I hate the smell of baby formula. Always have, ever since my little brother was a baby.
Now I realize what it smells like...
Failure.
*headdesk*
Breastfeeding. There's a whole industry built around it.
I spent most of my pregnancy not worrying about it. I figured the more uptight about breastfeeding I was, the less chance I'd have of doing it successfully. Until today I owned one book on breastfeeding and even that was picked up for me at a yard sale for $.25. I read enough to learn the basics of a "latch" and the theory behind comfortable, safe feedings -- and that was it.
Like so much of the last two weeks, though, breastfeeding has not gone according to any kind of plan. By the time the staff handed me a Stoatling in the hospital, it was almost two whole hours after he was born and the shakes had just barely worn off for me. All I could think about was getting something to drink -- I told the nurse I was ready to drink the ultrasound gel they had in the recovery room, I was that damned thirsty. I wasn't thinking about the "first gaze" moment (Daddy Stoat had that honor), "skin-to-skin" or feeding anything. I'd just been sliced open to have a major organ and seven pounds of baby removed, then been stapled back together. Breastfeeding was emphatically not on my mind.
This being the case, Baby Stoat and I missed what is widely considered to be the golden opportunity to establish a nursing bond. About thirty minutes after birth is when the sucking reflex is strongest and that's when the baby should be, well, sucking -- instead, he was off in the nursery with Daddy while I was focusing on being stapled back together.
The hospital did try. We had a lactation consultant in twice -- even staying an extra day to make it happen -- and every nurse was convinced she would get him "on". Over four days, that was quite a few nurses who really did try, to no avail. Baby Stoat was just not latching. He dropped weight, I started frantically using a breast pump, and my life turned into an endless cycle of wash-pump-feed-wash. I will do anything to keep the Stoatling healthy, but our inability to sync up for breastfeeding just annoyed me. Surely someone, somewhere knew something about how to get around this!
I spoke with his paediatrician, who also happened to be *my* paediatrician as a child, and she gave me a list of private lactation consultants. I went home from the office that day feeling hopeful and chose a few names off of the list to call. After a few non-returned calls, a few flat out "No" answers (we do live quite a ways out from the area where we see the doctor) and admittedly scheduling a few and chickening out, my Google-fu turned up Mahala. Immediately I found the attitude on the website comforting -- I wasn't going to be made to feel guilty about pumping and bottle feeding! -- so I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best as I sent off the contact form.
Diana West called me back and I explained our situation to her over the phone, and was immediately rewarded with a definite positive vibe. I instantly felt a lot better. No way I was going to chicken out this time! If I was going to have a lactation consultant out to my house, best to have it be the woman who literally wrote the book on breast feeding.We scheduled a visit and while there were no promises of miracles, I went into it with high hopes.
When Diana showed up at our house today, I was very happy to have her get right down to business, since today is one of those days when I can barely keep up with Baby Stoat's demands -- he's wanted food every hour, on the hour -- and breast feeding at the breast would take back several hours of my own time in pumping and cleaning equipment! She assessed the baby's "suck", and I wasn't entirely surprised with the diagnosis of posterior tongue tie. Several of the nurses at the hospital thought he might be tongue tied and others didn't, so it's not a total shock to hear he has some issues with getting his tongue moving the way it needs to go. It certainly explains the behaviour at the breast -- he roots, he scores, he starts to suck and then despite the fact that by that point there is milk ALL over us (and the chair, the floor, the cats and anything else in the line of fire), he drops off and looks confused. Today's assessment showed us that this is due to his tongue's inability to carry the milk in properly -- hello, explanation! -- and that if we have his frenulum clipped (*sniff* baby's first body mod!) we may well wind up with a happily breastfeeding baby.
We did try some feeding with the nipple shield and we did get a latch, all on his own, while I was reclined on the sofa. I can't even begin to say how hopeful I feel after that! It's true he didn't take in much milk, but he did it, and if we get there once now, we can get there again in the future. Baby steps for a Baby Stoat!
Apart from that we also received some great advice on how to bottle feed effectively and some advice on the best way to pump, since that is going to be our routine for the moment. So while not much has changed here at the Stoat's Nest -- it will still be a routine of clean, pump, feed, clean for a while -- I'm incredibly glad I have found some fantastic support and have a lot of hope for the future.
Next up, discussing D-MER -- or yes, it is possible for things to get more dysphoric...
Dinner is cooking, Baby Stoat is sleeping and making stoat-y noises, the lights are low and there is some mellow music playing.
All is right with the world.
I should probably at some point write up a birth story here. I've never been much for birth stories, though -- do you really need to know when my water broke or how many shots of epidural juice I had before the eventual baby-ectomy?
Besides, if you're on Twitter or Facebook with me you know it anyway -- God bless the iPad. What can I say, I was bored!
Andrew's been in the world a little over a week now and on balance it's been pretty good. There have been some bumps in the road -- who knew he would have his first "I'm-going-to-scream-my-head-off-for-hours-and-there's-nothing-you-can-do-about-it-so-ha!" moment when I snuck off for an hour or two to have my nails done? Poor Daddy Stoat, since I am the one with the mammaries and, therefore, dinner. But on the whole, while life with a baby has obviously taken some adjusting, we're doing okay.
I really just wanted to jot down a few observations from my first week of parenthood, because they're fairly new and I want to get them while they're fresh.
#1 -- I will someday write a book titled "Breastfeeding -- It's Not That *%#$! Simple". Those who know what I'm talking about will understand it when I say that Andrew has yet to latch on well, which could be a result of many things, including the Completely Unprepared Childbirth I had. My birth plan, with the nice "allow me to breast feed immediately" and "skin to skin immediately after the birth" checked off? Still saved to my desktop as Dr. I-Don't-Want-To-Discuss-This-Yet, well, didn't want to discuss it yet. Funny, I imagine had she done an internal I might have known Korma McPuddingbutt was on his way. Anyway, from all of the "nipple zealot" websites (as Daddy Stoat calls them) it seems we may have inadvertently affected Andrew's ability to latch with skipping out on those things and subsequently allowing bottle feeds in the hospital because he was losing weight with my milk supply being a bit slow to show up. So yeah -- breastfeeding? Not as simple as it sounds.
#2 -- I still refuse to worry about poo. I do, however, worry about wee. A lot.
#3 -- I have a new respect for cows.
#4 -- There is nothing more awesome than watching Daddy Stoat be a daddy. Nothing.
#5 -- Babies sleep a lot, but I spend my "down time" obsessively Googling all of the things I am likely doing wrong.
#6 -- Epidurals are good.
#7 -- C sections don't hurt. The recovery is another story. Laughter was banned for about a week.
#8 -- It was probably very smart to never, ever watch a birth video, C-section video or see an epidural being given. That unpreparedness meant I went in with no expectations, just flexible plans, and I was not freaked out about anything that happened, which for me is pretty unusual. Either that or oxytocin makes you *reaaaallllllly* mellow.
#9 -- Losing 20 pounds in a week? Freaking awesome.
#10 -- The postpartum body is a bit scary, but I actually kind of like some of the redecorating pregnancy has done. I could be okay with this.
#11 -- Lochia. Euwww!
#12 -- For every website or book with an opinion, there is an equal and opposite opinion in the next book or website. Read at your own risk. When you have time to read. Which is never, anyway. Why read when you have a baby to cuddle?
#13 -- The shower is my friend. Though I think that's as much to do with my thyroid being funny again as it is anything else. Showers make me feel normal.
#14 -- Daddy Stoat is an awesome daddy. Fastest nappy change in the West!
#15 -- I miss my feet, which have been replaced by stuffed sausages. I also miss wearing real shoes.
I'm sure there will be more of these observations in the future, but for now, that is what my brain can handle. :)
Dear Boobs,
I'm glad you are functioning for what you are designed to do, apart from attracting men. I know I haven't always been nice to you; you've been pierced repeatedly, squished into corsets and I am constantly threatening a reduction.
However, leaking all over me without warning? Come on, don't be petty.
Have to go and change my shirt now. Gah.
Leaky nipples leak. Yay?
I looked down today to find the front of my shirt saturated with colostrum. Fun times.
My baby shower is October 17th. :) More to report on that front as things take shape -- right now, the only definite is that I am having my goat cheese croquettes!!
Just to update, for myself really since all of the ladies who started blogs with me seem to have drifted off in the vastness of the Internet!
We are 23 weeks this Sunday. Despite months of uncertainty, the final decision was to come back to the U.S. after Mum's estate was settled so I could have the support of my family during the final half of this pregnancy. It was quite daunting to pack and move the house while pregnant but it did get done. Now we're unpacking the old place and preparing for baby's arrival, slowly.
I had my 20 week scan done at almost exactly 20 weeks, about 3 weeks ago on Monday. The baby looks fantastic and we chose not to get a gender determination -- I still want the "It's a xxxxx!" surprise in delivery. :) I will probably have another another anomaly scan done on this side of the pond at the nice place that did the NT; if not, I'll pay for a private one in a few weeks.
I haven't really had much time to sit back and enjoy being pregnant, like all of the magazine articles tell me to do. It's just been too busy. I hope that we're at the tail end of that now and that once the last boxes are cleared away, I can start relaxing. Maybe. I have yet to go back to work and that is a bit disconcerting. I'd hoped to do it Monday, but looks like that won't happen and I'll be relying on the Foxy Stoat in whole for yet another month.
Still, things are moving along well and for the kicky Stoatling in there, I am very grateful. Baby shower planning has started and that is very exciting too! :D
Can't get the last ultrasound out of my mind. Can't wait to meet my baby, kiss that adorable little belleh, play with those tiny feets. :)
A part of me can't believe we made it here. A part of me is pretty smug. A part of me, though, is terrified something is about to happen -- always.
Lots has changed in the last three weeks since the previous update. For one, I'm in another country. This was *not* a part of the plan. I'll be giving birth here. That was *not* a part of the plan, either!
The Foxy Stoat has worked very hard to make sure I am as non-stressed as possible about the whole thing, but really, giving up the swish new birthing suite I'd booked for in the US for the hospital over here was not in the plan. Very little can change that.
However, I must say that the prenatal care has been absolutely top notch. If one was to be tallying up whether we were getting value for money out of the NHS in the last three weeks, one would be forced to admit that the NHS is absolutely spot on with prenatal care. In the last three weeks I have had two ultrasounds and been booked in for a consultant's appointment for my thyroid issues, another ultrasound, a midwife appointment (which was yesterday) and an endocrinologist's appointment. I've been put under the care of every type of doctor possible to cover every angle of the pregnancy where there might need to be any monitoring at all and it's been done with pretty much what I would be inclined to call blazing speed.
I've been to a walk-in prenatal clinic where all you have to do is walk in and you can have an ultrasound whenever you like.
I've been to the emergency room (yes, that wasn't fun) and had everyone jumping to take care of me, including a ward sister walking down and hauling a sonographer up bodily to get my scan done.
I've met with a midwife and have just about managed to come to terms with *how* to give birth in the UK, been given my choice of birthing suites (not as nice as Morristown, admittedly!) and given all sorts of options for the birth.
This doesn't count the other things I haven't even had a chance to take advantage of yet, like the tax breaks we get for my being pregnant (those come later), free prescriptions and free dental work for a year after the birth. It also doesn't count the care they're giving the very ill relative we're here to care for or the great optometrist I visited yesterday which cost all of £40 -- and that was for the contacts!
I'm feeling well cared for, which is good because it looks like we'll be here for the foreseeable future due to family obligations.
Now I just have to get past three Foxy Stoat-less weeks, packing up all of our belongings and two more flights, one of which is today. That's the hard part.
Only this time, life is punctuated by every flat surface in my house being covered by pregnancy, baby and parenting magazines, scrapbook paraphernalia that I don't know how to use, and bills.
I've been feeling very much like I'm in over my head lately, but at least I'm not alone. The Foxy Stoat has impressed me with his very realistic and pragmatic views on what life with the Baby Stoat around will be like, although this could just be that he wants to justify the purchase of a new Macbook and another bass.
It's not helped by the fact that we received some disturbing (non baby related) news yesterday which doesn't change our situation immediately but has the potential to affect things in the medium to long term, including where the baby is born. I am finding this idea more copacetic now that I'm released to a regular OB but still, I would hate to have to go through the process of birth abroad and not in my hospital of choice. I have plans, damnit!
We're going to spend the day together sorting out the massive mounds of bills, going grocery shopping, and making as many future plans as is possible given the current situation.
I'm ready to see the baby again -- I wish the doppler would work well but as of yet, the baby's too small and I'm too fat. The next scan is probably going to be the nuchal translucency, which I have to schedule soon. I've debated going to a private scan place, the kind of places that do 3d scans - some of them have regular ultrasounds, too, but they won't do a scan until the NT scanning is done and they have the doctor's consent so it looks like that will have to wait. DH looked at me like I had two heads when I suggested this!
Yay!
Each new week -- or, really, each new change on the pregnancy ticker -- feels like a new milestone. According to various sources, we've graduated from "embryo" to "fetus" now and the baby is either the size of a green olive, a small prune or the amount of brain cells I have left that aren't devoted to worrying about this baby.
Or, we could just go with a CRL of 22mm, since that's what the scan said.
Since I was sent off into the wild unknown of a "normal" pregnancy this week, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to have the luxury of an ultrasound or more a week anymore. To combat the mounting terror of Something Going Wrong, I bought a fetal doppler . Sure, I might not have needed the one-day shipping, but it was $3.99 per item. Sue me.
This could go one of two ways. I could, in theory, find the heartbeat immediately and feel a wonderful surge of joy and relief as I hear the steady thump of the Baby Stoat's heart.
Or, and this is far more likely, the fat on my belly could get in the way and I will wind up panicking until my next scan in June.
I know this, I know what I'm like, I *know* how paranoid I am, and still I spent $70 for even the chance at some peace of mind.
The doppler is out for delivery now. This should be fun!
Nearly nine weeks. Over two months. Definitely still knocked up.
I had my first "real" OB appointment today. The RE who was attending me is also an OB, and a GYN, and several other acronyms too but he doesn't handle births, just the art of knocking women up, so I had to pick a new OB last week when I was discharged.
My normal OB is nice enough and I've been seeing her since 1995 when I was first diagnosed with a hormone imbalance (PCOS didn't have a name back then) and she's also the doctor both my mother AND my grandmother use as well. However, she delivers at a hospital which is not my first hospital of choice. There is no NICU there and the birthing suites, while getting better, have the most hideous floral wallpaper imaginable. There are no facilities for water births should I decide to go that route and the prenatal classes offered are slim. Based on that, it was time to find a new OB, so I did what anyone would do -- scanned through the insurance company's listings and picked one at random.
Fortunately for me, this turned out to be the same practice my best friend goes to for her normal girlie checkups, plus that same friend's sister in law just used them to give birth and the baby looks okay, so I went with it. Glad I did, really, since -- despite the fact that I am still a touch overwhelmed -- the doctor was lovely, friendly and smiled a lot. I like that in a doctor. Smiling goes a long way when you're discussing potential complications.
I also have a metric ton of information to digest right now, what with new bloodwork (just rehashing old things like STD tests and thyroid functions) and new terms ("nuchial translucency", anyone?) so overwhelmed doesn't really begin to describe it. Right now my primary goals are to A: not throw up and B: exercise. The last one is really important; the weight is coming back pretty quickly now that I'm not riding. I have to figure out something to do with Wings over the next year so he's not out of shape; right now I'm thinking 2x a week longeing for 45 minutes and one training ride by Rose. I'd consider half-leasing but no one suitable has come up yet and yes, I'm fussy and I'd demand that they lesson with Rose. Since all of her students are, in fact, horsed at the moment I'll just have to wait.
I hate not riding, I hate putting on weight and my emotional state is a whole other post worth of self-pity, but hey, at least I'm growing another head inside of me. This was the goal. :)
Things are moving right along!
The little Jelly Baby measures 16.1 mm today, which is precisely 7 mm above where it was 7 days ago and indicates perfect, on target growth. We had a heart rate of 171 BPM, too, also an ideal number for week 8. My hCG is at 79,000 and we're starting to see the slow down for the peak of where that's going to go.
All that being said, I am now off of Metformin and officially discharged to a normal OB! First appointment with her is Monday. I picked her based on the hospital she is affiliated with and the fact that she is local. My normal OB/GYN is affiliated with a hospital which isn't nearly as nice and doesn't have an NICU just in case. I want the birthing suite, please. It's the same hospital my brother was born at 25 years ago, too.
So today's been pretty momentous. So much of the last three years has been occupied in getting to this point that I have to admit I didn't really think this far ahead. I know tons about trying to conceive. I know nothing about being pregnant other than there's loads of things I can't eat or do. And I know sweet fuck-all about being a parent. That last bit is terrifying! I'm not one of those people who went out and bought "What To Expect When You're Expecting" because I was afraid of jinxing myself...but now I suppose I probably should!
Silly me, thinking morning sickness would affect, you know, the morning. Today it knocked me on my ass until about one and has returned for a rematch after dinner tonight.
Apparently my new eating schedule is "Anything that enters after 4 pm will be evicted. Forcibly."
Lovely.
We have a perfect baby and it has a perfect heartbeat. How do you describe that moment when all of the tension has built and you've steeled yourself for the worst and instead, there is the little...well, blob...and the flashing of a perfectly beating heart.
The doctor let us hear the heartbeat. I cried. I've never heard a more perfect sound in all of my life.
Now I am going back to bed.
My first "milestone" ultrasound is in two days, so of course I am scared shitless. This is the one where we should see the heartbeat. I'm terrified of seeing nothing.
As usual, there's no reason for this, apart from my lack of symptoms. My chest is occasionally sore, but otherwise normal. I have small bouts of mild nausea but that can't be morning sickness, can it? I've got a weird metallic taste in my mouth which I didn't notice until Johanna pointed out she was having one, but that's probably from the prenatal vitamins. My thyroid is still functioning *too* well, but Lord knows I haven't seen any weight loss out of it so that's pretty useless! I've had a few odd cramps and twinges but that is pretty much the laundry list of things, and while yes, I know, there is a thread every day titled "ZOMG I have no symptoms what is wrong with me?" that doesn't mean I don't look at the women who have symptoms and think, well geez, at least you know you're still pregnant! The only thing I have to show for it is *not* spotting or cramping -- which is good, don't get me wrong, but unhelpful when it comes to determining the state of Baby Stoat, other than it is a mass of cells still in my uterus somewhere.
It's like being on a plane. I'm not in the driver's seat here, and it makes me nervous.
On the up side, the in-utero photos of babies at about 7 weeks along show that yes, they do in fact look like Jelly Babies. That makes the fourth series of Coupling just that much funnier!
The first trimester is officially half over today! :)
I have one more ultrasound with the RE next Thursday. If all goes well, I'll be released to a regular OB/GYN after that. We should see a heartbeat, at which point I'll feel safe in shouting from the rooftops.
Fingers crossed all is still well with the Baby Stoat!
More monitoring this morning, though when I walked in and saw that the ultrasounds were being done by one of the practice partners, I was pretty happy to wait. He took a lot of time to poke around and measure things; seems everything is right on time, right where it should be, and growing nicely, well on target to make 14mm by Wednesday's 6 week milestone. By "everything" I mean the yolk sac and the gestational sac, since we can't see the baby yet, but the edge of the yolk sac is starting to show where we should be able to see Baby Stoat next week.
I do have two cysts, but the doctor says not to be worried about them if they're not causing any pain, so I won't.
All things considered, I'm pretty pleased. :) I miss riding, though!
I start to feel a little bit better with every day that passes. I can't believe that by next week, the first trimester is half gone!
Hopefully all will go well in finding the yolk sac on Monday.
I'm hoping for at least a UK vacation in the near future, but we shall have to see what happens.
We had our first ultrasound today. There is a small black blob in the middle of my uterus representing the place where the next generation of our family is growing. <3 The gestational sac is 6mm across and while they did not see the yolk sac, that is A: normal and B: possibly the result of the doctor performing the world's fastest ultrasound on me without adjusting, zooming in or really moving the wand. Plus it was one of the older ultrasound machines; at the clinic I go to they just bought several new ones but it's the luck of the draw which ones you get.
My hCG level is still right on that average curve, right where it should be. Doubling time has dropped to about 41 hours, slightly faster than the standard 48. These are all good signs.
I am pretty pleased right now. Monday's level should be 5,580 or better, which is quite good enough to see a yolk sac and probably close to heartbeat time. :)
Apart from my boobs hurting and the occasional twinge, nothing. It has me paranoid.
The doctor isn't doing any more betas until Friday. My level should be 1,344 by then. I'm nervous because between now and then, I have nothing to verify. I keep repeating to myself that there is no reason to believe this is not a normal pregnancy. The doctor is watchful but optimistic.
And then I read some more horror stories about blighted ovums and babies that didn't develop and I get all nervous again.
I need to stay occupied until Friday. Seriously.
Today's beta was 112, which is more than double Wednesday's 52. We're right on the curve of average. :) This is a nice feeling. According to one beta tracker it doubled in 43.63 hours; according to the other, it's a rise of 115%, 15% more than expected. That one even gave me a chart!
I probably won't have much to add between now and next Friday, which is First Ultrasound day. According to my calculations that will be about three days too early to hear a heartbeat, which should be visible by a week from Monday.
I would have liked the beta to have risen more, but average is fine. Average is just fine!
The
feeling
of building
a house of cards
is disconcerting. Right now, I am happy. Happier than I've ever been, really -- all signs point to a good pregnancy so far, but my brain keeps telling me one beta is little to go on. It's the looming spectre of tomorrow's beta which is making me shiver in fear. Will it be at least 116? Is it doubling? Are those cramps? Do I still "feel" pregnant? Is there blood? Is that a pink tinge?
Yes, I am fully capable of driving myself insane in a period of less than 24 hours and I have another potential eight months to get through!
Beta of a nice, normal 52! We have lift off!!
IT'S OFFICIAL!
...and the nurse even sounded happy this time.
I feel safe enough in saying this today. It won't go out to our friends and family as an announcement just yet, but then again, only one of them can see this blog! :)
...if this is not The One I'm going to be severely pissed off. It's 6 pm and already today I've experienced:
-two different brands of HPT telling me the same thing, even though it's meaningless.
-Boobhurt. My nipples are huge and my breasts feel like they're on fire, and not in a cute, "IT Crowd" kind of way. Showering hurt.
-Nausea.
-Shakiness.
-Having to pee every hour, on the hour.
If this is just residual trigger there is going to be hell to pay. Merry hell. Seriously merry hell.
Dear line,
You're still here. You didn't hang around quite as long last time, though those Wal Mart tests can be a bit sketchy, I know. You're still here in a "have to squint to see it" kind of way but not a "Well, if you disassemble the test and hold it up to the strongest light in the house" kind of way. You look like nearly other 12 DPO test on Fertility Friend. You're punctual, too, you show up within 10 minutes like you're supposed to, and for all of those things I think you're the best.
So please, please stay. Hang around. Get darker. You'll find we're not bad people to know once you are here for a bit. Sure, he snores and sure, I spend too much time on the computer, but I think you'll find those things to be lovable quirks in a few months.
Please be real.
The insanity is optional.
I cleaned out the local Dollar Tree and have been testing daily. So far, I've gotten some pretty pronounced positives -- ones where I don't have to take the test apart and hold it up to the strongest light in the house, at any rate.
Unfortunately, I'm just 6 days past the last hCG booster, so of course the tests are going to be positive. I'm just waiting for that little pink line to fade and AF to show. I know I'm over-analyzing things -- trying to remember "Were they this positive this time last month?" and all of that.
I'm 10 freaking DPO -- and yes, the rational part of me is screaming that even if these were real, it would be DAMNED early to get a pronounced result like this. I'm still in implantation territory, for God's sake!
Wouldn't it be a laugh, though -- to get my BFP on the cycle where I had a Jell-o shot during the 2ww, remembered to take my Metformin and didn't stop riding three days a week because it might jiggle the baby loose?
A girl can dream. :) Especially one that has lost six whole pound on Weight Watchers in three weeks.
ZOMG Goat cheese and crackers is the best lunch ever!!!!!11!!!!1!
Also my boobs hurt and I'm having weird cravings. Still not really feeling it on this cycle, though.
Ohai, cramps. I'm trying not to over analyze you but have the feeling you are largely responsible for the feeling of "Meh." today.
Please stay, but only if you really mean it.
Kthxbai.
IUIs for this cycle are done, at 11 and 36 hours post trigger. It was a single follie cycle, so I'm not too hopeful, though it was a very good follicle.
On to the 2ww.
I had a lot more to say earlier, but writing 3,000 words over five articles has made my brain feel like a limp rag. Should probably have started writing somewhat earlier than 2 pm...
Guess my body really wanted to move this month! This is officially the earliest trigger ever.
I was surprised yesterday to get the call back to cut down my medication; the number of follies seemed normal to me. They wanted me back in today and, lo and behold, there was a 17mm follie hanging out. It practically waved.
I got the call from andrology first, so it was pretty safe to say by about 10 am that I knew I would trigger tonight and have IUI tomorrow and Thursday. And so it was, and so we are. Hardly superovulation with one good follie, but I'll take what I can get. My body was so damned eager to get moving this time, maybe this will be it.
Maybe.
Hope. What a weird thing.
Tired. No sleep last night.
Follicles good. A 14, a 13, four 11's. Suspect trigger will be happening in the next 2-4 days.
Huge pile of crap in my hall from moving in to my apartment. We moved in over a year ago and never bothered to finish. Moving finished, disaster area created. Would go back to sleep but now need to call maintenance to get in to storage area.
FML.
ZZzzzzzZZZzZz....
Blogs have gone quiet. I suspect it goes hand in hand with down time at Soul Cysters, and with more and more people carrying off their ambitions of BFPs.
As for me, I've enjoyed my month off of TTC, which I didn't feel like blogging about. Not that I've done much with it; I've had lots of luxurious, scalding hot baths and enjoyed a double of Bailey's or two, that's all -- apart from a large, new tattoo. My next sitting for that is April 17th and you know what? Pregnant or no, I'll be going. If my close friend can conceive and give birth to a beautiful baby girl after a boozy piss-up at the pub, my baby can handle some ink. Hush, dear. Mama's conforming.
Today is CD 3, which means it started out with an early morning violation of my person with an ultrasound wand. The 18 follicles seem to hold a lot of potential and my lining looks good for someone who just had a 22 day cycle. I'd forgotten what a "normal" AF is like when you're on BCP...sort of a "That's all?" effect.
Things are looking promising but I haven't had the "Start your engines!" call from the nurse yet. Barring unforeseen disaster with my P4, though, it looks like we're back in business. While I'm a bit sad that this will not be a potential 2010 baby, I am reasonably relaxed and back in the mood for a bit of balance and hope. We shall see where this goes.
...because it's CD 1!
Not that I know if I have insurance or if I do, what insurance I have, but hey.
I'm watching the rain fall, waiting for medication to be delivered. The weather's a mess and quite frankly I'm unsurprised that UPS is late.
The cramps I thought I had escaped are here in force today and sitting up has been a bit of a trial. I'm also starving and can't leave the house to get food in case I miss the UPS guy with my medication. I want someone to bring me food and then go away so I can bury myself under blankets and sleep until the Stoat comes home from work.
My plan for the month is to be able to turn the computer off by 8 pm. I am far too "connected" and I think this is a source of stress. Time for more at-home pursuits that don't involve electronics, I think.
Back to bed now, and I hope the sodding doorbell rings soon.
BFN. In fact, if there could be a way to make an absence of colour on a white field, I think this test would have it.
AF is late, but I O'd multiple eggs so it's likely my P4 was much higher this time and so she'll take her sweet time getting here -- not like last month, showing up a day early so she could surprise me at Christmas. This makes certain my boobs still hurt, my brain is still foggy, and I am still feeling awful -- all the joy of being knocked up without the awful inconvenience of, you know, an actual baby.
Let's send this feeling to these high school twits making "pregnancy pacts" at age 14 and see if they still want to do this and have to change diapers at the end.
Two different answers. I don't like two different answers. Obviously, I like one of the answers better than the other but by now -- only 8 days past the booster -- I know better than to trust these things.
*sigh*
BFN.
FML.
How many more acronyms can I shove into a post? Well, with my sore BBS and my profound disgust at TTC right now, the answer turns out to be quite a few.
KTHXBAI.
I am fighting the urge to POAS. I don't know why. I know the line will be there, I injected myself full of the stuff not six days ago. Of course the line will be there. I don't know why I do this to myself, watching the line fade and dwindle and go back to blank -- usually moments before I wipe and discover AF is hanging out, just waiting.
Still, I don't think I'll win this one.
Traveling has messed up my body clock and my awareness of what my body is doing, although to be fair that could be an overindulgence of English food as well. Curries, kebabs, pizza @ Mulberry street, dinners out, takeaways...God, I love this country, even if my waistline doesn't.
We've managed to get away with a minimum of being cooked at (my mother in law does not cook for you, she cooks at you -- Irish food aggression at its best) and have escaped with only one full English breakfast (a landing in England tradition) and two sausage sarnies. I think she feels thwarted, but not being cooked at is lovely.
Even so, I don't feel pregnant, and last time by 7 DPO I was *sure*, so I think I am going to need to assume that this cycle, too, is a bust. Our GP is happy to refer us directly to Guy's, do not pass go, do not collect £200...so at least there is that. I'll go as long as the insurance covers me but once that is up, I'll be on the next flight to England to start the Master Plan.
It's a bit depressing, but then again I could just be exhausted.
We're halfway through that long two weeks. In seven days will be victory or defeat, a BFP or a BFN.
I've been very bad with the medications the past few days because we've been so busy. Tonight is Valentine's Day, so we'll be having a romantic evening...minding my friend's six month old baby while she and her other half get to go out on a date together. This is actually very romantic as we're staying at my mother in law's, so it's really a chance to spend some quiet time by ourselves with a takeaway and some TV.
Still, the next person who says "Har har, it'll be good practice!" is going to get punched.
Morning monitoring was a bust this morning. We could only dig one car out of the snow and The Stoat needed to go to USCIS for part of his green card application -- not that we really need it, being as we're preparing to move back to the UK -- and he left at 6 am.
The NP called and said just to take the Ovidrel anyway, my P4 has been low on every single cycle so this one is probably not an exception. I've thereby saved myself one extra poking, taken the Ovidrel, and now we're well into the 2ww.
Thank you, 16" of snow. My veins are very grateful.
My ovaries have stopped feeling like they are attempting to chew their way out from the inside. This is a good thing.
We're supposed to get a horrific snow storm tomorrow morning, which is fine by me as long as it does not mess up my Thursday. I can sit at home for a day -- hell, I need to sit at home for another day and make sure I'm caught up with work -- but the snow had better not mess up my RE appointment or my flight, in that order please.
Really, 10" of snow isn't all that much anyway, not for here. We've just been blessed by an abnormally dry winter this year and are spoiled. Still, off to buy bread and milk and eggs, because that's what you're supposed to do in a Snowpocalypse. ;)
I don't think I've ever won an award before. This one comes from Meg at INCONCEIVABLE, whose blog title has made me want to watch The Princess Bride with every update. ;)
The rules of this award are pretty simple and it works a bit like a meme. I always find memes a bit embarrassing; this one is more so as you're supposed to "tag" seven friends to do the same. See, this is a "super secret" blog so my actual friends don't run away screaming at the latest Ovary Status Update -- oh, they're all very supportive, but really, how many times can you hear about my laparoscopy over dinner and still keep a friendship alive? I also sometimes get bitter and depressed for reasons that only the readers of this blog might understand, and while I'll occasionally comment on this on my "normal" blog, it doesn't seem like the sort of thing sharing constantly will help. We've been trying for three years now, that is a lot of whining.
Nevertheless, thank you, Meg, for this lovely award and I shall now endeavour to find seven interesting facts about myself and tag the few people I know are here.
1. The meaning of Stoat -- this is a nickname I gave DH after one very drunken evening in Ireland over a bottle of shiraz. It comes from an episode of "Bottom". He became my Foxy Stoat after that.
2. Before I became a professional writer, I was a wedding photographer, but quit because all brides are insane. ;)
3. I have a decent voice -- I've performed with a professional opera company before and gotten paid for it. Your weight doesn't matter so much in opera. I'd never hack it in musical theatre apart from character roles at this weight, but opera singers can be fat. It's better if you're not, but at least it's not the end of a career.
4. I've lived in three different countries in the past three years. I don't know if we'll ever settle on just one, or if the idea of settling is even possible.
5. I was engaged to someone else when I met my DH five years ago, to the point of owning a dress and having sent out Save The Dates. I took one look at DH, promptly called off the wedding and moved to England the moment my BA was finished. That was life's little 180.
6. I have modeled professionally before.
7. I know more about Tudor and Elizabethan English history than most native UK citizens. It wasn't just my minor in college, I pursue it with a voracious appetite. My friends are very much the same, and we were all reduced to a gibbering pile of booklust when we went to see the Long Room at Trinity College in Dublin.
The embarrassing bit is that I really don't have anyone to tag -- but there are seven facts for you. Now off to another IUI. Ovary status: achey.
It would be very poetic if this morning's IUI was The One. Today is the anniversary of the Stoat and my first date.
Also our first kiss.
That kiss changed my life. If February 7th holds any magic, it's in the way this date resonates with the way my world can change at a moment's notice. I'm hoping all has gone well internally and there's the beginnings of a big change heading for my uterine lining right now.
I'm trying very hard not to get too excited about this very well set up cycle, but it's tough.
Well. Game on!
I have three mature follicles and four possible mature. While that sounds like a lot, we're dealing with the Stoat's issues as well, so our chances of success, while still high, are less than what a "normal" couple would be.
Not that anyone would accuse the Stoat and I of being normal. Oh no!
My ovaries have caught up, performed nicely, and produced three mature follicles and four potentially mature ones.
Dr. S., not my normal doctor, was very concerned about the risk of multiples, but the thing is that doctors only read an abbreviated chart before performing the ultrasound. So she had no idea about the four failed cycles and ectopic we'd already gone through, plus the surgery, until I told her. After that, she gave the OK to trigger, contingent upon the bloodwork.
Hence, trigger later and IUI tomorrow and Monday. :)
I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but this feels like the first cycle all over again, what with the factory-restored reproductive tract I'm sporting. With so many eggs and all of the paths cleared, is it possible we may have a chance?
I had an interesting ultrasound this morning. It was performed by one of the three heads of the practice where I'm being treated.
On day seven I was concerned about not having a good response, and the only follicles being on my left ovary. Well, my ovaries clearly took offense to being called "lazy" and have caught up. My right has at least three 14mm follicles and there's at least one 14mm follicle on the left. The abundance of moderately good sized follicles seemed to concern Dr. Drews, who -- were it up to him -- would have my medication cut way back and had me go in tomorrow for more monitoring and bloodwork, just like last cycle.
Fortunately, it's not up to him. I was on day nine when they did that last cycle, my E2 backslid, and it wound up being The Cycle From Hell which didn't get me a BFP. Of course I know now that it was probably due to Wonky Ovaries, but that doesn't mean I want to repeat the experience.
The nurse practitioner has called, though, and they're not cutting my dose and my E2 is fine -- 296, right where it should be. It looks like my follicles have been hitting the textbook 1 mm per day growth, even if there are four or five that look good -- that was the point, superovulation. That means I can estimate the trigger on Monday and IUI on Tuesday and Wednesday. That's shaving it mighty fine with leaving for vacation on Thursday morning, but that extra day in there covers any mistakes. Even had the doctor said to cut my dose down, I wouldn't have. I have an agenda this cycle, and nothing is going to get in my way.
I'm just glad the doctor agrees with me, so I don't have to lie. This makes it much easier!
We're in a holding pattern, we'll return to regular updates tomorrow.
Seriously, just waiting for bloodwork and an U/s tomorrow. Hope the follies have started to catch up. We'll know tomorrow.
Another early one. Usually by this point the early ones are every other day.
Surprisingly, I'm not having a *super* reaction to the Follistim this time. I have a lot of follicles, but all less than ten barring two, a twelve and a thirteen, and those are on my left ovary, which I've come to regard as the slightly useless one. They seem kind of small to me, and the last cycle where I did 150 IU of Follistim, there were tons of measurable follicles by this point. Still, as long as my E2 is rising appreciably and the follies grow 1-2 mm per day like they're supposed to, we should make it for IUI just before we leave.
Doing the ultrasound today was painful. Dr. M. had to dig to find the left ovary and it hurt. I'm trying to Google "Damage done by ultrasound probe" but so far, the only results are damage done *to* an ultrasound probe -- sorry, I don't think my innards can manage that, much as they'd like to. I should probably stay away from Google anyway. That shit is dangerous.
Bloodwork results later, I guess. Maybe the NP's call will allay my fears. I was just hoping for more eggs this time around.
Bad carb craving day. I've eaten a lot of Challah bread, enough that I can feel my blood sugar going haywire.
At least I'm done with work for the day...will give me time to take a nap instead of working out...not the healthiest plan but I'm going to fall asleep now!
Some nights the needle goes in easier than others. I find if I make little circling motions whilst puncturing the skin, I feel it less than the nights I just "grab and jab".
And yes, I am writing this blog because I have an article deadline in one hour and ten minutes. Total done so far: the title.
It's going to be a long night.
So today is CD4, also known as day 2 of BitchiStim.
The thing about this is that despite 20 hours of tattoo work and multiple piercings, I hate needles. HATE them. With a passion.
I keep telling myself that this is in a good cause. O_o
No, I do not apologize for the ultrasound room looking like a crime scene when I left. Aunt Irma is vengeful today. I was worried about her being too light but I have cramps so hard my back aches. No more worries there, except of course my lining is still type III, not back to type I yet, but I gather that is normal when the downstairs looks like the first scene in Carrie.
It was the first early morning of many early mornings in the cycle. I was there at 5.50 in the morning -- monitoring technically does not begin until six -- but was about fifteenth in line. They took the normal panel plus are retesting my thyroid function since getting on the Synthyroid. The E2, FSH, P4 all came back just fine, it'll be a few days before I know about the T4 since that goes to another lab (crazy insurance rules).
The ultrasound showed some 10's and a few less-than-10's, so we're all set and ready to go. I took 150 IU of BitchyStim and right now am so tired I could cry, but I think that has more to do with the early morning and hours spent making sure the Stoat's immigration status is sorted since USCIS seems incapable of sending their own notices out on time. Go Vermont Service Center. /sarcasm
Anyway, roll on, IUI. It'll be interesting to try with my ovaries in the right place!
I love watching the snow fall, especially since there isn't supposed to be much of it. Not enough to make my day more difficult, anyway. Maybe it'll keep other tenants away from the laundry room this morning. I hope so, since I'm taking the morning off to wait for my drug dealer (FedEx is delivering the box from Mandells) and to do the housework I've been putting off for a week (my breeches could ride the horse on their own at this point and I swear the dust bunnies are fomenting).
I feel positive. Tired, but positive.
I called the RE this morning. Technically, since AF started last night, this will be CD 1. I don't mind. It's 1!
So I've gotten my meds ordered and am preparing for the cycle of injections plus ultrasounds and early mornings. I almost don't mind the early mornings, hopefully they will jive with the Bollywood dance class and I'll be halfway to the gym then!
I haven't decided what to do today yet; having new clients means being swamped, but I rather like it. It's just taking some time to get used to how they want their articles formatted, and I've got more free reign with how I write them so it's a bit difficult to get started. Also, wanting to dance around the room in elation that it's CD 1 doesn't help! ;)
I just hope we can fit this cycle in before we go away. Oh, we can do timed BD and for that I'll do the meds anyway -- superovulation will give us a better chance, but I really want to try an IUI now that things are back where they belong!
No Aunt Irma. No cramps. I even wore white to Bollyrobics to tempt fate.
Come on, P4, drop already!
We have cramps! Aunt Irma is sending her calling card ahead, I think.
We're going away next month, all I can say is I hope this IUI gets done before then! I'm going to have to stress that to the doctor on the CD3 baseline. If Aunt Irma arrives tomorrow, then CD3 will be the 28th, and that does not leave much time at all before we go away. I don't want to have to miss a cycle! That would be crap. If we were doing Gonal-F it wouldn't be an issue but Follistim left something to be desired in the speed department last time.
So come on, Irma, get cracking! I've even planned on wearing white workout pants to Bollyrobics tomorrow, just to tempt you. ;)
Ok, Aunt Irma...seriously. CD 30? You're not here? WTF?!
I shouldn't be surprised, when I was on Clomid, my cycles were 32 days long. Soy must be the same.
New layout coming soon. This is cute but impractical.
Gee, Aunt Irma, you were here *right* on CD 28 last month. Don't you remember that lovely Christmas present that you gave to me? A BFN!
Where are you now, you old dear, when I'd like to get started with something that requires your presence -- my next cycle!
I OVULATED!
The post op went well. Very well.
My ovaries are back where they belong and scar-free. My tubes are open. My intestines are back where they're supposed to go, too. Apparently the surgery took about four hours, I wouldn't have known though. Good drugs are good. Everything was fixed.
I've healed well. The doctor did a pelvic and there was no pain. Since we're ready to go, he did an ultrasound and pulled some bloodwork. The ultrasound revealed a surprise - a corpus luteum! I got the bloodwork results back today; P4 of 8 - OVULATION!
So either the soy worked or it's the biggest fluke of nature ever. Either way, it means A: I don't have to take prometreum and B: I'll get my period on my own! :D
Only another infertile would understand how much of a cause for joy this is.
Here I am, CD 24. No idea whether or not I'll have a period in four days. Likely not. Even if soy worked, I definitely didn't O until just before the operation.
The post op is tomorrow and I've been exceedingly careful about activity this past week. No riding (!), no gym, and no pilates. I'm afraid to exercise my core; I have visions of more scar tissue forming and pulling things which (appear to be, according to the photos) are in place back out of place. I don't know if it's true, all I do know is I need to exercise. I feel slothly, and I don't like it!
Recovery is going all right. The incisions are small and don't hurt, and I haven't needed anything stronger than Advil. I was worried about the gas pain -- I know what that is like! -- but there really wasn't any. I was a little sore towards the end of last night, but that was after a full day of light activity. I'm such a trooper.
Today I'm resolved to get back on the medications, even Metformin. One of the cool things is that just as they were putting the IV in, the nurse was checking my medications and asked about the Metformin. She ran a fasting glucose test on the blood that was on the IV thingy, and it came back high end of normal, not IR! So that is nice. I'll still take the metformin of doom because it's supposed to help (ha!) but knowing my blood sugar is under control and probably due to my diet is a nice feeling.
All I want to do with today is take a shower, which I wasn't allowed yesterday. That will be nice!
Today would be my O day on Clomid, but after yesterday my ovaries are probably in hiding. I also don't see any follicles on the photos, so I'd say it was a bust.
Yes, they gave me souvenir photos from my laparoscopy yesterday. Boy was that ever fun.
I have to say, despite my skepticism about the laparoscopy, I'm glad I had it done. There was *so much* wrong with me it was a wonder I ever managed to get pregnant in October at all!
I got to the surgery centre at about 11 and they checked me in. At 11.30 I was brought back to the staging area to change and to talk to the nurses and the anesthesiologist. My mom was with me the entire time, which was good, because I would have probably run at that stage, even wearing the Assless Granny Gown.
12.00 my doctor shows up and I am brought to the operating room. It was freezing, so I was covered in blankets fresh out of the blanket warmer while everything was set up. That's the last thing I remember until I was waking up more nauseous than I've ever been in my life, and in a hell of a lot of pain! They gave me pain meds, but of course that made me more nauseous, so it was several hours before I felt okay enough to be taken home. They were talking about admitting me if they could, but in the end it wasn't necessary.
People kept trying to explain to me what was wrong and I have the photos sitting here, but I don't know exactly what they mean. A few things stand out from my groggy memory.
-The repeat of the dye test through my tubes revealed BOTH tubes were blocked...despite the HSG in May being clear, so this has happened since then. I believe that was resolved.
-One of my ovaries was stuck to my intestine (willing to bet that this was my left one) and the other was out of place.
-I was covered in scar tissue. It's a wonder anything functioned, let alone ovulation.
I don't know how much of the last they were able to resolve or understand what this means for going forward and TTC; I suppose I'll find out at the post op. I know my doctor would fix anything it's possible to fix and there was no word of needing further surgery, so that's as much as I know. Hopefully my mom remembers more than I do; she'll be here soon to take care of me and I can pick her brain then.
Stoatette, signing off and back to bed.
"Seventeen! 'Cos I'm sweeter than 16."
I tried to watch Repo this weekend, but did not make it through more than the first ten minutes. I miscarried while watching Repo. Fortunately, it's just a film with a handful of catchy songs and Paris Hilton's face falls off; not being able to watch it doesn't deprive me of anything great.
So here I am, cycle day 17. It's hard to tell if the soy has worked or not. I *seem* fertile right now, and certainly have taken advantage of that fact, but it's hard to tell. I'm not temping or doing an ovulation predictor kit this month; it doesn't matter hugely if I do or don't ovulate since I'm having surgery tomorrow. I figure if there is a wee blatocyst that manages to stick through *that*, it'll be viable, and if there isn't one or it doesn't stick I'm no worse off.
So yes, surgery tomorrow. Somehow I feel that the words "laser" and "my ovaries" should never meet in a sentence and if they never have to again I'll be a happy camper. I met for my pre-op on Thursday, where the doctor outlined everything that will happen tomorrow.
Doc, I do not want to know.
I think I would have been happier without the graphic description of what will go on. Inflated with CO2 gas, lasers, scalpels, incisions, etc...some things are just not meant to be shared! Please don't tell me how you're going to do these things. I don't want to know. This is why I did not go to medical school.
So, needless to say, I wait in terror for tomorrow. I have a queue of articles to finish and a possible phone interview, for which I am not in the right state of mind, but it can't be helped. I don't want them to find anything, and I want them to find something so it can be fixed. The doctor is looking for endometriosis, uterine lining growing outside of the uterus and scarring up important bits like my fallopian tubes so they stop..er...fallop-ing. They're not blocked, the extremely painful HSG already saw that, but they may not be vibrating enough to suck the egg right in. Endometriosis typically has painful side effects, but the long-term treatment is birth control -- and I've been on that most of my life. When I wasn't, I never had a period, so I'd never know if I had it or not.
If ever there was proof against "intelligent design", the female reproductive system is it. The egg has to make a jump of huge proportion and hope it gets caught in the suction of the fallopian tubes. Why on earth is that gap there? What purpose does it actually serve? Wasn't there any better way to get an oocyte to my uterus? Seriously.
Just get me through tomorrow alive, and let there be something to fix.
And no, I'm not talking Mr. Smith over there, who had better be good as the new Dr. in Dr. Who. It's CD 11.
Yesterday I felt an ovary twinge. I simultaneously love and hate knowing what and where these things are now; it causes me to over analyze every single flutter or cramp. Does the Mystery Twinge mean that I will ovulate on my own?
I sincerely hope so, since it looks like my medical assistance on that front will be ending soon. We arrived back in the US yesterday to a "bill" from the fertility clinic. My lifetime maximum is not even $1,000 away now. If my surgery next week is covered, then fine, I get one more cycle. It should be a good cycle, since we're planning on superovulation, but it will be the last one before the next big plan needs to be put into action - i.e., moving country to continue fertility treatments.
Insurance in the US is a tricky thing. In our state, no individual policy covers infertility. Group policies are mandated to have some minimal coverage, with large group policies required to cover IVF according to the Family Building Act.
Unfortunately, while we have steady enough income, The Stoat and I are both freelancers. It means we have no medical benefits beyond what we pay for ourselves; at present, we are both on my dad's payroll, so we are buying into that policy.
It costs more than our rent.
Being that we need to be on a group policy, finding new insurance is not a matter of shopping around for us. We are having to plan around insurance now; the Stoat *may* be hired on this year, or perhaps we can convince the Large Company to allow him to buy into the insurance policy as an independent contractor. We toyed with forming our own company so we'd have access to a group policy, but short of selling a kidney we can't afford a group policy for just two people.
So I suppose it's time to begin concentrating on myself, getting in better shape and perhaps not eating an entire bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs for breakfast. Maybe Weight Watchers for a bit, along with going in for that weight challenge my friends seem to be doing.
Unfortunately, the first task will be calling the clinic and sorting out financial information. Fingers crossed!
Thank God it's CD 8. The taste of soy pills is something dreadful.
Now, hopefully, I'll get to see if I am ovulating before going under the knife for the laparoscopy. It's a small step, but it would be a big deal for me -- I'd love to have an over the counter way to induce ovulation, even if it tastes horrible.
I have developed a terrible cold, no doubt as a reaction to living with a heavy smoker for the past week. This is what my childhood felt like and why my parents quit smoking -- the doctors' visits were getting too expensive for my parents!
Since it's January 1st, bloggers everywhere will be writing about their resolutions, what they're planning, or even how they spent last night. I'm going to buck the trend and simply say "Fuck you!" to 2009. What a crap year. Bring on the new decade!
