhow.

So my mother in law is moving in with us.

What.

I want to unload about it a wee bit but there is too much at risk. What if I am found? My own home computer needs to be rigged with safety - disabling automatic logins and clearing history and looking over my shoulder and worrying what happens if they find me?

She comes tomorrow and will be here, playing her loud Fox News and Morning Joe programs, until the middle of November.

There is a small chance I will die, but it is very small.

Everything is coming up Roccie

2011-08-30T20:13:00.000-07:00

No gestational diabetes.

Outgrew my placenta previa.

Toddlerina went to sleep in her Big Girl Bed without me by her side. I actually left the room when she was still awake. This is serious progress.

All in all, I suddenly feel like I am waaaaaay ahead for once. Ahhhh....

Drama from your Momma

2011-08-18T18:30:00.000-07:00

I went into the OB for my glucose tolerance test to see if I have gestational diabetes.

Law, I know I ask for a lot, but please don't give me the diabetes. It is some hard ass work that I don't want to do. I tested high with Toddlerina, my mother now has diabetes and I am over 35... ahem.

I choked down the drink and sat watching the instructional video on how to recognize preterm labor.

Glinda the Good OB comes in and pauses the movie.

Says she is glad I am here.

Says she was going to call me.

Alarms are going off all over in my head.

Holy shit show in the making.

What bomb is she about to drop.

Guess who is leaving the practice and turned in her resignation yesterday.

Glinda.

KA-BOOM!

We talk about the reason she is leaving... read your Evil OB stories here.

Actually, Glinda doesn't directly acknowledge this is why she is leaving, but when I tell her I am not surprised, we both look at each other knowingly.

I will follow Glinda. I don't get to know where she is going yet as The Evil One will sue Glinda if she tells her patients. In fact, Glinda is only telling two of her patients she is leaving.

Not sure how the other Glinda patients find out, but surely they will be told. Glinda says might have some work to ensure she can perform our c-section, but I think our surgery will be on Glinda's very last day with NW Suburban House of Mean and Insensitive OBs.

I am happy for Glinda. I am happy for me.

I cannot wait to have the exit interview of a lifetime when I tell Evil OBs R Us why I am leaving the practice. Oh, you can bet I will be explicit in my detail.

Sighting: Decent Fertile

2011-08-14T10:43:00.000-07:00

We had our semi-annual babysitter Saturday night. Maybe I exaggerate, but honestly not by much. Working full time, managing the Terrible Twos of Toddlerina and worrying about this pregnancy pretty much consume all of my energy.

I won a prize at the party for my shoes. There is no confidence booster like winning a prize for Sexiest Shoes at the party, even if you know deep down it was rigged for you to win because everyone laughs to see a belly teetering in wedge heels.

Men competed for Oldest and Foulest Shoe (no, it was not Rocco, whew). All of us competed for Shoes that Have Seen the Most Miles (China). It was a fun ice breaker even though most of us knew each other.

I met a new face at the party. Not many people knew we were pregnant, so I felt like the belle of the ball with my belly. Poor new gal happened to be in my circle long enough to have to hear me accept congratulations over and over. This new gal told me she has three children. She is a trained nurse, but currently not working.

You know, she says, I really wanted to be at home with my children.

Isn't that just soooooooo nice for you, thought Bitter Infertile Roccie, constantly jealous of every family story she hears that sounds like a fairy tale to her.

I do a good job hiding my bitterness. I made some jokes to new gal why she had to endure such revelry around my pregnancy. Had she known me that last two years, she would have been corned with my Fertility War battle stories. She would have known not to get trapped with me at a party unless she wanted to know all the details of my uterus and constant pursuit of pregnancy.

The Fertile shakes of her wolf clothing. She has four retrievals, two cancelled retrievals and more FET than I can remember under her belt. Sadly, she also has several miscarriages in the whole process. She is clearly healed and lively when she shares her story.

I tell her I love her and ask her if she would like to be my best friend forever and ever.

Wait for it...

2011-08-10T18:13:00.000-07:00

If you can make it to the end of this and not cry, well, you might be made of stone.

http://www.hannahweptsarahlaughed.com/2011/06/mommys-garden/

Photo by Stacie via Flickr.

I am so glad I didn't miss it thanks to an ever watchful Danielle. I owe you a big one.

What is it about Fertiles and water?

2011-08-05T07:47:00.000-07:00

I saw him do a double take at me across the parking lot this morning. We reached the steps at the same time and walked up to the the office together.

Fertile moron: I wouldn't drink the water around here.

Trust me, it isn't the water.

Fertile moron: Well, look at you.

Never, ever assume pregnancy is easy.

Especially for the Senior Mommas like me.

Fertile moron: Sure seems like there are a lot of You Guys in the office.

I worked very, very hard to get here.

Never, ever assume pregnancy is easy.

I can only assume this is his way of saying Congratulations to me.

Fertiles, you continue to make me insane.

Attack of the placenta previa nerves

2011-08-01T18:13:00.000-07:00

I guess I do not cope well with stress. I bet my family and friends would line up to tell you this is the truth.

I had my follow up appointment to review my 20 wk u/s results today. I had the whole live long morning to sit and speculate, plus I worked from home. Never a good idea to have unchaperoned Roccie home with Dr. Google before an appointment.

First offense: I ate almost an entire bag of Chicago style popcorn - the kind that is half cheese and half caramel. I ate the whole bag in just over 24 hours but 90% was chowed today. Sigh.

Second offense: I got mad at Resolve. Who gets mad at Resolve?? This tightly wound momma. Gah. Not my proudest moment.

It appeared the Resolve post was slinging desperation and partnering it with donor eggs and surrogates. So, I let 'er rip. I spouted on Twitter and, worse yet, I spouted on FB. Can't really hide when you run yer yap on FB. I guess I could have just deleted the comment, but I felt like I owed the follow up apology and moreover, I owed the explanation as to what my confusion was all about.

By the time I got my hot head to the OB I was feeling much more calm. I think the blowup and massive sugar come down expelled all that negativity. There really has to be a better way. Shame I haven't learned a healthy method in my 40.5 years...

Glinda had a lot of optimism to share around the placenta previa. Mine is marginal, meaning it is encroaching in the 2 cm safety zone that should exist between the cervix and the placenta.

Best news is that is can get better or stay the same. Getting worse is not really an option with placenta previa. How about that one? Whew. So I am back in 4 wks for another u/s. I made the appointment in my OB office as I can schedule around the Biggest Jerk In the World, the Evil OB.

Glinda had phoned last week around my long wait in the office. Her message was thoughtful and personal. She was very apologetic as she was caught in an emergency c-section. Guess who was at fault for it? Evil OB. Ha, small world.

It was a funny and sweet bonding moment with Glinda and Roccie vs. placenta previa and the Evil OB.

Holding pattern

2011-07-26T11:40:00.000-07:00

Me and my acne. Sort of seems unfair in the grand scheme of things. My aging and egg-less body, but I have the complexion of a fertile teen who is chock full of eggs.

I promise you a picture one of these days, unless that is too crass? I have a couple contenders brewing on my chin as we speak. No pride and I will do anything for a laugh, especially when it is at my expense.

Toddlerina has been sick as a goat. She is beastly when she is this sick. I had my follow up with Glinda the Good OB yesterday. Packaged up my sick little beast goat and took her with me since she was banished from school with The Fever.

This is how much I wanted to have the appt and get the low down on the placenta previa. That sentence about packaging took all my might. There was just no pleasing Her Majesty.

Glinda kept me waiting for one hour. Toddlerina read every book in the basket then ate her snack. Now what? We left the office with no sign of the good doctor in the house. Hrmpf.

I wasn't mad, but I did play up the weary look on my face and pinched Toddlerina so she would be a sobbing mess when we walked out.

Just kidding, but only because she didn't need the pinch to cue her inner beast.

Pregnant wanker Fertiles

2011-07-21T06:43:00.000-07:00

My sisters, I was blatantly rude to the douche bag who just came in my office to announce he was 10 weeks pregnant.

     "Sure happened a lot quicker than we thought."

     "This heat is killing her."

     "We will definitely find out what we are having."

I sit here with a baby in my belly at 21 weeks and his words still sear me like a hot sword to the gut. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion.

Sending you all my best as you encounter your own personal bags of D in your life.

It sucks and you are not alone.

"Just try to enjoy the rest of your pregnancy"

2011-07-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

All is well. I would be lying if I told you I slept well last night. No nightmares, but I wound myself up by the time I was on the table.

Thanks for the champ advice, Nurse Ratched. Anyone can TAKE the reservation, it is KEEPING the reservation that is the hard part.

We will have a follow up appointment in 6 weeks as I just might have placenta previa. The doctor believes it will correct itself. He told me the only risk was a requirement to have a c section, but Dr. Google is freaking me the fuck out with preterm labor.

I hope you think this picture is funny.

I hope I am not turning into that asshat we all hate on FB by posting this.

The danger of the ziplock

2011-07-18T18:11:00.000-07:00

You should at least struggle slightly when eating cookies. In the morning. I don't care if it is green tea, you are still eating cookies for breakfast.

Or second breakfast in my case.

The ziplock allows you to take a reasonable portion out to enjoy.

The problem is when the ziplock grants easy access to top off your napkin one more time. Correct the poor tea:cookie ratio of your first batch.

We head in tomorrow for our level II ultrasound, aka the regular 20 week u/s to you young folk. My senior status awards insurance approval for all the high end testing that a 27 year old egg doesn't really need. I am delighted to take advantage of it.

I always worry a little bit that the technician might slip and say something about the sex of the baby. We don't want to know.

That is my biggest worry right now. Accidentally finding out the sex of the baby. What. Who am I???

Oh, donor egg, how I love thee.

Your price is high at times, but eventually you start to give back.

Flowers from Toddlerina

2011-07-11T20:13:00.000-07:00

We had massive storms in Chicago this morning. It was a record for ComEd in the number of folks left without power. We lost ours in the first 3 minutes.

I had to cancel my work from home day without power. I may slack when I work from home, but not having an internet connection is a dead giveaway.

I said good bye to all the fresh groceries I had put into the fridge yesterday in my new Effort to Eat Healthier. Waste of money. I put my dogs in kennels in the dark with a flashlight, hoping the batteries would last until power was restored. Guilt.

I got dressed in the dark and put on clothes that did not need ironed. I had product-free, air-dry hair that I went to sleep with wet the night before. Ugly. I gave a brief prayer of thanks I was not born in the 1800's.

It was a loooong and very hot day.

Toddlerina picked me some flowers when we came home from school.

Can you see how beaten they are? Past their prime? Hell, one of them has no petals.

Sentimental fool that I am, I send you all my very best withered, tired, but oh so beautiful flowers.

They made my day.

DE babies love Woody Allen

2011-07-06T19:42:00.000-07:00

I am recently released from house arrest.

My sister in law stayed with us for 2 weeks. In a row. She is great and all, but did you know that 2 weeks is 14 days? In a row? I have much to catch up on.

Rocco and I made it out to see a movie this weekend. About 10 minutes into it, the Indian food we had eaten kicked in - that baby was mooooving! It literally took all my might not to stand up and shout:

"Do not be alarmed! The baby is alive! The baby is ALIVE!! This just might work out!!"

Boy, wouldn't that freak some people out.

....... did I just sit here and contemplate deleting everything I just typed for fear of tempting Fate? Yeah, maybe. Old habits die hard.

I wish we all lived closer and could meet for a milkshake. I am a grinning fool. Scared, sure, but man, am I happy.

ps - Whoever found my blog with the search phrase "scared to poop after an embryo transfer": can you please self identify so I can be your new best friend?

Things we just survive

2011-06-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

I don't get it. I don't know how it all works. Somehow, some way, we just get through it all.

I cannot believe it has been two weeks since I had my 16 week appointment with Glinda the Good OB. (Glinda, not Glenda - thanks Sarah. I love my pop culture when I can get it right.)

I sat down in the chair with Glinda and promptly burst into tears. "Oh my goodness. What is wrong? Are you bleeding again? You could have called. Are you feeling ok?" I cried a little more and the best answer I could come up with was "I am scared."

Glinda has her own stories to share. Stories of waking up and pulling back sheets to see a bloody mess; preterm labor; more bleeding. She told me she set the goal of just making it to delivery, then it will all be okay. Moral of the story: never set that final goal line. You know it always gets moved.

She delivered a healthy baby. She was nursing and the baby began to have seizures. What. But she was there. She arrived at her goal. She made it to delivery. It is the self identified safe zone. Right?

Her baby's seizures are now managed, no long term impact to the infant. The only lasting scars are on the mother. She said it was harder to recover from the seizures than the bleeding and preterm labor because she thought she was in her safe zone.

Some moral, huh? The moral is more complex than never setting the finish line. It makes it sound like you are never safe, but hell, you really aren't. I feel all predestination and shit, but taking it one day at a time is the best I have right now. Cannot change it for the better and thankfully cannot change it for the worse.

I am out about the pregnancy at work now. It is kind of fun, especially when I see people in other departments do a cartoon double take at me. As I told my newly pregnant friend Lut, I highly recommend sitting on your announcement for as long as possible if only for entertainment value.

Do NOT sit on it justincasethatthingthatcanhappenhappens. Ahem, like I did. It doesn't help and it just might do more harm than good.

Things are great now. Happiness is finally mine. I feel like a million bucks and only worry late at night when flipping for the cold side of the pillow. But it doesn't last long or at least as long as it used to.

Thank God we are so damn resilient. Well done, Sir.

What does that mean?

2011-06-23T19:26:00.000-07:00

I remember when I first started to read blogs. At first I gravitated to the blogs with the glossaries down the side. There were so many new acronyms I didn't understand yet. I only knew the basics from my own experience, IVF and IUI.

I was quickly pulled in by my the writing style over at Misfit's house. I was amazed by her story and laughed at the running sidebars of Regular Life Not Associated with the Pursuit of the Baby. I read and I read and I read.

Misfit was the first one to introduce me to the idea of RPL. I can remember looking it up. And I was horrified. I don't think I fully understood what the costs of RPL might be to a family, to a couple, and to a Momma.

As avid and regular Misfit reader, time passed. I assumed I had learned the risks and the pain associated with RPL. I thought I understood what our Misfit was facing.

Dear Misfit. I am so very sorry for your loss. Your pain is now part of my own. I think of you often and wish I knew what to say.

For my own blind optimism, I apologize. I thought I was supporting you with my hoots and hollers of delight in your pregnancy. I fear it might have felt like acid on your skin. What do I know about RPL? I am grateful you can see past the gaffe to my true intentions.

I have been busy with my new prayers... or call them my best intentions, my positive thoughts and just plain thinking about our RPL sisters. You have my very, very best coming your way.

Apologies for my Freak Fest

2011-06-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

I don't know what that self induced Freak Fest was, but I am glad it is over. Thanks very much for your support. I was walking with a monster on my back for the last several days.

All is well today at 16 weeks.

I let a lot of things get to me. I am not made of stone.

It sounds absurd in print, but I was certain my belly was smaller. I woke up one morning, lying on my back, and it all went south from there. I swear it is like I have body dysmorphic disorder.

There was more. I seemed less tired. I didn't feel better after eating, but I never really felt all that sick in the first place. Yeah, in retrospect, all those things that come with the second trimester.

Perhaps hiding my pregnancy isn't healthy? Law knows I am not the most stable chair on the porch.

I had an amazing conversation with Glenda the Good OB. I am too tired to talk about it now, but I learned a lot from her. I think I can do this and I honestly believe this will be my last Fest.

I am planning a coming out party tomorrow. Assuming I have the guts, I will not hide in a bag outfit. I am going to try to be a pregnant lady tomorrow.

I was up above it

2011-06-15T08:27:00.000-07:00

Now I'm down in it.

I head in tomorrow for my 16 week appointment.

I have a deep and unsettled feeling.

Can't remember the last time I heard this song, but every word came back to me as I drove into the office this morning. Sure hits home.

I am useless today.

Radio silence for my friends' losses

2011-06-09T19:55:00.000-07:00

My friend Lis needs all the support we can offer her right now.

Lis delivered her twins at 21 weeks.

Please surround her as she suffers the loss of her second set of twins.

Please give egghunt your love and support as she recovers from her ectopic pregnancy.

Egghunt has too many cycles of IVF, FET, cysts and miscarriage in her past.

This recent loss cost her a fallopian tube and is chasing her beautiful spirit.

Things that Fertiles never do

2011-06-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

If you know me on FB, you see I have not made The Announcement.

If you know me IRL, you wonder why I wear a sweater with a heat index of 100 degrees.

I have never been good about getting to work on time. Too much morning time is spent fussing with the dogs, watering a half dead plant or some other urgent task. Mostly catering to the fair Toddlerina takes up my time.

It is impossible to get to work at a reasonable time now that I have the need to disguise my belly every morning. I try a minimum of two outfits every day. I would try on three, but I don't have enough clothes to consider.

We reach 15 weeks on Thursday, plus this is my second/third baby. Let me tell you the popping and sagging came fast. Not to mention the boobs. Heaven help me, these breasts will be the death of me. I need to buy size L for the girls, but then the arm holes sag.

I still have not come clean about the pregnancy at work. My guess is some people are putting it all together, but most have the decency not to ask. Once it is out there, I cannot take it back. If something doesn't go to plan, I have to face them all.

My defense mechanism? Carry a notebook. Everywhere.

I can be seen ready to take dictation at any time, even in the washroom.

Here are a couple of my favorite poses. (Of course, these are taken at home as I could not risk someone seeing me do this at work and draw any attention to myself.)

We told my nieces this weekend. I adore these girls. The oldest is in 8th grade, the middle is 6th and the littlest one is in the 4th grade. Their reaction was everything I had hoped for. I may not have their unbridled joy, but it counts for a lot to see it in their sweet faces.

I asked them if they thought Aunt Roccie was just getting big? Too much indulging in my much loved milkshakes? I barely had the sentence out of my mouth before they were all shouting, "Yes!"

Perhaps I have another week undercover at work.

Considering an unpopular decision

2011-06-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

Note: this post could be really annoying. Someone complaining about her OB. I apologize if it comes out the wrong way, but she sure is a Mega Bitch. I am grateful to be pregnant but I need to unload a bit.

The short of it is I don't think I am going to switch practices.

I spoke with the Glenda the Good OB about the situation. I prepared for it like a high school student, bulleting out my main and supporting sub-points. I felt almost nervous when I started to deliver the message - so much was riding on an effective delivery.

I nailed it. Whew.

My favorite line was recapping how the Evil OB turned the story against me by searching for my so-called real problems at home or at work. Crud, I don't think I told you that part.

The Evil OB must have felt my powerful eye-daggers piercing her all over with a white hot pain. She said I looked concerned. Was I sure something else wasn't going in? Perhaps something at work or trouble at home?

"I am pregnant and I am bleeding from my vagina. What part of that isn't enough to cause concern?"

Why oh why can't I think of those things when the situation is at hand? Woe is me, I only was able to say it to the Good OB when retelling the abuses I suffered with her partner.

The Good OB totally disarmed me with one statement, telling me she wishes this was the first time she had heard something like this.

What.

I guess the Evil OB is, in fact, evil. Glenda the Good OB tells me if I felt dismissed or judged I very likely was.

I feel validated. That counts for a lot. I can avoid the Evil one and that counts for more.

I shopped around for another OB. I have slim pickings for such a fancy schmancy suburb. Even confirmed my options with my lovable RE. When it comes to pedigrees, no other practice compares.

Even though we are donor egg, Good OB will write special orders for me to have ultrasounds performed at another hospital with better equipment. Problem solved. This is the route w went Toddlerina anyhow. It is not hard and I find value in the extra drive.

We will likely schedule a c section rather than try for a vaginal birth after caesarian. I fear the risk the uterine rupture. I know the odds of it are less than one percent, but my first still born daughter Mannie was even lower odds. I don't take comfort in numbers.

No more bleeding. I sure think I might feel some movement. Cracks me up.

Toddlerina turned 2 yesterday. Fertically challenged Mommas take hope! Your Take Home Baby can happen.

More bleeding for my last days of T1

2011-05-26T18:18:00.000-07:00

The subchorionic hemorrhage returned on my last two days of the first trimester.

Just to remind me that I am never really safe, I am never really in control, and I am never certain of a damn thing. That is why we call them Take Home Babies. They are not christened so until you get to take them home.

If I believed in tempting fate, I would really kick myself for the title of my last post. Over confident fool.

I am an over confident fool, but not a foolish fool. I knew when I saw the blood the first day in the toilet it was nothing to panic over. (Ok, there was mild panic.) It has been so long since I saw it in the toilet, not just on the tp. Then the next day - there it is. You feel it, don't you? Forfuckssakethatwasnturinethatjustpassedwasit. A second day of blood in the toilet, so I called the OB.

I should explain that it was brown. I think the first day might have been more reddish brown, but perhaps it was the shock of seeing it there swimming in my toilet. I fully expected the soothing nurse to listen, ask questions, reassure me and tell me "of course it is no bother - you call us any time you have a concern". I hung up and the office called me back in less than five minutes to tell me to come into the office.

I had a very bad experience with the OB. You might remember her evil, hateful self from the last time she made me consider leaving this OB practice. Doesn't that just boil your blood?

The Evil OB was dismissive and short tempered. The best way to sum it up is she saw me as a fanatic worrier who wasted her time, her precious time. Please recall, the office told me to come in, not the other way around. She treated me like a housewife with a spider in her kitchen.

Here are some key comments I think you will enjoy:

"I don't know."
"Women have been bleeding since the dawn of time."
"Women bleed and many can go on to have healthy babies."
Editor's note: do you like that, "many" and "can"? Bitch.

The Evil OB told me everything was fine.

Fine.

Fine?

What the fuck the does FINE mean?

She was as heartless as they come.

I have had a speculum. Haven't we all? She made it feel like an umbrella was opening my body. The real kicker? I saw the heartbeat a good 20 seconds before Evil OB bothered to point it out to me. It felt like 20 years and I will never, ever forgive her for it.

I have a follow up appointment scheduled with the Caring OB to get some real answers.

I am 13 weeks today and the longest first trimester of my life is over.

No evidence of disease

2011-05-19T18:47:00.000-07:00

We had another scan today; belly style, no wand. It was positively liberating.

No sign of the SCH.

I asked if I was still high risk. My regular OB was out for this appointment. I had my #1 Backup OB.

She jumped immediately to The Birth Plan. I sense a lot of concern that I might want to pursue VBAC, but that is beside the point.

The real point is I think I am just your Average Joe Pregnant Woman. I do not bear the marks of High Risk to this OB, unless she starts thinking birth plan. I flat out asked her, "But what about now? What about getting to the delivery? Are you concerned about that?"

"Oh, gosh no," says #1 Backup OB.

If you found my blog searching for subchorionic hematoma, I am really sorry. I wish you were looking up snacks to settle your stomach instead.

Man alive, SCH is some scary business that can really terrify you and everyone around you. Try to sit tight and try to think positive.

And, uh, do not read my past blog entries as an example....

All the things I haven't wanted to jinx

2011-05-18T06:19:00.000-07:00

Special thanks to those who noticed I have been dodging the bullet. I post about everything but my baby in the makes.

I am a little afraid sometimes to post good news. I have some in my pocket, but I have been sitting on it. As soon as I hit publish, what if it all takes a turn? I don't think it will or at least I am getting a little stronger thinking that every day.

I had an OB appointment last week. The SCH is smaller, about half the size it was the week prior. OB is ready to put this behind her. She thinks we are on the road to recovery or maybe we are pretty much there. I am going back in this week to follow up on it just because she is good to me.

I have some real luck with doctors. Nothing will ever compare to my RE or to my acupuncturist, but OB is earning more of my dedication as this progresses. She has a daughter who is one year old that goes to the same school as Toddlerina. OB has caught me in the parking lot, slyly checking to see no one was looking, and asked after my pregnancy before I was released from the RE. She is good that way.

At our appointment, we were talking about VBAC options. What could push me one way or the other. Did I want to try. Did I want another c-section. My babies seem to have really large heads.

(Cue: car screeching sound after about 10 minutes into the conversation.)

Uh, are we talking about a birth plan.

     Well, uh, yes, we are.

Why.

     Uh, Roccie. You are going to have a baby.

What are you talking about.

     Laughs, but not meanly.

Are you sure we should be talking about this yet.

     Yes, Roccie. Nothing is ever guaranteed to us, but I believe this is going to happen for you.

Ok, then I think we need to start this whole conversation from the top because I just couldn't hear a damn thing you said.

Everyone laughs.

Fade to black.

Living with Fertiles... take 2

2011-05-15T10:11:00.000-07:00

My missing blog post was never rescued in the Blogger restore process.

Here it is, reposted for my own records, again.
____________________________________________________________________

So get this. I have some good humor at our Infertile expense. You in?

I was a walking commercial for Resolve and Infertility Awareness. You know that dippy show called something like "What Would You Do?"... I thought one of you guys set me up. It was that bad.

I swear this woman threw every cliche at me. I take that back, it is not true. She did not tell me to "just adopt", but to offset this failure to offend, she compared my desire for children with her new puppy. She is now "too old" for kids. Funny, she is roughly my age. Shame she cannot do the math in her head like I can.

The good news is she is part of senior leadership at my firm. Ha. She walks in and point blank asks me "Are you expecting a child?" What is this. The Victorian Age when we cannot say pregnant? I deliberately misunderstand her to say something about picking up Toddlerina from school. She balls up and asks me if I am pregnant.

What the fuck would you do?

"I have no announcement at this time."

Anyhow, the conversation drug and drug into lower and lower places. I was ARMED I tell you! Armed! Thank jaw for National Infertility Awareness Week! I didn't back down to one stupid thing she said. I was a Blazing Infertile.

You know she won't drink the water on our floor?

I assured her it was not in the water. In fact, I have tried almost every treatment offered in Assisted Reproductive Technologies and it cannot be corrected with Magic Water.

You know she won't sit on the toilets on our floor?

I assured her babies were not made from toilet seats. I told her if I thought licking a toilet seat would help, I would do it. As an INFERTILE, I am willing to try anything to grow my family. I have been trying hard since Toddlerina turned 6 months.

You know she thinks if I stop trying it will just happen?

I should take a vacation, an expensive vacation. I assured her that my condition is medical and not in my head. I have medical bills and loans that are now driving us out of our current home to prove it. Okay, I was too embarrassed to say the last one to her face, but it is true. We need to move. Story for another day.

Guess who comes to my rescue?

You wont believe it.

The Catholic.

What?

The Catholic comes to my rescue!

The woman share an office with - the very woman I feared who would not understand my ART.

I would like to formally retract all judgements on the Catholic Church. I, uh, had a lot.

She rips out an email to this Absurd Fertile Senior Executive:

I don’t know if you were aware of this, or how awkward your question or subsequent comments were, but as I have learned quite a bit on this in recent months, I thought you would appreciate the information at the attached link.

I have made my share of regrettable remarks in my personal and work life, and I hope you don’t take this as me being judgmental, but just to prevent future misunderstanding.

I was surprised that 1 in 8 couples have infertility problems. At least within the IT department it is much, much higher, more like 1 in 4 for some reason. In fact I just went out to lunch with 4 other people and 3 of the 4 of them have had fertility challenges.

Here is a good website for your future reference:

http://www.resolve.org/support-and-services/for-family--friends/infertility-etiquette.html

P.S. Of course it goes without saying you don’t ask someone if they are pregnant until they pretty much schedule their maternity leave, as number of miscarriages etc. is also very high frequency.

When is the last time you had someone stand up for you?

Let me tell you, it touches you deeply.

Hey Blogger I am not happy

2011-05-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

We had some AWESOME comments going.

A real discussion was unfolding. About something other than my uterus.

Ok, not really, but it had a little more depth than my uterus posts.

Please restore my post with comments.

Sadness.

Thank you to everyone for being so open with your thoughts. I really appreciated your perspective.

Changing of the Guard

2011-05-07T13:00:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the quiet across all fronts. I am here, quietly reading, quietly freaking and managing.

I have graduated over to the OB as of last week. OB is a different story on the subchorionic hematoma than the Good RE. I am trying not to let it worry me by classifying it as a change of leadership. OB is in this for a much longer run and her objectives are quite different than the Good RE. I feel like a smell a little "not on my watch" perhaps?

Sadly, I have lost my title as a Run of the Mill pregnancy. I was really proud of that too. I am back in the (flashing neon letters?) High Risk group for this pregnancy.

The SCH is smaller as of last week. OB is very pleased with the downward trend, but then touched hot white wires to my heart when she talked about what can be the outcome from the SCH of my size. A gruesome miscarriage where the entire placenta shears off is the least of my worries. It sounds like it is more likely to interfere with blood flow and growth, taking the heartbeat away from my baby. Second trimester enjoys an increased risk to rupture my bag of waters where the SCH weakened the placenta.

I am back in the office again next week. OB wants to see me once a week. Never a good sign when an OB isn't stingy with her ultrasounds, is it? I will be 11 weeks when I return next week. Counting down to 13 weeks.

I am doing ok for the most part. I haven't been eating the pregnancy websites up but I also have not been Dr. Googling the SCH. In fact, I try not to think of the baby much unless it is in active, palm-sweaty begging prayer for a healthy outcome. I read that back and it sounds pretty pathetic, but all is well.

All my thoughts and prayers are with our Mothers In Progress tomorrow.

You don't need a baby in your crib or in your belly to be a Momma.

All my love and support on Mother's Day.

What if God shows up?

2011-04-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

A co-worker lost their premature daughter a few weeks ago.

Baby girl was making it one day to the next. Each day a requirement was set and she met it: she will do this, or it will be the end. She left her family after a three week fight.

I told anyone who would listen: don't send flowers, flowers die.

What comes next for them. They went to the support group. It turns out they were the freak show of the group, just like I was once upon a time. The story that everyone secretly gives thanks that at least they are not YOU. He hated group and I hated group too. I walked out on the second session and never went back.

I remember so many daffodils. I hated daffodils. She came and she went April 23 in 2007, four years ago. I hate your fucking daffodils.

Anger comes throughout. He told me he couldn't finish his son's prayers last week. What does he have to say to God? How can he reconcile the anger with the simple good night prayers of his toddler?

I delivered Mannie after she had been gone for almost a day. The doctors were deliberate to occupy my full attention before I met her. I needed to be prepared, they told me. Her head shape was unique. Her skin was delicate. Her coloring was different. This was going to be difficult and I needed to stop and prepare.

She looked beautiful to me. She had a full, wide mouth which I am certain is a distinct sign of beauty. We spent our time with her. My story, still sitting in my heart.

Time passed and I lost a lot of blood. Perception is everything, but it sure seemed like I was going to die. Doctors were running in the hallway. My mother came back into the room when she saw our doctor and others charging into my delivery suite.

The head of maternal fetal medicine was brought in. Again, taking my full attention. Look at me. I need you to listen to me. We need to operate. I need your permission. The placenta has not passed and you have lost a lot of blood. You are still losing blood. We need to do this now. There is no alternative.

I told him I knew what this was about. This is the surgery that can damage your uterus and prevent you from having children in the future. Go ahead, doctor. The future belongs to someone else. I have nothing to lose.

This is when my fight broke out.

Really, God. This is it?

You are going to kill me now? That is your plan?

I dare you. I fucking dare you.

I lived. Anger faded and quietly turned to distance. I didn't have time for God in my life, but frankly never noticed. I was too busy trying to survive all on my own.

I asked the support group leader why she managed such a grim group. How could she bear the weight of all these destroyed lives. She said she did it because people get better.

I told my co-worker this, that somehow, some way, it manages to get better. I don't know how or when, but it does get better. One day, I stopped wishing for death. Some time later, I was feeling the edge of happiness. And so it went.

He tells me he understands this. It makes me sad to see him waste his time with the anger and separation from God. I am only learning how to tinker with rebuilding it myself, but it has pulled me through a lot this last cycle. It doesn't feel like riding a bike, but it is getting better.

8w down, 5w to go

2011-04-21T18:35:00.000-07:00

Milestones. What would I do without you? How else could I parse out my pregnancy into little mountains of achievement. Our appointment with the RE went well today, but I am already setting my eyes on the next milestone of Getting The Hell Out of the First Trimester.

The subchorionic hematoma is still there, but it sounds like this is to be expected. I have not had any bleeding worth mentioning since the original event. The hematoma is larger than it was last week, but does not appear to be collecting new blood. It has clotted itself off and this makes my RE happy.

She said one thing that really stuck with me. I had prepared my Hematoma WTF questionnaire from Dr. Google. I was running through my checklist of questions when she clarified anything I find online just doesn't apply to my case. You can find SCH information online, but this is an IVF SCH. Different ballgame with much, much gentler rules.

She got me good. I dropped my interrogation (I wasn't sure I understood the answers anyhow) and realized I was there to talk about the baby.

The baby, right? See how I am way into this post and I forget to mention the fact we have a heartbeat and firmly anchored baby? Exactly how my visit went today.

I don't want to live like this, in this baby-as-an-afterthought world. I am going to reinvent myself.

I am eager to get out of the first trimester to see the miscarriage rate drop, but I am going to try to frame it differently in my mind. I can finally tell my nieces. I will have a steadier stomach. I can get people to bring me milkshakes without having to say a word.

The 2nd trimester will be a mighty time.

Please go and welcome baby Lola to our beautiful planet and her beautiful family. Momma Rosie can you even believe it? She is here and she is healthy and she is yours and you are hers. So much joy!

My subchorionic hematoma

2011-04-15T12:29:00.000-07:00

The baby is fine today. S/he has a heart rate of 151 and is measuring 7w4d, a little ahead of where we actually are by a few days.

What can I say? I am overcome with relief and gratitude. It is difficult for me to put into words just yet, so I need to let it brew. See what comes out of it all. Brutally heavy experience. I was curled up on the couch 2 days ago, certain it was the end, and now it appears to be on the path to all okay? I don't even understand my own thoughts yet.

In the mean time, I am your new resident expert-in-training on subchorionic hematomas. I don't want to be one, but at least I have a name for this bleeding now. It is smaller than when it started on Wednesday by 25%, down to 3cm today. I am told it is average in size and appears to be resolving itself. More bed rest this weekend.

What is next. Funny thing is that I made myself a promise before this all started. Once we cleared the heartbeat, I wasn't going to allow myself to worryworryworry about what could go wrong. I went through Toddlerina's pregnancy in constant fear. Now that I had this fine young egg, I was going to celebrate the benefits of DE by releasing worry.

Hm. Maybe I will start next week.

Bleeding and cramping

2011-04-13T14:52:00.000-07:00

Where do I start? It hurt a lot. I thought the pain was in my head and that I made everything about the pregnancy. I ended up in an office with the door shut, laying on the floor while I waited for it to pass.

The blood started brown, then was bright red, then was coming on its own, even when I was not going to the bathroom. It looked like a lot of blood. So much blood, you couldn't believe it.

I have not miscarried as of this morning. I went in for an ultrasound around 11. The heartbeat is still at 134. There is no sign of the source of bleeding.

My RE called in the afternoon. She said bleeding was more common in FET cycles and with DE. Something about the ovaries not being stimulated, tipping the whole system slightly out of touch. Something about the endometrium.

I still feel cramps. I thought cramps were supposed to be a horrible sign, maybe even worse than the bleeding. She tells me they go hand in hand. It is difficult to have bleeding without cramping.

Bed rest until I am back for an ultrasound Friday.

Anyone have experience with this? I hope no one can reply, but I thought I would ask.

I will take your prayers if you can spare them.

Thankyouthankyouthankyou

2011-04-12T13:20:00.000-07:00

We have a heartbeat, 134 bpm.

We have a due date, December 1.

I will graduate from my RE after 2 more visits.

I am *not* considered high risk this time. What.

Notes for folks in the trenches:

- I never felt implantation.
- My boobs never hurt.
- I never felt sick, but my appetite is smaller.
- I had a couple wipes where I saw something, brown. It lasted 2 days.
- I don't feel crazy tired.
- I do get up to pee in the night.
- My boobs are bigger, but not that impressive.

Hold tight to your faith and hope. You cannot call your own pregnancy from the sidelines. I thought it had failed. Sure seems absurd to have wasted all that time and energy worrying.

I feel a little in shock. My RE was giddy. I cannot wait to hit giddy!

Night swimming

2011-04-10T12:38:00.000-07:00

Remember that old song by REM? Back when they still had It Going For Them, before Monster? I have been singing it all day. I have night sweats something fierce. I know it is all the progesterone injections, especially since we have increased the dosage by 50%.

Rocco is getting a little under my skin, he is so innocent and sweet. He thinks all these complaints are sure fire signs that we are pregnant. I start to explain to him that all it means is that we are injecting tons of progesterone, but I cut it short. No reason to rain on his parade. He blissfully moves forward, sure we are pregnant.

It isn't like he wasn't there for the last time we were pregnant. He saw the betas that were slammed into obscurity by a failure to get a heartbeat. I don't think he is hanging his hat on the donor element either. I think he just lives a simple life, a little like a fertile. So I leave him there.

Please don't worry about posting comments to assure me. Not at all what I am asking to get. I just feel detached from all this and feel like Tuesday's ultrasound will be like the first time I hear we are pregnant.

I am hopeful, but I pull more baggage than I thought.

I am off the crazy meds now. Good thing I have massive amounts of p4 injected into me each night. It has really made the transition relatively easy.

Beta 4-but-I-only-wanted-3 freak out

2011-04-01T14:21:00.000-07:00

It could be the way Rocco was administering the PIO shots.

I had a couple very painful shots and I whined about it. Probably scared the hell out of him, he is sensitive that way. I think when they hurt, he rushed them along for a few days. I had big knots in my butt. Didn't think much of it.

The last two days we have slowed down the injection times, almost up to a minute to allow for the 1.5 units of PIO. No lumps. Good news, but not the big news I am waiting to hear.

Ring.

Come on phone, ring.

I would normally eat, as I am a stress eater. I am feeling a little ratty about food right now though. I would like to pretend it is morning sickness, right? I think I am all nerves.

Save to draft and wait for the mofo call.

Call comes. Call Rocco, call family.

Post to FB. Post code to FB referencing Sesame Street and "getting stronger". Consider code was perhaps too deep and no one will get it.

Return from draft.

p4 = 31.6

I sure wish my RE would have checked my hsg as well, but she did not. I tried to talk the nurse into changing the order, but no go. Sounds like the good Doctor fortified my nurse with the reasons why no hcg: it was not an issue. Guess they anticipated my resistance.

The nurses seemed to buy my theory on the injection site lumps. Slow it down partners, slow it down.

For the record, if p4 dropped below 15, the PIO injections would be upped to 2 units (originally 1, increased to 1.5 - increase remains in effect). Doctor would have ordered beta 5.

Thanks for keeping me company during my self-induced panic. Lot of issues to tend to everywhere, so thanks for helping with mine.

What in law's name am I going to do with myself until April 12 ultra-sound day?

Beta day 3 with p4 on the decline

2011-03-30T12:52:00.000-07:00

hCG increased from 1169 to 2624.

Progesterone dropped from 25 to 18.6.

We are increasing the PIO injections from 1cc to 1.5. Back in the office on Friday for another check.

Nervous. Really nervous.

Regretting all the times I thought how much I wanted to trade places with women fretting over beta numbers. They seemed to lose sight of the big picture. Man alive, I hope I was not an insensitive ACEhole to them.

For the record, big picture is long gone. Statistics mean nothing and promises are made to no one. I have been that one in 1,000,000 in the past. It does not give me a free ride.

It does not feel safe here.

Beta Day 2: results are in for me to google all afternoon

2011-03-28T12:15:00.000-07:00

I snapped at a coworker today and it felt great. Don't you know you are severely lacking social skills and it is Beta Day? Fool.

17dpo

		hCG	p4
Beta 1	Friday	288	34.3
Beta 2	Monday	1169	25

The good doctor is pleased with the results.

I had my nurse on the phone, so I did not get the level of analysis I crave. She won't speculate the way I like to - over and over. Probably means she is good at her job.

We easily cleared the target hCG increases, but I don't know much about progesterone.

Where is Lisa when you need her?? Paging Dr. Adele! Paging Dr. Misfit!

You know who I am afraid will chime in? Dr. TwinMomma Kim of Chaos and Dr. Twin Stacie.

Ha! I should be so lucky.

My hard earned so-called slam dunk

2011-03-25T18:38:00.000-07:00

Ok, here we go. We are pregnant.

Stats at 4w0d or 14dpo or 10dp5dt:

hcg 288
progesterone 34.3

My darling RE told me my numbers are so solid, she would have me on twin watch if we had transferred two.

I started to ask some questions around how the numbers compared to my miscarriage. She gently cut me off and told me they are nowhere near comparable events. I thought she meant that much-hated line of 'every pregnancy is different', but she credited the DE.

I have a lot of stats in my back pocket to make me feel safer with this pregnancy. I cannot even remember when DE made me feel so much pain... ok, maybe I can, but it seems so crazy insignificant at this moment. This pregnancy is ours.

What.

Who typed that.

My pregnancy?

Still sinking in and I am still guarded. Old habits die hard.

For the record - this time I had no twinge of implantation. No implantation blood. I don't feel like throwing up. My boobs don't hurt, but I did look a little whorey in a low cut shirt yesterday. They are on the rise.

I had both twinge and blood (well, at least in my head) with Toddlerina. Shame to miss out on such a monumental moment, huh?

We all have a friends still in the running. I really feel the sting of not having them sitting on the other side with me, for whatever amount of time. I feel a heavy side to all of my relief today.

Update from the lab in my bathroom

2011-03-23T18:30:00.000-07:00

Testing continues. I have now incorporated a second brand, blue lines, to enhance my interpretation of the original subject, pink lines.

I think this looks so different than last cycle. I sort of question my grip on reality when I look at those images from last time. That is how badly I wanted it to work.

The lines are not as dark as I hoped to see, but they are getting darker.

The wait time is different too. This time the line was there almost immediately on the pink. The blue one is my thrill seeker test. Yesterday it showed a line in the opposite direction before giving me the much-loved vertical stripe. This morning, the Blue Thriller ripped right into the line I was wanting to see.

Long road to go. Funny how easily people forget. Even family didn't recall the details that I had 3 decent betas before it all started to fall apart. And it isn't like they are not paying attention. Everyone wants a happy ending.

Best wishes to anyone else who needs to concentrate on breathing out there.

I humbly request my name be added to The Board

2011-03-21T18:10:00.000-07:00

I would like to propose myself back in the running.

Here is where we stand six days past a 5th day transfer:

Beta is Friday. Some might remember how things turned out last time. All I can do is wait. Pray. Carry around my crystals. It can change tomorrow or it can change at 24 weeks. Life is not a box of chocolates unless some of them are pumped full of nuclear waste.

Note: M = male. Rocco is not pregnant, but serves as an excellent confirmation as to what a negative looks like as compared to my very, very light line.

All my love to the sisters close to me in the running. Let's try to be strong together. I offer a deep and different love to my sisters not in the race at this time. Your losses sit deep in my heart and I share them with you.

I have been on my knees this time around and your individual names were on my mind. They always are.

How to manage POAS for the weak. Me.

2011-03-19T18:30:00.000-07:00

I have learned my self control to be lacking. I have poor planning skills and a tendency to change course mid stream. I would never call myself spontaneous, but The Freak gets on me and in me.... and I change.

I want to document this so I can pull it up for reference when my ability to think clearly will be long, long gone.

POAS Calendar of Events, Spring 2011

Sunday, 5dp5dt: Baseline POAS.
Expectations: No result.
Hope: Clean as snow.
Fear: Evaporation line that does my head in.
Strategy to counter fear: Rocco takes urine test that morning too.
Monday, 6dp5dt: Hopeful POAS.
Expectations: No result.
Hope: Something I carry room to room to analyze in various lights.
Fear: More clean snow.
Strategy to counter fear: Remember RE told me to wait until day 8.
Tuesday, 7dp5dt: Sweaty-palmed POAS.
Expectations: The beginning of The Beginning or the beginning of The End.
Hope: Carry it around in my handbag all day to admire it.
Fear: More fucking snow.
Strategy to counter fear: None available at this time.
Wednesday, 8dp5dt: The Real Deal POAS.
Expectations: Determine if I need a day off on Beta Day, Friday.
Hope: A line so dark I can see it in any light, any room, any time.
Fear: Sobbing that I am out of valium.
Strategy to counter fear: Break into RE office to demand Beta.
Thursday, 9dp5dt: Poop or Get Off the Pot POAS.
Expectations: Affirmation of Wednesday.
Hope: Even my mother won't doubt the line.
Fear: Hear tone in my mother's voice trying to manage my expectations for Beta.
Strategy to counter fear: Break into RE office to get more valium.

Be strong my sisters. They tell me this pain is worth it in the end.

Please come to the POAS debate. Please?

2011-03-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

Pineapple. It is starting to taste as bad as that Royal Jelly did. Not quite, but pretty darn close.

We transferred one, a donor 4BB that was hatching. I can't really tell you what this means, but I can tell you that Toddlerina was a graded lower plus the two we transferred were my senior eggs: 3BB or a 2AB. The donor fresh cycle was a 4AB. No BFP. Can't you see the logic? Rar.

I feel different this time. I am not as stressed. I think the fresh cycle was a long road - accept you need donor, find agency, find a donor, filter feedback on donors from well meaning family members, secure donor (remember my first donor was rejected).

Freak out through the entire process. Out of body experience.

The long and treacherous road from retrieval to fertilization. Law help me, freak out.

This time I had a lot less balling me up. The cyst was a mofo, but it really gave me some time to sort my head and heart out.

You are going to think me MAD when I ask this, but lets talk POAS. I will do it. There is no stopping me.

What day is the first day I can POAS?
If you tell me Day 6, does transfer day count as Day 1 or is it the day after?
Should I spare everyone from the day by day account of my testing? I read blogs where people just show up pregnant and I am in awe of the self control they possess.

We need a library of POAS categorized by brand and day past transfer. I tell you, I look back at my "positives" now and I think I was delusional. Yeah, the line is better in person, but really. Get a grip. Might as well believe in Big Foot.

Please advise on your POAS. If you are a non POAS please tell me your favorite thing about waiting for The Call.

I am cured!

2011-03-12T11:53:00.000-08:00

I feel like a million bucks. I am a good time. I am patient and forgiving. I have hair like Medusa since I recently came out as curly, and I just don't care. Love me, love my mop.

My dance card is full. I am happy and things are really going my way.

What does it all mean? Please tell me you have seen that Rainbow Guy. I feel like him, trying to identify - what is the meaning? What does it all mean? Who the fuck am I to be so happy and content?

I am cured, I know it. Let's stop the crazy meds. I am better and I want to get pregnant and I want it to be uneventful and I want a Take Home Baby. I had a follow up call with my psychiatrist and popped the question.

She told me no. Hmpf. Something about needing to stabilize for 12-18 months. I didn't shave my head for crying out loud. I just cried. A lot. Everyone does that? Right? But not me. Not anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I can still cry. I can have someone slip me a mix tape that chokes me up and I have to hit eject, eject, eject. Eject. Everything just seems so easy now.... wait for it....

Maybe I can handle transferring two? I can manage twins. We can manage twins.

Ha, we should be so lucky. I know we will transfer one. But if I do not get a BFP, there will be some serious self abuse in this house.

Here we go

2011-03-09T18:57:00.000-08:00

Things went well today at the fertility shop. We are confirmed for our FET on Tuesday next week. Whoa. Lining is a 10 and my estrogen jumped by 2000+, not surprising considering my patchwork belly of stickers and vaginal cookies.

I am really wavering on the number to transfer. I think I get this way every time as the actual transfer date approaches. We transferred one with the fresh cycle. Look where that got us. Success rates are lower with frozen, about a 50-50 shot.

I thought Large Fertility Operation did vitrification. I read over at Lisa's house that CCRM does it and boasts almost as high as a success rate as fresh with FET via vitrification. Perhaps LFO does not have the same freezing process. The rates are lower.

Sigh. Transferring two doesn't increase my chance at success by any percentage. You all know how those stats work.

Why is it so tempting?

I said this to Rocco and he told me he was feeling the same. We always wanted three kids... but we picked that number when we were young and didn't know any better. Hell, we didn't even know each other. Haven't I learned by now life is not a damn thing like you planned?

We filled out the forms for the FET back in December. We opted for one embryo. Maybe it is good we did the process then, before it became so emotional.

My acupuncturist keeps telling me to be still and listen. I will know the right choice. Eek.

Kindness of strangers and taking it IRL

2011-03-02T18:03:00.000-08:00

My RE has changed the medication schedule for FET this round. It is not specific for me, but for all of The Infertile at Large Fertility Operation. I like change, change is good. I needed to scare up some Estrace/Estradiol and do an inventory on estrogen patches.

I had a moment all by myself up in the hallway just now. Toddlerina was in bed, Rocco is working late, and the dogs were somewhere being quiet. I want to call someone and tell her thank you. I want to see how she is doing and check how things are moving on her end. The problem is that I don't know where to find her. Worse yet, I don't have her blog.

My definition of friendship has been turned on its ear. I thought I knew what it meant, but it has been radically redefined by starting this blog.

A couple of months ago I got an email followed by a big box of unused medicine. Our email exchanges were very brief. I was deep in a funk and she was having PC problems. I think I got her blog but it was password protected. I asked to get in, but never got a response.

She stuck a fancy chocolate bar in with the meds she sent. She gave me a link to her IRL. You know. So I could see she was not a freak. She was safe to accept meds, though we had never met.

I was rooting through the box and I came across a sharps container. It was filled with unused needles and something else. I pulled it out and saw it was a EPT.

My eyes filled with tears for her. Why doesn't she want this? Maybe she doesn't need this? I know they come in 3 packs... where are the other two? Is she pregnant? Did she retire?

Why did she take all the time to reach out to me, wait for my responses, pack it, add a note and a chocolate bar, then ship it?

I don't know who all comes here to read. If you don't have a blog, start one tonight. Tell me it is there. I would love to come to your house. Others will come. They are in the same shit ship as we are and they make this passage so much easier.

Don't try to get on top of it

2011-02-22T17:56:00.000-08:00

Wisdom words from the thera-puncturist, but I bet at least some of you automatically blurted "thats what she said", right?

I went in for a session today feeling I needed more the therapy than the puncture. I feel a little detached from this round. The normal me bleeds and sweats the details. I am just too busy to get under it all this time.

I cannot help but to feel guilty that I am not jamming bamboo under my nails to make this happen. Isn't the intensity of suffering directly proportionate to the percentage of success?

If it were only that simple, we would all have babies. I still cannot shake the feeling I should be forcing mediation, drinking ass flavored tea, avoiding wheat or air, and choking down some damn Royal Jelly even though we are donor egg.

Today my acupuncturist told me being present was the best practice I could follow.

She compared it with surfing. You can sit on the shore and watch the surfers move through the waves. They make it look easy. Enjoy the show because the minute you try to get on top of it, everything falls apart.

I don't do her story justice, but she told me not to try and get on top of it. Align yourself with your goal and then let go.

I hope this one finds a little place to curl up with our friend egghunt and keep her warm.

I am a clever bitch

2011-02-17T09:58:00.000-08:00

Look what I wore today to celebrate Day 1 of Lupron....

I was so busy trying to hide my face behind the camera, I forgot to suck it in.

Not as clever.

Pretty sure this isnt the look he had in mind for tonight

2011-02-14T18:38:00.000-08:00

Toddlerina has been sick since Wednesday of last week. I have seen 4 am every day for a week due to said illness. Doesn't everyone shower at 8pm?

My washing machine is broken. Doesn't everyone wear shapeless shirts belonging to their partner?

The one that could be the real kicker? I ordered Lupron today.

But it made me oddly happy. Unsexy, yes, but HAPPY!

Happy Valentines Day to you and your families, existing and in progress.

Cyst free and BCP

2011-02-10T09:39:00.000-08:00

All clear and scheduled for a March 15 FET. No reason to expect cancelation again but I guess there is always that risk. Regular schedule, nothing added. I am BCP for a couple wks and start Lupron next week.

I hope it goes well. I now share an office with a gal who I like very much. She is a very conservative Catholic - I want to use the word Orthodox, but it doesn't sound right. We all know how those Catholics feel about ART. Still, I gave her the heads up that I typically bury the bodies when I am on Lupron. She seems ok with it and I would really regret having to take her life.

Things have changed a bit on my end. My job has gotten better as I have a new position. I haven't cared about a job in a long time. In fact, not sure I ever did, but I sure cared about the money. Now I do something I enjoy. The money is much less, but I am happy. Go figure. I work for a national cancer treatment center. I am not patient facing, just an IT hack, but it feels good to be closer to something that matters to me.

Anyhow, I am trying to get it all sorted out. Work life, home life, next Take Home Baby life (not necessarily in that order). My boss sent me a career plan and I read it for once. I never used to read that sort of thing. I sent thank you cards that were due from November last year. I took care of a collection agency chasing me for $38. I actually have the money, just not the time to pay the bill.

Welcome to the whole new me. I still haven't worked out since 1974, but that might change too. Next year. I don't know, that one is too hard.

I am always there reading but usually a week late, right? I let the reader fill up so much it weighs on my mind and I start to feel guilty. What the hell is that? That isn't what our blog houses are for.

My comments at your house are thinning and I regret it. Comments are the whole reason I started this blog. I felt like I had to let every person know I was there and I loved what they wrote, etc. I am a blog loving fool now and I read so many it amazes me how easy it is to keep it straight in my head. I hang on every word. Many of you know this as I am also a ball buster when you go silent. Ha. Infertile bossy bitch that I am.

Always here, getting a little quieter as I enter DE FET #1 of 1, cyst free, wine-and-coffee-free-dammit, lovingly yours,

Roccie

The Year of the Rabbit

2011-02-03T19:37:00.000-08:00

Look what the blizzard dragged in - it is Aunt Flo!

Welcome you nasty, but necessary, step on my way to FET.

I am heading in tomorrow to Large Fertility Operation to confirm my guest house has only room for one - the cyst OR Aunt Flo.

Since the old bag is here, surely that means the cyst has rolled on to stray dog pastures... as in I don't want stray dogs to get pregnant, not I want them to suffer.

I saw my acupuncturist today. She gave me delicious goodies to take away.

She told me it is good that my period is here now. Naturally, unassisted and in sync with the new moon. The way a period she be scheduled. With the cycles of the moon. Cracks me up.

She also celebrated my mensing to the beat of Chinese New Year. Welcome Year of the Rabbit. No joke, I googled it and here is what I found:

A placid year, very much welcomed and needed after the ferocious year of the Tiger. We should go off to some quiet spot to lick our wounds and get some rest after all the battles of the previous year.

My acupuncturist makes me laugh. She told me that she is a Rabbit herself. She tells me the Rabbit is playful, joyful and lucky. Now THAT is a sign, right?

If I follow the Chinese calendar, I am not behind schedule for our Year of the Take Home Baby. I am right on schedule. Today is the first day of the rest of the Year of the Rabbit and the Year of the Take Home Baby.

Come on home, Baby. We are waiting on you.

So much for my privacy

2011-01-30T19:31:00.000-08:00

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.

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

2011-01-20T17:55:00.000-08:00

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.

How to give yourself a Black Swan Massage

2011-01-19T18:44:00.000-08:00

Or...

How to Increase Blood Flow to Your Ovaries

as told by Roccie

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.
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.
Use your middle and ring fingers to rub in small circles. Massage both clockwise and counter clockwise.
Enjoy this blood invigorating massage for several minutes. Invite your cyst to hit the fucking road.
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.
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.

;)

Love,

The Roccie Ass Road

Things my thera-puncturist is peddling

2011-01-18T18:02:00.000-08:00

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.

Darling.

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.

More wine, more cyst, and more delay

2011-01-12T20:20:00.000-08:00

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,

Roccie

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

2011-01-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

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.

King of the Dipshits Award

2011-01-01T19:30:00.000-08:00

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.

The yin and the yang

2010-12-17T19:02:00.000-08:00

Yin

Who is going to get all this work, shopping and cooking done cause it isn't me. Bleh. I have an astronomical amount of work to do right now.

Can I get an amen from my sisters?

I feel a little under it all. I don't have much to say. It certainly isn't interesting. Do you really want to see a list of all the crap I haven't even started yet? Nay.

Yang

All that complaining you just read? That isn't me. I went to see Dr. Crazy Meds yesterday and switched to a new prescription. Stay tuned for a much more enjoyable Roccie.

I am not in a place where I can really write, but I can show you just the girl who can. Please step over to my friend Rosie's house. She sent me the spirit of Christmas in a box.

The essence of friendship in a manila envelope.

Hope hanging on a tree.

Rosie you are one in a million and I love you.

Thank you for everything.

If you want to know what I look like, you can see me in the red ornament.

I feel like a Led Zeppelin album cover.

Hell, yeah.

Redefining Advanced Maternal Age

2010-12-08T12:29:00.000-08:00

Big drum roll, I am 40 now.

It is a milestone birthday. I believe I am obligated to stop, take inventory and assess my life at a nice round number like this. Eek.

You get a lot of hassle from anyone who is not 40. It is hard to find a sympathetic ear.

If you are younger than 40, you think "age is just a number". If you are older than 40, you think I am bitching about being "old". Only my buddies from high school get it, old farts that they are.

It has been tough timing. I am souped up on my new medication. Not a big fan. It makes me queasy and I have a really hard time sleeping. Really hard, like flip the pillow for the cold side and end up performing previously mentioned life analysis. Every night. Several times a night.

I had to travel for work just after my birthday. Just me - no coworkers. Lame. I miss Toddlerina so badly I cannot see straight. Get me home. I wanted to participate in the conference, but I was disconnected.

Hrumpf. I head into the psychaitrist next week. Hopefully we can sort this out. I feel better but I cannot say I feel good. Now I know I am depressed. I have the world going for me but I want more. And less. And different.

Here is another thought. What if in my honesty I give a bad rap for recipents of donor eggs? What if I scare off potential donors? What if they read this and think recipients are unstable?

Crap. I really don't think I am unstable, but I am not myself. Hard to explain.

A couple housekeeping issues:

If you could not get the video due to my poor imbedding skills, please click the following link. It cracks me up just thinking about it.

Mompetition

I would al so like to formally introduce and thank my friend Lady Pumpkin of Planting a Pumpkin Patch.

She is the Pumpkin I so fondly celebrated in my last post. I thought I was being clever in the way I talked about her, figuring everyone knew her. If you don't, drop by and get to know her. She is a nutter and takes good care of me. You would be lucky to have her on your side as well.

Best wishes on your POAS Pumpkin.... you will POAS, I assume???

Who doesn't love Pumpkin, that is what I want to know

2010-11-30T06:12:00.000-08:00

I spent my weekend curled up around a box of cookies.

Thankfully, The Cookies of Love from Pumpkin arrived chez Roccie as I started my Crazy Meds. The cookies were so good, I ate them in a matter of days (okay, I ate them in just one day) before yuck tummy kicked in.

So, I got this going for me: Crazy Meds kill the appetite.

Not in a fun sort of yessiriamgoingtostayupallnightandparty, but more of a what-if-i-just-barf-and-get-it-over kind of way.

Transfer planned for January 19.

By then I will be A Thin Mint: impervious to the pain of a failed FET.

Talent. There are some talented mother fuckers out there.

Thank you Pumpkin.

Can you hear that???

2010-11-23T19:48:00.000-08:00

...or "How I Knew I Was Slipping. Again."

by Roccie of Roccie Road

I believed in my last post. I thought I had it.

I couldn't hold on to it. What a fucking fraud.

Yesterday I had what is probably called a break down. I left the office and sort of lost track of time.

Rocco staged an intervention and suggested I ask my RE about anti-depressants. I sent my RE an email that night and was surprised by her response. She was waiting for me when I went in for my baseline appointment today. We talked for quite some time.

I called my old psychiatrist (what, everyone doesn't have one on speed dial?). Her assistant said she couldn't see me until mid December. I hung up but then got a call from the doctor herself. She pulled my file and it must be ugly as she agreed to do our consult over the phone.

She doesn't have all of her ALI facts in order in my opinion, but she easily summed up the state of my head. Meds followed.

Cuckoo. Cuckoo.

I had some reservations about the meds, but today after the fourth (what) person at work asked me if I was doing ok, I figured it was probably a good idea. One of them was my boss and I cried. Dammit.

I lost a job last time I was depressed. Ok, so I lost two. In a row.

My career has never recovered. Sometimes it gets to me.

Once upon a time, I had a self perceived Very Important Career where I made Great Money. Those days are gone. I now sit in a cube and work for a paycheck to cover my ART expenses.

In other news, I had a blood draw to test for autoimmune issues. If this next cycle fails, we will do a lap.

50-50% chance of success with a DE FET.

The BFN - Stop taking credit for it

2010-11-17T20:13:00.000-08:00

My RE called to personally deliver the news today.

There was something about the way she delivered the news that I already knew. It made me breakdown and cry all over again.

"I am so very sorry."

It meant a lot to me that she made the call herself. Over the years, we have become quite close for a patient/physician relationship. I think in different circumstances we would be friends. Or maybe we are.

I went to see my acupuncturist. As usual, she filled the role as my thera-puncturist. I was crying and it was picking up speed. It was all tumbling out of my mouth - what I should have done and what I did wrong.

She told me to stop taking credit for it.

Stop taking credit for the failure.

If this had been successful, I would have handed the success away.

Who am I to take responsibility for it's failure?

If I were pregnant, it certainly wouldn't have been me to make it happen. I have a team. A little bit of God, some of the other gods, and a whole lot of luck. It requires many things to fall into the right place at the right time.

If I cannot make it happen, I cannot make it fail.

This has to be her finest work. I left that place with my cares under her table. I cried hard during the treatment, but it was a release.

I am ready to go back at it. Bring on the bitch Aunt Flo and someone get me a pack of BCP.

Your comments were my lifeline. I don't need to tell you what they mean, do I?

I am humbled that so many women with so many personal worries and shit shows took the time out to help me tend to mine.

I’m out

2010-11-16T06:34:00.000-08:00

I am not pregnant anymore.

I had one leftover test. I took it on Monday morning for kicks. Deep down, I had some concern at the rate the lines were darkening, but I had no idea what to expect. I have never tracked it. I pushed it off as typical useless worry.

Mostly I took this test for kicks.

Monday’s line was about half of what I saw on Sunday.

Today’s was negative.

I think this is likely due to a chromosomal abnormality. I don’t think it is a sign that all of my embryos have a problem. Right? I am my donor’s fifth cycle. Two cycles resulted in pregnancies from fresh and two cycles resulted in pregnancies from frozen.

Perhaps I should take some comfort in the fact that it implanted. I have seen my body carry a sucessful pregnancy. I know I have some good strengths, but right now it is a horrible let down.

All of a sudden, it all came rushing back. I feel like I have been telling everyone who struggles with the set backs “I get it”. I believe I did get it. I had some big setbacks myself with the miscarriage and the 2 cancelled retrievals. The transition to donor eggs was a more than a set back.

My pain is fresh again. I feel like I owe you all a deep apology. I really do get it, but it is worse than I remember.

It all comes back to me: yes, you know you will pick yourself up and try again. But fuck. I am tired. I feel like I get up a little slower.

I get that feeling I have been here before. Do I really have anything new to say?

Meanwhile, back at the potty...

2010-11-14T10:17:00.000-08:00

Genius. Sheer genius to use Rocco's urine as a baseline. Thank you Linda for giving me some peace of mind.

Oh, there is a line.

It was a regular urine fest over here. I peed on two different brands... as did Rocco. I asked him to serve as my baseline to evaluate how the evaporation line works. He is not pregnant. Whew.

The line is light, but it is there. One test shows positive and one shows more positive.

I can see how the last cycle I thought I read a positive on one brand. The Target First Response seems to be more "sensitive". If I were desperate and testing early enough to justify the faintness of the line away, well, Rocco just might be pregnant in my book.

The First Response Early Response takes longer to darken. It isn't as dark and glorious as the Target knock off, but Rocco has zero chance of being pregnant on that test. White as snow.

Lessons learned? Please chime in on this. You folks has some AMAZING feedback. Wonderful ideas coming from my veterans out there. I cannot thank you enough.

Things POAS Taught Me, the Hard Way

Don't switch brands. I switched brands from the last four cycles. It is a mistake to turn your back on the experience you have gained over time. Familiarity is key.
Use two tests. I am sure this is a sign of the depth of my madness, but variety was a life saver today. The test behave differently.
Having day 5 as a blank slate proves a valuable reference point.
Day 5 not baseline enough for you? Male urine saved my sanity. I cannot say I want to recommend this, but keep it in your back pocket if you think you see ghost lines.
Photoshop, Picasa or photo editing software is like POAS porn. Thanks to Kellyanne for this one. It is titillating to darken your own line. Ooh, that really does it for me. For the record, this did *not* cause a line to appear on Rocco's test. Good stuff.

And now we wait.

We all know too well this is only the first step. There are many more milestones to achieve.

Cautiously joyful,
Your ever grateful friend,
Lost without your support,

Roccie

POAS: The Home Wrecker

2010-11-13T10:10:00.000-08:00

Are we pregnant?

I dunno. Don't even read this post. Save yourself. I already got into an argument with my own mother over it. Still mad about it.

But the torture continues. I need another box of First Response Early Response. Buy 2, get one free in a single box. A party pack. My beta isn't until Wednesday. May as well be next year.

I think I am messing with some false positives. I did this our last test. One minute I am convinced we are pregnant, the next I am certain to be chasing shadow ghost lines.

BUT.

If they are false positives, wouldn't I have a false positive showing up on 5dp5dt? I only think I see a hint of one.

Really, why are you still reading? This is pathetic. These photos were taken HOURS after the pee dip. They are BEYOND invalid.

I fear we are not pregnant.

Let this POAS story be a warning to all you good women. Do not POAS.

Of course, we will test again tomorrow.

I can convince myself I see something different on 7d. I think I see it. But is it only there as this test is over 6 hours old? But why if all the test are old, why does the line appear to get slightly darker?

Why don't I have any self control.

Agony.

Pathetically yours,
Roccie

Music to bring on your determination

2010-11-10T12:49:00.000-08:00

Music takes you exactly where you need to be.

I lived on this record after I learned what "incompatible with life" meant and I lost my baby.

I pull it out again today to steel my nerves and cry tears for so many of us struggling.

My heart hurts so much for you today.

Every time it rains I listen to the sky
And wonder what's so great about sunshine
Everybody lives and everybody dies
And no one's gonna love you like I do

When it was getting dark
I didn't need a match
I never needed light to see you
You thought I disappeared
But I was always here
I could never get that far from you

Though I misunderstand
And been misunderstood
So love me 'cause you can
And not because you should

Every time it rains
I know it's good to be alive
Every time it rains
I know I'm trying to survive

Take it as it comes
And take me as I am
I never was a good imposter
But I know how to dream
And don't know where I stand
I'm willing to admit I try too hard
Stop playing with my heart
I'm waiting by the phone
Afraid to be myself
Afraid to be alone

Every time it rains
I know it's good to be alive
Every time it rains
I know I'm trying to survive
And every time it rains
I'm gonna hide myself inside

I know it's good to be alive
I know it's good to be alive
I know it's good to be alive

Every time it rains
I know it's good to be alive
Every time it rains
I know I'm trying to survive

Don't worry about me. This song just caught me when I was vulnerable - too much troubling news lately.

I don't need the comments, but our fellow bloggers might:

This is for you, Mo.

This is for you, Kim from Chaos.

This is for you, Lifeslurper.

This is for you, egghunt.

This is for you, Lut.

This is for you, Suzy.

This is for you, R.

You are not alone.

Let it be, let it be: 3dp5dt

2010-11-09T06:27:00.000-08:00

Where is the tug? Where is the pull?

Where is all the activity I should be feeling in my uterus right now?

I felt it with Toddlerina. I felt it with our FET, though it ended in miscarriage at 6-7 weeks.

I did feel a pinch.

A pinch is not a pull.

A pinch is not a tug.

I sound like Dr. Fucking Suess.

A pinch is the cramp you feel after having tubes in your uterus. It was the same day as transfer. This is not implantation.

Where is my pink wipe?

I think I might die.

The other side of transfer day

2010-11-07T13:13:00.000-08:00

I go into this wait a little wiser than I was in past cycles. Yeah, this is my sixth two week wait. You would think I would have learned something by now. This isn't much but it is all I got.

Lesson Number One: Get to know your boobs
Progesterone, my lumpy-butt-making friend, I am on to you. I noted breast tenderness even before the transfer. Later this week I will not be tricked into thinking this is a sign of pregnancy. I told Rocco my Breast Update and he just looked at me as if to silently ask how I knew my breasts were tender. Silly man, doesn't he know the poking and prodding we do behind closed doors looking for A Sign?

Lesson Number Two: Corral your urine
I also learned to pee in a cup. Despite the term POAS, dipping the stick is the preferred method. Managing an optimal urine stream is impossible when your hands are shaking. I would like to have Rocco by my side this time. I plan to POAS day 8. (I have the blood test on day 11. Hell if I am waiting that long.)

Lesson Number Three: Fiberize yourself
Metamucil is now part of my diet. All of these meds (I bet it is that damn progesterone) slow you down. The Metamucil isn't that bad. They are telling the truth, *no grit!* But you can imagine, it leads to some interesting moments when Rocco is injecting daily meds into my rear end. Thank jaw I am working from home this week as I, well, I stink.

I am scared to call it PUPO

2010-11-06T18:49:00.000-07:00

I don't care how many times they tell me it is okay to pee after a transfer, it always gives me stage fright.

Here I am. Me and my embryo.

Now what.

I am guzzling estrogen inducing things:

The Sound of Music
Babies (I think it was our girl Lisa who recommended it)
Disney Oceans
Vanity Fair (some trash is good)
Harry Potter Order of the Phoenix

I think I might turn into a pineapple.

The Fertilization Report

2010-11-02T19:41:00.000-07:00

All day I was waiting for the fertilization report. I carried my phone around the halls. Took it to all my meetings. I looked at it, willing it to ring. I couldn't concentrate on anything today.

I didn't have any information, so I did what any normal person would do, I ran the data to project my outcome based on my donor's past four cycles.

	Mature	Fertilize
Projected	23	18
Actual	18	15

We have 15 fertilized eggs. It is an incredible opportunity to very likely have a baby.

I don't know how to explain it. I cried at my dear acupuncturist's today. I was stressed and I was scared. Look at the variance.

Seeing the numbers below my projection (a simple calculation on averages, not weighted by the cycle number) freaked me out.

What if this represents an issue?
Why did she trigger on day 9, not day 10?
Did my RE see a problem and try to cut it off with an early retrieval?
Does this represent a quality issue?

And on and on and on.

Leave it to my acupuncturist to save the day. She presented it to me this way: I am not in control. My inner self doesn't like this and is trying to gain control by making targets, setting budgets while stuffing all the numbers into little boxes.

She invited me to stop trying to control this process receive everything as it happens.

It clicked. I feel really good now.

Please don't spend any effort trying to comfort me - I just freaked out and wanted to share. It might help someone to see how I first experienced it and how the change in perspective helped me.

I probably sound like an ungrateful son of a bitch. I was for a moment when I let myself lose focus. What a great lesson to learn.

I love my therapist, I mean acupuncturist.

Peace, love and follicles,

Roccie

FOR THE DIE HARDS:

The original is actually quite pretty in Excel: formatting, graphs, oohs and ahhs for a nerd like me. I will send it out to whoever wants to spend time analyzing the daylights out of things she cannot control.

My acupuncturist points out the ratio that counts, M:F or Mature to Fertilize, is right on.


Cycle	Retrieve	Mature	R:M	Fertilize	M:F	R:F
1	23	18	78.3%	16	88.9%	69.6%
2	33	29	87.9%	18	62.1%	54.5%
3	22	20	90.9%	18	90.0%	81.8%
4	33	22	66.7%	21	95.5%	63.6%

Average	27.8	22.3	80.9%	18.25	84.1%	67.4%

Projected		22.7		18.3

Actual	28	18	64.3%	15	83.3%	53.6%

Min	22	18	66.7%	16	61.2%	72.7%

Max	33	29	90.9%	21	95.5%	63.6%

Median	28	21	75.0%	18	85.7%	64.3%

Variance
to Average	0.3	-4.3	-16.6%	-3.3	-0.8%	-13.8%
to Min	6.0	0.0	-2.4%	-1.0	22.1%	-19.2%
to Max	-5.0	-11.0	-26.6%	-6.0	-12.2%	-10.1%
to Median	0	-3	-10.7%	-3	-2.4%	-10.7%

This ride is making me a little sick to my stomach...

2010-10-30T11:44:00.000-07:00

My donor triggers tonight.

I don't mean to be a wimp, but I sort of feel like I might throw up.

This is it. Her retrieval is on Monday. Rocco goes in to drop off his business around 930 CDT. Her retrieval may be complete by this time. Whoa. That means we will know how many eggs she produced from that luscious set of fertile ovaries.

She has been hovering right around 30 follicles the last few days. Today is her stim day 9. Typically women trigger on day 10. I don't worry she triggering day 9.... right?

Thirty follicles doesn't promise us 30 eggs. I know we have a couple hurdles to clear - not all follicles have eggs, not all eggs retrieved are mature.

Then we have the fertilization freak show. I sit on pins and needles for 3-5 days while we see how things progress.

Where is that bucket for me to throw up into? Dammit, Rocco, get me a bucket!

Full of peace, full of peace, full of peace.... holycrapthisisit..... FULL OF PEACE!!!!!