"Always wear insulated gloves and protective eye wear when opening the tank or handling specimens."
Yikes! What have I gotten myself into!?
As I read step #2, explaining how to remove my swimmers from their cozy tank, I began to second guess my decision to perform my own "Do-It-Yourself" home insemination.
The decision to home turkey baste actually fell into place for a number of reasons. First, I happened to ovulate on a Sunday. Kaiser takes the day of from inseminations on Sundays and the following Monday was a holiday. Next, when I called the sperm bank to place and order for my NEW donor's specimens, I was told that most of his IUI vials were in quarantine until March. By protocol, all specimens are held in quarantine for six months before being made available to women. By doing so, the bank is able to test the quality of the sperm and verify that the lil guys are STD and HIV free.
Donor 5696 had only one IUI vial (the kind used by the docs), though he had a handful of ICI vials (the do-it-yourself kind), so I snagged one of each. Guess my new guy may be quite popular with the ladies??? I'm certainly a fan!
After my disappointment with 6310 - the four failed attempts and his photograph not living up to my fantasy image - I opted to change donors. I ordered two videos and one photograph of potential donor replacements. I'm SO thankful I did so, as I wasn't impressed with one video and horrified with the photograph. Fortunately, however, I was pleasantly surprised with 5696's interview!
Very few donors have videos available, so this was a real treat! Though 5696 didn't quite meet my clipboard criteria - being a few inches shy of 6' and having geeky computer interests - I absolutely fell in love with his words and simply adore him! He's definitely not a Chip-n-Dale hunk, nor does he have the swag of LL Cool J. I probably wouldn't be drawn to him in a crowded room either. Watching his relaxed, easy-going composure however, and listening to his gentle, soft-spoken words, I found myself sighing heavily and and saying, "AWWWW!" Total teddy-bear quality!
What sealed the deal for me was his response to the interviewer when he was asked if he had any words for the families he help to create. Sweetly, he expressed that he hoped everyone was happy, and that hopefully the families were a "little brown." That made me giggle! He went onto explain that he hopes to see more mixed-racial families, like himself (He's Japanese and African-American). Right there! That's what got me! Having a multi-racial baby, like myself, was one of my #1 desires. To hear that he too appreciated, valued and honored families of mix race, that closed the deal for me!
So, my first date with 5696 turned out to be a late night rendez-vous, starting off in the kitchen and ending in the bedroom;) Initially, I had planned to have the sistrens over and make the whole deal a family affair, but when I got home late Saturday night and peed on a stick, the lil smiley guy beamed up at me. I figured I'd go ahead and get started since I had a lot going on the next day and didn't think I'd have an opportunity to lay down for two hours after the deed, like the directions indicated.
The nice thing about this date was that I got to stay in my pj's and I didn't need to fuss with my hair or make-up! I did however, need "insulated gloves and protective eye wear." Hmm, where was I gonna get lab equipment at 1 o'clock in the morning??? I had to settle on the closest alternatives - my $40 eyeglasses purchased on the street corner in Indonesia and the striped, cotton pair of gloves I picked up at Target for 2 bucks. I was quite the spectacle in my pj's, robe, and gloves!
Once I was in my protective gear, I sliced through the packaging tape that sealed the box closed, lifted the styrofoam padding off the top and gawked at the metal container nestled at the bottom box, wedged between foam padding. It appeared to be a small, slender helium tank or some kind of torpedo that may be launched from a submarine. I was to "lift the canister slowly" and warned in dark bold letters, "Do not Twist!" (Exclamation point included!) Yikes, maybe it would self destruct!?
Slowly and steadily, I lifted the tank by its handle, straight up and out of the box, twice its height. I gently set it down on the tiled kitchen floor, read the directions for the 15th time, cut open the zip tie and caressingly opened the lid. As I did so, creamy white vapor came seeming out, reminding me of creepy Halloween fog or the cheesy smoke that chokes you at a middle school dance.
I let the little puffs of smoke rise and looked into the dark, narrow opening of the tank, only about two inches in diameter. I can't see down to the bottom as the mini tunnel is dark and swirling gases lie lazily at the bottom. Step #6 says I am to pull up on the "cane" to remove the specimen form the canister. Hooked over the side I notice a thin metal candy cane that I presume is the "cane." With a gloved finger, I quickly tap the metal cane to see if it's too cold to handle. My finely insulated gloves tell me that it's safe to pull up on the device.
Carefully, I pull up on the metal cane and hanging at its bottom are my two vials of swimmers, stacked on top of each other, in a metal holder, attached to the cane. I understand now, they were simply secured by the cane, suspended in the freezing cold abyss. They are hissing and sparking little cracks and pops. Thawing Step #2 says to place the specimen on a counter top for one minute to allow the hissing sound to stop. Ok, sounds like a good idea.
Holding the little firecracker far away from my body, I carefully stand the vials, still in their holder, on the counter top. I turn to prepare the lil guys bath. I fill a cereal bowl with warm water and take out a sandwich sized zip-lock baggie. After the hissing stops, I pick up the metal holder and try to remove the vial labeled "ICI." It won't budge. I try several more times, and start to get discouraged. I don't want to tug too hard or hold on too long for fear of burning my fingers on the dry ice particles still visible on the containers. I summon up my courage and on the fifth try, pry the vial off its holder. Yay, success!
I place the miniature vial, not more than an inch in height and a pinky width in diameter, in the zip-lock bag and submerge the bag and vial in the bowl of hot water. While the lil guys warm and wake up from their cryogenic freeze, I return the second IUI vial to the canister for safe keeping. I lower the vial and cane back into the swirly gasses, seal the lid and place the tank bank into the padded box. I wasn't given an extra zip-tie to hold the tank's lid in place, so I make a mental note to drive the tank carefully back to the lab.
I allow 10 minutes to pass before removing the vial from the water and bag. It is no longer cool to the touch, telling me that it is safe to carry on to the next step. I gently tilt the vial back and forth and rotate it between my fingers to mix the specimen well. After this little massage, with the steady fingers of a CSI lab technician, I unscrew the cap and let it rest on the counter top. I have horrible fleeting thoughts of the vial tipping over and the sperm spilling over the counter top and on to the floor.
I chase the thought away, remove the plastic syringe from its wrapping and submerge it cautiously into the vial. Pulling back on the plunger I draw the semen into the syringe. Immediately, I turn the syringe over so that its nozzle points to the ceiling, hoping to not dribble and loose a few million sperm. I feel like a nurse ready to give an injection.
It's sexy time! I retire to the bedroom and climb into bed. There are a mere two steps to the insemination; rather clear and concise, compared to the six steps to remove the vials from the tank and the eight steps of thawing. Nope, these last two steps are plain and simple - insert syringe, push plunger in releasing sperm, and lay down! The syringe was much smaller than the syringes used at the doctor's office, did not have a catheter and was much like inserting a narrow tampon.
And the deed is done! That's it! No true turkeybaster was used at any point during the procedure. Sorry to disappoint! I fell fast asleep and when I woke the next morning, I cleaned up the evidence on the bed stand and in the kitchen-lab. Got another week to wait until I know whether 5696 and I hit it off. Will keep you all posted!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
All Systems Go!
HYSTEROSALPINGOGRAM
** FINDINGS **:
A hysterosalpingogram was performed by Dr. Samuel Yu, utilizing a
balloon tip catheter and water-soluble contrast media.
The uterine cavity is normal in configuration although somewhat
smaller than typically seen in overall size. No filling defects
are identified. Both fallopian tubes fill normally and are without
dilatation. There is free peritoneal spillage demonstrated
bilaterally.
...in other words, the plumbing is all good! Yipee! So, I can now say I haven't been the problem. Phew!
Sistren Asia accompanied me this past Monday to my HSG procedure. It was important for me to have someone accompany me, as I feared the possibility of having to deal with devastating news. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. Still, it was wonderful to have a supportive friend by my side, as the procedure was terribly painful - kicked oral gum surgery out of its long-lived ranking of my most painful experiences.
We arrived at the Radiology Department of Kasier RWC Monday afternoon. After a quick check-in, I was given a clear plastic bag, asked to enter a changing room, remove my clothing, and handed a confusing hospital robe to put on. Following the step-by-step directions conveniently posted on the dressing room wall, I slipped the robe on, tucked in the peep holes and headed into the cold, sterile exam room.
Unfortunately, Azh wasn't allowed into the exam room during the procedure. Instead, I had to suffer miserably, alone, while four medical examiners - one gynecologist, one X-ray technician, one student X- ray technician in training, and one radiologist, all donning cumbersome Xray vests, resembling heavy duty Kevlar vests, poked and prodded me as if I was a science experiment.
Emotionless, straight faced examiners...bright lights...clunky machinery on wheels, hanging from the ceiling and hovering over the raised, padded exam table...I felt as if I was a character on the X-Files that had been abducted from my bed, still in my pajamas, and beamed into the belly of a UFO. I half expected Moulder and Scully to barge in and rescue me from my fate.
Before climbing the step stool to lay upon the exam table, I decided to remove my socks, even though I was told I could leave them on. Though the room and metal edges of the table were freezing cold, I felt odd wearing nothing but my socks - kinda like keeping nothing but your socks on during sex...leave it to me to come up with that analogy!
As I stretched out on the exam table, my legs propped like a tent, I observed the technicians handing Dr. Yu, my gynecologist, the devices and materials needed for the procedure - a plastic catheter, longer than a ruler, and about the diameter of two cocktail straws, a solution in a clear, glass vial, and a whole lot of cotton balls. As Dr. Yu began to open up yet another fairly large package, wrapped in blue sterile cloths, I decided to look away, lay back, and try not to bare witness to any other unfriendly gadgets.
As with most visits to the gynecologist, the cold, metal speculum was inserted first. I was then prepped and swabbed with iodine. Similar to my inseminations, the catheter was inserted next. This catheter however, was longer, wider and not as flexible, so it's presence was not mistaken. Now, I was told to expect cramping similar to that of insemination, though they didn't mention the cramping would be prolonged and about a gazillion times worse! As my toes curled and my face cringed, I noticed the two technicians looking away, as if they couldn't bare to see the abuse.
Once the catheter was in place, the solution, a dye, was injected into the catheter. The dye then travels through the catheter and into my uterus and fallopian tubes. As this occurs, the television, hanging behind and above my head, is pulled into position for the examiners to view. Though I can't see the screen from my position, I feel the dye being released into my insides and watch the four solemn faces hovering above me, their eyes riveted on the machine.
With the catheter still in place, Dr. Yu at the foot of my bed, holding one end of the catheter, I am directed by the radiologist at my side, to rotate my hips left then right. Like a pig on a spit, I slowly, cautiously, turn my hips, trying to not disturb or exasperate the devices inside me. The sliding X-ray machine, hovering inches above my body, is manipulated up and down my lower body, offering the doctors visuals of the horrendous act.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the radiologist directs Dr. Yu to rotate, adjust and move the catheter into various positions to view different angles of my uterus. For the first time, I audibly wince in pain, squeeze my eyes shut and wring my hands together. This goes on for what feels like an eternity before the whale of a machine is lifted and pushed aside. Dr. Yu finally extracts the catheter and I damn myself for looking to the side and witnessing the used equipment, tools, and cotton balls strewn across the rolling medical tray.
The technicians and radiologist excuse themselves from the room, never saying a word between them or to me. I feel a wealth of anxiety well up in me, as the silence of the room weighs in on my body. Does this silence mean bad news??? Dr. Yu hovers above me on the table, looking down at me. He explains that I'll most likely have some bleeding and can expect the dye to slowly leak and suggests I wear a sanitary napkin. Matter of factly, he continues on to say that, "Everything looks normal and there were no apparent blockages." Holy cow! Could you not have started with that???
Dr. Yu wishes me well, leaves the room and the technicians scramble back in. One hands me a towel to clean up with, the other hands me a pad the size of rolled up magazine. They direct me to the bathroom attached to the exam room and tell me to take my time changing. Hunched over, I slowly make my way across the room and close the bathroom door behind me.
Before I can even reach my hand into my plastic bag of clothing, tears stream down my face. Relief? Sure, perhaps. Though mostly, I felt violated. Standing alone, half naked, in a cold, sterile room, wiping up after a terribly evasive procedure, I couldn't focus on the good. With slow, premeditated movements, I get dressed, roll the soiled towel up in the robe, hand them to the technicians, and exit to find Asia patiently waiting for me.
Now, I am of course relieved, grateful and joyous to know that there are no blockages or problems. The peace of mind allows me to go forward, knowing that the first four, failed attempts weren't because of me. Makes me feel better knowing that perhaps Creator truly has this under control. I chose the wrong donor, and Creator knew that. So, all systems are a "go," there's only one way to move - forward!
** FINDINGS **:
A hysterosalpingogram was performed by Dr. Samuel Yu, utilizing a
balloon tip catheter and water-soluble contrast media.
The uterine cavity is normal in configuration although somewhat
smaller than typically seen in overall size. No filling defects
are identified. Both fallopian tubes fill normally and are without
dilatation. There is free peritoneal spillage demonstrated
bilaterally.
...in other words, the plumbing is all good! Yipee! So, I can now say I haven't been the problem. Phew!
Sistren Asia accompanied me this past Monday to my HSG procedure. It was important for me to have someone accompany me, as I feared the possibility of having to deal with devastating news. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. Still, it was wonderful to have a supportive friend by my side, as the procedure was terribly painful - kicked oral gum surgery out of its long-lived ranking of my most painful experiences.
We arrived at the Radiology Department of Kasier RWC Monday afternoon. After a quick check-in, I was given a clear plastic bag, asked to enter a changing room, remove my clothing, and handed a confusing hospital robe to put on. Following the step-by-step directions conveniently posted on the dressing room wall, I slipped the robe on, tucked in the peep holes and headed into the cold, sterile exam room.
Unfortunately, Azh wasn't allowed into the exam room during the procedure. Instead, I had to suffer miserably, alone, while four medical examiners - one gynecologist, one X-ray technician, one student X- ray technician in training, and one radiologist, all donning cumbersome Xray vests, resembling heavy duty Kevlar vests, poked and prodded me as if I was a science experiment.
Emotionless, straight faced examiners...bright lights...clunky machinery on wheels, hanging from the ceiling and hovering over the raised, padded exam table...I felt as if I was a character on the X-Files that had been abducted from my bed, still in my pajamas, and beamed into the belly of a UFO. I half expected Moulder and Scully to barge in and rescue me from my fate.
Before climbing the step stool to lay upon the exam table, I decided to remove my socks, even though I was told I could leave them on. Though the room and metal edges of the table were freezing cold, I felt odd wearing nothing but my socks - kinda like keeping nothing but your socks on during sex...leave it to me to come up with that analogy!
As I stretched out on the exam table, my legs propped like a tent, I observed the technicians handing Dr. Yu, my gynecologist, the devices and materials needed for the procedure - a plastic catheter, longer than a ruler, and about the diameter of two cocktail straws, a solution in a clear, glass vial, and a whole lot of cotton balls. As Dr. Yu began to open up yet another fairly large package, wrapped in blue sterile cloths, I decided to look away, lay back, and try not to bare witness to any other unfriendly gadgets.
As with most visits to the gynecologist, the cold, metal speculum was inserted first. I was then prepped and swabbed with iodine. Similar to my inseminations, the catheter was inserted next. This catheter however, was longer, wider and not as flexible, so it's presence was not mistaken. Now, I was told to expect cramping similar to that of insemination, though they didn't mention the cramping would be prolonged and about a gazillion times worse! As my toes curled and my face cringed, I noticed the two technicians looking away, as if they couldn't bare to see the abuse.
Once the catheter was in place, the solution, a dye, was injected into the catheter. The dye then travels through the catheter and into my uterus and fallopian tubes. As this occurs, the television, hanging behind and above my head, is pulled into position for the examiners to view. Though I can't see the screen from my position, I feel the dye being released into my insides and watch the four solemn faces hovering above me, their eyes riveted on the machine.
With the catheter still in place, Dr. Yu at the foot of my bed, holding one end of the catheter, I am directed by the radiologist at my side, to rotate my hips left then right. Like a pig on a spit, I slowly, cautiously, turn my hips, trying to not disturb or exasperate the devices inside me. The sliding X-ray machine, hovering inches above my body, is manipulated up and down my lower body, offering the doctors visuals of the horrendous act.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the radiologist directs Dr. Yu to rotate, adjust and move the catheter into various positions to view different angles of my uterus. For the first time, I audibly wince in pain, squeeze my eyes shut and wring my hands together. This goes on for what feels like an eternity before the whale of a machine is lifted and pushed aside. Dr. Yu finally extracts the catheter and I damn myself for looking to the side and witnessing the used equipment, tools, and cotton balls strewn across the rolling medical tray.
The technicians and radiologist excuse themselves from the room, never saying a word between them or to me. I feel a wealth of anxiety well up in me, as the silence of the room weighs in on my body. Does this silence mean bad news??? Dr. Yu hovers above me on the table, looking down at me. He explains that I'll most likely have some bleeding and can expect the dye to slowly leak and suggests I wear a sanitary napkin. Matter of factly, he continues on to say that, "Everything looks normal and there were no apparent blockages." Holy cow! Could you not have started with that???
Dr. Yu wishes me well, leaves the room and the technicians scramble back in. One hands me a towel to clean up with, the other hands me a pad the size of rolled up magazine. They direct me to the bathroom attached to the exam room and tell me to take my time changing. Hunched over, I slowly make my way across the room and close the bathroom door behind me.
Before I can even reach my hand into my plastic bag of clothing, tears stream down my face. Relief? Sure, perhaps. Though mostly, I felt violated. Standing alone, half naked, in a cold, sterile room, wiping up after a terribly evasive procedure, I couldn't focus on the good. With slow, premeditated movements, I get dressed, roll the soiled towel up in the robe, hand them to the technicians, and exit to find Asia patiently waiting for me.
Now, I am of course relieved, grateful and joyous to know that there are no blockages or problems. The peace of mind allows me to go forward, knowing that the first four, failed attempts weren't because of me. Makes me feel better knowing that perhaps Creator truly has this under control. I chose the wrong donor, and Creator knew that. So, all systems are a "go," there's only one way to move - forward!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
To Date or Not to Date...that is the question.
Dating whilst actively trying get pregnant.
Can it be done? Should it be done? How is it done?
These are the ponderings that pester and the moral questions that rudely invade my conscience in recent days.
"Can it done?" Yes, of course. "Can" simply determines whether one has the ability to carry out a physical or mental task. Sure, I can date. In other words, yes, I have the ability to date. It's like when a kid asks you, "Can I go to the bathroom?" "Well, I don't know can you?"
Now, the next question: "Should it be done?"
A year ago, when I decided to have a baby on my own, I answered "no" to this question. I signed a personal, mental contract with myself. I pledged to swear off men and relationships. It needed to be done. Dating and meeting someone new would only complicate my situation.
I gave myself time to grieve. I allowed myself to be sad, disappointed, upset. In the end, having a baby was more important than having a partner....So, it was settled - NO MEN!
It wasn't too difficult. Look the other way, don't take an interest, turn down opportunities. Kinda bitchy, yes. But really, I didn't want to get involved for fear of falling for someone and delaying my baby progress. My mind was made up. Operation Spirit Baby was to embark after returning from Indonesia - my final "hurrah" before motherhood.
As the Universe would have it, the mission was sabotaged, literally, the day after I returned home from Indonesia. Isn't it always the case - once you stop looking, the men appear out of nowhere. Perhaps it was my glowing tan and super relaxed, worry-free spirit, or maybe it was simply my "uninterest" in men that made me ooze confidence. Who knows. Whatever it was, I managed to attract a tall, dark, sexy man, who sauntered off a stage, slow danced the night away with me, and telephoned late the same evening to giggle and chat with me like high school kids till the wee hours of the morn.
Two weeks after our first "date", Operation Spirit Baby proceeded as scheduled - I underwent my first insemination. And so it went - emails, texts, surprise phone calls, a couple of detours to visit me before heading to LA from NY - all the while clocking in to inseminate each month.
Honestly, after visit #1, I wasn't putting money down that there would be another. The distance, situation, his career - they all appeared to be hurdles. But visit #2 came just in time for my birthday and visit #3 less than a month later - the days in between visits shorter and shorter each time.
Dating? Um, no. Given the circumstances - living on opposite coasts, rendezvous-ing perhaps once a month, spending brief moments of our lives together - this "relationship" can't be coined, in my opinion, "dating." Therefore, no contracts broken.
What has surfaced as a result of these "visits" however, are feelings associated with dating and forlorn puppy love. And they suck.
I've managed to fall into a pitiful pattern after each visit. Sad, lonely, vacant. Sharing my space, enjoying the company of another, having someone to cozy up with - they've all triggered me to remember what dating and relationship life is like. And I miss it.
I miss having a partner. I miss waking up next to someone. I miss "getting" someone and someone who "gets" me. I miss the companionship, love and attention. Heck, I'll say it, I miss the sex!
This longing made me wonder, for the first time along my journey - am I headed down the right path? If I miss a partner and relationship so much, have I truly made the right decision???
Over the weekend, that very question gave me a tremendous amount of anxiety. Wow, the panic. To doubt for the first time, a decision that took an extraordinary amount of time to accept, execute and follow through with - can you imagine? Golly, I was a wreck.
It wasn't until my dear sistrens reminded me of the power of "AND," that I realized the possibilities. All this time, along my journey, I've been telling myself I can have only one or the other - "You can either pursue a relationship or have a baby." Well, why not both? I'll admit, at first, yes, it sounds preposterous. (That's exactly why I swore to not date in the first place). Though, why should I ASSume that I won't find companionship or even love while trying to get pregnant...or even while I am pregnant? Worked for J.Lo in the Backup Plan, didn't it? hehe
Ok, ok, this isn't Hollywood. Perhaps meeting and committing to someone while trying to get pregnant may be a bit far fetched...AND...it is still a possibility.
So, I suppose I am breaking my contract. I'm going to allow myself to be open to the possibility of dating. I'm not saying I'm going to join match.com or post an ad in the personals, I'm simply revoking the pledge I made to myself. I am allowing myself to be open to possibilities.
Now, finally, for the last question..."How should it be done?"
I have absolutely no idea. One day at a time, I suppose. I find myself slowly getting into my analytical head again. As I daydream and hang on to the lingering memory of visit #3 and anticipate whether there will be a visit #4, I begin to wonder..."Should I tell him?" If yes, when? If I do, will I see him again? Do I want to risk not seeing him again? Or do I want to take the risk to find out if he is my Back Up Plan???
Oh, geesh, the mind is a creature of its own! Rest, dear brain, rest. I promise to take these next steps one at a time. I promise to do my best surrendering to the possibilities!
Can it be done? Should it be done? How is it done?
These are the ponderings that pester and the moral questions that rudely invade my conscience in recent days.
"Can it done?" Yes, of course. "Can" simply determines whether one has the ability to carry out a physical or mental task. Sure, I can date. In other words, yes, I have the ability to date. It's like when a kid asks you, "Can I go to the bathroom?" "Well, I don't know can you?"
Now, the next question: "Should it be done?"
A year ago, when I decided to have a baby on my own, I answered "no" to this question. I signed a personal, mental contract with myself. I pledged to swear off men and relationships. It needed to be done. Dating and meeting someone new would only complicate my situation.
I gave myself time to grieve. I allowed myself to be sad, disappointed, upset. In the end, having a baby was more important than having a partner....So, it was settled - NO MEN!
It wasn't too difficult. Look the other way, don't take an interest, turn down opportunities. Kinda bitchy, yes. But really, I didn't want to get involved for fear of falling for someone and delaying my baby progress. My mind was made up. Operation Spirit Baby was to embark after returning from Indonesia - my final "hurrah" before motherhood.
As the Universe would have it, the mission was sabotaged, literally, the day after I returned home from Indonesia. Isn't it always the case - once you stop looking, the men appear out of nowhere. Perhaps it was my glowing tan and super relaxed, worry-free spirit, or maybe it was simply my "uninterest" in men that made me ooze confidence. Who knows. Whatever it was, I managed to attract a tall, dark, sexy man, who sauntered off a stage, slow danced the night away with me, and telephoned late the same evening to giggle and chat with me like high school kids till the wee hours of the morn.
Two weeks after our first "date", Operation Spirit Baby proceeded as scheduled - I underwent my first insemination. And so it went - emails, texts, surprise phone calls, a couple of detours to visit me before heading to LA from NY - all the while clocking in to inseminate each month.
Honestly, after visit #1, I wasn't putting money down that there would be another. The distance, situation, his career - they all appeared to be hurdles. But visit #2 came just in time for my birthday and visit #3 less than a month later - the days in between visits shorter and shorter each time.
Dating? Um, no. Given the circumstances - living on opposite coasts, rendezvous-ing perhaps once a month, spending brief moments of our lives together - this "relationship" can't be coined, in my opinion, "dating." Therefore, no contracts broken.
What has surfaced as a result of these "visits" however, are feelings associated with dating and forlorn puppy love. And they suck.
I've managed to fall into a pitiful pattern after each visit. Sad, lonely, vacant. Sharing my space, enjoying the company of another, having someone to cozy up with - they've all triggered me to remember what dating and relationship life is like. And I miss it.
I miss having a partner. I miss waking up next to someone. I miss "getting" someone and someone who "gets" me. I miss the companionship, love and attention. Heck, I'll say it, I miss the sex!
This longing made me wonder, for the first time along my journey - am I headed down the right path? If I miss a partner and relationship so much, have I truly made the right decision???
Over the weekend, that very question gave me a tremendous amount of anxiety. Wow, the panic. To doubt for the first time, a decision that took an extraordinary amount of time to accept, execute and follow through with - can you imagine? Golly, I was a wreck.
It wasn't until my dear sistrens reminded me of the power of "AND," that I realized the possibilities. All this time, along my journey, I've been telling myself I can have only one or the other - "You can either pursue a relationship or have a baby." Well, why not both? I'll admit, at first, yes, it sounds preposterous. (That's exactly why I swore to not date in the first place). Though, why should I ASSume that I won't find companionship or even love while trying to get pregnant...or even while I am pregnant? Worked for J.Lo in the Backup Plan, didn't it? hehe
Ok, ok, this isn't Hollywood. Perhaps meeting and committing to someone while trying to get pregnant may be a bit far fetched...AND...it is still a possibility.
So, I suppose I am breaking my contract. I'm going to allow myself to be open to the possibility of dating. I'm not saying I'm going to join match.com or post an ad in the personals, I'm simply revoking the pledge I made to myself. I am allowing myself to be open to possibilities.
Now, finally, for the last question..."How should it be done?"
I have absolutely no idea. One day at a time, I suppose. I find myself slowly getting into my analytical head again. As I daydream and hang on to the lingering memory of visit #3 and anticipate whether there will be a visit #4, I begin to wonder..."Should I tell him?" If yes, when? If I do, will I see him again? Do I want to risk not seeing him again? Or do I want to take the risk to find out if he is my Back Up Plan???
Oh, geesh, the mind is a creature of its own! Rest, dear brain, rest. I promise to take these next steps one at a time. I promise to do my best surrendering to the possibilities!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Year, New Donor
A glance at the title should quickly answer the question you've all been wondering.
Not pregnant.
Two tests and a right-on-schedule period confirmed today that I'm not ringing in the New Year with a bun in the oven. One would think that with a foot long catheter delivering sperm closer than any man's penis could possibly reach, during a woman's most fertile time of her cycle, that at least one of the 15-20 million sperm would fertilize an egg. Huh, go figure.
Guess that goes to show that making a baby is more miracle than medicine.
Well, out with the old and in with the new! On this second day of 2011, I have already requested a new hormone medication, placed a called to Kaiser to schedule the HSG procedure, and chosen a new donor! Yes, I've been a busy bee.
At my last insemination, the nurse practitioner suggested I consider switching from Clomid to Femara, which like Clomid, stimulates the growth of multiple follicles, hence more eggs. Since Clomid did nothing but make me super gasey for five days and give the impression that I have a boulder traveling through one of my fallopian tubes, I'm down with trying a new drug. Apparently Femara has less side effects as well - no major mood swings. Gee, I wonder why the docs didn't prescribe it first? I could've done without the emotional high and lows. Though, who's to say that was all due to the Clomid?
I also left a message with Kaiser to schedule the HSG procedure, which was also recommended by the nurse practitioner. A hysterosalpingogram test (HSG) is often recommended for women who are having trouble getting pregnant. It is essentially an X-ray of the uterus and fallopian tubes. A dye is injected into the uterus, very much like an insemination. If the dye flows freely into the fallopian tubes, than there is no apparent blockage. Other than uncomfortable cramping, the procedure should not be too painful. Physical pain however, is not what I worried about. I'm more concerned about the dye not being able to flow freely. I get filled with anxiety and worry just thinking about potential problems.
I've also decided to change donors! As mentioned in my previous blog, I was disappointed after seeing my donor's picture. I also stated however, that his looks are not my primary reason for changing donors. There are several. One, my doc recommended I change donors - 6310's sperm just may not be compatible with my insides. Two, I think not getting pregnant in four attempts may be Creator's way of telling me that 6310 is simply not the one for me. Three, change can be good.
So, I've pretty much settled on another donor from the same sperm bank. Don't want to say too much about him just yet, though I will say that I was pleasantly surprised by his video interview. Yes, I said video interview!!! I actually got to see and hear a short four minute interview of my new potential donor. In the interview, he spoke about himself, his ambitions, and reasons for being a donor. Though his profile on paper didn't quite match all of my "criteria," hearing him speak, watching his body language and connecting with his words made up for the few inches he lacks in height and his interests in "computers and video games."
So, the wheels are turning. I can't say that I'm not disappointed to find out that I'm not pregnant - again. I am. Though I think each time I am less and less disappointed. Not sure what that means. Am I building up a tolerance to my emotions? Am I toughening up? Am I expecting less? Am I being realistic? Who knows. All I know is that whatever the answer, I feel healthier - mentally, so to speak. I know spirit baby will come - just on his own time. I am learning to surrender.
Surrender. Let it go, give it up, let it be. I can't control it.
Thank you Mama Rosa for teaching me the lesson of surrendering. I am learning...and practicing.
Well loved ones, many blessings in 2011. Thank you for your prayers. Please say another for me - one that I not ovulate on Monday, January 17th. My body has been quite religious about ovulating on the 16th day of my cycle - that day turns out to be the 17th of this month - a holiday - which means all Kaiser ob/gyn departments take the day off to honor Mr. MLK Jr. instead of performing inseminations and assisting needy women like me who wish to get pregnant. If I ovulate on schedule this month, I may loose my opportunity. That makes me sad, AND I'm also trying to surrender...let go, give it up, and let be.
Peace and Prayers.
T
Not pregnant.
Two tests and a right-on-schedule period confirmed today that I'm not ringing in the New Year with a bun in the oven. One would think that with a foot long catheter delivering sperm closer than any man's penis could possibly reach, during a woman's most fertile time of her cycle, that at least one of the 15-20 million sperm would fertilize an egg. Huh, go figure.
Guess that goes to show that making a baby is more miracle than medicine.
Well, out with the old and in with the new! On this second day of 2011, I have already requested a new hormone medication, placed a called to Kaiser to schedule the HSG procedure, and chosen a new donor! Yes, I've been a busy bee.
At my last insemination, the nurse practitioner suggested I consider switching from Clomid to Femara, which like Clomid, stimulates the growth of multiple follicles, hence more eggs. Since Clomid did nothing but make me super gasey for five days and give the impression that I have a boulder traveling through one of my fallopian tubes, I'm down with trying a new drug. Apparently Femara has less side effects as well - no major mood swings. Gee, I wonder why the docs didn't prescribe it first? I could've done without the emotional high and lows. Though, who's to say that was all due to the Clomid?
I also left a message with Kaiser to schedule the HSG procedure, which was also recommended by the nurse practitioner. A hysterosalpingogram test (HSG) is often recommended for women who are having trouble getting pregnant. It is essentially an X-ray of the uterus and fallopian tubes. A dye is injected into the uterus, very much like an insemination. If the dye flows freely into the fallopian tubes, than there is no apparent blockage. Other than uncomfortable cramping, the procedure should not be too painful. Physical pain however, is not what I worried about. I'm more concerned about the dye not being able to flow freely. I get filled with anxiety and worry just thinking about potential problems.
I've also decided to change donors! As mentioned in my previous blog, I was disappointed after seeing my donor's picture. I also stated however, that his looks are not my primary reason for changing donors. There are several. One, my doc recommended I change donors - 6310's sperm just may not be compatible with my insides. Two, I think not getting pregnant in four attempts may be Creator's way of telling me that 6310 is simply not the one for me. Three, change can be good.
So, I've pretty much settled on another donor from the same sperm bank. Don't want to say too much about him just yet, though I will say that I was pleasantly surprised by his video interview. Yes, I said video interview!!! I actually got to see and hear a short four minute interview of my new potential donor. In the interview, he spoke about himself, his ambitions, and reasons for being a donor. Though his profile on paper didn't quite match all of my "criteria," hearing him speak, watching his body language and connecting with his words made up for the few inches he lacks in height and his interests in "computers and video games."
So, the wheels are turning. I can't say that I'm not disappointed to find out that I'm not pregnant - again. I am. Though I think each time I am less and less disappointed. Not sure what that means. Am I building up a tolerance to my emotions? Am I toughening up? Am I expecting less? Am I being realistic? Who knows. All I know is that whatever the answer, I feel healthier - mentally, so to speak. I know spirit baby will come - just on his own time. I am learning to surrender.
Surrender. Let it go, give it up, let it be. I can't control it.
Thank you Mama Rosa for teaching me the lesson of surrendering. I am learning...and practicing.
Well loved ones, many blessings in 2011. Thank you for your prayers. Please say another for me - one that I not ovulate on Monday, January 17th. My body has been quite religious about ovulating on the 16th day of my cycle - that day turns out to be the 17th of this month - a holiday - which means all Kaiser ob/gyn departments take the day off to honor Mr. MLK Jr. instead of performing inseminations and assisting needy women like me who wish to get pregnant. If I ovulate on schedule this month, I may loose my opportunity. That makes me sad, AND I'm also trying to surrender...let go, give it up, and let be.
Peace and Prayers.
T
Thursday, December 23, 2010
6310
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!
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!
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?
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