6310. No, that's not my ATM pin number, nor is it the last four digits of my social. The number 6310 however, has become just as important as my personal accounting and security numbers. It is a number that has been etched in my mind, scribbled across documents, printed on vials, and typed on every hospital record bearing my name in the last three months.
6310 is my donor. It is the catalog number from a lengthy on-line list of donors from my sperm bank. Similar to scanning the sku number and bar code of merchandise, the donor's personal identification number, when clicked on, reveals a description of the product's (in this case the donor's) color, size, price, quantity, etc.
Just by perusing the on-line catalog, you instantly have at your fingertips, a wealth of information. Far more data than I believe some married women having a child with her husband would have. Height, weight, hair color, hair texture, eye color, skin tone, body and face structure, blood type, ethnicity, occupation, education, aspirations, interests, eyesight, known allergies, extensive medical history, the list goes on and extends to parents and siblings in many of these areas as well.
After researching several sperm banks, I settled on one that had been recommended to me by several women in my Single Mother's by Choice support group. The appeal of this bank was its location, philosophy and reputation. I was looking to avoid shipping costs from distant banks and was turned off by the selling tactics and commercialism of the large, well-known banks.
Pacific Reproductive Services (PRS) was conveniently located in San Francisco, was held in high regard by women in my group who had gotten pregnant with their donors, and best of all, had a user friendly website with an on-line catalog of donors!
Hundreds of donors to choose from! How ever does one choose? Well, with a pen, clipboard, laptop and a room full of sistrens:0)
Step #1 Play God
Create your Adam. You're paying big bucks, why not get what you want? What does your perfect Romeo look like? Jot down your requirements. Here's what my clipboard read:
1. Mixed race
2. Tall - 6' or above
3. Medium brown or olive skin tone
4. Artistic
5. Extroverted
6. WTBK (willing to be known)
It was important for me to find someone multi-ethnic, like myself. I am proud of my heritage and have gained valuable lessons and experiences because of my mixed race. I decided upon tall and dark because typically, men bearing this features have always caught my eye. Artistic and extroverted, because I am not either of these. Essentially, I was looking to mix in qualities that I feel I lack and have always envied in others. Finally, I insisted my child have the option to meet their father should he choose; hence the WTBK status.
Step #2 Assemble Sistrens
Invite your closest friends - you know, the ones that finish your sentences, have seen you do the ugly cry one too many times and can see right through you and have the balls to call you out when you're not being true to yourself. Yeah, get them in a room with their laptops. What better council could you have? These gals know you...and know what you like! Sure, they may stray when they come across a profile they fancy and stop to "ooh" and "ahh" and fantasize meeting the gent, but in the end, they're gonna get the job done.
Step #3 Do Some Weeding
Consider and contemplate the list compiled. Review Step #1 and begin weeding out those that don't meet most of your requirements. Remember to not make any exceptions and to not consider if your family and friends would approve - they're not the ones making the baby with dude's sperm - you are.
6310 was what was left after I narrowed down my choices. He was the lucky winner because he met all of the above set criteria. According to his profile, he stands six foot, 180 lbs, has dark features (hair, eyes and skin), is multi-ethnic (Irish, Filipino and African American), holds a Masters in Art Education, currently is the administrator of a community art center and describes himself as "a people person, outgoing and devoted friend." Woo hoo! Score!
What's not to like? Well...how about his picture? It's true, he sounded perfect on paper, and I can see in the picture he bears all the physical features his profile states. It's just that in my mind, I had painted a different image. Don't get me wrong, he's not hideous, by any means - just not what I expected. Not the one that I would be drawn to from across a crowded room.
Current adult donor photos are rare. Not many donors opt to reveal their identity in this way. 6310's photo only came available about a month ago, after I had already purchased four vials. I decided to try my will and patience and decided to not purchase his photo (yes, I said purchase), until after I had used all the vials. This way, if I was disappointed, it would be too late.
So, here I am, post third and fourth insemination with 6310's sperm, wondering whether I am pregnant. I'll admit, for the first few days, after seeing his photo, I was totally bummed. As a result of my disappointment and bummed-outness, I started to feel rather shallow. Was looks all that really mattered to me? How superficial of me. It wasn't a very proud moment for me.
And still, at the same time, I thought to myself, "Hey, you just shelled out nearly a month's salary, you should get what you want!" When you really break it down, however, I did get what I wanted. 6310 met every single requirement jotted down on the clipboard - he simply didn't meet my fantasy image. And perhaps, that's why it's a fantasy.
I am thankful to my sistrens, who helped me bounce my thoughts around, and to Ann, one of the women on my on-line support group, who said to me, after I confessed my sinful thoughts, that the looks of my donor won't matter one damn bit when I am holding my baby. Thank you, Ann. Thank you for slapping me back into the reality of why I am doing this. I am not trying to meet or hook up with my donor. Why do I need to be attracted to him? I don't. I just need his sperm to create a healthy baby. Nothing else really matters...besides the baby will be inheriting my fine features and qualities, anyway. Ahahaha!
In the meantime, should I not get pregnant this time around, I have gone back to the books, or should I say the clipboard, and considered other options. I have a few back-ups for the back-up (haha, get it), just in case 6310 doesn't work out for me. I've almost decided that if it turns out I'm not pregnant by the end of this year, than I will most likely change donors. Not because of the photo, not because of the lack of attraction, simply because 6310 for some reason or another didn't work out. That remains to be seen, however.
So, keep checking in everyone for updates. As always, thanks for following! Have a blessed holiday and hopefully I'll have some good news to report in the new year!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Round 3...and 3.5
Last Friday, December 17th, despite the hectic last day of school before Winter Break, despite a class party, gingerbread houses, squirrely kids anticipating Santa Claus and despite stormy weather, traffic and a mere two hours away from performing with Manuia for our Winter recital, I went in for my third IUI.
Luckily, PRS, the sperm bank, had contacted me the day before to inform me that they would be closing early on Friday and suggested I pick up my swimmers before 3pm, should I need them. I begged and pleaded for them to have them ready for me that afternoon (Thursday) as I knew I wouldn't be able to get them before 3pm on Friday. After pulling a few strings with the lab, the clerk was able to arrange a pick up for me. Phew! I would have been devastated if I had missed my golden opportunity this month!
So the lil guys hung out with me in my apartment and in the car the next day while holiday festivities took place in the classroom. After school, I headed over to Kasier, who really didn't want to see me until the next day, though I explained to them I planned on doing two inseminations this month and insisted on getting an appointment that day.
PRS recommends doing two inseminations each cycle - one the day of your LH surge and one the day after. This of course, increases your chances of getting pregnant. I of course would love to have done two IUI's for the previous two cycles, though that would have meant purchasing double the amount of sperm, shelling out double the amount of money and taking double the amount of time off from work.
Deciding to do two IUI's this cycle was mostly due to the timing. I happened to ovulate early Friday morning, which meant I could go in after school and do the next on Saturday - I wouldn't have to take any time off! Also, I was down to my last two vials - why not go all out?
Round three, took place in an overly girly, frilly and fuzzy-warm doctor's office, complete with seahorse mobiles hanging from the ceiling, dragonflies clinging to the venetian blinds, colorful, tropical fish swimming across the walls and flowery oven mitts warming the foot stirrups. Total sensory over load; it was as if Laura Ashley and Martha Stewart threw up all over the place.
My doctor, the first female to have performed an IUI on me, was a bubbly blonde with a personality that pretty much echoed the decor. She was a bit concerned about the amount of washed sperm in the syringe - only .2cc. She did her best to pump air into the syringe so as to usher the liquid out and send the lil guys through the catheter.
After the familiar cramping and uncomfortableness, the doc removed the catheter and noticed there was still a small bubble in the syringe. Lucky for me, my doctor was diligent and went ahead and reinserted the catheter and repeated the process - yay, cramps and twinges of pain - again.
Round three complete. Round 3.5 took place the following day, in Santa Clara, as they are the only Kaiser clinic to perform inseminations on Saturday. My friend Chrissy and I headed down together for the mini road trip. Or perhaps I should say, my "partner." Haha.
Upon arrival, the Santa Clara clinic appeared to be a ghostown. After hailing a nurse to check us in and bickering over the unusual fee increase for the visit, I asked if I could be seen early - as clearly they didn't appear to be very busy. The nurse proceeded to answer my question, directing her attention on Chrissy. Midway through her terribly confusing response, I interrupted her to inform her that I was the patient, as clearly she had mistaken Chrissy as the one undergoing the procedure. Briefly taking her eyes off Chrissy, she turned to me and said, "Yes, I know," and then turned back to Chrissy to finish her explanation. Huh? Ok.
After the failed attempt to communicate (thanks Mercury), the nurse took me in the back to take my vitals. I asked if my friend could join me, the nurse responded, sure," Your partner can sit here." Ohhhhh! I get it, she thinks that Chrissy is my lesbian partner! No wonder she was giving Chrissy so much attention!
After checking my weight and vitals, the nurse led us to the examination room, where she proceeded to give 99.9% of her attention to Chrissy - it was as if I wasn't even in the room! When I asked a question, she responded and made eye contact with Chrissy. When she came into the room with the thawed and spun out vial, she gave it to Chrissy to hold, announcing, "Your partner can hold the specimen and keep it warm." Chrissy, the supportive partner that she is, gladly accepted, beaming from ear to ear.
When the nurse left the room, we giggled like mad and Chrissy performed an entertaining victory dance. All attention refocused on me when the nurse practitioner came into perform the procedure. There was no mistaking the patient now - I was the one half undressed, flimsy, plastic tarp covering my lower half, laying on the examination table. Finally, I got a little eye contact and recognition!
The nurse practitioner, a female again, was very supportive, professional and patient. She had some great advice, suggestions and wonderful explanations to my questions. She suggested I zero in on one primary provider, as I have met with so many different doctors over the course of the last year preparing for this journey and now undergoing the procedures. Makes total sense. When I do get pregnant, I have no idea who is going to deliver this baby, nor do I know which hospital I will have my baby in. Something to think about.
The nurse practitioner also suggested, that if I do not get pregnant this time around, I should change something - be it hormone medication, donor sperm or undergoing an evasive procedure known as a HSG that will determine whether my tubes are blocked. All mentally noted and currently being taken into consideration.
As thoughts of changing donors, scheduling the HSG and researching other hormone medications swarm through my head, I have decided to not make any final decisions as I have two weeks to wait out. If I am pregnant in two weeks, than these questions are of course null and void.
Mentally, I am in a better place than I was last month. I am not sailing on high positive thoughts, nor am I hanging on to doubtful, negative thoughts. I am doing my best to "surrender" and allow the stepping stones of this path I have chosen to fall into place.
Perhaps the best word to describe my current state is "indifferent." That may sound a bit uncaring or nonchalant, though I have faith that I will get pregnant when the time is right. So, if it happens this month - yay! AND if it does not, than there are reasons. Reasons that may not reveal themselves to me right now, though reasons nonetheless.
Thanks everyone for reading and supporting. A special thank you to Mama Rosa for teaching me the lesson of "surrender" and to my sistrens for keeping me sane through this tumultuous time, and finally to my mother for keeping it simple - at a time when I know you may have your opinions, you have chosen to just "be". To be there, to be supportive, to be a mother.
Keep checking back everyone! I have two weeks off and lots more to say!
Peace,
T
Luckily, PRS, the sperm bank, had contacted me the day before to inform me that they would be closing early on Friday and suggested I pick up my swimmers before 3pm, should I need them. I begged and pleaded for them to have them ready for me that afternoon (Thursday) as I knew I wouldn't be able to get them before 3pm on Friday. After pulling a few strings with the lab, the clerk was able to arrange a pick up for me. Phew! I would have been devastated if I had missed my golden opportunity this month!
So the lil guys hung out with me in my apartment and in the car the next day while holiday festivities took place in the classroom. After school, I headed over to Kasier, who really didn't want to see me until the next day, though I explained to them I planned on doing two inseminations this month and insisted on getting an appointment that day.
PRS recommends doing two inseminations each cycle - one the day of your LH surge and one the day after. This of course, increases your chances of getting pregnant. I of course would love to have done two IUI's for the previous two cycles, though that would have meant purchasing double the amount of sperm, shelling out double the amount of money and taking double the amount of time off from work.
Deciding to do two IUI's this cycle was mostly due to the timing. I happened to ovulate early Friday morning, which meant I could go in after school and do the next on Saturday - I wouldn't have to take any time off! Also, I was down to my last two vials - why not go all out?
Round three, took place in an overly girly, frilly and fuzzy-warm doctor's office, complete with seahorse mobiles hanging from the ceiling, dragonflies clinging to the venetian blinds, colorful, tropical fish swimming across the walls and flowery oven mitts warming the foot stirrups. Total sensory over load; it was as if Laura Ashley and Martha Stewart threw up all over the place.
My doctor, the first female to have performed an IUI on me, was a bubbly blonde with a personality that pretty much echoed the decor. She was a bit concerned about the amount of washed sperm in the syringe - only .2cc. She did her best to pump air into the syringe so as to usher the liquid out and send the lil guys through the catheter.
After the familiar cramping and uncomfortableness, the doc removed the catheter and noticed there was still a small bubble in the syringe. Lucky for me, my doctor was diligent and went ahead and reinserted the catheter and repeated the process - yay, cramps and twinges of pain - again.
Round three complete. Round 3.5 took place the following day, in Santa Clara, as they are the only Kaiser clinic to perform inseminations on Saturday. My friend Chrissy and I headed down together for the mini road trip. Or perhaps I should say, my "partner." Haha.
Upon arrival, the Santa Clara clinic appeared to be a ghostown. After hailing a nurse to check us in and bickering over the unusual fee increase for the visit, I asked if I could be seen early - as clearly they didn't appear to be very busy. The nurse proceeded to answer my question, directing her attention on Chrissy. Midway through her terribly confusing response, I interrupted her to inform her that I was the patient, as clearly she had mistaken Chrissy as the one undergoing the procedure. Briefly taking her eyes off Chrissy, she turned to me and said, "Yes, I know," and then turned back to Chrissy to finish her explanation. Huh? Ok.
After the failed attempt to communicate (thanks Mercury), the nurse took me in the back to take my vitals. I asked if my friend could join me, the nurse responded, sure," Your partner can sit here." Ohhhhh! I get it, she thinks that Chrissy is my lesbian partner! No wonder she was giving Chrissy so much attention!
After checking my weight and vitals, the nurse led us to the examination room, where she proceeded to give 99.9% of her attention to Chrissy - it was as if I wasn't even in the room! When I asked a question, she responded and made eye contact with Chrissy. When she came into the room with the thawed and spun out vial, she gave it to Chrissy to hold, announcing, "Your partner can hold the specimen and keep it warm." Chrissy, the supportive partner that she is, gladly accepted, beaming from ear to ear.
When the nurse left the room, we giggled like mad and Chrissy performed an entertaining victory dance. All attention refocused on me when the nurse practitioner came into perform the procedure. There was no mistaking the patient now - I was the one half undressed, flimsy, plastic tarp covering my lower half, laying on the examination table. Finally, I got a little eye contact and recognition!
The nurse practitioner, a female again, was very supportive, professional and patient. She had some great advice, suggestions and wonderful explanations to my questions. She suggested I zero in on one primary provider, as I have met with so many different doctors over the course of the last year preparing for this journey and now undergoing the procedures. Makes total sense. When I do get pregnant, I have no idea who is going to deliver this baby, nor do I know which hospital I will have my baby in. Something to think about.
The nurse practitioner also suggested, that if I do not get pregnant this time around, I should change something - be it hormone medication, donor sperm or undergoing an evasive procedure known as a HSG that will determine whether my tubes are blocked. All mentally noted and currently being taken into consideration.
As thoughts of changing donors, scheduling the HSG and researching other hormone medications swarm through my head, I have decided to not make any final decisions as I have two weeks to wait out. If I am pregnant in two weeks, than these questions are of course null and void.
Mentally, I am in a better place than I was last month. I am not sailing on high positive thoughts, nor am I hanging on to doubtful, negative thoughts. I am doing my best to "surrender" and allow the stepping stones of this path I have chosen to fall into place.
Perhaps the best word to describe my current state is "indifferent." That may sound a bit uncaring or nonchalant, though I have faith that I will get pregnant when the time is right. So, if it happens this month - yay! AND if it does not, than there are reasons. Reasons that may not reveal themselves to me right now, though reasons nonetheless.
Thanks everyone for reading and supporting. A special thank you to Mama Rosa for teaching me the lesson of "surrender" and to my sistrens for keeping me sane through this tumultuous time, and finally to my mother for keeping it simple - at a time when I know you may have your opinions, you have chosen to just "be". To be there, to be supportive, to be a mother.
Keep checking back everyone! I have two weeks off and lots more to say!
Peace,
T
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Stuck in a Rut
December 7, 2010.
The eve of my 35th birthday.
Single, childless, with two unsuccessful IUI attempts; not exactly where I expected, wanted or hoped to be - at any point in my life.
Yes, that's right, two unsuccessful attempts. As with Round 1, Round 2 did not take. Somehow, even before the dreaded "test" day, I knew I wasn't pregnant. Of course, there was a smidgen of hope, though 98% of me pretty much knew I wasn't pregnant. Not sure how I knew, I just did.
Maybe it was the absence of any "different" symptoms during my two week hiatus. Like the previous month, I felt crampy, bloated and my daily temperatures were frighteningly similar. Clearly, now I see they were all signs of PMS, not pregnancy. Never before in my life, have I been so in tune with my menstrual cycle.
Physical symptoms aside, instinctively, I knew only one pink line would appear on test day. When my instincts proved correct, I didn't hesitate this time to toss the pregnancy stick in the trash. No second try, no "do over," no need to reread the directions, no leaving it on the counter just a little longer (just in case that second line needed just a few more seconds to appear.) No, in my gut I knew.
And maybe that's why it didn't happen this time. Too many doubts. Too much negativity, perhaps. After all, I entered Round Two with a different attitude and different perspective than the bright, cheery person who underwent Round 1. This time around, I kept the whole procedure on the down-low, told only those who asked and held fewer expectations in regards to the outcome. My reasoning? Well, plainly, if I expect less, I won't be as disappointed when the outcome is not desirable. Crappy attitude, I know.
Oddly - and sadly - the philosophy somewhat worked. After tossing that test stick in the trash, I went about my morning just like any other. Fed and walked Spikey, got dressed and went to work. No texts to answer, no calls to avoid, no wiping tears from my eyes to see the road clearly. It wasn't possible for my emotions to come crashing down as they did the first time around...simply because I didn't allow myself to get close to that heightened state.
Where am I now? Stuck in a rut...still. I don't know how to feel. I don't want to be uber positive like I was in Round 1, and at the same time, I hate putting out negative energy into the world. I'm protecting myself from being hurt and disappointed again, and at the same time, I'm hindering my mental and spiritual beings by not staying true and having faith. I'm teetering at both ends of extreme emotions. Where is the balance? Where is the happy medium?
If the happy medium is out there, I haven't found it yet. Right now, I suppose I am a "sad" medium. I am sad, on this eve of my 35th birthday, though I still know that this is my true path. As clear as it was the day I realized this would be my journey, I know today, that despite all the pain and grief, I am on the right path.
The overwhelming sense of relief I felt the day I accepted my unorthodox decision, made the world around me so crystal clear. It was as if I had been born again and seeing everything for the first time. Cheesy, I know. Though really, I can't recall a moment in my life in which I had felt so positive that I was making the right decision. There wasn't a doubt in my mind...
...which honestly, makes me quite ashamed that I would now harbor any doubts throughout this pregnancy.
Wow. A break through. Have a found my happy medium after all?
The eve of my 35th birthday.
Single, childless, with two unsuccessful IUI attempts; not exactly where I expected, wanted or hoped to be - at any point in my life.
Yes, that's right, two unsuccessful attempts. As with Round 1, Round 2 did not take. Somehow, even before the dreaded "test" day, I knew I wasn't pregnant. Of course, there was a smidgen of hope, though 98% of me pretty much knew I wasn't pregnant. Not sure how I knew, I just did.
Maybe it was the absence of any "different" symptoms during my two week hiatus. Like the previous month, I felt crampy, bloated and my daily temperatures were frighteningly similar. Clearly, now I see they were all signs of PMS, not pregnancy. Never before in my life, have I been so in tune with my menstrual cycle.
Physical symptoms aside, instinctively, I knew only one pink line would appear on test day. When my instincts proved correct, I didn't hesitate this time to toss the pregnancy stick in the trash. No second try, no "do over," no need to reread the directions, no leaving it on the counter just a little longer (just in case that second line needed just a few more seconds to appear.) No, in my gut I knew.
And maybe that's why it didn't happen this time. Too many doubts. Too much negativity, perhaps. After all, I entered Round Two with a different attitude and different perspective than the bright, cheery person who underwent Round 1. This time around, I kept the whole procedure on the down-low, told only those who asked and held fewer expectations in regards to the outcome. My reasoning? Well, plainly, if I expect less, I won't be as disappointed when the outcome is not desirable. Crappy attitude, I know.
Oddly - and sadly - the philosophy somewhat worked. After tossing that test stick in the trash, I went about my morning just like any other. Fed and walked Spikey, got dressed and went to work. No texts to answer, no calls to avoid, no wiping tears from my eyes to see the road clearly. It wasn't possible for my emotions to come crashing down as they did the first time around...simply because I didn't allow myself to get close to that heightened state.
Where am I now? Stuck in a rut...still. I don't know how to feel. I don't want to be uber positive like I was in Round 1, and at the same time, I hate putting out negative energy into the world. I'm protecting myself from being hurt and disappointed again, and at the same time, I'm hindering my mental and spiritual beings by not staying true and having faith. I'm teetering at both ends of extreme emotions. Where is the balance? Where is the happy medium?
If the happy medium is out there, I haven't found it yet. Right now, I suppose I am a "sad" medium. I am sad, on this eve of my 35th birthday, though I still know that this is my true path. As clear as it was the day I realized this would be my journey, I know today, that despite all the pain and grief, I am on the right path.
The overwhelming sense of relief I felt the day I accepted my unorthodox decision, made the world around me so crystal clear. It was as if I had been born again and seeing everything for the first time. Cheesy, I know. Though really, I can't recall a moment in my life in which I had felt so positive that I was making the right decision. There wasn't a doubt in my mind...
...which honestly, makes me quite ashamed that I would now harbor any doubts throughout this pregnancy.
Wow. A break through. Have a found my happy medium after all?
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Take Two
It's been three weeks since the dreaded and disappointing pregnancy results. If the absence of a pink line wasn't enough, I got my period later the same day I took the pregnancy test. How's that for a double whammy?
The very next day, I found myself in the Kaiser pharmacy picking up another prescription of Clomid. Soon enough, on day three of my cycle, I started popping the hormones and preparing for round two. No time to wallow and cry over spilled milk. Just gotta roll with it!
Five days later, on my last day of Clomid, I flew to New York for a weekend and escaped the reality of the missing pink line. I strolled Central Park, gawking at the leaves turning color, sang along with the Jersey Boys, sailed up to the top of the Empire State Building and caught up with a good friend.
Once home, it was back to business - taking and recording my temperature before getting out of bed, and peeing on an ovulation test strip each morning. Like clockwork, I got the smiley face on day #16 of my cycle - the same day as last month. I set up an appointment with Kaiser for the next day and called PRS to let them know I'd be by to pick up my swimmers that afternoon.
Feeling as if I was acting in a scene from Groundhog Day, I returned to PRS once again, picked up my abnormally large box containing my swimmers, carried them through the busy lobby of 444 DeHaro and sat them securely in the back seat of my car. Only this time, I took the lil guys home with me for the night. Yes, that's right, they stayed the night with me in my apartment. And no, I didn't sleep with them, though I did have them pose for a few pictures:)
The next morning, I loaded the boys again into the back seat of the car. They cruised down the peninsula with me and waited patiently in the car as I carried on with a parent - teacher conference in my classroom and prepped my half-sub for the day. 8:30am, I hopped in the car and cruised further down south to Redwood City Kaiser.
After checking in, I sat in the waiting room enviously observing large pregnant women waddle in and out, as my swimmers were behind the scenes getting warmed up for their journey. This time a month ago, I was too busy giggling with Jules and answering eager texts to notice big bellies passing by.
My appointment was with another doctor, as my last doctor was not available all day. Whatever, didn't bother me much. I was pleasantly greeted by a gray haired, spectacle wearing grandfather-like gentleman who got started by announcing, "OK, I hope this is your lucky day! Time to make a baby!"
Like round one, the procedure took just minutes. Lay back on the table, feet in the stirrups, insert metal speculum, insert catheter, release swimmers, a bit of uncomfortable cramping (more than the first time), and finally close the legs and remain on the table for 15-20 minutes.
After dressing, loading the box and tank back into the car, I returned to school, relieved my sub and carried on with my day. Yup, just like that - as if I has just left for an hour for a routine check up. No one had a clue that I had really left campus to go get pregnant.
Other than my mother, and one friend who happened to call me as I was picking up my swimmers, I didn't tell anyone I was scheduled to get inseminated this time. The first time around, I was texting friends status updates from the moment I picked up the lil guys, to the moment they were being introduced into my body. Why the drastic change in publicity?
Um, not exactly sure, though doing it this way, this time around, felt right. Part of me just didn't want to hop on the roller coaster of emotions. I was so excitedly giddy, super positive and sailing on a high the first time around, that when I was faced with the results, I barreled down into the depths of negative thoughts, disappointment and depression.
I was angry and felt betrayed. Strong words, I know. Well, they were strong emotions. All the praying, offerings, meditating, preparation; not just by me, but also my friends gone to waste. How aggravating! Don't worry, I've cooled down. I don't really consider all the praying and preparation a waste - it's just at the time, I needed to point an angry finger at something. The something turned out to be Spirit.
I know that Creator will deliver this spirit baby when the time is right. I didn't get pregnant this time around for a reason. I know. I understand. The time was not right. OK, I get it. Though as much as I want to, I'm not sure I can maintain an extraordinary level of positivity each time I prepare and await fertilization. Sounds horrible, I know. Clearly, I'm still stuck in a rut.
What to do? Psych myself up, ooze positive vibes, think happy thoughts and set them out into the universe? Or, come down a level, (or several levels), get realistic, face the reality of the 5-20% success rate of IUI and spare myself the death drop of the roller coaster ride? Just as I'm not sure whether I can sustain high levels of positivity, I don't think I can wallow in the depths of disappointment either.
Find a balance I suppose. Balance. That's the answer to so many avenues in life, right? So where does that leave me? Think positively and practically. Know that this will happen - in time. And, know that along the way, I have lessons to learn.
Well, I'm in the midst of the waiting game. I still haven't told many people that I went in for round two, though I think word has spread, and if friends do know, they're not bringing it up. Perhaps less performance anxiety this time around will yield positive results and two pink lines!
The very next day, I found myself in the Kaiser pharmacy picking up another prescription of Clomid. Soon enough, on day three of my cycle, I started popping the hormones and preparing for round two. No time to wallow and cry over spilled milk. Just gotta roll with it!
Five days later, on my last day of Clomid, I flew to New York for a weekend and escaped the reality of the missing pink line. I strolled Central Park, gawking at the leaves turning color, sang along with the Jersey Boys, sailed up to the top of the Empire State Building and caught up with a good friend.
Once home, it was back to business - taking and recording my temperature before getting out of bed, and peeing on an ovulation test strip each morning. Like clockwork, I got the smiley face on day #16 of my cycle - the same day as last month. I set up an appointment with Kaiser for the next day and called PRS to let them know I'd be by to pick up my swimmers that afternoon.
Feeling as if I was acting in a scene from Groundhog Day, I returned to PRS once again, picked up my abnormally large box containing my swimmers, carried them through the busy lobby of 444 DeHaro and sat them securely in the back seat of my car. Only this time, I took the lil guys home with me for the night. Yes, that's right, they stayed the night with me in my apartment. And no, I didn't sleep with them, though I did have them pose for a few pictures:)
The next morning, I loaded the boys again into the back seat of the car. They cruised down the peninsula with me and waited patiently in the car as I carried on with a parent - teacher conference in my classroom and prepped my half-sub for the day. 8:30am, I hopped in the car and cruised further down south to Redwood City Kaiser.
After checking in, I sat in the waiting room enviously observing large pregnant women waddle in and out, as my swimmers were behind the scenes getting warmed up for their journey. This time a month ago, I was too busy giggling with Jules and answering eager texts to notice big bellies passing by.
My appointment was with another doctor, as my last doctor was not available all day. Whatever, didn't bother me much. I was pleasantly greeted by a gray haired, spectacle wearing grandfather-like gentleman who got started by announcing, "OK, I hope this is your lucky day! Time to make a baby!"
Like round one, the procedure took just minutes. Lay back on the table, feet in the stirrups, insert metal speculum, insert catheter, release swimmers, a bit of uncomfortable cramping (more than the first time), and finally close the legs and remain on the table for 15-20 minutes.
After dressing, loading the box and tank back into the car, I returned to school, relieved my sub and carried on with my day. Yup, just like that - as if I has just left for an hour for a routine check up. No one had a clue that I had really left campus to go get pregnant.
Other than my mother, and one friend who happened to call me as I was picking up my swimmers, I didn't tell anyone I was scheduled to get inseminated this time. The first time around, I was texting friends status updates from the moment I picked up the lil guys, to the moment they were being introduced into my body. Why the drastic change in publicity?
Um, not exactly sure, though doing it this way, this time around, felt right. Part of me just didn't want to hop on the roller coaster of emotions. I was so excitedly giddy, super positive and sailing on a high the first time around, that when I was faced with the results, I barreled down into the depths of negative thoughts, disappointment and depression.
I was angry and felt betrayed. Strong words, I know. Well, they were strong emotions. All the praying, offerings, meditating, preparation; not just by me, but also my friends gone to waste. How aggravating! Don't worry, I've cooled down. I don't really consider all the praying and preparation a waste - it's just at the time, I needed to point an angry finger at something. The something turned out to be Spirit.
I know that Creator will deliver this spirit baby when the time is right. I didn't get pregnant this time around for a reason. I know. I understand. The time was not right. OK, I get it. Though as much as I want to, I'm not sure I can maintain an extraordinary level of positivity each time I prepare and await fertilization. Sounds horrible, I know. Clearly, I'm still stuck in a rut.
What to do? Psych myself up, ooze positive vibes, think happy thoughts and set them out into the universe? Or, come down a level, (or several levels), get realistic, face the reality of the 5-20% success rate of IUI and spare myself the death drop of the roller coaster ride? Just as I'm not sure whether I can sustain high levels of positivity, I don't think I can wallow in the depths of disappointment either.
Find a balance I suppose. Balance. That's the answer to so many avenues in life, right? So where does that leave me? Think positively and practically. Know that this will happen - in time. And, know that along the way, I have lessons to learn.
Well, I'm in the midst of the waiting game. I still haven't told many people that I went in for round two, though I think word has spread, and if friends do know, they're not bringing it up. Perhaps less performance anxiety this time around will yield positive results and two pink lines!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Crampy with Clomid
November 10, 2010
Ugh, Clomid.
I'm in the midst of my second bout with the fertility drug, Clomid, prescribed to help kick start, energize and super size my eggs. I had debated whether I wanted to take the drugs the first time around. Did I want to try things naturally, take my chances and see what happens? Or, did I want to give my ovaries a boost, and help them usher a few healthy eggs out?
In the end, I decided to take the Clomid. Why not up my ante? As directed, I started popping the pills on the third day of my cycle. On this day, I happened to be staying a few nights in the Santa Cruz mountains with 120 5th graders, chaperoning Outdoor Ed. Night hikes, beach walks, songs by the campfire, learning the ins and outs of composting - good times.
After one dinner and a breakfast the following morning, I noticed a lot of discomfort in my belly. I'm crampy and gassy. Damn that cafeteria camp food! The discomfort continues throughout the night and into the next day. I distance myself from others, excuse myself to the bathroom as needed, and try to go easy on second helpings at the dinner table. On the bus ride home, I ride lurched over with my arm grasping my left side.
Two days and several home-made meals later, the gas and cramps have not ceased. A friend proposes that perhaps it's the meds. We take out the reading info that came with the pills from the pharmacist. Clearly stated, it reads: "Side effects: bloating, cramps, swelling and upset stomach"....Well, there you have it! Turned out it wasn't the camp food after all!
For the final few days on Clomid, I was more aware of what was going on in my insides. The pain on the left side of my body was merely my ovaries warming up and preparing a super egg! It felt as if my tubes were oh so slowly inching out an egg the size of a cantelope. I swore I could feel the boulder being pushed down, down, down...
Now, sitting in close quarters on a plane headed to NYC, I battle the gas, cramps and discomfort once again. Luckily I've only had to disturb the guy next to me once to use the lavatory and the cramps are not nearly as painful as they were the first time around. Phew! Just gotta hold out two more hours! Today is my final day on the medication (day #5), I should be able to enjoy New York this weekend gas and cramp free! Yay!
Ugh, Clomid.
I'm in the midst of my second bout with the fertility drug, Clomid, prescribed to help kick start, energize and super size my eggs. I had debated whether I wanted to take the drugs the first time around. Did I want to try things naturally, take my chances and see what happens? Or, did I want to give my ovaries a boost, and help them usher a few healthy eggs out?
In the end, I decided to take the Clomid. Why not up my ante? As directed, I started popping the pills on the third day of my cycle. On this day, I happened to be staying a few nights in the Santa Cruz mountains with 120 5th graders, chaperoning Outdoor Ed. Night hikes, beach walks, songs by the campfire, learning the ins and outs of composting - good times.
After one dinner and a breakfast the following morning, I noticed a lot of discomfort in my belly. I'm crampy and gassy. Damn that cafeteria camp food! The discomfort continues throughout the night and into the next day. I distance myself from others, excuse myself to the bathroom as needed, and try to go easy on second helpings at the dinner table. On the bus ride home, I ride lurched over with my arm grasping my left side.
Two days and several home-made meals later, the gas and cramps have not ceased. A friend proposes that perhaps it's the meds. We take out the reading info that came with the pills from the pharmacist. Clearly stated, it reads: "Side effects: bloating, cramps, swelling and upset stomach"....Well, there you have it! Turned out it wasn't the camp food after all!
For the final few days on Clomid, I was more aware of what was going on in my insides. The pain on the left side of my body was merely my ovaries warming up and preparing a super egg! It felt as if my tubes were oh so slowly inching out an egg the size of a cantelope. I swore I could feel the boulder being pushed down, down, down...
Now, sitting in close quarters on a plane headed to NYC, I battle the gas, cramps and discomfort once again. Luckily I've only had to disturb the guy next to me once to use the lavatory and the cramps are not nearly as painful as they were the first time around. Phew! Just gotta hold out two more hours! Today is my final day on the medication (day #5), I should be able to enjoy New York this weekend gas and cramp free! Yay!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Time for Take Two
Well, I'm slowly creeping out of hiding since Wednesday's disappointing results. Yes, that's right, no baby. I woke Wednesday morning restless with anticipation. I had had odd dreams involving flying creepy crawlers and hadn't had the best night's sleep. Nevertheless, I rolled over, pounded the blaring alarm clock, and reached for the thermometer. 98.0, still in the higher range - a good sign.
I hustled out of bed, bypassed the bathroom and went straight for my altar. I lit a few candles, had a moment of prayer - a prayer for hope, patience and understanding should the results not be in my favor. On to the bathroom...
I wrestled open the foil wrapper of one of the pregnancy tests thoughtfully given to me wrapped in pretty paper with a big white bow, a few nights ago by one of my bestest friends. Took a seat on the toilet, counted to three as the pee ran over and down the test strip, and placed it on the sink counter top to wait for the results.
I went about my morning for the next three minutes...made my bed and fed Spikey, all the while, my hands trembling. With a sense of trepidation, I slowly made my way back to the bathroom. I could hardly take the final steps into the bathroom, nervous with anticipation, fear and excitement. The mixture of emotions were surreal.
Before making it all the way to the sink counter top, I spied from above, the dreaded single pink line. My heart dropped. Without thinking, I grabbed for the instructions resting by the box. 5 seconds! Oh gosh, I peed for only three! Wait, can two seconds really make a difference? Doubt it...but, hey, why not?
Repeat. Do over. In the back of my mind I knew it was a long shot. But hey, I had another box of pregnancy tests under the sink. Yay, maybe it was a good idea to try another brand! Three minutes later, the results were confirmed - no baby. I was devastated. With a loud "clang" I threw the two tests into my stainless steel wastebasket. On with my morning...
Then came the first text....and then for the next hour, more. My sistrens sending their love, thoughts and prayers. As much as I appreciated their sentiments, I wanted it all to stop. Every time I read their texts, my eyes welled up. I couldn't respond to them. It was almost as if by tapping the letters and sending the words made it all too real and vivid. I hadn't accepted it yet...I hadn't dealt with it yet...I just couldn't respond...I needed time.
I hurriedly got dressed, packed my lunch and hopped into the car. I just wanted to get to work. Work, my haven. Once there, I knew I could escape the reality of it all. I would easily get engrossed in the day, tend to my kids and duties and forget about the single pink lines.
When I didn't respond to the texts, the calls came in. I considered turning off my phone...each sound of the text alert or the phone ringing triggered the tears. At the same time, I needed to know that my sistrens were thinking of me and I was in their prayers. Soon enough, I made it to work. Turned the phone off, tossed it in my purse and shoved it in my desk drawer. Relief. The only bell I wanted to hear now was the school bell starting the day.
At the end of the day, more texts and messages awaited my reply. Again the tears. Ugh. I went straight home. I showered, washed the day off and had a glass of wine. Might as well, I had avoided alcohol for the last two weeks - I deserved it! I curled up under a blanket on the couch, caught up on past Oprahs and CSI's, all the while avoiding the calls, texts, messages, emails, and Facebook alerts.
For the most part, this continued for the next few days. Like Pavlov's dog, I was triggered every time I heard my phone, listened to messages or read the texts. I felt horrible not responding. I just couldn't bring myself to talk about it. It was easier to go into hiding, avoid reality and prepare myself for round two.
After spending much time alone, getting lots of rest and treating myself to a massage, mani and pedi, I am slowly coming out of hiding. I admit, I still haven't had the ugly cry yet and I know it's inevitable. I'm just tormented by having to deal with the emotions and at the same time, staying positive and focused to prepare myself for this month's insemination. So, I guess I'm at a cross between a cry and a cheer...
To all those who prayed for me, sent their love, tried to contact me, my apologies. I love and appreciate you all.
I hustled out of bed, bypassed the bathroom and went straight for my altar. I lit a few candles, had a moment of prayer - a prayer for hope, patience and understanding should the results not be in my favor. On to the bathroom...
I wrestled open the foil wrapper of one of the pregnancy tests thoughtfully given to me wrapped in pretty paper with a big white bow, a few nights ago by one of my bestest friends. Took a seat on the toilet, counted to three as the pee ran over and down the test strip, and placed it on the sink counter top to wait for the results.
I went about my morning for the next three minutes...made my bed and fed Spikey, all the while, my hands trembling. With a sense of trepidation, I slowly made my way back to the bathroom. I could hardly take the final steps into the bathroom, nervous with anticipation, fear and excitement. The mixture of emotions were surreal.
Before making it all the way to the sink counter top, I spied from above, the dreaded single pink line. My heart dropped. Without thinking, I grabbed for the instructions resting by the box. 5 seconds! Oh gosh, I peed for only three! Wait, can two seconds really make a difference? Doubt it...but, hey, why not?
Repeat. Do over. In the back of my mind I knew it was a long shot. But hey, I had another box of pregnancy tests under the sink. Yay, maybe it was a good idea to try another brand! Three minutes later, the results were confirmed - no baby. I was devastated. With a loud "clang" I threw the two tests into my stainless steel wastebasket. On with my morning...
Then came the first text....and then for the next hour, more. My sistrens sending their love, thoughts and prayers. As much as I appreciated their sentiments, I wanted it all to stop. Every time I read their texts, my eyes welled up. I couldn't respond to them. It was almost as if by tapping the letters and sending the words made it all too real and vivid. I hadn't accepted it yet...I hadn't dealt with it yet...I just couldn't respond...I needed time.
I hurriedly got dressed, packed my lunch and hopped into the car. I just wanted to get to work. Work, my haven. Once there, I knew I could escape the reality of it all. I would easily get engrossed in the day, tend to my kids and duties and forget about the single pink lines.
When I didn't respond to the texts, the calls came in. I considered turning off my phone...each sound of the text alert or the phone ringing triggered the tears. At the same time, I needed to know that my sistrens were thinking of me and I was in their prayers. Soon enough, I made it to work. Turned the phone off, tossed it in my purse and shoved it in my desk drawer. Relief. The only bell I wanted to hear now was the school bell starting the day.
At the end of the day, more texts and messages awaited my reply. Again the tears. Ugh. I went straight home. I showered, washed the day off and had a glass of wine. Might as well, I had avoided alcohol for the last two weeks - I deserved it! I curled up under a blanket on the couch, caught up on past Oprahs and CSI's, all the while avoiding the calls, texts, messages, emails, and Facebook alerts.
For the most part, this continued for the next few days. Like Pavlov's dog, I was triggered every time I heard my phone, listened to messages or read the texts. I felt horrible not responding. I just couldn't bring myself to talk about it. It was easier to go into hiding, avoid reality and prepare myself for round two.
After spending much time alone, getting lots of rest and treating myself to a massage, mani and pedi, I am slowly coming out of hiding. I admit, I still haven't had the ugly cry yet and I know it's inevitable. I'm just tormented by having to deal with the emotions and at the same time, staying positive and focused to prepare myself for this month's insemination. So, I guess I'm at a cross between a cry and a cheer...
To all those who prayed for me, sent their love, tried to contact me, my apologies. I love and appreciate you all.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Books, Banks & Baby sites
Oh, the research!
My couch, netbook, Google and Amazon.com became my new best friends. Not having a clue where to begin, I typed "artificial insemination" into the Google search field. After bypassing "how to" articles and unsightly images of cow inseminations, I was faced with a slew of unfamiliar acronyms: IUI, ICI, IVF...the list goes on.
It didn't take me long to learn that the term "artificial" is quite archaic in the insemination community. The word "donor" is preferred, as "artificial" insinuates that there is something not real about babies born from donor sperm. I get it and I totally agree. DI, it is.
Overwhelmed by the wealth of information on the world wide web and getting totally confused by the lingo, I soon longed for a book that would break it all down for me, and explain the process plain and simple. Maybe someone had the sense to publish a "Donor Insemination for Dummies" out there?
The thought gave me an idea. I searched Amazon.com for books related to DI. I found a few good ones and ordered them just in time for summer vacation - I had my reading list for the summer all lined up!
I ordered and later read:
1.
Single Mothers by Choice: A Guidebook for Single Women Who Are Considering or Have Chosen Motherhood by, Jane Mattes
In my opinion, this is the absolute necessary guidebook for women who are choosing this path. It covers a wealth of information, offers terrific resources and also covers adoption.
1. http://www.choosingsinglemotherhood.com/
2. http://www.donorsiblingregistry.com/
3. http://www.singlemothersbychoice.com/
As I waited for my books to arrive, I continued my research on-line. I discovered that the procedure I needed was "IUI," or intrauterine insemination. A procedure in which "washed" sperm, or sperm that has been separated from the semen and other chemicals that may impair fertilization, is injected directly into the uterus via a syringe and flexible catheter - the ole "turkey baster" method.
With that in mind - next stop - sperm banks! Earlier in the year, my gynecologist had sent me home with a list of sperm banks recommended by Kaiser. She personally suggested one in Berkley, The Sperm Bank of California: http://www.thespermbankofca.org/, which is notably the first and only non-profit sperm bank in the United States.
Though a good number of their clients are gay, TSBC, also caters to heterosexual couples and single women like me. I was impressed by their mission statement and philosophy. Furthermore, I was surprised to discover that the bank posted their donor log on-line!
I of course checked it out! It was fun to peruse the donor's profiles, read their physical descriptions and paint a picture in my head. Though I was disappointed to find that the majority of the men were Caucasian (I wanted someone of mixed race like me), I was impressed that this bank had a policy that limited each donor's pregnancies to 10. In other words, after 10 pregnancies were reported, the donor's sperm would no longer be available. I liked that, as I had read that some banks do not have a limit, therefore a donor could potentially have hundreds of children around the world!
I also learned while surfing this site, that I had a choice between "yes" donors or "WTBK" donors. These donors are "Willing to Be Known" and have signed contracts agreeing to allow children born with their sperm to contact them at age 18, should they wish, opposed to anonymous donors, who's identities will always be kept private. I liked the thought of my child having the opportunity to meet their biological father and want my child to have the choice to do so, should he choose to.
Because I'm all about knowing my options, I decided to check out a few more sperm banks on-line. The only other one that I considered was the Califonia Cryobank, http://www.cryobank.com/, which has several locations throughout California, though none in San Francisco. Initially, I was turned off by this website. There were flashy pop-ups advertising "The Donor of the Month," notices reading "Donor #12345 is now available - again!" and offers promising a free vial of sperm when three were purchased. Sales pitches, flashy pictures and catchy fonts, so very commercialized - yuck! So far away from the fuzzy- warm pledge of the Berkley bank.
Despite all its sales gimmicks, I decided to check out their donor log. Whoa! It didn't take me long to figure out that I would not be able to scroll down and check out each profile, like I did at the first bank. No, this bank had thousands of donors - this required a "profile search."
Very much like on-line dating, you plug in your desired physical features and personality traits and it spits out hundreds of matches. To narrow your search, you can select race, religious preferences, educational achievements, blood type, anonymous vs known identities among several other traits. By selecting from drop down boxes in several of these categories, I was able to narrow my search down to 30ish.
To help me narrow my choices down even more, I had my sistrens come over with their laptops one Friday evening. I presented my clipboard of "requirements" and they set out searching both the Berkeley bank and Cryobank for donors meeting my desired traits. After a hilarious evening of "oohing" and "aaahing" not only had several of the girls also discovered their dream men, but they had helped me to narrow my choices to three at each bank! Oddly, or maybe not, they had chosen men that I had previously had my eye on! My sistrens know me so well!
In the end, it turned out that I didn't chose any of the donors we all worked so hard to find. In addition, I didn't go with either of the above banks! More on that next time!
A check in...
It's been 11 days since the insemination. Strangely, the wait hasn't been as torturous as I had expected it to be. Don't get me wrong, I do feel impatient and eager to know if one of the swimmers successfully penetrated the walls of one of my eggs. I've lived the last 11 days assuming that I am pregnant. I gave up my favorite unpasteurized cheese, brie, steered clear of sushi, broke my morning one cup of coffee pattern (ok, I cheated on two days), and steered clear of any second hand smoke.
The first 3-4 days following the insemination, I felt crampy, bloated and super gassy. Then, by the time the weekend rolled around, I was feeling, well...regular. No signs. I much preferred the cramps and gas...at the very least, they made it feel like something was going on down there!
Still, today, 11 days later, I feel normal. Boo. I find myself hoping to wake up with the urge to throw up or craving pickles with ice cream! Haha!
I've even visited several sites boasting early symptoms of pregnancy, hoping to find something...anything to suggest I'm PG. Excitedly, I recognized and identified several that had occurred in the days since the insemination. The problem is however, that several of the suggested symptoms (gas, bloating, cramps, headaches and fatigue) could be due to PMS. Worst of all, now that I know the symptoms, any sign or incling my body gives me to suggest I'm pregnant, I start to over analyze whether it's truly a symptom. Ugh!
For example, the other day, I noticed a bit of blood when I spit after brushing my teeth - that made me think of the woman who said her gums bled when she was pregnant. Or when I accidentally brush my breasts against something, my nipples are sensitive and hurt a bit - another pregnancy symptom. Am I pregnant or just cold? I went to bed early a couple of nights last week - pregnant? Or just a tiring work week? And of course there's the eating. Well, I always eat a lot - so that's no help!
I guess, all there is to do is wait out the last three days. I'll take the pregnancy test Wednesday morning. Pray and think of me when you wake this Wednesday!!!
Oh, and finally, don't be afraid to ask me how I'm feeling. After several silent days of wondering whether people remembered that I had been inseminated, I found out from someone that she didn't want to ask me how I was doing because she thought I was already tortured enough by the wait and didn't want to bring it up for fear of arousing the anxiety. No, that's not the case at all! I would love for you to inquire - tells me that you're thinking of me and what's on my mind is on yours too! Shows you care! So ask away!
My couch, netbook, Google and Amazon.com became my new best friends. Not having a clue where to begin, I typed "artificial insemination" into the Google search field. After bypassing "how to" articles and unsightly images of cow inseminations, I was faced with a slew of unfamiliar acronyms: IUI, ICI, IVF...the list goes on.
It didn't take me long to learn that the term "artificial" is quite archaic in the insemination community. The word "donor" is preferred, as "artificial" insinuates that there is something not real about babies born from donor sperm. I get it and I totally agree. DI, it is.
Overwhelmed by the wealth of information on the world wide web and getting totally confused by the lingo, I soon longed for a book that would break it all down for me, and explain the process plain and simple. Maybe someone had the sense to publish a "Donor Insemination for Dummies" out there?
The thought gave me an idea. I searched Amazon.com for books related to DI. I found a few good ones and ordered them just in time for summer vacation - I had my reading list for the summer all lined up!
I ordered and later read:
1.
Single Mothers by Choice: A Guidebook for Single Women Who Are Considering or Have Chosen Motherhood by, Jane MattesIn my opinion, this is the absolute necessary guidebook for women who are choosing this path. It covers a wealth of information, offers terrific resources and also covers adoption.
2. 
Choosing You: Deciding to Have a Baby on My Own by, Alexandra Soiseth
Choosing You: Deciding to Have a Baby on My Own by, Alexandra Soiseth3. 
Knock Yourself Up: No Man? No Problem: A Tell-All Guide to Becoming a Single Mom by, Louise Sloan
In addition, I also found very useful websites, with loads of information: Knock Yourself Up: No Man? No Problem: A Tell-All Guide to Becoming a Single Mom by, Louise Sloan 4. 
Sperm Donor = Dad: A Single Woman's Story of Creating a Family With an Unknown Donor by, Cheryl Shuler
Sperm Donor = Dad: A Single Woman's Story of Creating a Family With an Unknown Donor by, Cheryl Shuler1. http://www.choosingsinglemotherhood.com/
2. http://www.donorsiblingregistry.com/
3. http://www.singlemothersbychoice.com/
As I waited for my books to arrive, I continued my research on-line. I discovered that the procedure I needed was "IUI," or intrauterine insemination. A procedure in which "washed" sperm, or sperm that has been separated from the semen and other chemicals that may impair fertilization, is injected directly into the uterus via a syringe and flexible catheter - the ole "turkey baster" method.
With that in mind - next stop - sperm banks! Earlier in the year, my gynecologist had sent me home with a list of sperm banks recommended by Kaiser. She personally suggested one in Berkley, The Sperm Bank of California: http://www.thespermbankofca.org/, which is notably the first and only non-profit sperm bank in the United States.
Though a good number of their clients are gay, TSBC, also caters to heterosexual couples and single women like me. I was impressed by their mission statement and philosophy. Furthermore, I was surprised to discover that the bank posted their donor log on-line!
I of course checked it out! It was fun to peruse the donor's profiles, read their physical descriptions and paint a picture in my head. Though I was disappointed to find that the majority of the men were Caucasian (I wanted someone of mixed race like me), I was impressed that this bank had a policy that limited each donor's pregnancies to 10. In other words, after 10 pregnancies were reported, the donor's sperm would no longer be available. I liked that, as I had read that some banks do not have a limit, therefore a donor could potentially have hundreds of children around the world!
I also learned while surfing this site, that I had a choice between "yes" donors or "WTBK" donors. These donors are "Willing to Be Known" and have signed contracts agreeing to allow children born with their sperm to contact them at age 18, should they wish, opposed to anonymous donors, who's identities will always be kept private. I liked the thought of my child having the opportunity to meet their biological father and want my child to have the choice to do so, should he choose to.
Because I'm all about knowing my options, I decided to check out a few more sperm banks on-line. The only other one that I considered was the Califonia Cryobank, http://www.cryobank.com/, which has several locations throughout California, though none in San Francisco. Initially, I was turned off by this website. There were flashy pop-ups advertising "The Donor of the Month," notices reading "Donor #12345 is now available - again!" and offers promising a free vial of sperm when three were purchased. Sales pitches, flashy pictures and catchy fonts, so very commercialized - yuck! So far away from the fuzzy- warm pledge of the Berkley bank.
Despite all its sales gimmicks, I decided to check out their donor log. Whoa! It didn't take me long to figure out that I would not be able to scroll down and check out each profile, like I did at the first bank. No, this bank had thousands of donors - this required a "profile search."
Very much like on-line dating, you plug in your desired physical features and personality traits and it spits out hundreds of matches. To narrow your search, you can select race, religious preferences, educational achievements, blood type, anonymous vs known identities among several other traits. By selecting from drop down boxes in several of these categories, I was able to narrow my search down to 30ish.
To help me narrow my choices down even more, I had my sistrens come over with their laptops one Friday evening. I presented my clipboard of "requirements" and they set out searching both the Berkeley bank and Cryobank for donors meeting my desired traits. After a hilarious evening of "oohing" and "aaahing" not only had several of the girls also discovered their dream men, but they had helped me to narrow my choices to three at each bank! Oddly, or maybe not, they had chosen men that I had previously had my eye on! My sistrens know me so well!
In the end, it turned out that I didn't chose any of the donors we all worked so hard to find. In addition, I didn't go with either of the above banks! More on that next time!
A check in...
It's been 11 days since the insemination. Strangely, the wait hasn't been as torturous as I had expected it to be. Don't get me wrong, I do feel impatient and eager to know if one of the swimmers successfully penetrated the walls of one of my eggs. I've lived the last 11 days assuming that I am pregnant. I gave up my favorite unpasteurized cheese, brie, steered clear of sushi, broke my morning one cup of coffee pattern (ok, I cheated on two days), and steered clear of any second hand smoke.
The first 3-4 days following the insemination, I felt crampy, bloated and super gassy. Then, by the time the weekend rolled around, I was feeling, well...regular. No signs. I much preferred the cramps and gas...at the very least, they made it feel like something was going on down there!
Still, today, 11 days later, I feel normal. Boo. I find myself hoping to wake up with the urge to throw up or craving pickles with ice cream! Haha!
I've even visited several sites boasting early symptoms of pregnancy, hoping to find something...anything to suggest I'm PG. Excitedly, I recognized and identified several that had occurred in the days since the insemination. The problem is however, that several of the suggested symptoms (gas, bloating, cramps, headaches and fatigue) could be due to PMS. Worst of all, now that I know the symptoms, any sign or incling my body gives me to suggest I'm pregnant, I start to over analyze whether it's truly a symptom. Ugh!
For example, the other day, I noticed a bit of blood when I spit after brushing my teeth - that made me think of the woman who said her gums bled when she was pregnant. Or when I accidentally brush my breasts against something, my nipples are sensitive and hurt a bit - another pregnancy symptom. Am I pregnant or just cold? I went to bed early a couple of nights last week - pregnant? Or just a tiring work week? And of course there's the eating. Well, I always eat a lot - so that's no help!
I guess, all there is to do is wait out the last three days. I'll take the pregnancy test Wednesday morning. Pray and think of me when you wake this Wednesday!!!
Oh, and finally, don't be afraid to ask me how I'm feeling. After several silent days of wondering whether people remembered that I had been inseminated, I found out from someone that she didn't want to ask me how I was doing because she thought I was already tortured enough by the wait and didn't want to bring it up for fear of arousing the anxiety. No, that's not the case at all! I would love for you to inquire - tells me that you're thinking of me and what's on my mind is on yours too! Shows you care! So ask away!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Choosing Plan C
Plan C did not come about easily. I didn't wake up one morning and say to myself, "I think I'd like to have a baby using artificial insemination!" No, it took time, thought and therapy.
By the time 2009 rolled around, I had earned my masters and administrative degree, gone on several solo treks across southeast Asia, and had been working on fixing my head and ridding myself of my negative patterns. I did this work with my beautiful sistrens, whom I have to thank, along with our incredible teacher, Mama Rosa, for guiding and helping me to make my decision.
Our group, Sistren Love, a spiritual women's support group started in 2007, around the time I was in crisis and coping with my break-up, among other "stuff." I worked on getting over my attachment to comfort and taking more risks in my life. Doing the "work" is why I was able to move out, get my own place, and travel the world.
The work also taught me to love myself, and not wait for anyone to love me. I had spent too much time seeking love from others and not tapping into the wealth of love I had within. For the first time in years I was single, not jumping in and out of relationships and enjoying my time with friends and most of all me.
Things were good in my life. I loved my job, had an amazing group of supportive and loving friends and family; I was healthy and happy. What else could I ask for? Well, actually, the one thing I've always longed for - a baby.
I was tormented. What to do? I wasn't in a serious relationship. I was 33. By the time I met someone, dated, fell in love, and married, I could be close to 40 before having my first child. Yikes!
In the beginning, I didn't do much, except get down when I thought about how much I wanted a baby and how far I was from motherhood. One weekend, at a gathering in Clear Lake with my sistrens, I was asked what stopped me from having a baby and fulfilling my most passionate desire. My answer: "Uh, duh, a partner and marriage, of course."
Oh really? Was the comeback. You need to have a partner and you must be married to have a child? Clearly, that is no so, though I was stuck in the "Cap & Pat" ways of life. I was letting society convince me that I had to first meet the guy, then fall in love, get married and only then could I have a baby. The "traditional" way, so to speak.
I was enlightened, inspired and a seed had been planted. I spent time getting used to the idea of having a baby on my own. I also spent much time mourning the loss of the idea that I was going to fall blissfully in love, and share this dream with a partner. I boo-hooed, let go, and moved on...
The wheels were put in motion in 2010. I visited my gynecologist for advice on how to get off the Pill, which had been a convenient friend for 15 years. Cold turkey was her suggestion. Wrong. Fail. Poor advice. For the next three months I was a wreck. I was on an emotional roller coaster, my hormones were all out of whack and I entered into weeks of depression in which I cried uncontrollably for no reason and withdrew from the outside world, all while having one of the most challenging and difficult schools years - ever.
My gynecologist had inquired as to why I was getting off the Pill. I told her I was planning to get pregnant. Because she had already asked me that list of terribly personal, sexual questions at the beginning of our meeting, she knew that I did not have a partner. She asked how I planned to get pregnant, and I told her the truth. I wasn't sure.
She was nice enough to rattle off a few options:
1. Casual sex (ie: meet and go home with someone from a bar)
2. Sex with a male friend or acquaintance that is aware of my intentions, or
3. Donor insemination.
Option #1, though possibly the easiest, cheapest and the one with the least attachment issues, was tempting. At the same time however, the health risks, level of immorality and not to mention, simply not my style, omitted this alternative as an option.
Option #2 was just too weird. I have a few close, male friends, but not ones that I'd want to raise a child with or felt comfortable asking. And in the end, I wanted this baby to be mine, free of any risk of legal custody battles or damaging a friendship.
Option #3 Donor insemination. I admit, it made me shudder at first. It was far too clinical - unnatural. Besides, wasn't that only for lesbian couples, infertile couples or spinsters? Oh wait, years ago, and in some countries still today, I qualify for the third group (hehe).
After listening to the pros and cons however, by the time I left, it was a definite possibility. Insemination ensured that the baby would be mine; no nasty custody battles. I would be able to pick my "dream" man, free of any health problems, and practice super safe sex!
It was time to do some research!
By the time 2009 rolled around, I had earned my masters and administrative degree, gone on several solo treks across southeast Asia, and had been working on fixing my head and ridding myself of my negative patterns. I did this work with my beautiful sistrens, whom I have to thank, along with our incredible teacher, Mama Rosa, for guiding and helping me to make my decision.
Our group, Sistren Love, a spiritual women's support group started in 2007, around the time I was in crisis and coping with my break-up, among other "stuff." I worked on getting over my attachment to comfort and taking more risks in my life. Doing the "work" is why I was able to move out, get my own place, and travel the world.
The work also taught me to love myself, and not wait for anyone to love me. I had spent too much time seeking love from others and not tapping into the wealth of love I had within. For the first time in years I was single, not jumping in and out of relationships and enjoying my time with friends and most of all me.
Things were good in my life. I loved my job, had an amazing group of supportive and loving friends and family; I was healthy and happy. What else could I ask for? Well, actually, the one thing I've always longed for - a baby.
I was tormented. What to do? I wasn't in a serious relationship. I was 33. By the time I met someone, dated, fell in love, and married, I could be close to 40 before having my first child. Yikes!
In the beginning, I didn't do much, except get down when I thought about how much I wanted a baby and how far I was from motherhood. One weekend, at a gathering in Clear Lake with my sistrens, I was asked what stopped me from having a baby and fulfilling my most passionate desire. My answer: "Uh, duh, a partner and marriage, of course."
Oh really? Was the comeback. You need to have a partner and you must be married to have a child? Clearly, that is no so, though I was stuck in the "Cap & Pat" ways of life. I was letting society convince me that I had to first meet the guy, then fall in love, get married and only then could I have a baby. The "traditional" way, so to speak.
I was enlightened, inspired and a seed had been planted. I spent time getting used to the idea of having a baby on my own. I also spent much time mourning the loss of the idea that I was going to fall blissfully in love, and share this dream with a partner. I boo-hooed, let go, and moved on...
The wheels were put in motion in 2010. I visited my gynecologist for advice on how to get off the Pill, which had been a convenient friend for 15 years. Cold turkey was her suggestion. Wrong. Fail. Poor advice. For the next three months I was a wreck. I was on an emotional roller coaster, my hormones were all out of whack and I entered into weeks of depression in which I cried uncontrollably for no reason and withdrew from the outside world, all while having one of the most challenging and difficult schools years - ever.
My gynecologist had inquired as to why I was getting off the Pill. I told her I was planning to get pregnant. Because she had already asked me that list of terribly personal, sexual questions at the beginning of our meeting, she knew that I did not have a partner. She asked how I planned to get pregnant, and I told her the truth. I wasn't sure.
She was nice enough to rattle off a few options:
1. Casual sex (ie: meet and go home with someone from a bar)
2. Sex with a male friend or acquaintance that is aware of my intentions, or
3. Donor insemination.
Option #1, though possibly the easiest, cheapest and the one with the least attachment issues, was tempting. At the same time however, the health risks, level of immorality and not to mention, simply not my style, omitted this alternative as an option.
Option #2 was just too weird. I have a few close, male friends, but not ones that I'd want to raise a child with or felt comfortable asking. And in the end, I wanted this baby to be mine, free of any risk of legal custody battles or damaging a friendship.
Option #3 Donor insemination. I admit, it made me shudder at first. It was far too clinical - unnatural. Besides, wasn't that only for lesbian couples, infertile couples or spinsters? Oh wait, years ago, and in some countries still today, I qualify for the third group (hehe).
After listening to the pros and cons however, by the time I left, it was a definite possibility. Insemination ensured that the baby would be mine; no nasty custody battles. I would be able to pick my "dream" man, free of any health problems, and practice super safe sex!
It was time to do some research!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
And so it is.
I used the on-line subfinder last night to report my absence at school today. I selected "ill" from the drop down box of reasons, as "insemination" wasn't an option.
After sleeping in for a bit this morning, I went to the bathroom to perform my daily potty dance routine, whilst ripping the foil wrapper off my pee stick with my teeth. After making my bed, I checked the icon on the display and had an instant mini panic attack when I noticed the empty circle. What, no smiley face!? Have I missed my golden window of opportunity??? Oh no!
Helpless until 9am when both the sperm bank and Kaiser opened, I walked Spikey, lit a few candles and reached out to my on-line support group of gals traveling similar journeys. Soon after reading the reassuring words of one of my girls, I heard from the nurse at the sperm bank and one at Kaiser as well. All said that the smiley is an indicator of ovulation that will occur over the next 24-36 hours and it was normal that the surge of hormones last only one day; ovulation however, follows the surge. Phew! I was cutting it close, and I still had some time!
I made my way over to DeHaro Street to pick up my swimmers from Pacific Reproductive Services. While in the waiting room, I pulled the black binder with my donor's profile off the shelf. I glanced again at his handwriting and flipped through the pages protected in clear cover sheets. Yup, this is the guy. More on him later...
A few moments later, a large Black woman walks into the waiting room with a huge cardboard box. She calls my name, flashes me an envelope with the #6310 and asks me if this is the correct donor. I confirm and she releases the box to me. Very undercover-like, haha. Fortunately the box is discreetly labeled "Fragile" and "This way Up" rather than reading "Fragile: Live Sperm." Haha
I walk out of the PRS office with my box that stands nearly 2ft tall and into a communal lobby of several businesses in the bbuilding. I wonder if they've seen this before and have figured out that woman exiting a clinic with the word "Reproductive" labeled on their window, carrying boxes the height of toddlers, are exporting frozen vials of sperm. Hmm, maybe, maybe not. Whatever.
I carry the box out to the street and scoff at the smokers taking a break (who knows, maybe second hand smoke could waft over to me, enter the cardboard box through the cut out handles, and seep into the sealed cryo-tank...it could happen). I quickly make my way to my car, being sure to hold the box upright as directed. I feel as if I'm holding a one year old with a poopy diaper - trying to not tip or press it against my body.
Once at my car, I open the back seat door and prop the box on to the bench seat. Hmm, should I put the seat belt on? No, how about the floor of the car? The front seat? The front seat floor? I try all possibilities, looking for one that will keep the box steady and undisturbed. I settle on positioning the box on the backseat floor, wedged between the passenger seat and back seat for protection. I go as far as to place my free hand on the box as I drive away and head up and over the steep inclines of the Protrero hills.
We're off! The lil guys and I stop in SSF to pick up Nips, who has kindly offered to escort me to Kaiser. We giggle with excitement on the way down and take pictures with the box in the Kaiser parking lot. As we carry the box, each of us on one side, a chivalrous man asks us if we need helping carrying the box. "NO!" we shout a little too abruptly. Sir, you have no idea how important and expensive the matter in this box is!
After checking in, a nurse comes out and whisks my boys into the back to warm them up. They need to thaw for approximately a half hour. Nips and I chat while I answer dozens of texts from friends more nervous than me. Finally, 2pm! I get called into the examination room. Nips and I carry the box, which has now been returned to us (minus one vial), into the exam room. I'm told to undress from the waist down and the doctor will be in soon.
A few moments later, Dr. Samuel Yu enters smiling like the face on my digital ovulation tester. He looks just as excited as Jules and me! He answers a few of our questions, shows us the syringe of sperm attached to an extra long catheter, and soon disappears between my legs. He explains step by step what he is doing and pops back up in under three minutes! Done!
If I didn't have one of my best friends in the room with me and a cryotank of sperm and dry ice, I would equate the procedure to that of a routine pap smear. It lasted about as long, required the same cold, metal prongs, and even felt similar - that icky swab, pinch, cramp-like feeling.
After the procedure, I laid on the exam table, legs propped up and even posed for a few (G rated) photos. We gave the guys about a 10 minute head start before I stood up, and gave them an uphill battle. Standing in the elevator down to the parking lot, I notice my legs are crossed at the ankles - I'm nervous I'm gonna loose a few swimmers! I even go as far as to not pee for a few hours - gosh could you imagine the millions I could loose? Hehe
On the drive home, I'm awe struck. I could be pregnant! Wow! Crazy! There are no words! Nips and I laugh even more. She's convinced she'll be baby's favorite Aunty since she was there for the conception and held my hand through it all. I drop her off and take the remaining swimmers back to the bank. Hopefully I won't be back for them...unless baby needs a sibling...
After sleeping in for a bit this morning, I went to the bathroom to perform my daily potty dance routine, whilst ripping the foil wrapper off my pee stick with my teeth. After making my bed, I checked the icon on the display and had an instant mini panic attack when I noticed the empty circle. What, no smiley face!? Have I missed my golden window of opportunity??? Oh no!
Helpless until 9am when both the sperm bank and Kaiser opened, I walked Spikey, lit a few candles and reached out to my on-line support group of gals traveling similar journeys. Soon after reading the reassuring words of one of my girls, I heard from the nurse at the sperm bank and one at Kaiser as well. All said that the smiley is an indicator of ovulation that will occur over the next 24-36 hours and it was normal that the surge of hormones last only one day; ovulation however, follows the surge. Phew! I was cutting it close, and I still had some time!
I made my way over to DeHaro Street to pick up my swimmers from Pacific Reproductive Services. While in the waiting room, I pulled the black binder with my donor's profile off the shelf. I glanced again at his handwriting and flipped through the pages protected in clear cover sheets. Yup, this is the guy. More on him later...
A few moments later, a large Black woman walks into the waiting room with a huge cardboard box. She calls my name, flashes me an envelope with the #6310 and asks me if this is the correct donor. I confirm and she releases the box to me. Very undercover-like, haha. Fortunately the box is discreetly labeled "Fragile" and "This way Up" rather than reading "Fragile: Live Sperm." Haha
I walk out of the PRS office with my box that stands nearly 2ft tall and into a communal lobby of several businesses in the bbuilding. I wonder if they've seen this before and have figured out that woman exiting a clinic with the word "Reproductive" labeled on their window, carrying boxes the height of toddlers, are exporting frozen vials of sperm. Hmm, maybe, maybe not. Whatever.
I carry the box out to the street and scoff at the smokers taking a break (who knows, maybe second hand smoke could waft over to me, enter the cardboard box through the cut out handles, and seep into the sealed cryo-tank...it could happen). I quickly make my way to my car, being sure to hold the box upright as directed. I feel as if I'm holding a one year old with a poopy diaper - trying to not tip or press it against my body.
Once at my car, I open the back seat door and prop the box on to the bench seat. Hmm, should I put the seat belt on? No, how about the floor of the car? The front seat? The front seat floor? I try all possibilities, looking for one that will keep the box steady and undisturbed. I settle on positioning the box on the backseat floor, wedged between the passenger seat and back seat for protection. I go as far as to place my free hand on the box as I drive away and head up and over the steep inclines of the Protrero hills.
We're off! The lil guys and I stop in SSF to pick up Nips, who has kindly offered to escort me to Kaiser. We giggle with excitement on the way down and take pictures with the box in the Kaiser parking lot. As we carry the box, each of us on one side, a chivalrous man asks us if we need helping carrying the box. "NO!" we shout a little too abruptly. Sir, you have no idea how important and expensive the matter in this box is!
After checking in, a nurse comes out and whisks my boys into the back to warm them up. They need to thaw for approximately a half hour. Nips and I chat while I answer dozens of texts from friends more nervous than me. Finally, 2pm! I get called into the examination room. Nips and I carry the box, which has now been returned to us (minus one vial), into the exam room. I'm told to undress from the waist down and the doctor will be in soon.
A few moments later, Dr. Samuel Yu enters smiling like the face on my digital ovulation tester. He looks just as excited as Jules and me! He answers a few of our questions, shows us the syringe of sperm attached to an extra long catheter, and soon disappears between my legs. He explains step by step what he is doing and pops back up in under three minutes! Done!
If I didn't have one of my best friends in the room with me and a cryotank of sperm and dry ice, I would equate the procedure to that of a routine pap smear. It lasted about as long, required the same cold, metal prongs, and even felt similar - that icky swab, pinch, cramp-like feeling.
After the procedure, I laid on the exam table, legs propped up and even posed for a few (G rated) photos. We gave the guys about a 10 minute head start before I stood up, and gave them an uphill battle. Standing in the elevator down to the parking lot, I notice my legs are crossed at the ankles - I'm nervous I'm gonna loose a few swimmers! I even go as far as to not pee for a few hours - gosh could you imagine the millions I could loose? Hehe
On the drive home, I'm awe struck. I could be pregnant! Wow! Crazy! There are no words! Nips and I laugh even more. She's convinced she'll be baby's favorite Aunty since she was there for the conception and held my hand through it all. I drop her off and take the remaining swimmers back to the bank. Hopefully I won't be back for them...unless baby needs a sibling...
Are those Cramps or Butterflies???
I need to press pause on the "how I came to this decision" story for a bit to share my happy moment of the day! :0)
For the past two months, I've been shelling out nearly $50 for an over the counter ovulation kit. These kits, nestled snugly next to the home pregnancy tests in Target or Walgreens, detect the Luteinizing Hormone (LH) surge in a woman's body, which occurs approximately 24-36 hours prior to ovulation. They therefor help to pinpoint the best two days to conceive.
The kit contains 20 individually wrapped test strips cased in plastic protective covers. Each morning after taking my temperature (your body temp rises after ovulation), I scurry to the bathroom and perform the potty dance as I struggle to rip open the stubborn foil wrappers. After unwrapping the test strip, insert it into the hand-held digital ovulation tester, take a seat on the throne and hold the tester under the urine stream for 5-7 seconds. An icon on the digital face blinks to assure you the test is in process, and after 3 minutes (or making your bed), one of two symbols will appear. A large empty circle for a negative result, or a happy face, for a positive surge.
Today I received my first happy face on my pee-stick! I was so thrilled to see the lil guy's round, smiling face, that I took a picture and texted it to a few friends. Just to be sure, I threw another testing strip into my lunch bag and performed the test again after school. Once again, the cheeky fellow appeared - woo hoo!
Even before the follow up test, earlier today, I left the kids behind and snuck out of the computer lab (opening business hours) to call the sperm bank and request my swimmers (more about them later) and scheduled an appointment at the doctor's office. In my head I had practiced and recited this routine faithfully so that I could carry out the procedures with extreme care and efficiency. I mustn't miss my window of opportunity!
As I sit now, blogging away, I wonder if the aches in my lower belly are cramps or butterflies. Both, perhaps? The menstrual cramp-like feeling on my left side is perhaps my body's message telling me that I am indeed ovulating. Or, could it be that I am so darn excited, that I feel the flutter of anxious and nervous butterflies flurrying about my tummy?
Well, I will soon find out. Wish me luck, tomorrow is the day!
For the past two months, I've been shelling out nearly $50 for an over the counter ovulation kit. These kits, nestled snugly next to the home pregnancy tests in Target or Walgreens, detect the Luteinizing Hormone (LH) surge in a woman's body, which occurs approximately 24-36 hours prior to ovulation. They therefor help to pinpoint the best two days to conceive.
The kit contains 20 individually wrapped test strips cased in plastic protective covers. Each morning after taking my temperature (your body temp rises after ovulation), I scurry to the bathroom and perform the potty dance as I struggle to rip open the stubborn foil wrappers. After unwrapping the test strip, insert it into the hand-held digital ovulation tester, take a seat on the throne and hold the tester under the urine stream for 5-7 seconds. An icon on the digital face blinks to assure you the test is in process, and after 3 minutes (or making your bed), one of two symbols will appear. A large empty circle for a negative result, or a happy face, for a positive surge.
Today I received my first happy face on my pee-stick! I was so thrilled to see the lil guy's round, smiling face, that I took a picture and texted it to a few friends. Just to be sure, I threw another testing strip into my lunch bag and performed the test again after school. Once again, the cheeky fellow appeared - woo hoo!
Even before the follow up test, earlier today, I left the kids behind and snuck out of the computer lab (opening business hours) to call the sperm bank and request my swimmers (more about them later) and scheduled an appointment at the doctor's office. In my head I had practiced and recited this routine faithfully so that I could carry out the procedures with extreme care and efficiency. I mustn't miss my window of opportunity!
As I sit now, blogging away, I wonder if the aches in my lower belly are cramps or butterflies. Both, perhaps? The menstrual cramp-like feeling on my left side is perhaps my body's message telling me that I am indeed ovulating. Or, could it be that I am so darn excited, that I feel the flutter of anxious and nervous butterflies flurrying about my tummy?
Well, I will soon find out. Wish me luck, tomorrow is the day!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Plan C
The Decision
I should note that I made a gallant effort at Plan A. I did fall in love. We did discuss marriage. We kidded each other about the not-so reputable genes our kids would inherit from each other, and defended ourselves at the same time, by noting the fine qualities we each had to offer. Yes, yes, it was all fun and games until thirty-something rolled around and I was still single, living with mom and crying at the sight of baby food commercials.
Pathetic? Perhaps. Though hitting that low kicked started me to step it up and go back to school. Refocus, revitalize, renew. I was productive, taking charge and keeping my mind off of a broken relationship that I had once thought was going to bring me family and movement.
I entered into my "It's all about me year." A blissful year in which my motto was "sign me up." I re-connected with friends, went out on school nights (what a rebel), and became a regular at the Hukilau, where the chant "will dance for drinks" and several performances of Hanalei Moon delivered free shots for the table. Good times.
I was spending more time with me. Getting comfortable in my skin. Learning what self-love meant. I was single. Huh, what a concept. After bouncing from one relationship into another without time to breathe, I had forgotten who I was. Or, perhaps I never knew...
I took a trip - alone. For five weeks, I lived in a foreign land amongst strangers. I stepped out of my comfort zone, and entered a chaotic world of translating menus and road signs on a daily basis, getting lost, debating where to sleep at night and learning how to use Asian toilets. Alone. All alone. What better way to get re-acquainted with myself?
I absolutely loved it. Every bit. Traveling on planes, trains, automobiles, buses (oh, the buses) tuk tuks, bikes, carriages; experiencing new cultures, tasting unidentifiable foods, meeting new people, taking in the amazing and breathtaking sites...all of it.
My solo trek to Japan and Thailand was a spark that ignited a passion to travel alone. It led to several more journeys across the great Pacific to Vietnam, Cambodia and Indonesia. Gallivanting across Southeast Asia offered powerful learning experiences about the world outside my bubble and more importantly about the person inside that bubble.
The expeditions granted me soul searching opportunities and fed my spiritual-being. Visits to temples, reciting prayers, giving thanks, meditation practice, being immersed and surrounded by Mother Earth's breathtaking beauty, allowed me to contemplate my purpose in this lifetime, ponder my passions, hopes and dreams, and consider whether I was fulfilling them.
Yes, I was definitely taking steps to achieving my goals. I had graduated - again. I now held an administrative degree which would allow me to further my career, should I so desire. I was spending time with myself, not loosing myself in a relationship. I moved out of my mother's house and into my own space after 33 years. I was happier, more confident, independent and proud. And, I was still missing something...
Luckily, the Sistrens helped me to find it...
I should note that I made a gallant effort at Plan A. I did fall in love. We did discuss marriage. We kidded each other about the not-so reputable genes our kids would inherit from each other, and defended ourselves at the same time, by noting the fine qualities we each had to offer. Yes, yes, it was all fun and games until thirty-something rolled around and I was still single, living with mom and crying at the sight of baby food commercials.
Pathetic? Perhaps. Though hitting that low kicked started me to step it up and go back to school. Refocus, revitalize, renew. I was productive, taking charge and keeping my mind off of a broken relationship that I had once thought was going to bring me family and movement.
I entered into my "It's all about me year." A blissful year in which my motto was "sign me up." I re-connected with friends, went out on school nights (what a rebel), and became a regular at the Hukilau, where the chant "will dance for drinks" and several performances of Hanalei Moon delivered free shots for the table. Good times.
I was spending more time with me. Getting comfortable in my skin. Learning what self-love meant. I was single. Huh, what a concept. After bouncing from one relationship into another without time to breathe, I had forgotten who I was. Or, perhaps I never knew...
I took a trip - alone. For five weeks, I lived in a foreign land amongst strangers. I stepped out of my comfort zone, and entered a chaotic world of translating menus and road signs on a daily basis, getting lost, debating where to sleep at night and learning how to use Asian toilets. Alone. All alone. What better way to get re-acquainted with myself?
I absolutely loved it. Every bit. Traveling on planes, trains, automobiles, buses (oh, the buses) tuk tuks, bikes, carriages; experiencing new cultures, tasting unidentifiable foods, meeting new people, taking in the amazing and breathtaking sites...all of it.
My solo trek to Japan and Thailand was a spark that ignited a passion to travel alone. It led to several more journeys across the great Pacific to Vietnam, Cambodia and Indonesia. Gallivanting across Southeast Asia offered powerful learning experiences about the world outside my bubble and more importantly about the person inside that bubble.
The expeditions granted me soul searching opportunities and fed my spiritual-being. Visits to temples, reciting prayers, giving thanks, meditation practice, being immersed and surrounded by Mother Earth's breathtaking beauty, allowed me to contemplate my purpose in this lifetime, ponder my passions, hopes and dreams, and consider whether I was fulfilling them.
Yes, I was definitely taking steps to achieving my goals. I had graduated - again. I now held an administrative degree which would allow me to further my career, should I so desire. I was spending time with myself, not loosing myself in a relationship. I moved out of my mother's house and into my own space after 33 years. I was happier, more confident, independent and proud. And, I was still missing something...
Luckily, the Sistrens helped me to find it...
Thursday, October 14, 2010
How did I get here?
The Journey
For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to be around children. As a little girl I longed for siblings. As a teen, I babysat and worked in day cares. It was inevitable then, that I became a teacher. Still, even after 10 years of teaching, I long for more.
I've always wanted to be a mother. Even more, I've always wanted to experience pregnancy. Knowing this, I had it all planned out. You know the drill - meet the guy, fall in love, spend a year engaged, another blissful year happily married, and finally, welcome baby.
And this would all happen by 30.
If not, there was Plan B. Follow through with the middle school playground pact - marry your best guy friend. Well, when Plan B gets married (thanks Mike), and you discover you're well past 30, you realize you should have considered a Plan C.
Plan C was not easy.
For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to be around children. As a little girl I longed for siblings. As a teen, I babysat and worked in day cares. It was inevitable then, that I became a teacher. Still, even after 10 years of teaching, I long for more.
I've always wanted to be a mother. Even more, I've always wanted to experience pregnancy. Knowing this, I had it all planned out. You know the drill - meet the guy, fall in love, spend a year engaged, another blissful year happily married, and finally, welcome baby.
And this would all happen by 30.
If not, there was Plan B. Follow through with the middle school playground pact - marry your best guy friend. Well, when Plan B gets married (thanks Mike), and you discover you're well past 30, you realize you should have considered a Plan C.
Plan C was not easy.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Not quite the beginning...
Goodness, where to begin??? Though this is my first entry, the days of dilemmas, deciding, and doctors have been a part of my life since the New Year edged into 2010. My decision to have a baby has been very much on the DL. It occurred to me however, that this is a journey that I want to share with everyone - in due time.
I figured it best then, to document my journey. This is my opportunity to reflect, share, and preserve these moments for others - including baby. My head is swarming and I am utterly overwhelmed with the number of stories - both good and bad, and the array of emotions - both high and low, that have already accompanied me on this journey.
I have so much to share and I want so much to start from the beginning. At the same, time, I am conflicted by the flurry of emotions that toy with me presently. To appease both my desire to be orderly and to satisfy my urge to express myself currently, I will do my best to share a memory and comment on my current status in each blog.
Wish me luck. Not only with sustaining my efforts to blog, but to stay on my path and travel my journey.
I figured it best then, to document my journey. This is my opportunity to reflect, share, and preserve these moments for others - including baby. My head is swarming and I am utterly overwhelmed with the number of stories - both good and bad, and the array of emotions - both high and low, that have already accompanied me on this journey.
I have so much to share and I want so much to start from the beginning. At the same, time, I am conflicted by the flurry of emotions that toy with me presently. To appease both my desire to be orderly and to satisfy my urge to express myself currently, I will do my best to share a memory and comment on my current status in each blog.
Wish me luck. Not only with sustaining my efforts to blog, but to stay on my path and travel my journey.
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