On this week's episode of "Let's Make a Baby"...

Welcome back to our program. On last weeks episode, our heroines were in search of a fertility savior to assist them in their reproductive aspirations by way of seeking a second opinion on the pros and cons of a protocol requiring the execution of a consent form. Bummm-ba-bummm. And so, the saga continues with our herioines entering a new fertility office.

Scene: New doctor's office, bigger waiting room, more staff. Slightly intimidated, our heroines wonder what they will lose in service by moving to a bigger group. They know this group has had at least one success...a handsome boy named Liam (who has the great distinction of being our godson). There are more doctors, different specialities. Surely, we can find solace in our decision to get a second opinion here. Remind me again why we feel a little guilty about there mere thought of changing doctor's? Why does it feel like we are cheating? After all, it's been two or three weeks since we've spoken with our old doctor's office. Still no call back with an answer on what Dr. Welden's opinion is on this protocol. We've texted. We've left messages. Goose eggs. This was the doctor we had been with for almost two years. We were friends with the staff. Why is it that we feel like we are cheating when they are the ones that seem like they have checked out on us?

Sidebar: We believe in the universe interceding when it deems appropriate. If the universe wants a path to be changed, it will make that change, with or without your consent. When we were contemplating making the consultation appointment, we talked about the universe interceding. We accepted that the universe decided it was time we moved on from Dr. Welden. We didn't want to. The universe decided to intercede. Apparently, it did that by breaking the dial-out feature of our fertility doctor's phone. So be it. The universe has spoken.

So, here we are back at the new place. The Reproductive Medical Group. In a waiting room. Waiting.

Now, our goal is to get a second opinion, maybe even find out what the RMG would recommend for a protocol. Standard stuff first, weight, height, vitals, yadayada. Then to the good doctor's office.

We start our conversation by talking about the protocol recommended by Dr. Braverman. My dear wife has done a wonderful job at putting together a very detailed timeline for the good doctor, letting her know what we've done up to this point, including dates, doses, and procedures. My girl, she's very articulate and detail-oriented. The doctor, who has spent some time at a little place called "Harvard" actually worked on a research protocol involving the impact of auto-immune disorders on fertility. Wait a minute...that's what we have. What? WHAT??? This is unexpected...sneaky universe, sending us to a doctor who has actually studied this stuff. Sneaky, sneaky universe. So, the good doctor, appropriately named Dr. Goodman, advises that her experience has been that ANA hasn't proved to be much of an inhibitor in fertility. Wait a minute, good doctor...that's not what we read on the internet, provider of vast amounts of information to the common medical practictioner...or us. In her words, you can find anything on the internet to match your situation and a diagnosis to match. If you get pregnant looking out the window, you can find something that says that's what causes it. Huh. What about that...huh. She says that while she thinks we put ourselves on a path exploring something that likely didn't need exploring, she would be happy to look at additional research if Dr. Braverman would provide it on any trials he's done. In her opinion, however, without additional research, she wasn't comfortable with a protocol using an off-label drug for the entire duration of the pregnancy, particularly without research that shows the impact the drug may have on a baby. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to find anything published about it. She also didn't agree with keeping Heidi on Lovenux the entire pregnancy.

That led us to asking her opinion for a protocol for Heidi...what would she do different? Remember, we love Dr. Welden. If the same protocol is recommended, we hadn't fully committed to leaving their office. We just wanted someone to to help us with the decision about Dr. Braverman's recommendation. We wanted that to be Dr. Welden, we just never heard a word back...refer to that whole universe thing. So, we're paying for a consult, let's just see what the good doctor at RMG has to say.

First, she asked about the prednisone Heidi has been on since the third IUI. Flashback scene: Dr. Welden, in conjunction with the rheumatologist, prescribed prednisone as a possible solution for the pain Heidi experienced after the first two inseminations. We did a combination prevention effort: prednisone and changing sperm banks to see if the wash affected her. We don't actually know which of those worked; just that something worked because she didn't have the same pain with subsequent IUI's. Back to present day: Dr. Goodman said she would remove the prednisone from the protocol because it was a drug that was hard on the body and even in cases where an auto-immune issue impacted fertility, they didn't always recommend prednisone as a solution. She would also change from Clomid to another drug, Femara. Per the good doctor, it was less potent than Clomid and we all know how Heidi reacts to too much Clomid...she's a fricking hen with all the eggs she creates. She would recommend progesterone shots with the IUI, which we usually only did with IVF. Finally, she would only be doing one insemination instead of two. Some food for thought.

After the consult, Heidi had to do a little cervical scrape for some type of culture. Haha...poor Heidi. It seems like every few months, there's a new stranger looking at her hoo-ha. The doctor also calculated Heidi's BMI. In the memorable and deep words of Scooby Doo, "Ruh-roh". Heidi is below her BMI. Shocker. The doctor said that while Heidi wasn't sick or mal-nutritioned because of her weight, it was a statistical fact that having a low BMI impacts fertility. She recommended that Heidi gain ten pounds. Ha! Fat chance (no pun intended). When we explained that Heidi has tried to weight for several years, she said to at least try to five pounds...eat lots of protein and drink lots of milk.

Since she was a new patient, the doctor also wanted to have Heidi tested for chicken pox. Heidi had them when she was like 7 or 8. Why did she need to be tested? I don't know. Maybe I'll use the power of the internet to find out. Maybe I shouldn't... Then, the most amusing part of the visit, we were informed that I would also have to have a blood test. For STD's. LOL I find this incredibly comical. Um, we've been having S-E-X for almost twelve years. If I had a little hoo-ha bug, she would have said bug. And, just by the mechanics, well, it just seemed unlikely. Maybe the next test will be to measure my sperm count. Funny, funny...

After our visit, we discussed next steps. We both liked the good doctor. We felt like the universe was pushing us in a new direction. We liked her feedback on Heidi's ANA. We decided we'd give her a try.

Flash forward two weeks: Heidi has been eating like a teen-age boy. She has breakfast (pancakes, cereal, or muffin), mid-morning yogurt, late morning peanut butter sandwich, lunch, mid-afternoon peanut butter sandwich, dinner and if there is even one inch of space left in her tiny tummy, dessert. Needless to say, she is always full. All of this food, for about two weeks, have netted her 3.6 lbs. Now, despite the fact that I can gain that in an afternoon after a Twix bar and 12 oz. Sprite, that's a huge accomplishment for Heidi. She has a ridiculous metabolism. If I could bottle it, we would make Bill Gates look like a pauper. I digress. In addition to all of this eating, Heidi also had to have a pap smear. Despite the fact that all of these medical professionals have been treating her vagina like the water cooler, hanging out there all the time, no one had done a pap on her. She went to a new doctor...yep, one more stranger in the ol' hoo-ha. Poor Heidi's vagina...

And so as this episode comes to an end, we preview what is next for our heroines. Pan to Heidi eating. A lot. Add dramatic music as we wait for mother nature to bring Heidi's monthly friend. Unfortunately, for two years Heidi's cycle was more regular than an Exlax salesman...guaranteed every 28-30 days. Last month, 16 days. This month...still counting. We are on day 37. We had a blood test today to see what gives. There was also a pregnancy test thrown in there. If it doesn't come soon, oddly enough, she goes back on birth control. De ja vu...birth control to get pregnant. The universe has brought us full circle.

So like any dramatic comedy, I leave you with...

To be continued...bumm-ba-bummm!

New beginnings

It's been quite the week for us. So many changes, so many difficult choices to make, so many ups and downs in our optimism. I don't suppose I ever anticipated getting a hot chick knocked up would be so hard and take so much out of us! Where to begin, where to begin...

I suppose the most logical place to begin is at the beginning...

So, last Wednesday, we had our follow-up Skype appointment with Dr. Braverman. We were anxious to talk to him because we really wanted to know what his protocol would entail. Mind you, neither Heidi or myself are doctors. We are not immunologists. However, we have fully established what her issue is and how it is going to be corrected. Granted, it's in simple black and white, not in technical terms, but we have the general idea of how we are going to rectify this challenge. See, it's simple enough...if Heidi's immune system is on overdrive, then we introduce something into her system to reduce this effect. Simple enough. Again, we are not doctors so of course we figure this out in our layman's terms, hardly using big doctor vernacular. Concept is the same though. How hard can this be? Seriously. They can put a frigging man on the moon, most certainly they can get my wife pregnant.

Now, aside from the fact that the doctor was fifty minutes late for our Skype appointment and despite the fact that we watched him sit and review our blood tests while we waited another ten minutes, because, well, Heaven forbid you do that ahead of time, and despite the fact that he talks well above our head, because, well, that's how we know he's smart...big words. Well, despite that here's what we walked away with...

1. Based on the blood test, it appears to be an immune issue. (I'm going to go ahead and throw in a "No Shit" here...)
2. Despite the exorbitant number of vials of blood Heidi donated for his blood test, he advises that he really would like to see our first rheumatologists blood test and the results of those tests. Huh...
3. Something about inflammation and interfering gamma something...I know. I should have asked for elaboration but let me lay it out on the line here...I'm a little more than annoyed and frustrated right now and I'm pretty sure anything I ask may come out sounding like I have a raging bitch disorder. I don't want that. I just don't. This could be the guy that helps us have a baby so instead, I take notes while he talks above my head and I let Heidi do the talking. Yes, shocker, I know.
4. Finally, it was confirmed that Heidi is a true, full-on bad ass. Actually, I believe what he said was that she has elevated natural killer cells. I construed that to mean that she's a bad ass. Uh, does your wife have something that contains the words "natural killer"? No. Point proven. Oh, and she can break boards with her bare hands. Exhibit B. I digress.

So, this leads to proposed protocols. First is IVIG (Intravenous immune globulin). Not really an option for us. Heidi looked up some stuff on it prior to this meeting while scouring the internet so she was already familiar with it and not interested in participating in it. In short, it entails having one or several transfusions using donor plasma to help negate the immune responses that seem to attack a fetus. Well, it involves several risks, including several transfusions that last two to twelve weeks (at approximately $4000 a pop, mind you) and take several hours per transfusion. Side effects, aside from the potential infection from donor plasma, it can cause damage to internal organs. It just wasn't something we were interested in trying because of the associated risks. We're trying to make a baby, not risk Heidi or her health.

Second suggestion - leukocyte therapy with the donor. Um, well, that won't work. We don't actually know our donor. He's a number from a sperm bank. I'm almost positive he's not going to also agree to continually send us some of his blood so we can acclimate Heidi to his, um, fluids, in the hopes that she will not send her Natural Killer Cells out to kick the ass of his sperm. Pretty sure that'll be a big fat negative from the donor.

Third option is a drug called Neupogen and Lovenox. Lovenox we knew about from our last meeting. It's actually what we were anticipating while practicing our doctoring skills referenced above. The other one was new on us. It would be administered in a daily shot from ovulation through baby delivery. It is not actually a drug created for fertility. It's actually created for cancer patients going through chemotherapy to help build their white blood cells. Fertility is an off-label use for this drug. Oh, and it's about $4000 for the full cycle. The Lovenox would also continue throughout the entire pregnancy. Per the real doctor, this protocol will increase her chance of pregnancy. We just have to sign a consent form to use it. A consent form? Whhhyyyy? . He advises he'll fax us the consent form and we can sign it and send it back. We ask a little more about him working with our fertility doctor and sending him the recommended protocol for review. Dr. Braverman says if we have our doctor email him and request the protocol, he'll send it to him. Now, mind you, each meeting with Dr. New York runs about $350 and lasts, on average, 15 minutes. I'm no math whiz, but my PC calculator estimates that to be about $23.33 per minute, I thought that maybe he could take one more fricking $23 minute and send the f**king email to our doctor. I know my wife hates this word, but SERIOUSLY??? So, yea...OK, we can go ahead and do that. I mean, we kind of have to. Why? Because we aren't actually doctors. We can't seem to do this alone.

Well, now we need to check with our fertility doctor. We've been with him for almost two years and we really need his feedback on what he thinks of this protocol. We knew from our last meeting with him that he had to be agreeable to the protocol and it couldn't be unethical or dangerous. Good...those were kind of our benchmarks as well. Alignment of thought. Excellent. So, we call the doctor's office, give a little info about our conversation with Dr. New York and ask the nurse to find out from the good doctor what his thought is on this suggested protocol.

I'm going to take a sidebar here. We love our doctor. We have friends who have told us to go to their fertility doctor (said doctor who successfully gave us our Godson). We've always declined because we love our doctor. We love their staff. We love the welcome feeling we get when we go in. We love that they cry with us when we're sad and they laugh with us when we're happy. We are friends with the nurses. We love them. Sidebar over. I just wanted to put that out there.

Back to the regularly scheduled program. So, we put out the protocol to our doctor and we wait to hear back. A day goes by, two, three...nothing back. I text. I call. I leave messages, no returned call. Over a week has passed, no response. I'm not going to elucidate here the frustration and disappointment we feel but it's overwhelming. We feel like we have such short windows between cycles and adding over a week to our not knowing is nerve wracking to us. Not responding to us, a little heart breaking.

So, it is with a sad heart that we reached out to our friends and got their doctor's name. Our next appointment is June 5th. A new beginning we supposed. Maybe this was how it was supposed to happen. We loved our doctor and his staff, but we're trying to make a baby. Almost two years later and we still haven't been successful. Maybe this was God's way of making us move on.

Incidentally, we sent a question to the new doctor about our situation and suggested protocol. They were back to us, with detailed information on their opinion about this protocol. It wasn't favorable. That's all we wanted. Feedback. Someone to help us understand the risks. Someone to guide us. I mean, I know we're doctors and all, but still...we need to just be patients.

New beginnings are on the horizon, my friends. New beginnings are on the horizon...

A (Brave)rman New World

per·sist·ence/pərˈsistəns/
Noun:
1. Firm or obstinate continuance in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.
2. The continued or prolonged existence of something.

If my wife is nothing else, she is persistent. I think this journey is proof of that. Despite the burdens she has faced - emotionally, financially, and physically, she has remained persistent in her journey to attain this goal. And despite the heartbreak of the last failed attempt, her persistence continued to reign supreme. Give a persistent girl all of the resources of the world wide web and she will find something, anything, to answer her questions. That persistence has led to a discovery...something potentially big. Maybe an answer. An answer to an all-consuming question...why isn't this working?

Let me back up a little and take you back to the most recent saddest day. We hadn't decided yet what our next step would be but we were at a crossroads, to say the least. Do we keep trying? There isn't a manual on when to say when. For all intents and purposes, Heidi is perfectly fertile, perfectly reproductive. Every procedure has been met with accolades at how perfect things were...her follicles, her embryos, her lining, everything. Despite this, we continue to be met with disappointment. So, was this the point where we say "I give" and stop? What about adoption? We could try that avenue. What about becoming foster parents? Another option, for sure. What do we do? Where was the "Fertility for Dummies" guide when you needed it? What? What? What do we do?

We threw out those questions...stop, continue, adopt, foster, stop, try...Despite the pros and cons of each, there was something that wouldn't let us throw in the towel just yet. Heidi wants more than anything to have a baby. She also wants to be pregnant. Not just to have a baby, but to be pregnant, to have a baby. She said to me that most little girls dream of their wedding day when they grow up. Not her; she dreamed of being a mom (a little punch to my self-esteem since I thought I was all that she dreamed about, but apparently, no...there was this too). So, we managed to decide on that much, but we still had to figure out how we would try to accomplish that. There was IUI but we hadn't ever even gotten pregnant on the four we had tried. We could try IVF again, but the medicines were so hard on her little body and so expensive. If we decided on IVF, we wouldn't be able to try again right away; we'd have to take some time to save more money (we did briefly consider a "knock up my wife" fundraiser...feel free to send your payment now!).

While we hadn't yet decided on what to do, Heidi took to the internet to see what she could find. Remember when I said she just "knew" things? Her intuition is good, I mean, really good. She can't always pinpoint why she feels something, but she's usually pretty spot on when she feels it. So, this voice known as Little Heidi (my new nickname for her intuition) kept nagging at her, bringing her back to her positive ANA blood test. That's the ONLY thing that wasn't perfect. We started prednisone after the second IUI to stop the pain, but maybe that was just masking something. Maybe there was something else that a positive ANA might affect.

Sitting in my office one day, Heidi walks in and puts a piece of paper on my desk and said "Read this.". I read it (she's very authoritarian, if she says read something, I'm reading it). Yep...I'm pretty familiar with this...it was all that Heidi had gone through from IUI, to IVF, to miscarriage, to positive ANA. I said "Yea? This is about you. So?" Her response "It's not about me. It's about someone else. And she got pregnant." What the what??? My persistent wife had searched the internet and found a testimonial about a woman just like her, who had the same history as her, who had the same auto-immune issue as her, who got pregnant. Heidi told me that she had found a website for a specialist in New York...a reproductive immunologist. He had a lot of information on his website about the affects of ANA on failed pregnancy. Again, I say what the what??? I think that night we looked through every page on his website. We watched every video he had posted. We thought...maybe this could be our answer. What if? So, Heidi filled out the sixteen page questionnaire and sent it in to the specialists office. And we waited. While we were waiting, Heidi happened to shut off her phone because it was acting possessed. During that 2.67 minutes that her phone was off, the doctor called and left a message. Really? That was the window you called in? Really, really? Anyhow, he left an encouraging message, saying to call the office to schedule an appointment and "do not despair". Our new mantra...

We decided to talk to our fertility doctor to see what he thought. We scheduled an appointment for April 10th (or somewhere around there). We also scheduled an appointment with the reproductive immunologist for April 20th. Since our private jet is in the shop, we scheduled a Skype appointment (God love technology!).

Our visit with our fertility doctor goes...well...oddly. We presumed he would immediately be on-board with our discovery and excitement about meeting with a specialist. We were a little shocked to find out that he knew about various reproductive immunologists in other states and had never mentioned any of that to us. We were a little disappointed that he seemed to be resistant to our discussing this with this new doctor. He kept saying that we hadn't tried that many times, not enough times to count as multiple failures (I disagree. I would say six tries sufficiently demonstrated multiple failures). He cited statistics that eventually, with enough tries, Heidi would get pregnant...there was nothing wrong with her. It was...odd. Heidi cried and began to put the information she found on the specialist away. To her, the conversation was over. I pulled the information from Heidi's hand and gave it to Dr. Welden. We talked a little more, about how if everything was perfect, why wasn't she pregnant? What about the pain of the first two IUI's? What about the fact that the only thing not perfect was the ANA? Dr. Welden started to warm up a little to the idea of a specialist. He admitted that he wasn't the expert in ANA and that he would, in fact, be willing to work with the specialist as long as everything he recommended was ethical and wouldn't put Heidi in danger. Incidentally, these are also my criteria so I think it's safe to say we were finally on the same page.

On April 21st, we meet, face-to-face, well, via Skype, Dr. Jeffrey Braverman, reproductive immunologist. We had prepared a list of questions to ask, everything we could think of. Before we could ask our questions, he asked his. There were many. One of those questions to Heidi was "Why are you trying IVF?" Her response: "Because I'm married to a woman and want to have a baby." His response: "That's great, but why IVF?" LOL Outage from the closet unnecessary...it wasn't the intent of the question. LOL...my wife. Then he began talking about what he thought about our situation. It became pretty technical...talk of natural killer cells. Talk of Interleukin 10 from endometriosis. Tumor necrosis factor created by a reactive oxygen species. Activation of her compliment system and the resulting attack on the embryo. It was a little like speaking to someone who spoke a different language. Here's what we did understand...there's hope. It would seem that it is likely that the ANA is creating a sci-fi like attack on anything we stick into Heidi...sperm, embryo's, you name it. Her over-achieving immune system attacks it like it's a flu virus, leaving it incapable of surviving. If this is in fact what is happening, there is a protocol that she can be on that will prevent this reaction. The down side is that they are daily injections and would likely need to be continued throughout her entire pregnancy. Well, speaking for Heidi's backside, it's a small price to pay.

What now? We have to do some blood tests and it'll take about three weeks to get the results. We received the "kits" in the mail today to take to a lab. Heidi will generously donate about six vials of blood, or pretty much all of her supply. In three weeks, we have another appointment with the doctor and find out what our protocol is. That's that. Fingers crossed. Optimism is back. Positivity is back. I'll leave you with Dr. Braverman's words to us during our consultation..."You will have a baby at the end of this."

That's all we ever wanted.

Big Fat Negative

After yet another ten days of waiting, we found ourselves in very familiar territory. The home pregnancy test we took at home before the blood test was a big fat negative. We tried to talk ourselves into feeling like it was just too early for an EPT to pick up something as important as this, but, well, we knew. Heidi knew, to be exact. She has always been very intuitive. She knew she was going to miscarry. How? I don't know. She just knew. So, while I tried to reassure her that there was still hope this time, she already knew.

I sent a text to our nurse, asking that she tell me when the blood test results came in. I wanted to be able to prepare Heidi for whatever the result would be. I don't know why. She knew. She just knew.

When the call came in, prepare I did. I think I didn't want to hear from Pam because it would finalize what we already felt. If she didn't call, it meant there was still hope. When the call came, the hope was gone. Again. Much like waiting, you'd think we would be better at preparing ourselves. You'd think we would be better at hearing the final words..."I'm sorry. I just heard from the lab. The test came back negative." Oh the cursed words that we have come to hate and dread. And now, I had to tell Heidi, for the sixth time, that all that she wanted was not to be. How was it that the most amazing, kindest person I know can't get just this one thing? While I would never wish this on anyone, I pondered the fairness in unwanted pregnancies. I pondered the fairness of parents who didn't want their babies. Parents who killed their children instead of treasuring them. And here we were, wishing for nothing more that just to have that simple, natural event take place.

I called Heidi into my office. Adding a little insult to injury was the fact that I had to tell her while we were at work. She came in. She knew. But knowing still didn't stop the tears from coming. Even with only the tiniest shred of hope, there was still a shred. And I was the person who took that away from her. Sitting in my office, she cried. My heart broke. It broke for her and her immeasurable sadness. It broke for us and one more failure in our endeavor. It broke with the feeling of helplessness I felt in that moment. I'd always been the strongest proponent of positive thinking and here I was, feeling defeated. Feeling like I had nothing more to offer. No more words of hope.

And so our day continued. Much like any other day, back to work, but with broken hearts.

Tales from the Ice Age (Or...Defrosting Frozen Embryos)

So, when we last left off, we were impatiently awaiting the arrival of a little thing called ovulation. On top of the big ovulation moment, we were also anxiously awaiting the transfer and more importantly, to learn how many embryos would survive the thaw. To save you the trouble of surfing back through previous posts, we had five frozen embryos waiting to be transferred into the warm innards of Ms. Heidi's uterus. Five...not bad numbers except that it was highly unlikely they would all survive the thaw. So, here we were, once again in the throes of antici...pation (said with the same articulation as Dr. Frank-n-Furter from Rocky Horror). We wouldn't know how many would survive until right before the anticipated transfer. Just to throw some irrelevant statistics out there, we have spent a total of sixty days throughout this process waiting for pregnancy test results. From time of insemination or IVF to blood test...a total of sixty days, that's nine plus weeks, two whole months. Just waiting. And here we were again...waiting. One would think that we would have become professional at it. But no. We are horrible at waiting.

As we wait, we continue our experimentation with eastern medicine. Our second acupuncture on March 6th had more needles added in addition to those previously added to the tummy. Somehow, eastern medicine says that adding hollow needles to Heidi's ears, that tiny spot between her eyes, along her hairline, and a few in the leg will help the fertility gods bless her baby making parts. This episode of sci-fi acupuncture finds Heidi wrapped in a silver mylar blanket for warmth. We were also introduced to a special Chinese herb cocktail via some kind of charcoal looking thing that was lit on fire and blown out and circled around the needles in her belly. We are told it is, in fact, not voo-doo. We are not so sure but hey, at this point, we're willing to do whatever it takes, even if it means summoning some unknown voodoo god. The acupunturist assures us that instead of voodoo, the ancient Chinese believed that this particular concoction would be absorbed through the acupuncture needles to increase circulation in the reproductive parts. The Chinese referred to it as getting the cold out of the belly. Yep. That's what we did. We got the cold out of the belly.

On March 9th, we go back to Dr. Weldon's office. We are so excited to be back! Heidi bakes brownies for the girls (because we all know fertilization and implantation is more successful with chocolate!). We are welcomed with big hugs from Pam and Tana (our favorite nurses...ever!). Then we head back to the exam room. Now, it takes a moment for us to realize that the last time we were in this room, we got pregnant. It takes my breath away, even now, thinking about it. The last time...pregnant. The only thing that could pull us back from this reverie of sadness was, of course, Pam and Tana, entering the room as my wife sat half-naked on the exam table because they missed us so much. They wanted to come visit while we waited on Dr. Weldon. Did I mention Heidi was half naked? Bottom half? I did...

So, after some half-naked chitchat, Dr. Weldon came in to do his doctorly business. He measured Heidi's uterine lining, which was right where she was supposed to be on a natural cycle. He made sure she had a dominant follicle…she did. Heidi, if you fail to remember, is an over-achiever. She wouldn't dare have a less than dominant follicle! That's just how she rolls. As an aside, not in a creepy way, but in a grandfatherly way, Dr. Weldon said Heidi had a cute little uterus while pointing to it on the screen. How many of you can say that? That's right. My wife has dominant follicles and a cute uterus. Booyah!

Off we go back home to wait for Heidi's LH surge (fancy talk for starting her ovulation). We invested in some home ovulation predictor tests (which, by the way, we totally should have bought stock in...those and preggar tests). Heidi starts her regiment of pre-natal vitamins, baby aspirin, and prednisone. Her much anticipated progesterone injections will begin after ovulation starts.

We work on positivity. We know that this time it will work...if we could just get to the transfer!

Well, Heidi's ovulatory cycle decided to be a little stubborn. It may be that she wasn't jacked up on a bunch of drugs before this...we relied on good, old-fashioned ovulation (the only thing missing was an icky boy!!!). Since we did not get a positive LH surge over the weekend, Dr. Weldon wanted us to come back in on Monday to take another look and make sure Heidi didn't sneak in ovulation without being predicted. She did not. Instead, she got a little gift from the nurse...a HCG trigger shot that will make her ovulate. We schedule "The Transfer" for Monday the 19th. She starts her progesterone injections on Thursday. Ah...I have missed these special moments with Heidi, injecting stuff into her tiny-hiney. We still had special Disney bandaids for the occassion. We go back to Dr. Weldons on Saturday for a blood test to measure the progesterone in case it needs to be adjusted...she's good to go. Why? Uh, because I'm the injector and I don't mess up! Intended in the most appropriate way possible, I can stick an ass better than most. :P

On March 14th, Heidi goes back, again, for a little eastern medicine. We are planning on having this session, then one immediately before and immediately after the transfer. Transfer day will be a busy day for Heidi...acupuncture, transfer, acupuncture, and hopefully a nap!

March 19th arrives. Transfer Day. The big day. The day starts. Early. Our transfer is scheduled for 9:30. That means we have to be in Tampa for acupuncture in time to do that and get to Lutz. We get the first round of sticky stuff (Heidi even took one in the ear with her...good luck, you know!). Then we head to Dr. Welden's office. Sitting in the waiting room is long. Remember, we don't even know yet if we can do the transfer because we don't know if the embryo's are going to survive the thaw. They don't do the thaw until close to the time of the transfer. So, to be a little punny, Heidi was on pins and needles for the second time that day. (Ha...PUN-ny. Get it? Moving on...)

So, Dr. Bill, our embryologist comes into the waiting room. Now, you have to know that Dr. Bill is pretty straight-laced. Very solemn and doctorly like. He comes into the waiting room looking somber and prepared to deliver bad news. Yep. That's when my heart dropped. Pretty sure Heidi's did to. Damn Dr. Bill and his somber persona. He came out to advise that three embryos survived. That is not the look of surviving embryo's! Damn you Dr. Bill! In typical Dr. Bill fashion, his somber look was not indicative of doom. Instead, he wanted to know if we wanted to see the embryo's before the transfer. He said that we could, but he preferred to not expose them to light too much. We were fine with just a picture of the kiddies. We weren't interested in overexposure here! He also informed us of the great quality of the embryo's...two were AAA rated (I think that's the right rating) and the third was even starting to hatch! . So...we were golden (eggs)! We could do the transfer. We went back and much like the previous IUI's, Heidi stripped down and Dr. Welden got his insemination on. Dr. Bill was there holding our embryo's in the tube (kind of makes you think of a test tube baby, doesn't it?). Once Dr. Welden found his way in, the embryo's were set free in Heidi's uterus.

Afterward, back to the acupuncturist. Second time in one day. At this point, Heidi just shoots water out of various holes in her body because of all of the needle marks. I was only slightly envious as she also received a massage. I mean, this is all about her, but there was some tension kicking in my shoulders that could have stood to be rubbed out!

And so we wait. Again. Ten days until the blood test. I think we finally move from amatuer waiting to professional waiting.

On pins and needles...

Ah...we are back. After a much needed reprieve from baby making and a couple of snowboard trips to soothe the mind, body and soul, here we are. Back and ready to make 2012 the year of the baby (we have our own Chinese calendar...year of the snowboard, year of the baby, you get it). It's been a few months and Heidi's uterus has enjoyed some well deserved break time. Since August, we have not taken any blood from her little body. We have not injected any hormones or spermies into her little body. We have not done any of the lesbian make-a-baby rituals. We are starting fresh and with a new mission. Well, same mission, but with renewed spirit.

When I was a younger lad, I had in my mind the idea that all lesbians were earthy and one with nature. I assumed they all wore Birkenstocks and had cats. They were all recyclers and aligned with Mother earth. We are not that kind of lesbian. Well, we have one cat but we don't really like him so I don't think that counts. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and so we find ourselves exploring more holistic opportunities. Ancient opportunities. Eastern opportunities. I speak of the ancient mystery known as fertility acupuncture. Yes, once again I am subjecting my self-respecting wife to the proverbial prick. Or ten. In the form of small acupuncture needles.

How, you ask, did it occur to us to explore the option of fertility acupuncture? Well, it was quite accidentally, actually. My beloved was perusing the pages of People magazine when she happened upon an article about Celine Dion (near, far, wherever you are...have fun getting that out of your head). In the article, Celine discussed the trials and tribulations of getting pregnant via IVF. I believe she tried somewhere along the lines of seven times unsuccessfully. In that article, she said she had fertility acupuncture and that was the time it worked. Coincidence? I don't know but we did a little research (thank goodness for the Internet and friends who enjoy the occasional "prick") and decided, eh, it can't hurt (of course, we confirmed that with our nurse and the acupuncturist and additional research). So, we made an appointment with an acupuncturist who worked under a MD (a little more reassuring for us, that whole medical license component) and opened our minds to learn about eastern medicine.

Not a bad appointment. The acupuncturist was very informative and very knowledgeable. She discussed the particular protocol tested several times across the pond in England and advised their office followed that same protocol. She discussed the differences in pregnancy rates between a test group of IVF participants with and without the fertility acupuncture. She gave us some handouts to read whilst we relaxed in a bubble bath...really, the best time to learn about eastern medicine. She was a super fast talker so I spent most of the consultation leaning forward, listening hard. Apparently, however, it was no effort for Heidi to understand her because as she advised me "I'm used to listening to you". LOL (Note to self: work on pacing the speed at which I talk.) The acupuncturist gave us the basic 411 on acupuncture and how it worked...think meridians, think blocked rivers with a "dam" problem with flows, think the five elements...really, it narrowed down to ancient eastern medicine in practice for about 3000 years and no one really "knows" how it works. Fantastic...sign us up.

And so, on our first date with the acupuncturist, we went all the way. An interesting experience but surprisingly pain-free. At least for me. :) Actually, for little Heidi as well. There were about thirteen needles in her baby making region (specifically, between her ribs and pelvic bone) and two needles in each ankle. Four of the needles on her uterus (uty, for short) had positive and negative proby-things.




And the best part for Heidi (or at least it would have been for me), were the little electrodes placed ever so gently on Heidi's ears that gave her the same head effect as a glass or two of wine, meant to relax her. And relax her it did.




And if that weren't enough, the whale song music in the background finished her off. She sat there for about twenty-five minutes, practicing her visualization. And laying on a table with a bunch of needles sticking out of her. Let me just say again, for the record, that while she said it didn't hurt, I continue to be amazed by the lengths my amazing wife will go through to make this happen. She didn't hesitate to explore and try this option. She laid there, listening to whales sing, visualizing, and hoping. This is one of the many, many, many reasons I am hopelessly in love with her. She amazes me.

Back to the pins and needles...so, after her first acupuncture experience, she is feeling pretty relaxed and a little tired...good stuff! That's what the acupuncturist said would happen. And we made an appointment for this Tuesday and plan to get the deed done the day of the embryo transfer, both before and after the transfer, in hopes of increasing our odds a little more.

What? What's that, you say? Transfer? What the hell else is going on? Well, we came back from vacation ready to go. Anxious and ready to make a baby. So, we aren't wasting any time. The first day of acupuncture was also the first day of Heidi's cycle. Day One. This Friday is Day Ten. So, we have an appointment with the fertility doctor for an ultrasound to measure the thickness of Heidi's uty and see where she is in the ovulation cycle. If she's ripe, we get a trigger shot and in a week, we go in for the transfer. If you remember, we have five frozen embryos. We're going to try to use those, all five if they survive the thaw, and see if that makes a baby.

What are our challenges between now and then? Well, not too much...this particular cycle won't have near the meds the full IVF had. We have a couple of acupuncture appointments (maybe I can try to sneak one in for myself...see if I can't cure this back pain) and then after the ultrasound, a few hcg shots and maybe some progesterone. Our big concern, aside from the obvious "Will we get pregnant?" comes with the thaw. We won't know if the embryos will survive the thaw until the day of the transfer. So, my dearest friends (and strangers alike), keep your fingers crossed and send positive vibes to our little spermsicles that they may defrost and anxiously implant into a warm, prepared, happy and healthy uty.

Here we go again. Eastern medicine meets western medicine. We will go to the ends of the earth to make this happen. Hopefully, this will be our time...the year of the baby.

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.