Blood draws, numbers, more blood draws, tears, heartache, final blood draw...

So, when we last left our heroines, they were doing the HCG number counting game. Health lesson: When a woman gets pregnant, every three days, a chemical called HCG has to double in numbers. That increase in numbers indicates that the pregnancy is progressing as it should. Our first blood test rang in with a solid "20". This was our starting point. So in three days (for the math challenged), we should have at least a 40. Each time we have to go in for a test, we are crossing every possible appendage to make sure those numbers double. This is the farthest we've gotten in this process so it's like we were even more nervous...there was so much more vested now. We had a baby or two growing in there. So, three days after our first blood draw, we go in for number two....holding our breath, waiting AGAIN for the longest two hour wait in the world. Pam calls. The numbers are in. 55. Yep, that's more than doubled! Whoo-hoo. By the way, we were told that if the first three blood tests continue to increase, changes are very good that the pregnancy will "take" and continue on. We are two thirds of the way there!

The second test was on a Monday, our next one (the big one) would be on Thursday. Well, my friends, this is where things get a little sticky.

Tuesday at work, Heidi came into my office, looking very upset. I'm still on the second blood test high so I'm a little confused. She went to the restroom. There was blood. OK, let's not panic. Maybe it was from implantation? Unfortunately, we were past that stage. Some women spot and everything turns out fine. Of course, our first task was to call Pam. What do we do? What does this mean? What? What? What? Pam put Heidi on bed rest for the rest of the day and moved our blood test to the next day. I took Heidi home, hating to leave her there, and went back to work. I sat in my office thinking that this has to be normal. It just has to...

Heidi called me about 15 minutes after I got back to work. The bleeding was worse. I called Pam again...what do we do? Her response...nothing. There's nothing we can do. It could be normal. It could be something else. We would find out tomorrow with the blood test. I went back home.

It is amazing how fast the roller coaster of emotion works. It was such a quick descent into despair from that brief moment of high. How does that even happen? How can you do what it takes to reassure your wife that things will be fine when inside, you're scared as hell. How do you maintain optimism, a strong front, when you are so afraid that the few days we had being pregnant would be all we would get?

The next morning, we silently drive to the doctor's office for a blood test. We both are expecting the worse, feeling like we are prepared for it. When we walk in, no more was the excitement and hugs of happiness. Instead, there are hugs of comfort, of condolences. A very silent blood draw. We ask a couple of questions. Can there be blood and still everything be OK? Yes, that can happen. Well, what about if both embryo's took and then one ceased to thrive; could that cause bleeding? Yes, that could happen but it doesn't happen often. On to our two hour wait.

The phone rings. We need to have at least something in the 80's since we were a day early. Number is 57. Not a good sign. Only two points in two days. We were shattered, heart-broken. How could we get this far and then have this happen? How? There was such an unfairness about the whole thing. Why? Pam advised we would need to come back in for another test just to make sure it wasn't a lab error. Heidi had to continue taking her medications and shots, add a little insult to injury here.

We go back, again, the next day for yet another blood draw. As we are leaving, I asked what the chances of the lab making a mistake were. Slim. In traditional smart ass fashion, I tell Pam that calling me slim at a moment like this didn't have the same flattering effect it normally would. We go back to work. We had already spent our time mourning our loss so we went back to work. Heidi didn't even care to know when Pam called, she knew the results, there was no point in caring at this point how far the numbers went down.

Sitting in my office, I see Pam's call come through. Deep breath. Here's the moment of truth. "Hey Slim" she says. "Hey back" I say in my new melancholy voice. She says, "I said hey slim". Yea? So...your slim chance. Your numbers are over 100. What the hell? How the hell? "Hold on, Pam...I have to go get Heidi!". Conveniently enough, Heidi sits right outside my office. I call her in and we shut the door. I tell her Pam needs to talk to her because I was pretty sure she wouldn't believe me.

So, what does this mean? One of the tests were wrong but which one??? We were scheduled to go back in Saturday morning for another blood test. Well, now, Saturday morning was a really busy morning. This was the day of my 40th birthday party. This was the day we had originally decided we would announce our good news to family and friends. We just needed one more good blood test to convince us. Right now, though, we didn't know what to think, which test to believe. So, in we go...Heidi donating more of her blood, what little she must have left. We prepare to wait our two hour period...we know the drill. As we get ready for the party, which we had discussed cancelling earlier in the week but decided against it because that would mean explaining to 80 or so people what was happening. Not all of those people even knew we were doing fertility treatments. With all that was going on and going wrong, neither of us had the energy to tell that tale. So, we just decided to hope for the best and continue on with the party.

We managed to blow up Pam's phone most of the day. "Lab's slow today". "There's a machine down in the lab". "Sometimes this happens if they are busy". All day, different reasons we didn't know the blood test results. Now, it was time for the party to start and we still didn't know the results.

Party happens. Fun despite the stress...a nice break from the week. Pam shows up to the party (yes, we invited both of our nurses) and we ask her if she heard anything. Nope she says. I suspect she's being less than honest with us.

The next morning, a text from Pam. Number is 20. As suspected, Heidi was miscarrying. Because of the meds she was on, it couldn't "complete" the process. We stopped taking the medicines and a few days later, it happened. We were done. All of our hopes for this gone. Our hearts broken. Our emotions exhausted and I think we were the saddest we have ever been in this process. One more blood test is needed. Number is 5. We're done. No more baby or babies. Our most devastating week followed our most amazing week.

So, where are we now? On a break. The medicines were so hard on Heidi and her little body. The loss of the baby was so hard on her emotionally. We've just decided we need a little break, for minds, hearts and bodies. So until next time, which may or may not be at the end of October, we are on a baby making break. Time to regroup and get strong again.

The benefit, if you remember, is that we have some eggs still frozen so the next cycle should be a lot easier, less meds, no aspiration. I'm not sure what to do at this point. Waiting is hard, not waiting is hard. Thinking about it is hard. Not thinking about it is hard. It's like our lives are on hold. We're just so ready to start the next phase. Maybe this will be our Christmas gift this year. I had hoped to have it as my birthday gift, but it wasn't to be. Maybe Christmas...

Oohhmmmm....ooohhhmmmm

med·i·ta·tion [med-i-tey-shuhn] noun
1. the act of meditating.
2. continued or extended thought; reflection; contemplation.



While unproven in any medical journals, it has been proven with the birth of our beautiful Godson, Liam. Of what do I speak? Meditation. More specifically, post-transfer in-vitro meditation. What does that mean in real people terms? It means that Heidi spent the two days after the transfer in a state of stress-free, positive thinking meditation. She imagined purple ribbons in her uterus softly grasping onto the newly added embryos, helping them implant into her perfectly prepared uterus. She stared at a picture of the embryos, replete with purple ribbon, angel and baby rattle, tucked onto our wedding picture, to help her maintain her positive thinking.

She kept her little legs propped up and watched The Baby Story on TLC for forty-eight hours. Positive thinking was the theme for the week. No stress. Happy thoughts. Comfort. And healthy eating. Oh yea, we were back to healthy, organic food. Heidi's favorite thing to do...eat lots of fruits and veggies (meaning, not just corn!). The fruit bowl is full! The dinner actually had spinach in it..and she ate it! That prayer from Dr. Welden must have worked because it would take a miracle to make Heidi eat spinach! Yet...there she was, eating healthy!




So, through all of our positive thinking and meditation, we had ten long, loonnngggg days to wait before we could take a HPT (home pregnancy test, for you non-fertility challenged peeps). Now, during all of her "meditation" time, my betrothed had managed to search every possible web page involving the recommended time frame for taking a HPT after in-vitro. We had consulted our wise nurse, Pam, via text (the best way to get medical advice, by the way!). All of them said to wait the ten days. So, we did the only thing we could logically do...we took a test early. We fully expected a negative because, well, Heidi had read the entire Internet and it said not to take it too early. But we did it anyway. And it was a BFN (big fat negative, infertility acronym again). We vowed that we would ABSOLUTELY NOT take another test until the blood draw on August 12. We had learned our lesson and this time, we were committing to waiting. We vowed. That's serious stuff, people. You don't "vow" and then not stick with it. It's bad karma. So, the vow was out there and we were destined to wait.

Funny thing about the vow. Apparently, it is open to interpretation. On Thursday, August 11th, at approximately 6:00 in the a.m., I am rustled from sleep by the ever so soft sound of a paper wrapper opening. Now, for those of you who know me, you know that I can sleep through a tornado without so much as rolling over. But for some reason, this morning, the r-i-i-p-p-p of a wrapper stirred me from a deep slumber. I sat trying to realize what was happening on the other side of the bathroom door and it came to me. Heidi was in that room breaking a vow. BREAKING A VOW!!! I sat there, well, layed there...it was still six in the morning, I wasn't quite ready to actually sit up, I sat there and well, I got a little mad. I was mad because I knew, knew that if the test was negative, she wouldn't tell me. I was mad because I knew she would keep her disappointment to herself. She would be sad alone. As I sat there, I began thinking about what I would say when she crept back into bed. All of a sudden, the bathroom door flies open and Heidi comes racing into the room, screaming "Baby, it's positive, it's positive". Holy shit. Pardon my french, but holy shit. She's crying and holding the HPT, hands shaking, heart pounding and I'm confused, but not mad anymore, that's for sure. I'm shocked. Amazingly shocked. It's positive. Thank you, God. It's positive. We are going to be mommies. WE ARE GOING TO BE MOMMIES!!!!



So, we sat shocked. What now? We can't tell anyone until the blood test is done the next day. It would be just silly to announce it so early. Irresponsible really. So, of course, we do what any responsible mommy-to-be would do at 6:00 a.m. We call family. Everyone manages to answer the phone that early, likely for fear that something is wrong. Why else would someone else be calling so early? Jessica was slightly panicked, especially since I called from Heidi's phone...just to add to the suspense. I spoke in a low voice, announcing that there was something I had to tell her. She said, in a very pensive way, obviously concerned, obviously worried. Then, I said it..."Heidi's pregnant". Silent pause...then a scream of excitement. Calls to Heidi's mom and sister are similar...soft, groggy voices, then excitement, although no screams. :-) We decide we really need to wait to tell any more people. We made it until 7:00 and then called our besties, Laura and Tootie. That was it! No more people, at least not until after the blood test. Of course, it would only be fair if we told Pam. I mean, you almost have to...she has been there since step one. She was almost as vested in this as us. We debated it most of the morning. We made it until about lunch time before we broke down and texted her. Now for real, this was it! It was so hard not to tell everyone we saw at work our good news. This was the happiest we'd been in this process and we had to keep it on the DL (down low for you nerdy, non-hipsters).

So, Friday arrives. We are up bright and early to go take our blood test. We didn't actually have an early appointment, we just needed to be there early. We had already taken the day off of work, just in case. Well, jokes on them, we knew! Well, we were pretty sure we knew. Anywho...we stopped at Dunkin' Donuts to buy the girls at the doctor's office some breakfast because, well, we were just in a fabulous mood. When we got there, we were met with hugs and smiles from our two favorite nurses. It was about time...we had already cried with them, it was time to rejoice with them now. The Lab Corp dude was waiting for us when we got there. Pam took blood and put it in the magical spinner thingamajingie and waa-la...off it went for the super official results. The Lab Corp dude even called the lab to let them know he was on his way with Heidi's blood and that there was a rush! I think our cheeks were actually hurting by now from smiling so much.

Despite all of these things falling into place, it still takes about two hours to get the results back. Really? Two more hours??? So, we find a way to pass the time. We shop. We wander around a mall in Tampa because we aren't ready to cross the bridge to go back home. Still waiting. Fine. We cross the bridge and now we are at the mall in Clearwater. Walking through the mall and the phone rings. Heidi is too scared to answer it. I, being the dudely one, must man up and take the call. Caller ID confirms it's Pam. Guess what my people? It's official...Heidi is knocked up! With child. Preggars. A bun in the oven. My beautiful amazing wife is finally pregnant.

We call and/or text those few people we have told and let them know it's official. Nancy was already texting every ten minutes to find out when that damn nurse was going to call us back. :)

We decide to have a little celebratory dinner with some family and close friends. It was our first celebration feast to honor the beginning of our pregnancy.

Heidi surprises me with an early birthday gift in honor of our little baby/babies. There's a little back story to one of the gifts. When we were in Target before the aspiration, waiting for a prescription to be filled, we wandered around and made our way to the book section. I saw a book I remembered from childhood and told Heidi that when we get pregnant, this was the first gift I was buying for the baby. Well, the love of my life bought me this book as our celebration. Shel Silverstein's "Where the Sidewalk Ends". She also included a little giraffe and a onesie.

Now, we wait. My birthday is coming up and if all goes well, we plan on announcing our little secret at my big 40th bash. We can't wait. A few more blood tests to make sure everything is progressing as it should be. Again, for those of you who are fertility lingo challenged, Heidi's HCG has to double every three days. And so every three days we go back to the doctor for blood tests. Oh, and her little meds aren't over just yet. Still daily shots in the boom-boom-pow. Still a regimen of pills. We have to do all the stuff necessary to make her uterus the most perfect of places for the baby/babies to live. Yes, until we know otherwise, we refer to them as the babies. After all, there were two embryos placed back so there's a chance that both took. And we don't want to give either of them a complex later in life by not acknowledging both of them now. So the belly talking begins...we spend each day talking to her belly, encouraging the babies to grow, letting them know how happy we are that they have decided to join our little family.

Time to put the kids to bed...

Captain's Log - August 2, 2011: What does one do with a bunch of fertilized blastocysts? Well, in our case, five days later, you put them back where they came from...or as the title says, "put the kids to bed". So, for five whole days, we listened to progress reports about the fertilized eggs. We kept our fingers crossed and when the morning of the transfer came, well, we got delayed. The embryologist wanted to wait just a wee bit longer and have the transfer happen in the afternoon, giving the embryos a little more time to develop. Perhaps a few hours isn't very long in the whole scope of the history of the world, but when you are waiting to make a baby, a few hours is almost a lifetime.

So 3:30 finally comes. We've had lunch. We're ready. This is it. Time to become mommies! We get to the doctor's office and you can just feel the excitement in the air. The nurses are just as excited as we are. Just a little aside here, if I haven't mentioned it yet in a past blog, I want to mention it now...we have the most amazing nurses imaginable. They have cried with us. They have been happy with us. They have answered our questions. They have been there every step of the way, being reassuring, informative, silly when necessary, being available by text no matter what time a random question arose, just the most amazing couple of gals we could ever have hoped for (they're names are Pam and Tana by the way...they are identifiable by more than just the moniker of "Our Nurses".) Back to us, so we were in the waiting room, which was unusually crowded that day, trying to sit still, but oh my gosh, seriously? Are we eight year olds going to Disney? Because that's how it felt. Funny little story...one of the office gals comes out to us and advises us that Dr. Welden has an intern in the office today and wants to know if we would be okay if he observed the procedure. I laughed a little because, well, boys aren't supposed to see Heidi's who-ha. It is the golden grail, people...it is not just "there" for everyone to see! Of course, that wasn't Heidi's feeling. She said, "Well, everyone else has seen it, what's one more person." What? Does she have no respect for the sanctity of the...oh, nevermind, fine. He can observe. I do manage to tell the office gal, however, that if he so much as touches her or stares too long, he should be advised that I have no problem body tackling him right in the procedure room. She promises to relay the message.

So, it's finally time. A little later than scheduled, but that's ok. Just a little longer for our little embryos to grow and at this stage, every hour matters. We go back to the lab and get to see our potential future child/children on a little screen. Five beautiful, perfectly developed (textbook, if you believe our fabulous embryologist)embryos. We take a moment to recognize the gravity of this. These could be our child or children. There they are...on the screen. They were in a little refrigerator and could only be out for a few moments, but there they were...on a TV screen. Quite frankly, who gets to see this? Most women get to see a line or two on a stick after they had a little slip. This is no slip for us. This is the most intentional thing we've ever done! And there was the proof...looking amazingly, well, amazing. What? What you say? You want to see them? Why, your wish is my command! Our first public picture of our potential child/children...




So, the kids are alright (ironic reference to a movie we saw at the beginning of this process). Now, we prepare for the procedure. This one is a lot easier than the aspiration. It's actually very similar to IUI, only the embryologist is in the room with with a tube full of our potential heirs. Actually, only two of our potential heirs are being placed back into the motherland (hahaha...the best reference ever!). The other three are being frozen in case, well, you get it. In case. After the transfer, Dr. Welden asked us if we wanted to pray. Now, if you know us, you know that we are not religious folk. We tend to be very spiritual, but not religious. However, if there was ever a moment when prayer seemed appropriate, this was it. We were making a baby, a miracle even when done in the traditional sense. We were not traditional. As such, we definitely needed any extra divine intervention we could get. So, there we were...the mommies to be, Dr. Welden, Dr. Clark, an intern afraid of being tackled by a lesbian and Pam the nurse. We all held hands while Dr. Welden said a little prayer. And yes, my friends, I cried. I cried with the hopes and possibilities and anticipation that only someone trying so hard to make a baby with the woman she loved could cry with...I just did it a little more quietly than the heaping sobs you would have expected. I was touched. Deeply.

So, after putting the kids to bed, we hung out for our standard twenty minute wait, thinking about what this meant. This was our first in vitro and hopefully our last. Our chances were increased with this. Statistically, this was our time. It was what we had fought so hard for. It's what Heidi had endured so much for, her tiny little body taking shots and pills and probes and blood draws. So many hopes and then let-downs. So many tears. So much had gone into this moment...this was it. This was our moment.

A really expensive babysitter

July 29, 2011: So, what does one do with twelve mature eggs after aspiration? You fertilize them! That's what! And what do you fertilize them with? Glass blower baby sperm...not sure if he's made his way to the blog yet but he was our choice before Abercrombie baby sperm but was out of stock with our last IUI. But...for our IVF, a fresh load (no pun intended) back on your grocer's shelf! So, our dozen kiddies-to-be will officially meet their donor via petri-dish fertilization. And how does one accomplish such a feat, particularly without a boy and the traditional fertilization? You pay for an embryologist...a guy that gets paid to introduce egg to sperm and then monitor them daily to see if they do a little "brown chicken brown cow" in the petri dish.

After the aspiration, our embryologist, Dr. Clark, left the eggs to "settle down" a little before insperminating them. They had, after all, gone through a heck of a day. They started the morning all cozy in Heidi's ovaries and by 5:30 that night, they had been poked, sucked out, eyeballed under a high powered microscope, left to marinate in a petri dish with special sauce meant to keep them alive. Yea, probably not the day they expected. To accommodate that rough entry, Dr. Clark let them have a few hours of lounging around the petri dish. After the dirty dozen had time to acclimate to their new surroundings, he introduced them to the swimmers...the spermies. Then, he dimmed the lights, put them in the refrigerator with some mood music (probably not that part, but it sounds like it would have been a good idea) and let them "mingle".

Now, I think that we have been ridiculously fortunate in our choice of fertility doctors. We have our nurses cell phone number whenever we have questions. Not only do we have her number, but we've used it and amazingly, she responds! Day or night. Same thing with our embryologist. He gave his cell phone number and told us we can call him every day to check the status of the fertilization. Again, I have to say, I've been going to my primary doctor for over ten years and I have yet to get a cell number...so, yea, we were very fortunate. (And if you know Heidi, every little thing causes concern. Our nurse, Pam, probably had us on speed dial).

So, twenty-four hours after aspiration, we call him to get a status update on the twelve eggs. First report on July 29th, was okay. I mean, we didn't exactly know what to expect so we listened to the doctor and took notes. Let me find that note...oh, here it is: 9 fertilizations, 8 of them normal, one had to be discarded. OK then, so, let's see. That means three didn't fertilize. OK. Manageable. We didn't really want twelve kids anyway. Of the nine that the romantic music worked for, one of those didn't, um, I don't know what verbiage to use here...didn't prosper? Whatever the terminology, we were left with eight. Oddly, that created a little panic in me. Only eight left? Strange, I know, because we never aspired to be Kate Gosselin. We don't want eight children. But OK...let's see how tomorrow goes.

July 30th's phone call netted more information way above my knowledge base. One six cell embryo with no fragmentation (I did learn that fragmentation is bad, we do not want fragmentation). Seven of them were five to six cells with one of them being grade one and one being a grade three because it was fragmenting. That's a lot of information huh? Let me try to explain some of this...the cells divide every day. The more they divide, the better they get graded, as long as there is no fragmentation. What is fragmentation, you ask? Well, give me a little second to google that...embryo fragmentation occurs when cells divide unevenly, creating bits of membrane-bound cytoplasm that have no nucleus. The majority of embryos created during IVF cycles are observed to have some fragmentation, however, the more fragmentation, the less likely an embryo is to develop normally and implant successfully. The extent of fragmentation is an important indicator of embryo quality. So, in short, out of eight, seven were doing super, one was doing a little mediocre.

July 31st netted us a loss. The mediocre embryo was down-graded to a grade 4 and was expected to expire soon. However, the remaining embryos would likely make it to the blastocyst stage. That's what we want! The more division that takes place in each of the cells, the better. [Side note here: Heidi and I are probably one of a handful of people in the universe that actually have a picture of some random blastocyst at their desk to refer to regularly].

August 1st, last and final day before we move the best embryos back to their original home...Heidi's tummy (well, a little to the left, from her ovary to her uterus). The remaining seven embryos continue to thrive and divide but Dr. Clark would like to make sure they make it to the blastocyst stage prior to the transfer. As such, our morning appointment is going to be moved to the afternoon. No big deal, right? This whole year has been nothing but an emotional waiting game, what's a few more hours? Oy vey!

So, what does all of this mean to us? After five days, our little embryos are almost ready to go back home. August 2nd is the big day...let me elaborate, August 2nd in the afternoon is the big moment.

We hope our first babysitter has done a good job. He's been great at keeping us up-to-date and using very big words. Way more than the traditional $10/hour babysitter of traditional families...but, then again, he's actually making our kids for us, not just watching them divide. I guess it's worth the price...as long as it works. Fingers are crossed...tomorrow is the big day!

Putting all of our eggs in one basket (or petri dish...)

July 28, 2011: Captain's Log - Going where no man has gone before. Today is aspiration day. Sounds like a big ol' snot removing procedure, but no, it is a ridiculously important day for us. Today is the day that we remove the eggs that may one day become our baby. Or babies. Yea, there's still that chance.

So, today, we leave work a little early to go to the doctor's and have this procedure done. The doctor and embryologist are there and Heidi isn't. I mean, she's there, but she's jacked up on Demerol and in her own happy place. It's just as well though...it's not the funnest procedure one can endure. The doctor is playing baby lullabies in the background...amazingly apropos. There are a lot of machines in the room so it's cold at first (as Heidi announces while she's drugged up...asking for socks) but all of the machines make it warmer. Just a little "How cute is my wife" aside...she has an IV of demerol in and apparently, it bothers her. Through barely opened eyes, she has made it her mission to move the IV. She tries to pick it up, she tries to move her hand. Generally, she forgets what she's doing right in the middle of doing it and several times just froze where she was...her hand on her mouth, hovering over the IV, just hanging there in the air. Again, how cute is my wife? :)

Here's the 411 on a little game we like to call "Find the eggs". So, the doctor is at the helm (you know, right between Heidi's knees, usually my place of preference, but well, you know...I don't know how to retrieve eggs). He has a long needle that seems to serve three purposes...one to burst the follicle, which holds the egg; two, to suck it out and three, to wash the inside of the follicle out again to make sure the little egg was captured. The magic potion, or all the stuff in the follicle, is then sucked out and goes into what? A test tube! Who knew! It brings new meaning to test tube baby! Then, Dr. Clark, our embryologist is right behind the "helm" with a huge incubator with a microscope. Everytime a test tube fills up, he puts it into a petri dish and lets Dr. Weldon know if there's an egg or not. He does a little "shout out" to the helmsman..."we have a mature egg", "nothing here", "another mature egg"...it was like playing the egg lottery! Dr. Weldon would pop a folly and say that this one was small and we probably wouldn't find anything and then unexpectedly...a mature egg (that, my friends, is my over-achiever wife at her prime!).

After the eggs were in a dish, the embryologist would let me look through the microscope to see the egg. He gave the very technical explanation (using all words that were completely outside my vernacular) but super cool, none the less. I want you to stop and think about this, about the gravity of this. I am seeing an egg from my wife's ovaries. An egg in the most smallest, premature state. Yet, I could potentially be staring at what could become our child. That is amazing to me in a way that words cannot express. I mean, who gets to do that??? Who gets to see that part the baby making process? I was just awestruck.

Anyway, so, in all, my little tiny 95 lb. wife who is the epitome of an overachiever, created twelve eggs. A frigging dozen!!! Which is a good thing, our fertility doctor is a little particular about always ending up with an even number...I tremble to think what would have happened if he only found eleven!

OK...for the faint at heart, maybe you want to skip to the next paragraph. This one gets a little gross. Remember that three purpose needle? I may have forgotten to mention that it's extremely sharp. While the doctor is putting it into the cervix and guiding it up to the ovaries, it has the potential to "poke" stuff it isn't supposed to poke. We had an ultrasound, but that was aimed primarily at the ovaries, not the path up. So, yea, on the way back in for one of the eggs, it "poked" the inside of her vagina. Not just that, but it poked a vein or artery. What happens when you poke a vein or artery with a really big needle? It bleeds. And this one did. A LOT. I was back by the embryologist looking at the eggsters and when I look up, I see Heidi spread-eagle (hehehe!) but not in a good way. There was blood everywhere. I had a slight moment of internal panic as I muttered, "is this normal?" Really? That was my question? Of course it wasn't normal...apparently I'm not that great in a moment of panic. The embryologist advised I could look away if it was difficult, but yea, that wasn't going to happen. I did not spend years and years honing myself by watching gory and scary movies only to look away at the puddle of blood forming under my wife. Perhaps I should have looked away...anyway, the doctor told me what happened, stuffed a bunch of gauze up there and stopped the bleeding. He tested her blood pressure several times to make sure she didn't loose too much blood and all was right with the world again. Except it was amazingly horrific to see. My poor little Heidi and her vagina. [Insert inappropriate joke here about a little prick in her vagina...LMAO].

So, after the aspiration, Heidi lay still slightly drunk from Demerol while the embryologist takes the eggs to his special egg fertilizing lair (which is really just a special room that's mostly dark and very laboratory-like). Heidi continues to work hard to wake up (she's horrible with any kind of anesthesia...it takes her forever to wake up and she always gets sick). I get instructions from the nurse (I also invite her to my 40th birthday party...it's a multi-tasking kind of day). We shake Heidi a little more...talk a little more about our next appointment. Again, try to wake Heidi up...I told you, she really takes to anesthesia. Finally, the nurse and I slide her panties and pants on over her sleeping legs and stand her up into them. She still has no recollection of this...she also has no recollection of the three times the doctor, nurse and I told her how the procedure went, no recollection of the conversation we had with the nurses in the lobby, maybe a slight recollection of the chocolate shake I bought her on the way home...probably not though.

So, the first huge day was done. Twelve eggs...all that's left is insperminating them (baby daddy is in a vial at in the fertilizing lair). The countdown is on...we need fertilization, no fragmentation, healthy eggs...and we have five days for all of that to happen. I'm pretty sure this will be the longest five days ever...next step: embryo transfer! Fingers crossed, prayers being said, come on babies, you can do it...I saw you! You're strong, you're already loved and we are waiting for you...come on, come on, we know you're ready to have two mommies to love you incredibly!

Teeny tiny white lies...

You know how sometimes you want to tell your friends something but for whatever reason, you don't tell them? Know how there's that little feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know that you haven't been, oh I don't know, 100% forthright with them? Well, we do. We've told a couple of white lies and it's now time to come clean. So, here goes...

We love our friends. I mean, we really love our friends. We know that they love us and want only that which is best for us. And because of that, they care about how our little process to knock Heidi up is going. Well, the flip side of that caring is the difficulty that comes when we have to answer those questions asked with only caring and concern with bad news. "No...the process didn't work. Heidi's fine. Really, she's fine. Don't ask her though. She doesn't want to talk about it. Don't look too closely at her either. Her eyes are a little red from grieving the loss, again, of what might have been." There's a weight that comes with this process. Every try is met with excitement and anticipation. This will be the time it works! Well, when it doesn't, it gets more and more difficult to say those words. It gets more and more difficult to hear the words "I'm sorry, maybe next time." So, after the last time our attempt didn't work, we decided to just, well, to just tell a teeny tiny white lie. Our lie was that, well, nothing was happening. In real life, we kept going.

In June, we tried another insemination. This was the first one after Heidi's surgery. We felt like this was going to be it. Heidi's endometriosis was burned and sizzled out. It was like her uterus was brand spanking new. We were going to inseminate the hecks out of it! So, we scheduled our appointments discretly at work. If anyone asked, we just responded "Oh, well, we're just having some tests done...". And we did our thing and yet again, we took the dreaded pregnancy test (which we bought a day early because we just KNEW it worked...Heidi didn't have ANY symptoms that she was getting her period, we just KNEW it was going to work!). Well, no exaggeration, not even two hours after we get the evil "Negative" response on the test, which we justified saying that it was because of the shots, or something, but there was a reason, I guarantee you! Anyway, not two hours later, Heidi gets her period. That, my friends, is what we like to call adding insult to injury. Not only did we get raped, but damn, someone forgot the lube. Ouch! We were, however, glad that no one knew. It made the pain of dealing with it less, er, public? I don't know how to articulate this. Sometimes, though, you just have to deal with your pain privately. That's what we chose to do.

So, now what? We were at the end of our financial rope, so to speak. We had bet against the house and yes, my friends, the house won. Four inseminations and a surgery later and still no pregnancy. And a significantly diminished bank account. What now? We talked about taking a break, saving some more money, paying off some of the credit cards we used to buy sperm, taking a much needed emotional break. But if you know my wife, you know that she is slightly impatient. So, my financial planner/wife took a looksie at our 401(k) plans and figured out we could take a loan and pay for not just an IUI, but an IVF. Yes, I said it...I-V-F. In Vitro Fertilization. A little test tube baby, if you will. Now, again, if you know my wife and you know how much I love my wife, when she gets a look in her eye, a look that says how important something is to her, you also know that there is no way I can say no to her. So, we made the call to the doctor and got some more detail.

Here's the short and skinny of the detail...money, money and more money. The drugs alone cost $4000 - $5000. Then there's the doctor's fees. Then there's the embryologist fees. There's extraction fees. There's implantation fees. Yea, I think you get the point. There are a lot of fees. About $11,000 total. But again, if you see my wife's eyes and how much this means, you know that it's only money. A lot of money, mind you, but only money. So, we decide to go for it...IVF it is!

Now we have a whole new ballgame to learn. We knew all of the IUI terminology and processes. Now, we have a new game with new terminologies and new procedures. OMG...I'm not a frigging sponge here! And much to Heidi's chagrin, a lot more shots. Some in the butt and some in the belly. God love my little Heidi for what she's taken on with this process. She's become a pin cushion for love. I'm so poetic. :)

So, in July, we started with the IVF process. We were super lucky in that our fabulous friends, Laura and Tootie, had some left over meds from having Liam (our amazingly beautiful God son, I might add). And oddly enough, our insurance covered some of the meds. Cha-ching! Can you say way better than a coupon, my friends? Yes! So, our nurse orders a whole regimen of drugs. A lot of drugs. A lot of needles!!!



We start with an ultrasound to count follicles. Weird because in IUI, we tried to make sure we didn't have too many follicles. In IVF, we need more. It's like it's bass ackwards! So, we do our first ultrasound a couple of days after she stops birth control (funny irony, isn't it?...she has to take birth control to get preggars) and we do a little easter egg basket count...how many eggs are coming to the party? She has lots of little follicles. Check. Next ultrasound is about a week later. We have to make sure all of the eggs are growing according to plan. We have to be very careful not to let her ovulate too so we are counting, measuring and managing. OMG. I'm tired for her! Her little fallopian tubes must be exhausted! She had ten follicles, eight about the same size, two we might consider the runts of the bunch. Two days later, another ultrasound. A small little aside here...when I say Heidi is a trooper, I mean a super trooper! In the past week, she's had three vaginal probes (ultrasounds), at least one shot per day in her stomach (on the day of the third ultrasound, we introduced yet another shot into the regimen so that makes two shots per day), blood draws, medicines, the works. And she does this all without complaint. I'm not exactly an expert shot giver, you know!She has small bruises on her belly from the shots (uh, check out her body fat...none!) She's on all types of hormones, her body is doing all kinds of new and strange things and yet, every day, she takes more and more and does it without even hinting at how uncomfortable it all is. This, my peeps, is why I am madly in love with her and lucky to have married the most amazing woman in the entire universe (plus, she's hot, I mean, really hot).

So, as I sit and draft our blog, not knowing when we are going to post it, I wait for tomorrows ultrasound. We gotta check those eggs again! If all works out, we extract on Thursday.

To our friends we may have told a little white lie to, we are sorry. We love you and we know you love us too. We just needed a little private grieving time to process the pain of being unsuccessful in realizing our next dream. And we know you care...so much! And we love you for it. So, until we come clean, we'll be keeping our fingers crossed. We know that if you knew, you'd be crossing your fingers too!

Well, hello Abercrombie sperm...

After Heidi's roto-rootering and a heckuva week of recovery for her (it felt like little aliens were rearranging her innards), we made our way back to the fertility doc to see what all that rooting meant and what our next steps were. We had already received the initial information after the surgery so our visit was just to make sure nothing else was found and get a little more 411 on future plans. Not much else was discussed, except Dr. W did mention that one of Heidi's ovaries had a film across it that may have prevented the egg from reaching the tube o' fallopia. He also mentioned that he zapped that film with the endometriosis spots so that shouldn't be an issue for our next inspermination. He also provided us with a fabulous DVD, which I anticipate will win some type of documentary award, of her surgery. Sadly, Heidi won't let me YouTube it, which is a shame because I'm pretty sure I could come up with some comedic commentary. We watched all 15 minutes of the video when we got home, completely amazed at how he tossed her innards around with such ease and laughing that when he cauterized the spotties of endometriosis, it created smoke. Kinda makes you wonder what a little flatulence would have netted...perhaps she could have set off a fire alarm with a smokey fart. I digress...

Because your involvement in our process is important to us, we felt like it would only be fair to share an integral part of our process with you. I present to you, for the first time ever shown in public (drumroll, please)....Heidi's uterus and fallopian tubes! Hold your applause, please...they are very camera shy.

So, Dr. W advised that we could try the next inspermination (#4, for the record) with her next cycle if we wanted to. Pft! Of course we wanted to! That meant we could rush home and do what any self-respecting lesbian would do...get some swimmers! Sperm, that is. Fertilization oil (suddenly the theme song of Beverly Hillbillies is rolling around in my head). Now, let me take you back to our most recent donor of choice...glass blowing baby. On April 6, there were 30 vials of glass blower left. Plenty to go around, my friends. Remember he was the new donor from the new bank. Credit card at the ready, time to order spermages! Errtttt! (That's my onomatopoeia for screeching brakes - visualize it aurally). Sold out. Apparently, once word got out that we were in the market for glass blowing baby, every other lesbo wanted to have our baby daddy's baby. Yea, we may have dropped the F bomb here. Are you frigging serious? Back to the drawing board. We had a second choice from our search that we revisited. Nice looking kid. Good grades. Athletic. And due to his wardrobe of choice, we fondly refer to him as Abercrombie baby. Credit card at the ready, again. Time to order some washed Abercrombie baby sperm! What's that noise? What's that sound I hear in the distance, getting louder and louder? ERRTTTT! No washed sperm. Only unwashed. And before you ask, no, they cannot wash the unwashed (and no, I don't know why). Yep, the F bomb may have come out again here. What's a girl gotta do in this town to get knocked up??? So, we tuck the credit card back into the wallet until we can get this sorted out. Call the doctor...since Heidi's uterus is ever so sensitive, can their embryologist wash the sperm. Yes. Well, can he use something other than what he usually uses (the active ingredient in his wash is the same as the first sperm bank). Don't know. Gotta check. Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting...return phone call. Yep, he can use a salt water wash. Can it be? Shall we pull the credit card back out? Why yes, we can! Two vials of Abercrombie baby sperm, coming up! So, I introduce you to Abercrombie baby...please, please, please, Mr. Fitch, please have some strong swimmers (which, ironically, he IS a swimmer! This may be a sign!).

So, we have a freshly cleaned out uterus, brand-brand spanking new sperm and a renewed spirit. What else can be done? Well, of course, any insperminating lesbians worth their salt would have seen this, but not us. Not until now. Why didn't we think of this? Why were we so remiss? What do I speak of, you ask? Duh...fertility foods! Yea, so we have fallen victim to the internet and sought out diets that increase your chance of fertility. Imagine if you will, the excitement on Heidi's little countenance when she heard of all of the delicious and nutritious opportunities she has to enhance her fertility...asparagus, nuts (what??? she doesn't like nuts!), spinach, tofu, liver, fish, my mouth is watering just typing all of these tasty treats. And which of these will Heidi incorporate into her diet? If you know Heidi, you know the answer to this...absolutely none. MAYBE asparagus, but it needs to be completely wrapped in bacon so none of the green can be seen or tasted. So, we compromised and bought some vitamins...cod liver oil and iron. Aside from the completely disgusting thought of how the cod liver oil gel cap would taste if she accidentally bit it instead of swallowed it, it's not so bad. She's increasing her dairy intake. She's taking in more grains and oats. She even managed to munch on some wasabi and soy almonds. This is some amazing food dedication people!!!

Before I sign off and wait for another looonnnggg few weeks for the cycle to start (she's due for her period in about five days, then ten days for the ultrasound, then four more days until the insemination...so, yea, a few weeks), I want to take a few moments to say a word or two about a new member of our family.

On May 18th, our fabulous friends, Laura and Tootie, welcomed into the world a beautiful, healthy, amazing baby boy. Both Heidi and I wanted to throw out a huge, colossal congratulations to the newest mommies we know. You both have a beautiful son and we are so proud to be a part of your lives, and now the life of your son. Tell him the aunties love him and can't wait to make him a best friend, a friend for life!

Signing off until the next inspermination...

The Roto-Rootering of Heidi's Uterus

Today is day two of Heidi's recuperation. It is significantly better than yesterday where it only took the slightest of movement by Heidi to induce vomiting. For those of you who are unawares, let's back up to yesterday.



Yesterday, Heidi had three surgical procedures: a laparoscopy, hysteroscopy and a dye test. She had a fabulous video, that I'm sure she will not let me YouTube, made of her uterus and all of the related reproductive parts. She won't even let me scrapbook the pictures. Party pooper. Anywho, during the procedures, the doctor checked her ovaries, her fallopian tubes, and her uterus (inside and out) for any abnormalities. He went in vaginally, dilating her cervix. He also made an incision in her belly button and below her pelvic area for a laser and camera. He blew up her uterus with a bunch of gas (not the funny, farty kind). He shot dye through her fallopian tubes to make sure there weren't any obstructions. Needless to say, she's more than a little sore today.

The findings were endometriosis, stage 2 (mild disease, superficial and deep endometriosis). It explained Heidi's painful menstrual cycles and potentially could account for some of the issues we've been having with the inseminations. So what is endometriosis? It occurs when tissue like that which lines the uterus (tissue called the endometrium) is found outside the uterus, usually in the abdomen, on the ovaries, fallopian tubes, and ligaments that support the uterus. Heidi had two lesions on one ovary, a growth between an ovary and the uterus and a "Murphys Window", or lesions on the back of her uterus. The doctor cauterized all of the lesions during the surgery.

So, what does all of this mean? Well, there's an 85% chance that it will recur so we are going to try another insemination after her next cycle, some time in June. The doctor thinks that this may have created a problem with the success of the inseminations we had done previously so we are hopeful that this will be a turning point in our efforts. He also said the words "penile thrusting". Not really relevant here, but I felt like it was important that I share that phrase with everyone. LOL (For the morbidly curious, the doctor was advising that the location of the endometriosis on Heidi's uterus was placed in such a place that if she were in a heterosexual relationship, sex would be painful due to penile thrusting. LOL Makes me laugh everytime I say it...penile thrusting. Enough. Moving on.

While Heidi's recovery is most definitely unpleasant, she is being prepared for pregnacy. She's been nauseous (key item in early pregnancy!), has all of her reproductive junk moving around (grows and stuff during pregnancy), everything tastes like crapola from the anastesia (no real comparison that I can think of but still merited mentioning), and has sore stomach muscles from the carbon dioxide pumped into her (only when she's preggars, it will be a different kind of gas...). So, yes, the perpetual optimist in me is back. When she gets pregnant next month (throwing that out to the universe super soon), it'll be like she's already been through it. It'll be a cake walk.

So, keeping our fingers crossed that her recovery goes smoothly (so far, no vomiting today...that's progress!). And keeping our fingers crossed that we can do an insemination in June and be pregnant by July. Wouldn't it be am amazing 30th birthday gift for Heidi if we had a baby in April 2012? There's not really much I could buy Heidi at the mall that would beat that. Can I throw "Happy 30th Birthday, Heidi, here's our baby" out to the universe now? Is it too soon?

A little diversion

Two words...f**king period. Yes, Heidi got her period exactly when it was due. Contrary to the feelings of relief felt by a college student who "may" have missed her pill a couple of times before hooking up with that really hot guy from the Marshall Center (no references to Jessica here), this was not what we wanted to happen. Indications started last Saturday morning with a little spotting. I chalked it up to implantation, even though it would have been a few days late. I am the perpetual, if not unrealistic, optimist. The official start happened during the married couple's dedicated dance on the dance floor at a wedding reception where Heidi was playing a bridesmaid. A little upsetting to say the least. We spent the next few dances crying in the bride's dressing room. It was not the ideal situation to have to deal with our disappointment.

One would think that going through this so many times we would actually get used to it. Instead, it is becoming more and more difficult each time that that bloody bitch named "Merry Monthly" rears her ugly head. This time has been downright devastating. Heidi couldn't talk about it without crying. If you know Heidi, you know she's not a crier. It takes a lot to make her cry. I mean, a ridiculous lot (I, on the other hand, will break into sobs at the drop of a hat...just ask a good Publix commercial). She is taking it exceptionally hard. It took us a few days to even address what our next steps would be.

Back up a little...um, for the insemination challenged, you should know this is an expensive process. Maybe not expensive for the 1% of the wealthy, of which we are not, but expensive for the standard middle-class lesbian couple. Oh, and our insurance doesn't cover any of the fertility. So, each try has diminished our savings account. Oh, and the replacement of the roof last month took it's toll on our bank account. So, now, we're scraping the bottom of the barrel of disposable cash. I'm thinking about turning Heidi out...perhaps that will solve both problems. I digress.

When we finally got to discussing, oddly in my office at work instead of in the privacy of our home, we threw just moving into in-vitro into the options. Then we called the doctor's office and got some pricing. Wow. Seriously. Wow. Around $11,000. Per try. Yea, each time. Wow. This option is no longer an option. Well, not exactly. We then discussed trying to do one more IUI and if that doesn't work, we'd take a year off and save for in-vitro. That's it. That's what we're going to do.

Well, that's what we were going to do for approximately 17 3/4 hours. The next day Heidi talked with the nurse and asked what the doctor's normal steps would be after the fourth insemination if it didn't work. She said he would to a couple of laser surgeries to see if anything in the plumbing wasn't, well, plumb. He would do a laparoscopy and hysteroscopy. This involves out-patient surgery where three incisions are made in Heidi's belly and they insert a light, a camera and a laser and check out the tubes and uterus to see if there are any issues in there preventing success. Huh. Well, since we could stand to save a little money, why not do this first? Change of plans. Again. Now, we are scheduled to have this surgery done prior to our next IUI...mark your calendars, folks. May 9th is the next big day for us. Heidi's uterus wasn't happy just being on an ultrasound; it now wants a full on camera appearance. Fame whore, her uterus.

So cross your fingers that we find something and they can fix it. If they don't find anything, we're back at square one. If they find something and can fix it, we can hopscotch our little arses to the next square.

In the meantime, anyone know where we can get some really strong fertili-tea? We need to cover all of our bases. And squares.

Santa Baby, I really do believe in you

We are a mere four days into our fourteen day waiting period to see of this weekend's inseminations worked. Amazing how when you are waiting for something, time creeeeppppssss by. I mean, we've had our fair share of distractions - our plumbing clogged up (so gross!), had some unfortunate family issues, which will remain off this post but distracting just the same, sickness (I have a cold...AGAIN!!!)...all distracting but not distracting enough.

Let's talk this out a little...

Since I am a glass half full kinda girl (no comments from you, Nancy!), let's talk about the positives first. Usually the day after the second insemination, Heidi gets really severe pains in her abdomen. This time...nothing! There was no pain. That was a HUGE hurdle for us and we passed it...thank you, universe! Unfortunately...it didn't last forever. But good news (yep, optimist), the pain wasn't as severe as it has been with the last two inseminations. We researched insemination side effects and there have been a lot of posts where there was cramping and bloating after the fact so we are going to chalk it up to that. The intensity was less and she's fine now.

The bad news...well, we're only on day four of fourteen days before we can test. And, technically, we aren't going to test until after that date because day fourteen is the day Heidi is in her friend's wedding. We don't want to have good news that day and overshadow the wedding celebrations and well, if you're a negative Nelly, we certainly don't want bad news. Which won't come. I feel it. I think all of the negative the universe has had to throw back at us this week has been in our plumbing. We have taken about all of the shit, literally, that we can so any equalizations that have to occur, have equalized via crap. Urine and crap, to be exact. So what does that mean? It means the universe is saving all of the good stuff. It's saving all of the good things for day fifteen and testing. And if that's what has to happen, so be it. I'll wallow through all the crap the universe has to throw at me if it means little Heidi is knocked up. Preggars. A bun in the oven. With child (singular, please!). Wearing her apron high. Up the duff. Killing that damn rabbit!!!

We have continued our little chanting, focusing now on implantation. We are willing our little blastocyst to make its way into the lining of Heidi's uterus and implant. Implant, implant, implant...say it with me, people! Implant, implant, implant.

We have also learned how when you are newly pregnant, which I just know Heidi is, that the same exact symptoms exist for being newly pregnant as with getting your period. It's kind of mean, if you're asking. I mean, really, I get that they both involve stuff happening in the uterus, but a little distinction would be fabulous for those of us TTC (Amanda, that means "trying to conceive".)

I have also learned that people who determine due dates don't know crap about dates. For example, if Heidi is pregnant, which I know she is, she is already considered two and a half weeks pregnant. Weird. Especially since we only introduced the little swimmers in there a few days ago. Yea, so, technically, if we test on April 3rd, she will have been inseminated two weeks sooner, but will be considered four weeks pregnant. How does that even frigging work?

Anywho, for those of you who do not have a Favorite marked on your Internet Explorer for calculating due dates, first of all, hit me up and I'll email you one, second of all, if Heidi is pregnant (which I know she is), her due date will be December 9th or December 10th, depending on which swimmers got there first, Fridays or Saturdays. So, I'm just telling you all right now...do not try to gyp my kid out of both a birthday gift and a Christmas gift. My best friend (I'm referring to you, Kyong) was born on December 22. I know how her parents made the big gift the one for both her birthday and Christmas. We are not going to tolerate that crap. So start budgeting now. Start shopping for both now. Why? Because I just know we are going to have a little December baby. I feel it. The universe will make this happen. Otherwise, all of the crap (and urine) I've muddled through this week will have been all for naught. Pft...that just won't work for me.

Suddenly, the song "Santa Baby" is running through my head..."Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight".

Four, four, four...

Today, my friend told me about the laws of attraction as it relates to positive thinking. You know, if you think it, it will be. Well, I have to say that a small part of me must believe this to be true because since my last post, I've been silently and audibly chanting "four, four, four". Then, to add to the power of my positive thinking, I started to look for other signs, signs that the big guy upstairs was throwing my way to let me know he heard me. For example, according to the Garmin, our time of arrival to the doctor's office for our ultrasound was 2:06. Six minus two is, what? Say it with me..four. Heidi emailed me four four-leafed clovers; I reciprocated with four kissing lips. I called her at 12:24. I was pulling all kinds of fours out of the air today. I facebook posted a call to chant four (knowing that only a few people know about our endeavor, I ran the risk of strange questions). Mom-in-law did a long four chant. Auntie Lisa chanted too. Last night, I talked directly to Heidi's belly, softly whispering "four, four, four". There's a big four in a circle drawn on my board at work. I think it's safe to say that I made every effort to do my part to put this out to the universe; and then wait and see what the universe threw back at me.

Why is four so important you ask? Well, might I suggest you read the previous blog (pft!) but if you're on a time constraint, I'll give you the cheat sheet. Four is the number of follicles we wanted Heidi to have. If we have four, it's not too many (don't want to be the next octomom!); it's not too little (washed sperm is expensive...we want to make sure there's something to fertilize!). It was, to quote a very sassy blond fairy tale girl, "just right".

I am proud to announce that the law of attraction worked today. Our ultrasound revealed that Heidi had FOUR perfect little follicles, all waiting to drop into her little fallopian tubes and meet a few million little sperm. How excited are we? Well, I don't have the words to describe how good it felt knowing that all of our chanting was not in vain. It felt so good knowing that we were going to get to try again. It felt good knowing that today, March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, may be Heidi's last day as an unpregnant woman, her last day not being a mom. Gosh, that sounds so amazingly exciting! We inseminate tomorrow and Saturday. What shall we chant as we prepare for the next step? Fertilize? Implant? How about...we're going to have a Christmas baby? Is that too long? Pick one, pick them all. Just chant...the laws of attraction are waiting for you to throw this back into the universe for us. Fertilize, fertilize, fertilize...implant, implant, implant...please, please, please, we would love a Christmas baby...

And the overachiever strikes...again

When we last left our heroines, they were en route to a much needed vacation to Vermont. Vacation accomplished. Snowboarding successful. Ah...ready to go back to focusing on procreation (can you call it that when it's via insemination???) Fast forward to the week after returning from vacation...

We had a visit planned a few days after we got back from vacation for our monthly viewing of Heidi's uterus via ultrasound. For this cycle, we changed things up a little bit by adding Prednisone to the drug ritual. Heidi started taking Clomid already, same dose and added a low dose of Prednisone to her repertoire to hopefully reduce any inflammation potentials because of her high ANA count. No huge changes. We were excited about taking on the process again. We hadn't done an insemination since November because of all of the extra testing so we were definitely happy to be back to this point again. We need to get some sperm into that woman!

So, back to the uterus on the big screen. Remember, we've finally gotten the drug concoction down so there wasn't anything on our radar that would indicate that we wouldn't be able to inseminate. Well, the ultrasound changed that. For whatever reason, this cycle, Heidi, my little over-achiever, well, she over-achieved. With the same dose of Clomid, she ended up creating seven follicles. Seven. Not four or even five. Seven. We were shocked to say the least. The doctor explained that if they continued to develop, he would recommend against insemination. While we knew the answer, we still asked...what were the risks?

I know that's a stupid question. We knew the risks but we felt like we just couldn't wait anymore. We've been working on this for so long with no result so we were to that point where we were almost willing to minimize the risk in our heads and go forward anyway. The doctor explained, as he had in the past, that the risk of multiples increased...to about 50%. That was a 50% increase in the potential that she would get pregnant with two, likely more, children. Then, when you add the number of babies, you increase the risk to their health. And then that which I am not, nor will I ever, be willing to risk...Heidi's health.

We scheduled an ultrasound for two days later to see how the follicles were developing. We crossed our fingers and prayed and hoped that against all odds, maybe two or three of the follicles didn't develop. We hoped that we would be down to a more reasonable number and would still be able to inseminate. Yea, not to be. Let me again refer you to Heidi's new title of the overachiever. Somehow, in the two days since the last ultrasound, she managed to create yet another follicle. Now there were eight.

So, reality hit hard. Really hard. There were tears for the lost opportunity. There were tears of frustration. There were tears knowing that it would be at least another month before we could even try again.

Today started the next cycle. Three days from now, Heidi starts Clomid again. Only this time, she's only taking it every other day for five days...reducing the dosage. This could either work or not...fingers crossed. Oh hell, fingers, eyes, toes, everything is crossed. I'm going to do my best to chant through her belly button into her uterus numbers...small numbers...so, if you hear me chanting "four, four, four", you know what I'm talking about.

Come on, baby...this is it. This is going to be the month. There's a very special kitty in Heaven talking to the big guy about getting this done.

Say it with me, people..."four, four, four".

Take Two: A New Baby Daddy

And here we are...a mere few weeks from our next opportunity to inseminate and we have just tonight committed to a new baby daddy. Now, we need to fit buying sperm into our schedule to make sure it's done before we go on vacation (seriously...I don't want to be snowboarding down a mountain and thinking about sperm, I just don't!). We need to make sure it's here for the day o' magic (Heidi's o'vulation day...see the play on words? I crack myself up!). Anyhoo...so, we are lucky enough to have two friends, fabulous friends I might add (in case they are reading this blog) that are now pregnant (whoo-hoo!) via in-vitro. They have gone through this same process of finding a baby daddy with a different cryobank so they graciously agreed to donate all of their purchased profiles to our cause...very much appreciated!

Wait...back the truck up a little. We ended our last blog with the presumption that we were going to have to change cryobanks (sperm banks for the less inseminational information inclined) because my dear wifey is allergic to boys...or at the very least, the wash used to clean their dirty little sperm. Now, if you read back a few blogs, you'll see the adorable cowboy hat baby picture that we had settled on as our donor. We love cowboy hat baby. We want to have a cowboy hat baby. But we were in a quandary because cowboy hat baby's sperm induced violently painful reactions in Heidi's uterus and failed to fertilize. We communicated with the sperm bank to see if we could find out what they washed cowboy hat baby's sperm in and then we communicated with our fertility doctor's office to see if they could wash the sperm instead and if so, what did kind of dish soap did they use to wash it? (For the gullible (Amanda), they do not use dish soap...I'm kidding). Their active ingredient was in significantly less proportions than the bank...what? Is that a light at the end of our dark little tunnel? (Insert completely inappropriate reference here to Heidi's tunnel to her uterus...visualize with a fertility doctor looking into the tunnel with a light affixed to his head; I've seen this so it's easy to visualize). Could it be that we could use cowboy hat baby?!?! I imagine that while we were talking to the fertility doctor, there must have been that excited little tremble in our voices, like a kid on Christmas morning, about to open presents. (Insert excited giggle here.) Well, maybe! She would check with the embryologist and maybe we could. (More giggle!) Oh, one more question...do we need to worry about whether our donor is CMV positive or not? (Insert screeching halt to giggles here). Oh, yea, you do. Our donor is positive...as is 80% of the population. If Heidi is positive, no worries. But, if you've read even a small portion of our blogs, you know that Heidi doesn't follow the norm on anything...see nine follicles; see over-reaction to Clomid; see allergy to sperm...you get my point. So, back to the lab we go for more blood tests. I'm not entirely sure how little Heidi has any blood left in her little body but she did it...blood and a little tinkle (hehehe!). And yes, you guessed it...she's negative. So, once again, cowboy hat baby is out of the running.

So back to finding a new baby daddy. We spent the majority of our night yesterday reading profiles. I have to say that some of these donors are really funny; I also have to say that they aren't meaning to be funny...they just are. I suppose when you are a young, twenty-something boy, your perspective is just, well, funny. What, you say? You want examples? Why, of course, I will be happy to elaborate. When asked why he became a donor, donor number AFL9982 responded "I thought it would be a better use of it than throwing it away." Same donor in his essay explained, "I don't own an organizer, a tie or a good pair of dress shoes because the places I go let me in no matter what I'm wearing." LOL When asked who is favorite hero was, donor number BJL9999 said, "Myself". He's also an actor and a model, go figure. Donor CJL9986 cites his accomplishments as "Doing everyday things that most people can't (installing car alarm for example)." His self-description of his personality was "reserved, somewhat sarcastic; think big, but act small." What does that mean...act small??? His favorite music is any music with talented musicians...rock is best. His reason on why he became a donor, and this is my favorite quote from him, "To help people who need sperm (and the money is nice)."

We, sadly, did not select any of the above as our baby daddy. We selected a very handsome, intellectual, well-rounded, musical, creative (he loves glass blowing) donor. He was so cute, I thought maybe I wanted to date him. Heidi said she gets to date him first. Since she's using his sperm, I suppose that's only fair and right.

Diagnosis: "You're Allergic to Men"

Well hello, my fine family and friends...long time, no blog!

So, what has been going on in the world of Heidi's uterus? So much...which might sound inappropriate, but totally isn't (dirty minded little freaks!).

Since our last post, we tried another insemination...unsuccessfully. Again, Heidi had a close encounter with barbed wire (see post dated November 2, 2010). We headed back to the doctor when the pain started, did another ultrasound, finding nothing and he initiated more blood tests. This time, however, we found something on the blood test: Heidi had a positive result for ANA (antinuclear antibody). ANAs are found in patients who have various autoimmune diseases. So, the doctor wanted us to see a specialist, either an immunologist or rheumatologist, to see if that was what was causing the severe pain after insemination. We, of course, surmised that her immune system was attacking the sperm, thereby causing the pain. No, we are not doctors, but we are excellent surmisers.

Well, for anyone who has had to make an appointment with a specialist, you know it takes a frigging month of Sundays to get an appointment. We tried several immunologists first. We finally managed to get in to one on a cancellation. Wow. Can you say "The worse experience with a medical professional...ever!". We sat for 59 minutes waiting for the doctor to make her way into our room. I'm pretty sure that if we had been 59 minutes late, the doctor wouldn't have been as amenable as we were. Strike One. Well, she comes in and has absolutely no idea why we are there, despite the fact that Heidi had given her office all of the details and had faxed over her blood test results. First, she asks me if I'm the mom. Heidi's mom. Seriously. Strike two. Heidi answers her with a solid "No, she's my wife." Then the lovely doctor proceeded to tell us that she really just deals with allergies, not so much our issue. She vaguely remembers that whole fertilization process from med school. Oh, sidebar here. This doctor had the highest pitched voice I had ever had the pleasure of listening too. I know I heard dogs howling blocks away at the sheer pain her voice caused their sensitive canine ears...it was equally painful on our ears. It is incredibly hard to listen to someone explain a medical issue when you can't get past the sound of her voice, like nails on a chalkboard. I digress. So, she's asking a plethora of allergy related questions, even after we explain why we are here. In her barrage of pointless questions, she says that she has an awkward question to ask us, but she really needs to ask. She asks, and I frigging quote, "Are you related to one another?" Pause. Yes, I say, we are married. She says...wait for it, wait for it..."No, I mean are you related by blood?" ARE YOU FRICKING KIDDING ME HERE??? What the hell kind of question is that. Strike frigging three!!! At the end of the appointment, she decides she wants to send us for some allergy tests. Yea, that's a big fat negative. We exit her office as quickly as possible and vow to never return. Erg!

So, our next step is to get into a rheumatologist. Heidi finds one closer to home (crazy doctor was in Tampa) but our appointment isn't for a month...more waiting.

Our fertility doctor has decided that we can't move forward until we get this figured out. He obviously doesn't want to put Heidi in harms way. But this has been an amazingly exhausting journey, emotionally exhausting for both of us and absolutely physically exhausting for Heidi. Heidi is functioning on small shreds of emotion and patience at this point because this process has been so hard for her. This was just proving to be another obstacle and she is ready to give up. We decide that it's time to take a little break from the process. We're stuck anyway...we have to wait to see the specialist so we are obviously going to miss the insemination for December. So, that's why we've been on hiatus. We decided for sanity's sake we would take a break from the constant mental and emotional commitment to this process. And we decided to book a snowboard trip for February. Listen people...we needed a break! Strapping a board on and riding down a mountain is better than any therapy!

Well, our month finally passed and we had our appointment with the rheumatologist. Yes, there was a little dread considering our last experience but we trudged through the dread and went to the appointment. Night and day from crazy doctor!!! This office was amazing and after a very detailed Q&A and physical exam by the PA, we spoke to the doctor. The first words out of her mouth when she walked into the room were "Well, I think you're just allergic to men". LMAO...reassuring for me, to say the least! LOL After her review of the intake, Heidi's blood tests (she had a couple done at different times to see if the ANA levels changed) and talking with us, she thought that the ANA didn't present any of the typical symptoms and that Heidi's pain was likely caused by an allergy...to sperm. LOL Just kidding, most likely it was to the chemicals they use to wash the sperm. So, she suggested that we switch sperm banks. She also suggested that Heidi take Prednisone a week before and a week after the insemination. But best news of all, we can try again!!!

Well, now we have a snowboard trip planned. LOL So, little Heidi will begin her regimen of Clomid and now Prednisone on our vacation. If the gods of insemination are with us, when we get back, she'll be almost ready for the ultrasound, then insemination. Until then, no more cowboy hat baby. :( We are spending every night looking for a new baby daddy at a new bank. Weird...feels sort of like we are back at square one.

So, my super-lesbian wife (as confirmed by doctor diagnosis) and I are back in the market for super-sperm washed with "super-sensitive" cleaners. :) We should have known at the first leg of this process that she was super-sensitive when the smallest amount of Clomid created enough eggs for us to have a TLC show. Super...here we go again, time to make a baby! 2011 is the year! I can feel it!