tired

So I finally figured it out. The right side doesn’t hurt in acupuncture if it’s the ovulatory side. But neither was searing pain. Sharp, biting, but not searing. I am tired, very tired. Dr. T. said make the tea strong – one bag per day while I’m this tired. As my immune system is damped down, it will be what I need to stay energetic. I’m taking it easy. Tomorrow early day with the blood work, next day early day with blood work and then u/s. They’re running out of spots to poke me to get blood from. But it’s almost over for at least two weeks. Tonight no yoga, because of the acupunture. But I’m too tired anyway. Days 4 thru 10 of the IVIg infusion really hit me hard, I forgot about this part. Too tired to even compose a decent sentence. Or spell one either (I corrected it).

I was exhausted. So much so, I injected another syringe with air bubbles in it. THOSE HURT like nothing else. Jeez. I took an hour nap after dinner, and then a walk to the park with Zu, so she could play with her doggie friends. On our way home, the mail, incredibly late, was in our box. Burda WOF arrived for August. Now, Burda has great stuff, but they *never* have maternity. Except this issue. And I almost cried thinking of the timing of this. A beautiful suit, a ruched belly dress, a ruched belly top, a white empire blouse. A-line skirt. Oh, it’s perfect!

The rest of the magazine has superb classics – trench coats, jackets, wide crisp trousers with ‘turn-ups’ (I love that, so much more fun than cuffs). Jackets in velvet with jeans, frayed edges, godets, trousers with fun details. All classic Burda. I could sew for a decade from just this years’ WOF issues. Thank you MIL! (a gift).

Now, I need to sew. What would get me started? the fifteen minute per day rule – even if I just go in there and put patterns away or sew one seam. Just one seam rule. What’s tonight’s task? look up whether the zipper should be separating or not on the handbags.

But I’m still beaming about the maternity issue. How perfect. Dr. T. said my tongue and my pulse quality was very good. I feel so good right now (the exhaustion from the IVIg nonwithstanding). This is the right time, better than it has ever been.

they’re pleased

Dr. C is pleased. Dr. S is pleased. I’m along for the ride. One good follicle on the right, two smaller ones. the second smaller one, at 8 1/2mm, could go to 16 by Friday so we could have two. But the first one will definitely be close to 20, we hope. We only need one.

I don’t need to drive to Chicago tonight. Relief. though I’d better get used to the weekly drive. I want to make it special, so I picked up some stuff from the welcome center – maybe a stop at a winery (to look, or buy for gifts, I promise, I won’t), or stop at the beach, meet up with my cousin, see my nephew.
Yesterday’s post was really remarkable. Not the post per se, but the content, and the mental transformation. I’ve resisted at this for so long. Fought it, detatched myself from it. And now, I’m able to relish in it. Yield to it. I’ve gained so much more than a lack of discomfort over stirrups or needles, for sure.  I’m actually welcoming of these amazing tools, wielded by talented, caring people who have enthusiasm for my situation. Nurse C. sounded so excited for me this morning after she reviewed my results I faxed to her. “You look great on paper! How do you feel?!” I feel great too!

But I think the term yield is important. I suffered it. but I have never yielded to it. I think it’s in the yielding that I am discovering the true joy in this process. Yes, my husband and I will not conceive by a beautiful experience – but with doctors, nurses, interns, and lab techs all standing by, generally within view of my most intimate parts. But they’re in this process for the same reason that I am, they want to see women conceive and bear healthy babies. Women, who, like me, have no other hope. Women like my friend S., who was merely 10 years too early for what I’m able to achieve.

Work calls. This week must be productive. But then again, it already is.

savoring

Should this process be savored? I woke from an IVIg-fueled, exhaustion-enduced 3-hour power nap thinking about this upcoming pregnancy – and even this very process of injections, doctors, nurses and reproductive fanfare. Realistically, I have one shot at a term pregnancy. So my intention is to live it up, to buy the maternity wear (sew the maternity wear), and showcase even the whale-like state. Take photos, relish everything. I thought about this in the context of WNTW, whom I know is seeking badly dressed preggos now, for special episodes, and realizing that I could – should – watch these and be happy.

So, what could I relish? Tomorrow, people will cheer (six of them – Dr. C., Dr. S., Nurse R, Nurse C, Nurse J and us) when we get good follies, good endo and a go-ahead to trigger. Add to that parents, cousin, and two good friends. Another seven people cheering. Two weeks from now, these same people, along with a whole lot more will cheer, pray and cheer some more when the test comes back positive.

And when we get a hearbeat, I am sure I will not be the only one who’s heart leaps with joy. I imagine myself at the u/s in Chicago, Dr. C. over my knees (knee rests, thank you), her warm gaze and smile as she gives me the good news. I’ll cry. G. might not be with me, but I’ll put him on speaker on the cell so he can be part of it.

So despite the 10-1/2 hours of weekly driving, the injections, the IVs, the ultrasounds and the blood draws, so many people will cheer, so many people have been here with me, and even though Dr. S’s office won’t see me weekly (for a while), I’ll keep them informed, and they’ll cheer, too.

I think I’ll look back on this time, not, as someone suggested online after she finally gave birth, that it was like childbirth, a foggy, hazy, long time ago pain that she wanted desperately to forget, but something to remember. I’ll have the scars for the rest of my life, and I wanted it that way, a reminder of this horrible time that shaped my life. This remarkable time that shaped my life.

M once told me that when I could think of this as a good lesson, I was ready. Reading back to the other pregnancies’ entries, I was never ready before. Maybe I’m ready now and the before part was to get me ready for this time. I once said I wanted to be pregnant only if it’s a beautiful easy pregnancy. I see, now, that I get the beautiful part no matter what happens.

This is how I know I’m OK. Finally, really, OK.

believe

I have been rereading Lance’s first book, two weeks before the ride. I felt it appropriate (and it’s a quick read). But what I’m gaining out of that is something a bit more than when I read it the first time, in 2003. Because reading it then, I was not the same person at all as I am now.

Coming to terms with the fact that we (and mostly, me) are irrrevocably changed has been hard. i think in a lot of ways that’s why i resisted changing my friendships for so long. If I just stuck with it, I was the same person. But changing what I knew I had to meant that I wasn’t the same person. Not better, not worse, just different.

I saw in K yesterday a woman, similar in age (younger), also a business owner, also struggling with the same things, only she had cancer. I saw in client D, super stylish, a woman struggling with the loss of her mom, and for a brief time, i was able to help her. I see in other client D, a woman at the end of her rope, who is exhausted, needs to make herself the president of her own life like I am doing in mine. And I am seeing a thread. She, also lost her mom, helped me through my losses. Not that my friends have to have the spectre of loss, because two of them do not, but that it is this sort of learned compassion that I am seeking.

I’m also recognizing that I’ve been running for so long from my past that I don’t know how to slow down and relax. i have to open my heart, my soul, my body, the barest of bare – let myself, as Lance suggests, believe.

This AM FSH and E2 draws. Enjoying english breakfast tea, waiting for G. to finish the F1 race so we can have breakfast. At 2pm my “last” injection of the FSH cycle, assuming my follicles are ready. One more injection, hCG to trigger. And then, despite all the people, all the procedures, all the detailed, amazing views of my body they can give me, the work of all of this comes down to me. I have to relax, open, and accept this new life. I have to believe.

G. says the sewing table is my b-day present and I cannot think of a better one. A hand-crafted, custom designed sewing workstation – a place where I can practice my craft, and know with love that my husband made it for me. It makes me cry just thinking about it. That we thought carefully about me needing to sew when a baby napped, so we designed this to roll out, is even more perfect. I do believe.

Yesterday I thought about how in this upcoming pregnancy, I’m so much less stressed. The first one was the mess with the building purchase and exhaustion. The second was me slashing two gashes in my arm three days before I found out I’d conceived. And the third was plain worn out, hollow and empty. This time? This time I feel lush, yielding, calm, and I feel, well, like the color blue, not blue sad, but blue caressing. Blue ocean, blue sky.  This time, I believe.

answers

Dr. S. sez do tomorrow at 2pm, and evening on Monday (if needed). Nurse N, new at this, didn’t tell me what time to inject and the little detail (Dr. S, for instance, said he provides initial instructions, but I got overlooked) of doing it at night, which I recall him saying a year ago, was dislodged from a small part of my brain this morning. But I’m glad I called, even if he sounded irritated (not at me, at his staff). But I am irritated. I am spending a ridiculous amount of money to have this screwed up. I’ll still go to the lab at 8am tomorrow nevertheless. And I’m being a bit demanding, but nice. Persistent. Assertive. But my stomach is in a knot, that this might be messed up by a tiny detail that got overlooked. This needs to work. I know I’ll tough it out, but it gets ever the more difficult to steel myself for another drive. I just have to remember, when I’m being persistent, that the IV going in my hand hurt like a m-fker. And it’s critical that we succeed at this – at least do all we can and let my body do the rest.

For my part, here’s what I have to do. I have to do yoga. drink my tea, relax, and be happy. Dad gave me the pep talk when I talked to him. No doubt my last call, 45 seconds after I walked in the door after returning from Chicago, was not especially good for them. I’m sure I sounded flat out exhausted.

FSA

G. is doing the FSA billing. The scary part is despite really good insurance coverage, we are going to more than use up our FSA money – and still have several thousand dollars (probably over six or so) that won’t get reimbursed. And this is before IVF.

I’m confident it will work. I’m calm, relaxed, I had an 8mm round follicle on day 1 (basically) of stims! I had lunch with friend K, helped her concept her tiling project, and am back at home, getting ready to finish the Debbie bag and add more interfacing to the Annie tote.

I’m drinking the special post-period tea starting now. It’s going to work.

looking for sanity

just this AM I discovered a dilemma. Tomorrow is CD5. I have 5 total stims. CD6 is monday but they won’t see me til later. So what to do? I’m spanning the stims by about a half hour both days today & tomorrow so I can try to bridge the gap. And tomorrow I need to go in to the hospital lab early, at 7:30 – 8am. So I can inject at 9am. And I’ll call and try to get Nurse R. who should be back from vacation. See if they can get me in early. So I injected, put in a viag. and now I’m trying to steady my nerves with yoga. It will work out. Somehow.

DH is sketching my sewing table project, I’m so happy he is doing this for me.

yin = blue

I felt very off center on my way home. At one point I smacked my head to dull the headache and fend off the negative thoughts. After dinner (friends we’ve known for a long time, no real substantive conversation just ‘weather talk’) I felt pretty low. Why? I spent some time contemplating this. I shouldn’t feel bad. Yesterday, despite the long drive (five and a half hours in traffic and construction), went well. Nurse C. was a riot, fun to be around. Dr. C was calm and efficient. It was a female-centered day (at least at the office, which always feels zen-like. i think Dr. R. was there, but he was holed up in his office, with the door closed).

But I did the full hour of yoga and i feel centered and calm now. I’m going to do as I’m told by Dr. T. and relax, my period should be at time of calm relaxation. I did too much today. It’s time for replenishment.

So why did I feel bad? I can only attribute this to hormones, but the hormones should not be affecting me like this. The IVIg instructions do say that irritability is a common side effect. Probably because you’re so flippin’ tired.  So maybe it’s all the above. But at least I did yoga.

caffe latte chaser

I chased my injection (which DH watched, reluctantly) with a demitasse cup of half coffee and half soy milk. My caffeine allotment (though I have elminated the coffee last 2 days). i’m getting better. No stabbings with the injection needle (the unsheathing of which elicited an exclaimation from DH to which I replied “I mix with this, the injection needle is tiny”), remembered to push the air out first (boy, that hurt yesterday).

I woke, tired but refreshed. I’ll do yoga in a bit, it’s friday, no need for elaborate prep work on the outfit. And if I don’t get to it, there’s tonight. I’m a tiny bit wiggy this am, mostly foggy, but my body feels a bit restless, shaky.

Dr. C. said, not even reading between the lines, come back if you don’t get a good ultrasound. We are not cancelling this cycle due to equipment. I’m scattered, and I think I’ll attribute this to nerves, but it could be the meds.

chasing the sun westward

Another week, another trip. On the way there, as I chased the sun on a long drive, and had to talk myself (along with that little voice in my head) into going. It would be so easy to not go. To just stop all of this. But the overriding feeling (and the little voice in my head) says, this is good. Ive just returned, and I’m whipped. flat out exhausted. barely able to type this. It’ll be an edited or multipart post. The IVIg went well. 4.4mm already (CD 4, day 2 on stims), Dr. C sez if Dr. S doesn’t like my lining on Monday, she wants to see me Tuesday. Read between the lines to know that the ‘call’ on this one is Dr. C.

As I drove (this is posted next day), I had to really steel myself. I could just peel off on 131, spend the sunset -  not over the steel mills of Gary – on the shores of the lake. As I drove into the city, it was twilight, a purple pink haze in the sky, and the lights of the city were just beginning to twinkle as I drove up S. Lake Shore Dr towards Roosevelt.

I was pondering the question of dopamine as I was driving. They say new things are exciting because they are new, and this activates dopamine receptors in the brain. So why is it, if I were standing on N. Mich Ave and looking in the windows of JCrew the city would be this wonderful, magical place, but driving on Stony Island Avenue, trying to find Roosevelt and cutting over (all, again, new to me), I’m not getting a dopamine rush. But rather, a knot in my stomach. And why, if it was dopmine did I not get the same rush when I got lost on Hayes (which DOES go thru to 57th incidentally) thinking “oh shit, I’m lost on the south side”. That was merely adrenaline. I’m thinking, how can this be good for me? How can this be good for a baby?

I will have to learn to consciously calm myself in traffic, in the city, and do something to ease this anxiety.  Find a rhythm. I think that is the key, is finding a rhythm. I need to find the rhythm of the city and of the drive.