Five.

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.

Unfair.

...I should be four months pregnant now, not facing another cycle of injections and IUI.

Four - Fuck, Ow!

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

Three and a Baseline

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!

Two.

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.

One (redux).

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!

One! :D

IRMA!!

Thirty Two.

No Aunt Irma. No cramps. I even wore white to Bollyrobics to tempt fate.

Come on, P4, drop already!

Thirty One.

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. ;)

Interim.

I've a new, pretty layout. :)

Thirty.

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.

Twenty Eight

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!

Twenty-six.

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.

Twenty-four.

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!

Twenty.

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!

Nineteen

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.

"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.

Eleven.

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!

Eight.

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.

More.

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!