cindy's world

I’ve had multiple friends (all female) ask me for my birthing story. I used to be all queasy about birthing stories, but ever since we decided to get pregnant, I had been very interested. It may have been from an educational standpoint. Anyway, here is mine, written in pieces over the course of the past few days (I didn’t have much time available in productive blocks). A timeline:
* Wednesday, 11/23, contractions started (~3am), entered hospital (~8:30 a.m.) and had baby (4:57 p.m.) (I was pretty happy I started in the wee hours of the morning, labored through the day with sunlight streaming through the windows and we weren’t feeling like we were up when we weren’t supposed to be, and I was done by the end of a regular workhour day. It was perfect. Oh! And I didn’t cuss, didn’t fly into verbal or physical attacks on Mr. W. I pretty much felt in rational control the entire time. [I just asked Mr. W if he was glad I didn't cuss him out or scratch him to death and he said, "Mm-hmm! You were very pleasant to be with, as aggravating as it may have been to have me keep telling you to do stuff like breathe and count..."])
* Thursday, 11/24, stayed in hospital (we opted to stay overnight Thursday night cuz the nurses and staff were so helpful; otherwise they would’ve discharged us after 24 hours, since everyone checked out as healthy)
* Friday, 11/25, discharged early afternoon (~2pm) and came home for the first time with Allie

WARNING: This is long AND graphic; if you’re one of those queasy-about-birthing-story people, don’t click “more.” Otherwise, welcome to my last Wednesday.
(more…)

Did you guys notice I was gone for awhile? No? Well, it’s my fault; I haven’t been blogging consistently. Only this time, I have an excuse! I’d like you to meet Allie Cat:

Friday 11/25, our first day back at home!

Born the day before Thanksgiving, 11/23, at 4:57 p.m.
8 lbs, 2 oz (I know! not my genes)
21 inches (again, not my genes)

Birthing dream scenario goals met:
* no epidural
* no episiotomy
* no IV pain relief (or any pain relief)
* mom healthy, baby healthy
* dad stayed by mom’s head the entire time coaching, and took no photo or video of objectionable stuff.
* no drama; only dad and medical team in birthing room with me through labor.

I know women who didn’t exercise during their pregnancy because they don’t normally exercise, period. Then there are women who exercised through their pregnancies; these second category of women had an easier time during their pregnancies and labor. Plus, the first category of women that I know bitched through their pregnancies and the second category seemed well-adjusted, excited, happy. When the doctor put me on a no-exercise restriction from before my egg retrieval (late February) through the time they saw a normal heartbeat on ultrasound (last week), nearly 5 weeks had passed and it felt like 4 months. I didn’t gain any weight, maintaining steady at about 121 lbs, but I felt like my muscles were atrophying, I was starting to feel crabby and sluggish, and I was going to fall off the workout wagon and have a hard time getting back on again. I WANTED to be exercise-minded, and here’s why:

Get On Up: 33 Reasons to Exercise Now
February/March 2011 issue of FitPregnancy magazine, a gift from the hubby. I’ve italicized the ones most convincing to me.

1.) You’re likely to gain less weight. Research shows you might put on 7 pounds less than pregnant women who don’t work out, while still staying within the healthy weight-gain range.
2.) Labor and delivery may be easier. No guarantees, of course, but strong abs and a fit cardiovascular system can give you more oomph and stamina for the pushing stage. One study found that prenatal water aerobics regulars were 58% less likely to request pain medication during labor than non-exercisers.
3.) You lower your gestational diabetes risk by as much as 27%. High blood sugar during pregnancy puts you at extremely high risk for developing type II diabetes in the decade after delivering and raises the odds of preterm delivery or having an overweight baby. If you do develop it — and many fit women do because genetics and age play a significant role — exercise may help prevent or delay your need for insulin or other medications.
4.) You get that “prenatal-spin-class high.” Active moms-to-be report better moods than their sedentary peers, both immediately following a workout and in general throughout their pregnancies.
5.) You’re less likely to cry, “Oh, my aching back.” Some 2/3s of pregnant women experience back pain, but water workouts, yoga and pelvic tilts can offer relief. Exercise during the second half of pregnancy seems to be especially helpful.
6.) You’re less likely to get constipated. Pregnant women’s intestinal tracts often get backed up due to high progesterone levels and a growing uterus, but exercise, along with a high-fiber diet, keeps your digestive system humming.
7.) You have more energy. On days when lifting your remote control seems like a tall order, even a 10-minute walk can revive you.
8.) Odds are, you’ll deliver a svelter baby. Babies born with excess fat are significantly more likely to become overweight kindergarteners, and overweight newborns of moms with gestational diabetes are more prone to develop diabetes later in life.
9.) You can enjoy the greatest flexibility of your life. Relaxin, a pregnancy hormone that loosens your pelvic joints in preparation for delivery, also relaxes the rest of your joints. With careful stretches, like those done in prenatal yoga workouts, you can capitalize on this window of opportunity.
10.) You’re more likely to avoid a forceps delivery, C-section or other intervention. Regular exercisers are 75% less likely to need a forceps delivery, 55% less likely to have an episiotomy and up to 4 times less likely to have a Cesarean section, research has found.
11.) You’re likely to be fitter in middle age. In a study that followed women for 20 years after delivery, those who’d exercised throughout pregnancy could run two miles 2.5 minutes faster than those who’d taken a workout break while pregnant. The continuous exercisers were also working out a lot more.
12.) You’ll get positive attention. Everyone smiles when they see a pregnant woman on a power walk. No one is more popular at the gym than the pregnant woman on the biceps machine!
13.) You feel less like a beached whale and more like a hot mama. Women who exercise throughout pregnancy have a better body image than those who sit out the 9 months.
14.) Your labor may be shorter. A landmark study found that among well-conditioned women who delivered vaginally, those who had continued training throughout their pregnancy experienced active labor for 4 hours and 24 minutes compared with 6 hours and 22 minutes for those who’d quit training early on. Two hours less of hard labor is nothing to sneer at!
15.) You learn to chill out. With its emphasis on breathing, meditation and joyful movement, prenatal yoga helps stressed-out moms-to-be stay calm. Plus, a regular prenatal yoga practice can teach you to relax rather than tense up when you feel discomfort, a helpful skill during labor.
16.) If you work out in water, you enjoy a wonderful sense of weightlessness. For some women, swimming or water aerobics may provide their only relief from painful foot and ankle swelling.
17.) You’ll likely experience less leg swelling. Your body retains more fluid during pregnancy, and your growing uterus puts pressure on your veins, impairing the return of blood to your heart. Exercise can limit swelling by improving blood flow.
18.) You may be less prone to morning sickness. Though nausea stops many women from exercising, many moms-to-be report that they feel less queasy after a workout or that the exercise takes their minds off the nausea for a short time.
19.) You may boost your child’s athletic potential. One study found that 20-year-olds who were exposed to exercise in utero performed better at sports than same-age peers whose mothers did not exercise during pregnancy.
20.) You’ll bounce back faster during delivery. Compared with new moms who were inactive during pregnancy, those who exercised are more likely to socialize and enjoy hobbies and entertainment post-baby. They just seem to cope better with the demands of new motherhood.
21.) You’re likely to be healthier and leaner when your kids head off to college. Twenty years later, fit women who’d exercised throughout their pregnancy had gained 7.5 pounds, compared with 22 pounds for women who had taken a break when pregnant and resumed exercising afterward. The continuous exercisers also had lower cholesterol levels and resting heart rates.
22.) The sense of accomplishment and confidence spills over to the rest of your life. Finishing a prenatal power walk makes you feel like you can conquer the world!
23.) Your child may have a healthier heart. The developing babies of prenatal exercisers have more efficient hearts than those of non-exercisers, and this higher cardio fitness level seems to last into the childhood years.
24.) If you smoke, exercise may help you kick the habit. In a small study, pregnant smokers reported that exercise gave them confidence to quit, decreased their cigarette cravings, boosted their energy levels and “helped them feel more like a non-smoker.”
25.) You might sleep better. Some pregnant women who work out say they fall asleep faster, slumber more soundly and snooze longer than inactive moms-to-be.
26.) You’ll meet other expectant moms in a prenatal exercise class. Get their phone numbers; you may be meeting up for playdates or babysitting co-ops soon!
27.) You may be at lower risk for the #1 cause of premature birth. That’s preeclampsia, a complication that involves high blood pressure and excess protein in the urine. About 5%-8% of pregnant women develop it, and the numbers are growing.
28.) You’re more likely to avoid prenatal depression. This is especially true if you exercise outdoors because bright light has antidepressant effects. Some 12%-20% of pregnant women experience depression, which is linked to poor sleep and marital problems after delivery.
29.) You feel more in control. When your body is changing in all kinds of wacky ways and your entire life is about to be transformed in huge, unknown ways, a regular exercise routine offers consistency and the knowledge that you’re doing something great for both yourself and your baby.
30.) You look better. Exercise increases blood flow to your skin, enhancing that pregnancy glow. Plus, when you’re calmer and fitter, it shows.
31.) Your children may grow up to be smarter. Some research indicates that kids of moms who work out during pregnancy have better memories, in addition to higher scores on intelligence and language tests.
32.) You bust out of your exercise rut. Pregnancy often forces you to try something new — to swim when you used to run, to try Wii Fit Ski instead of snowboarding, to give Pilates a whirl.
33.) You keep your immune system humming. Moderate exercise such as walking lowers your risk of catching a cold by as much as half. Researchers believe the data applies to exercising moms-to-be as well.

A friend and I have been discussing lately what keeps people together as close friends through the years. Common interests? Common circles? Effort?

Mr. W has 3 people whom he’d previously identified as his “best friend.” One is his former brother-in-law, who we don’t see very often because their interests don’t cross much into ours, and when they have their wine events or superbowl events, they don’t invite us. The only “regular” event Mr. W and I throw is my July 4th/birthday bar shindig, and they came the first year but were out of town for the second. That family is still close with Mr. W’s kids (as the kids are cousins), so we hear of things and sort of trade checking-ups thru mostly Mr. W’s daughter (whose mom lives close to their house). I think the last time I saw these friends was when we all went whitewater rafting last summer. They do mail us Christmas cards every year; I’ve only returned the gesture once, cuz I’m horrible at card-stuff, even though I tell myself every year I’m definitely gonna make the effort to send out cards this year.
Another best friend is a retired coworker of Mr. W’s. She’s fairly newly retired, and she sort of mimicks the interests of Mr. W. When they worked together, he got into computers, she got into computers. He was into gaming, she got into gaming. They gamed all day at work, at lunch together, and in the afternoons. Then they went home and gamed online with each other. (That was a rough period, 6 months into our relationship, when I found myself completely replaced by their obsession.) Then he found an embroidery machine that would take any programmed designs you want to create or download from a computer. He had a lot of fun goofing off with that, and she immediately went and bought a similar machine. (Then she took embroidery classes, and traded her machine in for a larger, fancier, nearly professional industrial one. She retired around then and dedicated a lot of time to putting personal touches on her shirts. Now she’s using this amazing machine to start quilting classes. She’s loving her retirement.) Then he bought an iPhone. He showed it off to her and she very soon got out of her phone contract early and bought an iPhone. And then she outdid him again; she traded up to the new iPhone. Then he bought the iPad, went and showed it to her. It was a week or less before she bought one after seeing his. Now they get together for lunch or we meet up at the coffee shop for Rebecca and they bring their iPads and submerge completely into their iPad worlds (while I stare into space). I think somewhere in there she tried to follow along on Mr. W’s photography interest but it didn’t catch on the way the gaming and gadgets did. They’re both into the fantasy gaming/books/TV/movies genre, so they’ll get together for things like Harry Potter viewings while I, and best friend’s wife, bow out.
The third best friend is Mr. W’s former neighbor before Mr. W moved to where we now live. He’s got similar interests as Mr. W, but came with his own fairly advanced knowledge of the topics, so Mr. W trades info and experiences and ideas with him. The neighbor has taken formal training in computers, so they would get together and discuss things and revamp their desktops for hours (sometimes days). He’s also made a makeshift photo studio in his garage for taking portraits of his young daughter, so they discuss cameras and photography strategies. We’ve recently gotten him interested in eating better nutrition-wise, and he was a chef at some point in his life, so he tries to absorb and incorporate the new knowledge into what he does. One of the fun things about hanging out with #3 is that he’s game to anything you introduce him to, as long as you tell him you’ve tried it and it’s fun/healthy/interesting/educational. His response is usually, “WOOOOOW, this is SO good!” Or “WOOOOW, now THAT is INTERESTING!” And then he’d go and try it himself on his own, whether it be a restaurant or a new photography trick shared with him. Mr. W also sucked him into iPhone world. I think he’s on the verge of going into iPad world, too, but he’s waiting for the newest release of a future model. Mr. W and #3 used to meet on a man-date once a week on a set day, and Ann and I would go off and frolic somewhere on those days. We’d often come home earlier than the guys would, despite the fact that Mr. W typically goes to bed at 9p, sometimes 8p. He says he’s wide awake when he’s talking about or doing something INTERESTING, such as computer stuff.
Common interests, #2 and #3 have the most with Mr. W. But things in common, #1 wins — a longer history, relatives in common, the kids are related. But effort in maintaining friendships, #2 and #3 win hands-down. I even get texts once in awhile from #2, such as Happy Chinese New Year and stuff. So I guess it’s a combination of factors that keep friendships alive. Of course, also important — no backstabbing in their mutual histories. That’s how I drop off friends; betrayals and let-downs.

After her retirement, #2 joined the same gym Mr. W and I belong to. After a few months, she discovered the superior level of that gym corporation. With our lower-level membership, we can go into the superior gym, but we’d have to pay $15 per use. (Currently, Mr. W and my membership’s annual renewal is $49/year, so we don’t want to budge from that since the deal is now unheard of.) She fell in love with the superior level’s gym and upgraded her membership, calling Mr. W and raving about this club. She invited us to meet her there yesterday, and since Mr. W and I were introducing #3 to True Food Kitchen (“WOOOOOOW, I think this is THE BEST FISH I’ve ever had in my LIFE!” Seriously. Do yourself a favor, go to True Food Kitchen, and order the miso-glazed black cod dinner entree. You won’t regret it unless you’re allergic to fish or black cod or nutrition.) and he also has the same gym membership we do (following our lead, he got the same great deal we did years ago), we invited him along. And for the first time that I was aware of, the roles were totally reversed when we got sucked into one of their worlds.

Yesterday, what we walked into was the most glorious dream-gym. This is the ultra level, and there’s only one of them in California, and it’s less than a half hour’s drive from our home. Three stories of fitness equipment, more cardio equipment than you can count (well, than you’d care to count). Full-size basketball court inside, 3 squash courts, 2 raquetball courts, giant exercise class room with a glass wall with a view, olympic-sized heated outdoor-pool, outdoor jacuzzi and gas barbecue ranges, two sand volleyball courts (one in front by a decorative fountain lake and one by the pool in the back), private whirlpool, sauna and steam room in each locker room. The locker rooms themselves were stocked and arranged like dayspas with all the amenities you would need; blowdryers, brushes, lotion, q-tips, hairspray, towel service, flat-screen TVs, irons and ironing board. Lots of free fitness classes, and a full pilates class with pilates boards, all the equipment (for an extra $30 for 10 sessions). An in-gym restaurant and smoothie bar, 2 billiards tables, lounge areas with big-screen TVs scattered throughout. And then the very nice guy who was giving us the tour and information said some magic words. This gym is only “busy” at lunch hour when the surrounding businessmen in the corporate area come in for a quick workout, or many just for lunch in the healthy restaurant and to shoot a couple of hours of pool. Any other time, the place looks like 8pm on a Friday night in October. (Which is how it looked that Sunday afternoon.) I griped about the New Year’s Resolution Crowd. He said they HAVE no New Year’s Resolution Crowd. There’s so much equipment and free weights you never have to wait. And THEN, the on-site babysitting service will take your kids for up to 4 hours at a time, kids ages 6 months and up. SIX MONTHS! I asked if any of their trainers know how to work with a pregnant client, and he said there IS a female specialist for that. I was sold. Mr. W and I needed to get back in the gym (which we’ve been resenting and avoiding since the new year), and this gym solves all our current gripes, AND solves a future problem. The best part, they don’t have to change or cancel my $49/yr membership contract. They simply add a supplemental monthly fee on top of my existing contract, and I can cancel or freeze the supplement at any time without affecting my original deal. So if my fertility doctor tells me, “Stay out of the gym for the next 2 months,” I call up the gym or go online, and freeze the account for 2 months. I don’t get charged the supplement again until it unfreezes. Between this ultra level of gym and my level, there is also another level of semi-exclusive gyms that now also have access to world-wide. Plus there’s my existing level and the level beneath mine. So that’s 4 tiers of gyms and there are tons of new gyms now open to me, closer to home if I don’t feel like going to the ultra nice one to get spoiled.

Yesterday, after becoming upgraded members, Mr. W and I worked out (he enjoyed running the indoor track on the 3rd floor), hit the weight floorS, and then changed to swimsuits and did laps in the heated pool outside. There were other people there doing laps, but the pool was so big it accommodated all 4 of us (including Best Friends #s 2 and 3). I’m a crappy swimmer, but it’s supposed to be good exercise, especially when I’ll be too big to run, so I may as well get started now. Then we sat around in the outdoor jacuzzi for a bit before leaving. We’re going back today.

I’m so glad Best Friend #2 shared her newest interest with us!

TAXES: We visited the tax guy Thursday evening. It’s someone Mr. W has used in the past and I’m happy he found his way back and took me along. We were hoping we wouldn’t have to pay (much) given that our expenses are at an all-time high right now. Imagine our relief when we got a refund, and our tax refund came out to, not as much as last year’s, but about 1/3 as much. We’ll just say that if applied 100% to my “fertility credit card,” will pay off more than half of it. It’s like getting 20% off on fertility treatments. But now I’m thinking, we’re letting the government withhold way too much of our money for taxes. I should increase my exemptions for this year. (Mr. W has himself plus 8, I have just myself plus 1.) So, that went well. The tax guy’s modest office lobby is well-stocked with hospitality, too, but I couldn’t indulge in the red wine, chilled white wine, Cokes and diet Cokes, coffee (which they had run out of anyway), so I chewed on a lemon Tootsie Roll (I didn’t know these existed!), flipped through a celeb mag, and played a form of Scrabble on my cell phone with Jordan and Mr. W. (They both cheat. What kind of word is “vim,” anyway? They both played it against me. Hmmph.)

FERTILITY DOCTOR VISIT: Friday morning, we went in to our fertility appointment. First, they did another ultrasound to count my follicles again. I don’t know what these drugs have been doing, but I’ve never seen my follicles (egg sacs in the ovaries) look so clear on ultrasound. I could finally tell what my doctor was counting. He pointed to various large dark circles and said these are the good follicles that will mature and he will take the egg from them. He pointed to various medium and smaller sized dark circles and said these probably won’t mature much, given how young and small they are, so he’ll just ignore them when he’s doing the egg extractions. He counted the viable (large) follicles. SEVEN on each side. Woohoo! (And, ouch.) I’m definitely at the right stage to change over my Lupron drug (halt ovulation) to Menopur and Follistim (start egg ripening). Since we were on the subject, I noted to him, “I didn’t feel anything on Lupron.”
“You’re not supposed to,” he said. “One out of six or so women get menopausal type symptoms, but most don’t feel anything at all.” Mr. W said he would’ve thought I’d be one of the six since I’m “sensitive to medication.” Lucky for him I’m not, although it’d be interesting to get a glimpse into what I’d be like at menopause.
After the ultrasound, I went to the phlebotomist station for a blood draw to test my hormone levels. We discussed what happened last time they drew blood early morning. (Before we left for the airport on our Europe vacation, we went to the fertility doctor’s for multiple blood draws. I stood up when I was done, waited for Mr. W to be done, then when I was at the payment desk, I started feeling nauseated. It got worse until I had to tell the receptionist to stop talking because I needed somewhere to sit down. Then ringing in my ears set in and I started getting a “static” thing going on the outside edges of my vision, which closed in until my vision went black. I told them I couldn’t see anything and felt really sick. A nurse and Mr. W led me into an empty room to a chair and the nurse fanned me (I had broken out in cold sweat) while feeding me a box of juice. Soon the ringing gave way to a water rushing sound and I could hear better and I started seeing shadows moving around in black and white. My vision then came back and they instructed me to sit there while Mr. W kept fanning. Apparently juice in the morning before a blood draw was not enough for my little body.) The nurse said losing vision without losing consciousness was “weird,” cuz usually people that start to black out on their vision faint. This gives me a little concern about “going under” during the egg retrieval; what if I’m paralyzed and blind but I’m conscious and can FEEL and hear? *vomit*

After the blood draw, we went into a separate nurse’s office and the nurse who was with me at the ultrasound came in to explain my next course of medication for the next 8 days. Apparently I’m not done with Lupron. I’m just going to halve the dose to the “5″ line (.05ml?) on the tiny skinny subcutaneous syringe (the ones with the orange caps in the photo), and administer that in the mornings as I have been doing the last 10 days. I guess that explains why I got an entire separate pack of insulin syringes in addition to the ones that came in the Lupron box, and why I still have half the vial of Lupron left over. “We still don’t want you to ovulate,” the nurse explained. I’m adding Menopur to the morning Lupron poke, though. I found out Menopur can also be administered subcutaneously, so I was greatly relieved. That means I can still do it myself. But this one’s trickier to set up. Apparently the syringes for Menopur comes with a “mixing needle” attached to the syringe. She said I don’t have to use that because it’s more difficult, so to just twist that needle off and throw it away into the Sharps container (provided). That was a relief, because the “mixing needle” is thick, long, and scary. I then screw on a “Q-Cap,” which is shaped like those ointment tube caps that have an inset puncture point on the other side that you have to turn around and push into the foil seal of the ointment tube opening to puncture it. So you screw the Q-Cap onto the syringe and use it to puncture a small vial of clear fluid. The way the cap is shaped also snaps onto the vial. You then use the syringe to draw up the liquid through the hole at the tip of the puncture point into the syringe. Then you pull off the vial and insert the Q-Cap with syringe onto a second vial of white powder. Squeeze the liquid from the syringe into the vial, shake the vial, mix the two. Then draw up that bottle of mixed meds into the syringe. Remove the Q-cap and vial, screw on the thin half-inch subcutaneous needle head, squeeze the air out, tap out the air bubbles, and you’re all set.
In addition to those 2 morning shots, I have to do a Follistim shot, also subcutaneous, at night. This injection “pen” is the stupidest invention in my kit. The concept is cool; you load a vial of the liquid into the middle of the pen. You screw on a new needle tip. You turn the back of the pen until your directed dosage (225 iu for me) shows up in the window. You inject the half-inch needle into your skin and push the button at the back of the pen with your thumb. You pull out the pen, toss the needle, and you’re done until the next dose. Here’s the impracticality of it: The vial is preloaded with 300 iu of medication. My second dose, I use up the remainder of the vial (75 iu) and have to open the pen, pop in a new vial, screw in a new needle head after tossing the old one, turn the dial to administer the rest of my dose (150 iu), and re-poke and re-inject. That’s TWO POKES for one dose! And then the next day, I’m going to have 150 iu left, so I use it all up, then put in a new vial, turn it to dispense the remainder of my dose (75 iu), repoke AGAIN, and I’ll have 225 iu left in there, the full correct dose, for the next night. To make keeping track of all this easier, the Follistim pen kit has an instructional booklet with a chart in the back pages you write your doses and remaining iu’s in, like a checkbook register. WHAT THE HELL! The preloaded vial is 2/3 empty. Why can’t they fill the damn thing up so I get more uses out of one vial, or better yet, dump all that liquid into one big vial and let me draw up my own dose like I do with Lupron? Argh. It’s such a ridiculously fancy zippered kit, too. See the right side of the first photo. At least it’s in the proper colors of blue and yellow, altho it’s more of a Cal navy blue than the UCLA royal blue. =P

So this morning, I tried the new meds. Mr. W has always been eager to help and so far I hadn’t needed him to. He asks often, though, if I’d like him to do the shots for me. This morning, he woke up before 6am and laid there, fidgeting, keeping me awake. Then 45 minutes later, he prodded me and said, “Want me to set up the shots for you?” I said no, I could do it. He said he paid good attention to the nurse and can do the mixing. I said I can handle it. He offered to do one while I do the other. I still declined, and he said then I’d have to get up now and start setting up the shots to keep to my time regimen of adminstering the shots 12 hours apart each time. I got up and while I was in the restroom, I heard him opening up packaging, heard the clink of vials and the snapping of the Q-cap. I just let him do it while I set up the Lupron. It must’ve been fun for him. After he drew all the Menopur fluid into the larger syringe, I balked. There is SO MUCH FLUID in there, almost 2.5 ml. I’ve been used to .10 ml on the Lupron.
“How is all that liquid going to fit with a little half-inch needle under my skin?!” I wailed. He handed me the syringe. I stared at it, freezing up. I thought of what commenter Bat said (in my Pincushion post) about the discomfort in shots coming from the volume of liquid going in, and not from the prick itself.
“Want me to do it?” he asked again.
“Okay,” I said in a small voice.
I swabbed my problematic right side (which was next up in order of stabbings), sat on the bed, and administered my little .05 ml of Lupron. I felt nothing, which was great, except when the needle came out, a larger drop of blood appeared. Stupid right side. I was still gripping my abdomenal fat roll with my left hand per protocol for injection, and turned my head. “Don’t put it right where I put the other one,” I said in paranoia.
“I won’t, I’ll put it right here,” he pointed to a spot about a third of an inch away from the blood drop.
As I looked away, he went for it. “Hey, that’s good, I didn’t feel it,” I said. A second or two passed. Then I felt the fluid. “Ow. Well, it doesn’t hurt exactly, just sort of sore. Ow. Okay, I’m going to start letting go of my fat now so there’s more room for the fluid to go. Ow. That’s uncomfortable, it feels like pressure inside…” When I fully released my fat roll (I know, this sounds gross), the pressure was relieved significantly.
“Okay, and I’m done,” he said.
“Leave it in there for 5 seconds before you pull it out to let the drug settle,” I said. I had read that somewhere, altho it was probably the instructions for the Follistim pen that I’d be using later that night. My mind was a whirlwind. I figure it couldn’t hurt to prevent liquid from squirting back out like the stream from a clown’s lapel flower. I didn’t feel the needle come out, and he certainly didn’t leave a big mark on my skin the way I did with my dinky little injection, which was already bruising purple under the skin. So he did good, despite the fact that he dropped the Q-Cap when he took it out of the packaging and he stabbed himself with the needle before he administered my shot.
I laid back on the bed, afraid that movement would squeeze the fluid out. How does that much fluid fit in there?! I could feel the pressure as my fat cells were being pushed aside to make room. A minute later I got up and went about my morning and the pressure feeling went away after a few minutes. Now, almost 3 hours later, I still feel normal, not that there’s anything to cause mood swings anyhow. We’ll see how the evening’s Follistim goes.

NEW ANTICIPATION: The fertility doctor’s office called me a few hours after our morning visit yesterday. They said the blood test results show that my estrogen is indeed suppressed, so everything’s on schedule and going as expected. They said to go ahead and start the new drug treatment the next day (today). I go in on Monday for a blood test just so they can make sure the hormone levels of the new injections don’t need to be adjusted (I hope they adjust DOWN!). I go in again on Wednesday morning for another ultrasound and blood test to check the status of my eggs now that they’re being told to ripen, and to recheck hormone levels. At that point, they should be able to tell when the eggs will be ready for collection. (Like a hen.) Presently they expect tentative extraction dates sometime in the week after, so they’re going to call Mr. W’s urologist to clear Monday through Wednesday of the week after next for sperm retrieval. Whenever I’m set for egg harvesting, Mr. W will get the sperm retrieval done the day before so that it will be prepared and ready to fertilize my eggs the day my eggs come out. After that, I will get the best embryo implanted in 3 days or 5 days, depending how well the embryos are developing in their little petri dish beds. Throughout all this, I will be undergoing various shots and I’d still be shooting up, intramuscularly, a couple of weeks after the implantation.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and stayed awake a bit. I thought of how I’m not going to have sex for a year (cuz right now I’m in menses and after that we’ll both be going through surgery for sperm/egg retrieval and after that I’ll be pregnant and that just seems wrong to give the kid a visitor before he’s truly met his dad). And I thought of how starting now, our lives (well, mine mostly) will never be the same again and it will be completely new territory. I felt a little pensive, and I wondered if this was fear, or maybe cold feet. But then Mr. W snuggled up to me in his sleep and I remembered that one of his traits, which has sometimes annoyed me, is his overeagerness to help and take over on things that I’m doing, which has made me feel like he thinks I’m inept, but maybe when it comes to a baby, I’d really, truly BE inept. I’d certainly be inexperienced. I thought of how a couple of days ago, he was sitting on my La-Z-Boy recliner reading his iPad and I sat perpendicularly curled up on his lap, and he’d patted an empty spot between his stomach and my lap, and said, “In a year, there’s going to be a baby laying right here on us.” And I thought of how I’d been afraid that marriage would be a goodbye to all the things I loved about my life — the freedom to wander around the house nekkid or sloppy, the luxury of falling asleep downstairs in front of the TV for naps, the availability to hang out with friends and take trips — and how none of those things really changed. And then, with my husband curled up behind me and with my cat luxuriously balled in front of me and the rain beating outside, I fell asleep again.

The fertility clinic had me go in this morning before work for an ultrasound (to count the number of eggs I have in each ovary for this cycle that they’ll be using) and to start the paperwork for the process. I also had to turn in my surgery paperwork and photos from yesterday. The same female fertility doctor who found the polyps did this morning’s ultrasound.
“They didn’t find polyps? They’re gone? What happened?!” she greeted me as she came into the ultrasound room.
“Yeah, the doctor said I’m clean as a whistle. But she did look at your ultrasound pictures and confirmed there were polyps.”
This doctor suggested what yesterday’s doctor said: the polyps must have come out on their own between their discovery and their removal procedure, possibly with a menstrual flow. This doctor started the ultrasound and said, “Look at this!” She turned the monitor to face me.
“What am I looking at?” I asked, staring at the black and white image of what appeared to be a series of concentric ovals.
She pointed to the center, a black oval within the gray ovals. “You still have some fluid in here so we can see, and it’s totally clean in here. No polyps like we saw last time.” *cheer* She went on to count the follicles in each ovary, found 7 on each side, which she said is “more than adequate.” *more cheers*
“Now, you started on the pills, right?” she asked.
“Yes, I started yesterday.”
“Good, good, good!”
“The timing of this has really been amazing, to catch this cycle in time.”
“I like to think there’s some karma involved in this,” the doctor smiled at me.

Flat Coke & Flies emailed me this morning to congratulate me, and asked if this all feels surreal. No, it doesn’t feel as surreal as much as a “finally!” We’d been working on this for so long, and with the false starts, I feel more than ready for this. I’m sure actually BEING pregnant will feel surreal. For now, the only thing that feels surreal is the fact that I charged $10,000 on the new credit card this morning, maxing it out, and had to charge another $375 on another card, to start the IVF process. The only expenses left after this are a few thousand for the fertility drugs and shots (which I’ll be starting in 2 weeks), a few thousand for Mr. W’s urologist to extract his swimmers, and whatever it costs to freeze and store unused embryos (probably about a few hundred dollars, plus a monthly charge for storage). Given the few thousand I’ve already paid for the tests, consultations, and false starts, we’re well within the $25K expected range.

(a little homage to my favorite modern poet and cartoonist, Bill Watterson, creator of “Calvin & Hobbes”)

I have the day off work today to get those pesky polyps removed from my uterus. The procedure kinda wigs me out, because it’s pretty invasive to go into an organ and snip pieces of it out. (Just my opinion, though.) The bigger bummer to having to do this is the fact that, when I called the fertility doctor for advice on timing the in vitro stuff relative to this procedure, I was told that I should wait a month to heal and given 6 weeks of hormone therapy in preparation for in vitro, we’re looking at April for implantation. The kid just keeps getting more and more delayed.

This past Sunday, Mr. W and I met up with my parents in Seal Beach, and then we visited with our clairvoyant friend Rebecca at her usual coffee shop. My parents remain skeptical despite some amazing stuff Rebecca told my mom that was dead-on (the multiple miscarriages she’d had, mentioned the TWINS she’d lost, I mean, HELLO…among other stuff). Anyway, Rebecca told me, as she’d told me before, “November.” I told her sadly that the doctors are now looking at April for implantation, and she said she may be wrong, but it still feels like November to her. Not that it really matters in the long run anyway. For my wigging out about the procedure today, she told me to visualize myself in a bubble of light, and also from underneath, being held up in God’s hands. She said to also picture the doctor and nurses in bubbles of light, and as they work on me, to visualize their hands being guided and controlled by God’s hands, as they do God’s work on me. She said it’ll be fine, very smooth. I remembered that when I’d first told her I had this procedure scheduled to remove some polyps the fertility doctor found via ultrasound, she was surprised, saying she saw nothing wrong with me, and didn’t see anything preventing this pregnancy from going through just fine. Rebecca told me to practice the visualizations to calm myself down during the procedure, so I practiced it last night laying in bed, and briefly thought about the bubble of light from God being so healing that the polyps just disappear. Wouldn’t that be cool.

So anyway, in the doctor’s office early this morning and later in the operating room, I was laying on my back in a long bubble of light, each of the two nurses and the doctor were walking around my room in their own bubbles of light, and since I was lighting everyone, Mr. W, where he sat in a chair nearby, was reading his iPad in a bubble of light. God cradled me in his great big hands, comforting me. The procedure had points of discomfort and pressure, but was pretty much pain-free, and on the monitor, we watched as the doctor explored every part of me from the cervix to the walls to the fallopian tubes, and found…NOTHING. “There’s nothing here,” she said as the nurses stared behind her in amazement. “The polyps are gone. You’re clean as a whistle. There’s nothing for me to biopsy.” She pulled out to re-examine the cervix, then went back in again, slowly, exploring everything. “Nothing. Totally clean, and very healthy.”
“So is this common?” I asked.
“No, it’s not very common, but does happen. The body can sometimes heal itself, or maybe the polyps just fell out on their own. You also have a long cervix, which is good because sometimes after a LEEP the cervix is shortened which can affect pregnancy, but yours is fine. You should have no problems. This is good news, I’m happy for you! Tell your fertility doctor to go ahead and start.”
!!!
So wait a minute, there was this big delay from them finding the polyps and delaying the process, for nothing?
“No, well, you definitely had polyps,” the doctor pointed out. She said no fertility doctor in good conscience would implant an embryo when there are polyps in there, so this had to be done. No one could’ve known that my polyps were just going to disappear on their own. We all saw ultrasound photos of multiple polyps, clear as day.

Since I had refused drugs (they offered Xanax to help relax me but I’m kinda anti-pharmaceuticals if I can help it, so I just took a few Ibuprofen, and the injected cervical block did the rest), they told me I have no restrictions, just go about my day the way I want. As Mr. W and I exited the room in amazement, he had this great idea. “Maybe you can still use this cycle then, since you’re on day 5 of this cycle. Don’t they start the process on Day 5?”
!!!
I put in a call and left a message for my reproductive doctor’s office, hoping we get a call-back soon. We had lunch at Mother’s, an organic market with an attached vegetarian healthy cafe. I texted some friends with this unexpected miraculous development. Flip Flop Girl wrote, “Wow. Everything is just falling into place. From the bank fraud to this…Good news all around!” That’s when I realized…this polyp discovery had a purpose after all. It delayed the in vitro process just enough for me to get 6 months interest-free funding for the procedure thanks to the bank fraud, and didn’t delay a DAY beyond that. The discovery of a clean bill of health is made on the right day of the cycle, so long as the fertilty doctor called us back!
“The universe loves you,” Flip Flop Girl wrote.
“Or this kid is pulling major strings over there,” I responded.
“If you believe in reincarnation this soul just can’t wait to get to earth, and he’s making it as easy for you as possible. ”
“I do believe, and I don’t know what his rush is. Haha”
“He’s got things to do! World-changing technologies to invent. Novels to write. Nobel peace prizes to win.”
“Haha, I should save this text and use it to make him study more.”
“Yeah, no pressure or anything. =P”

The universe had yet another surprise for us. I shared it with Flip Flop Girl.
“Guess what! Both our lunches just got comped! Today must be good news day!”
“What?? Why? Where are you? Buy a lotto ticket!!!”
“HAHAHA! We’re at Mother’s and I had another green drink. [Mr. W] found a paper tag in his tofu piccata. Not that he was concerned.”
The restaurant INSISTED on comping both our meals and our Goddess of Greens fresh juice bar drinks (a blend of apple, celery, cucumber, spinach, parsley and kale).

On the way home, I got the call from the fertility doctor’s office. They can use this cycle and start today! There’s no delay to April needed, and they phoned in the first prescription to my local pharmacy. Hello, November! (Of course I called Rebecca and told her the good news; the timing she saw is back on!)

I know my stepkidlet had said some prayers for me for the procedure. On her way out the door to class this morning, she said, “I hope things go well today. Don’t be scared, the Lord is with you.” How right she was. And those are some powerful bubbles of light. I’m humbled, amazed, and SO grateful for the magic everywhere. Thank you, Universe! Your wisdom and perfect planning awe me.
I’m gonna go pick up my prescription now and maybe go for a bike ride or a hike with the hubby. Love to all!

I meant the title as in “ahem,” altho I just started coughing, too.

We saw Rebecca on Wednesday and she advised me to hold off on the surgery until January. I was troubled and said something about it being so far away. She said, “There’s too much going on right now,” motioning around me with her hand, as if to circle me in her field of vision. “It won’t make a difference,” she reassured me. “You’ll be so much calmer after the surgery, and the extra time doesn’t make a difference. You understand what I’m saying? Does that make you feel better?” Trying to be discreet. Yes, I knew what she was saying. The kid will be the same kid, whether born a month sooner or months later. He’s still gonna be born in 2011. What’s the difference? And now I can drink at college roommie Diana’s wedding in January. “And the surgery will go well; they’ll go in and take care of it. It’s a small thing, no problems.” All this was prompted by, “I have an upcoming coming surgery that I’m nervous about.”

She’s right; there is a LOT going on, more than I thought there would be when I sat there near her. I think a lot got resolved last night in the wee hours, but not before the stress sent me dry-heaving over the toilet. As I sat on the floor of the bathroom, I thought, “She was right. If I were pregnant now, I’d probably be too affected and lose the baby.” Thank you for knowing what’s best, Universe.

And, given the fact that there’s a lot going on, and I’m still blogging, you lazy bloggers should feel inspired! Hint, hint!

…I can drink and eat chocolate again.

It was a day of great people and bad circumstances. I took the morning off to go to two girlie doctor appointments. At the request of the fertility specialist we’d been working with, I scheduled a pap smear with my regular doctor for this morning, and then after that I’d scheduled another appointment with the fertility doctor’s office. Both are to make sure my reproductive parts are healthy and ready before we get into the heavy stuff. I had written down that my pap appointment was 8:40a, but on my drive there, I checked my voice mail just to make sure. I knew that over the weekend, while I was in San Francisco celebrating college roommie Diana’s bachelorette shindig, I had missed an automated call reminding me of that appointment. I stopped breathing when I heard the voice mail play back that my appointment for 8:20 was confirmed. I was 20 minutes late! The receptionist called up to the doctor right away and said that it wasn’t a problem, I was the first patient and they would still see me. Thank gawd. I hurried up and apologized profusely to the nurse who took my vitals, and then profusely to my doctor. Everyone was calmer about it than I was and said it wasn’t a big deal, they’ll catch up. I just hate thinking that I was one of “those” patients who threw off the entire day’s appointments. Luckily they only had one other morning appointment aside from myself. I had the quickest pap smear in history (2-3 minutes just like he promised) and they sent me on my way to my next appointment. It was a great thing they hurried for me, because I had instructions to “empty [my] bladder” at 9am, then to drink 16 oz of water at 9:30am to prepare for the trial transfer and sonohysterogram.

I would’ve been a tad early to the fertility clinic except that the freeway exit I was to get off on was closed due to construction. I went one exit past, then came back on the freeway the other way, hoping the same exit wouldn’t be closed to both northbound AND southbound traffic. The rest of the drive was uneventful and I was just barely on time, so it didn’t help the anxious state I was already in. Signing the consent form for the sonohysterogram, I read about potential side risks that made me even more nervous (bleeding, infection, dizziness, etc.). So in this other doctor’s office across town, I was once again on my back in stirrups, this time for a quick initial ultrasound (everything still looked normal; they counted 8 eggs on one ovary, 7 on the other, which is pretty good). Then the speculum is inserted for the trial transfer, and a very thin clear rubber/plastic hose is threaded through my cervix into the uterus so they can measure where they need to turn and direct the actual hose that they will use to implant the embryo when that time comes. This caused some cramping. I “ow ow ow”ed it a few times and the doctor stopped, letting the cramping subside. “Sorry, that was me,” she said, “I contacted the front of your uterus.” I knew they would have to do that to measure where they can put the instruments later on. You can’t go bumbling around in there when there’s a delicate embryo stuck to the end of that instrument later on. So once the thin hose was in place, the ultrasound instrument went in again for their measurements. And then, “Saline is going in now,” they told me, and I watched a dark cavity blossom on the screen. “Wow, that’s interesting,” I said. Then we all saw something fluttering in the black space as saline fluid inflated and lifted my uterine lining. I didn’t know what I was looking at, attached to the side of the uterus, and the doctor didn’t say anything yet, just took a bunch of screen shots. About a minute later the ultrasound wand came out, and the doctor and nurse said, “Okay, saline will start leaking out now, it’s okay,” and the tube was pulled out. I didn’t feel much leakage, I don’t think they put in much liquid. I was, more than anything, relieved at how quick the procedure was. “I told you it’d be nothing,” the doctor joked. After that, the bad news came. The doctor pointed at a screen shot of two oblongish, droplet-shaped things sticking out the side of my uterine wall. “Those are polyps,” she said. “You’re going to need to get those surgically removed before we can do anything further.” So it turns out that, although the polyps are not dangerous, just 1-2mm skin flaps, there’s a chance the embryo could adhere to a polyp instead of to the actual uterine wall, and that would prevent blood supply from forming to the embryo, or it simply wouldn’t stick and I’d lose the embryo. I was advised to call my regular doctor and schedule the surgery as soon as possible. After that, I’d get a month of recovery, and we’d start this fertility thing again.

So this means that this cycle isn’t going to be “the” cycle. I guess I could’ve drunk champagne and coffee and eaten the chocolate-covered strawberries with the girls this weekend. I can go take a shot of chocolate liqueur and chase it with a cigarette. The nurse said I can stop the prenatal vitamins, but to keep taking the birth control pills for now until the doctor calls and tells me otherwise. Meanwhile, they’ll call the Mr. W’s urologist, who had coordinated his schedule to be available for the sperm retrieval mid-December, and let him know it will all be rescheduled for later on. The pharmacy providing my shots and estrogen patches were also put on hold (I was supposed to start a series of shots called Lupron tomorrow, which I’d spent all week mentally preparing myself for). When the doctor (who is not my fertility doctor but another doctor in the same office) was explaining the polyps to me immediately after she discovered them, she said, “You seem to be very rational about all this.” And I am rational. I’m glad that they did this check first, or it would’ve been a lot of time, medication, and money wasted if something kept the embryo from attaching properly. I’m glad to know that there’s something minor wrong with me that could easily be fixed with a 1.5 hr surgery. Timing-wise, it means I have another month to recover economically from our vacation because all I paid for today was $903 for the ultrasounds and some other things, and not $10,000+ to start on the baby cycle. And I’m pretty sure insurance would pay for my surgery, since this is a non-elective medical issue that would interfere with fertility. The nurse handed me an antibiotic “just in case” since the procedure was invasive, told me to take it soon with food, and I was done there for now.

In the car after walking out of the fertility clinic, I called the regular appointment line for Kaiser and asked how to get a referral for this surgeon. The guy was very nice and sent a detailed message to my primary care doctor, whom I’d just seen earlier that morning for the pap. “He’ll let you know whether he’ll refer you to a general surgeon, or an ob-gyn surgeon.” I heard from my primary care doctor’s office within 15 minutes as I was driving to work. His assistant or nurse asked me to fax my doctor a copy of the Follicular Sonohysterogram Report, which had lots of photos of the ultrasound screen shots. The fertility doctor had printed the report and given it to me, saying my primary doctor may want to see it for the referral. So I faxed that over to my primary doctor’s office as soon as I got to work. His office got back to me within a few hours, relaying my doctor’s message that a referral is not needed in my situation; to just go ahead and call the ob-gyn specialist for an appointment. He also instructed the caller to tell me that the follicles on the ovaries may be normal. That was odd; I was never told anything may have been abnormal with the follicles (egg sacs) in my ovaries. So anyway, I will make that appointment with the ob-gyn shortly since I received this call in the middle of my blog post.

I told Mr. W about the findings at the fertility clinic. He seemed…crestfallen. That surprised me. I felt okay about it; I can see the advantages of finding out all this. But he thought we would be doing baby stuff within days, and now we have to wait at least a month after the surgery to allow my uterus to heal. But really, it’s not a big deal, right? What’s a month when there’s no actual deadline anyway? I’m gonna be over 35 when I give birth no matter what, and this way we ensure it’s not a wasted effort.

I briefed my supervisor on the sonohysterogram’s findings and warned him a future surgery is coming, but that it should be simple and out-patient. He said to go ahead and schedule it based on the surgeon’s availability, and not to worry about work; he’ll figure things out and get me the time off when I need it. He also told me my judge called out today. I was surprised; he never calls out. He comes in on his days off to do extra work. (I later found out he was in a car accident last nite. I should call and check up on him later.) Since I don’t have a judge, this means I can be floated out anywhere. I asked where I was to be this afternoon. My supervisor told me to go to my own courtroom and do whatever work I may still have. Basically he was giving me a freebie. That was very nice of him.

Mr. W and I went to lunch together. He asked me what I’d like to eat, and I suggested pho, knowing he craves that stuff. He was surprised, as I’d sworn off pho at our local area because of the high MSG content. I said I didn’t really care about it at this time, so he took me up on the suggestion. Walking into the pho restaurant, I thought about how I had been refraining from alcohol, fish, caffeine, raw foods, chocolate, etc. because my focus was on giving the baby the best chance at health. It wasn’t difficult, altho it was a bummer. I would’ve liked to celebrate the same way as the girls did this last weekend (everyone was respectful of my dietary restrictions and didn’t pressure me about anything). But because my goal was something so much bigger than myself, I wasn’t even tempted to drink tea or taste the free chocolate bon bon the restaurant made for each girl. I had refrained from MSG and unhealthy foods long before the baby thing, but I had done that for myself. My personal health (and yes, vanity to a degree) was very important to me. But after I started prepping my body for a pregnancy, THAT became the focus of the goal of health. Suddenly, that focus no longer exists for now. And instead of reverting back to my original focus that had been a part of my thought process for so much longer, I instead felt like I had no focus. No goal. I felt a little self-destructive. But what changed, physically? Nothing. I didn’t LOSE a baby. Human psychology is interesting. But I’ll refrain from drinking myself into oblivion tonight; I will still have use for this body, even if later than originally expected.

After retrieving all spare keys from non-residents, and professional maids bleached, deep-cleaned and vacuumed all surfaces reachable, the house is starting to feel a little less violated and I’m feeling more like myself. Except for the fact that I either don’t sleep, or sleep immediately upon my return home from work and skip dinner. Mr. W remarked this morning that he likes my early bedtimes as it ensures early mornings wherein I watch the news with him. I’m still not quite loving the news.

Yesterday evening Dodo came downstairs for water, then beelined to the stepdaughter (even though we were all there), meowing at her. She started petting him and he stuck to her side. This is new. Even more new: as he ascended the stairs, she walked up to the landing from downstairs and cooed his name. He went right to her on the other side of the stairway railing and she petted him as he flopped back and forth on the landing floor trustingly, enjoying her affection. You can really tell she’d put in her time with him while we were gone. The two have well-bonded, because Dodo is not normally a love-everybody cat. Not that he dislikes people, but he’s just usually cautious.

The early mornings have another advantage. I’ve been put on a pill regimen, and some of these require to be taken in conjunction with food, so I have to eat breakfast. I had no idea that prenatal vitamins are horsepill-sized, or that they are prescription. The antibiotics (azythromycin 500mg; double the dose of a z-pack) I was put on as a precaution is probably a good thing, given that I’d been traveling in 3 different countries that rained consistently, was confined to a cruiseship and planes with international diseases onboard, and have not been sleeping well or been in the best spirits. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch some exotic ailment already. I’ve also been banned from any intake of caffeine (this includes chocolate! and tea!), alcohol (great for my gutline, since moderate drinking has become a regular thing in the past month or so and I’d been meaning to cut it out), and tobacco (good thing I’m back from Europe; just being there probably gave me the equivalent of a cig or two a day from second-hand smoke alone, despite all my efforts to avoid it). Mr. W has to avoid alcohol for the next month, too. I had my concerns about that, since his stress level hasn’t been low either and he would normally turn to whiskey or add a little something to his coffee for a picker-upper. I think he’s been straight, though. It’s only fair; if I have to do everything I can and be as clean as possible to make sure this ridiculously expensive procedure doesn’t go awry, he could at least do his part. It’s not like they told HIM to cut caffeine, which would be close to torture for him. I find it interesting that I wasn’t told to avoid raw meats or fish. Does this mean that the cliche sushi-ban is based on nothing more than old wives’ tales?