It's been a rough week. And it's only Thursday. I sit, sipping a glass of wine, to relax the mind.
Yeah, I said it - wine. First glass in over two weeks. You know what that means. Not pregnant.
After waiting anxiously, like a child awaiting Christmas, I took a home pregnancy test 13 days post insemination. Negative. The results didn't surprise me. I didn't feel any different from previous attempts, so I kinda expected a negative reading (though I was still hopeful, of course). I carried on with my day and enjoyed a sad, yet pleasant Easter Sunday with my mom.
The next day, after wasting a perfectly good pantie liner and not getting my period all day, I decided to take another pregnancy test. The test I used the day before, though unused, had been opened. It was in a box of pass-me-downs from a gal in my support group who got pregnant and clearly didn't need them anymore. I wondered how old the test was and questioned its validity. I stopped at Walgreens on my way home and picked up another box, yipping with glee when they were on sale (those suckers are expensive!) Again, the test was negative. Ok, well at least I'm sure now...or so I thought.
Tuesday morning, Aunt Flo still hadn't arrived. What's going on, I wondered? I've been clocking my periods pretty much down to the hours these days. I'm past due. Did I take the previous two tests too early? The doctors say to not test until two weeks after the insemination. Technically, that would be today, Tuesday. Throughout the day, each visit to the bathroom I am more and more stunned. I begin to say a short prayer before wiping each time, hoping to not see a sign of red. By the end of the school day, I entertain an ounce of hope.
That evening I took a third test - still negative. Wednesday morning, still no period. Ok, so confused now. I'm now three days late. I'm feeling teased and toyed with. It's not until just before bedtime, Wednesday night, that Aunt Flo arrives, on day 32 of my cycle - the longest cycle I've since recorded. Whoa, what happened there? My cycles have been 28 days for the last few months. Whatever. At least now I'm positive - positively not pregnant.
So...next steps. Prepare for #7! On my to-do list, was a note to call PRS, the sperm bank, to order a few more vials, as I only had one left. The one I had left was a washed sperm vial, for IUI inseminations performed at clinics only. I needed to purchase an ICI non-washed sperm vial - the kind you can use to inseminate at home.
If round #6 didn't pan out, then Mama Rosa and the Sistrens were going to honor me by performing a ceremony and helping to take part in a "hands-on" sort of way, if you now what I mean (wink, wink), in the next insemination - oh yeah, we're that tight! An at home ceremony and insemination was agreed upon and I set out today to purchase the proper sperm to use at home.
Before calling the bank, I debated whether to purchase additional IUI vials, just in case round #7 didn't work. Then I turned around and punished myself for not having faith in the ceremony. Or, what if I did both for the next cycle - one at home and one at the clinic? Again, shame on me for thinking that ceremony and Spirit won't follow through. I was stuck in my head for sometime, arguing the Science vs. Ceremony debate before I actually picked up the phone. Even then, I hadn't settled on a decision.
My decision was soon made for me. I was informed that my donor didn't have any vials available. Once again, all his vials were in quarantine - this time, until June. Didn't I just go through this, I asked? Indeed, prior to my last purchase, I had to wait two months to receive vials, as my donor's sperm was being quarantined for the required six months of testing. "He's quite a popular guy," commented Kathleen on the other end of the phone. Seriously? Of the pages and pages of donors available, the ladies like my guy? Why are the good ones ALWAYS taken???
Well, I go ahead and pre-purchase an additional IUI vial (not available till June) and thank my lucky stars that I still have one more vial at the Kaiser clinic. Guess ceremony is out and I'll be having the next insemination at Cap & Pat's office. I'm sad. I'm also a little worried that I don't have any back-up vials...
A few hours later my phone rings, identifying PRS as the caller. Automatically, I'm concerned. Again, my gut is right. I'm told that my donor has been taken off the donor list and is unavailable. Say what!? I've been dumped!? By a donor!? HUH? Kathleen explains that 5696 has reached his limit and his vials are now reserved for siblings only. I feel rejected and betrayed, as if my partner has truly left me for another woman.
I get a little pissy with Kathleen, explaining that I just purchased a vial today, and question why she can't honor the purchase. She's not budging - this is their policy. A policy that I highly respected, so much in fact, that I decided to deal with PRS instead of other banks I was considering. PRS states that once a donor reaches 10 reported pregnancies, his vials are reserved for only the families who used his sperm to get pregnant, should they decide to have siblings. I appreciated and admired this policy, as other banks did not limit their donor's pregnancies. If I had chosen one of those banks, my child could potentially have had an indefinite number of siblings in the country, if not the world.
I come to terms with the disappointing news. I am bitter, frustrated and jealous of the ladies who got my guy. After hanging up, I feel an overwhelming burden weigh upon me instantaneously. Holy crap, do I need to start all over again??? Do I need to go back to the drawing board and research donors AGAIN!? Oh, please no, that was one of the most time consuming, heart wrenching, troubling decisions I've ever had to make! I so don't want to go through that again!!!
I pace my classroom, trying to calm myself and get level headed. Ok, I remind myself, I still have one vial on reserve. Perhaps that is the ONE! Oh shoot, but wait! I planned to store extras in case I decided I wanted to have a full sibling for my baby. Doh! Back to square one. DO I REALLY NEED TO HUNT DOWN ANOTHER DONOR??? This is inconceivable! Didn't I decide to go the donor route over a year ago because I couldn't find a decent enough IN-THE-FLESH guy??? Now I can't even land a donor??? AHHHH!
I am outraged. I am aggravated. I am crushed. I am disheartened. I weep.
What does it all mean? As always, I seek the message and/or lesson in every obstacle I encounter on this journey. What is Creator trying to tell me now?
Is my seventh and final vial the "ONE?" Need I not worry about purchasing other vials? Perhaps baby is to be an only child, like me?
And if #7 doesn't work? Is it Creator's way of telling me 5696 wasn't "my guy" after all?
Or, considering the bigger picture, perhaps this is Creator's way of telling me this isn't the way I'm to do things at all? Maybe my in-the-flesh Prince Charming is on his way after all?
Why the set backs? Why all the stalling? Why the stumbling blocks? Why? Why? Why?
Geez, maybe that needs to be my lesson - stop asking why.
Ugh, so that's where I'm at. Just another day in the life of a mommy wannabe...
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Oops, She Did It Again!
"Psst!" It's lunch time. A co-worker beckons for me as she catches me exiting my classroom. With a serious look and the 'ole mysterious head nod, she gestures for me to follow her into her classroom. She shoos my student teacher away. I know something's up.
In the darkened privacy of her classroom she faces me and says, "I wanted you to hear this from me first." The stern look on her face tells me I'm about to hear something that may ruin my appetite. "Deana is pregnant...four and half months...twins." She tells me slowly, allowing each bit of the increasingly shocking information to settle in and digest before revealing the cherry on top. She proceeds to explain that Deana has been trying to get pregnant using donor sperm, just like me, and was finally successful with IVF.
Omph! I feel my head sway back with the weight of the heavy news. Seriously? Didn't I just go through this? Am I an extra in the movie Groundhog Day??? Ok, no worries, I can get through this. I just survived the worst case scenario, right? One of my closest Sistrens getting pregnant? Eh, this is just a co-worker, I can get through this. Nothing in comparison!
I pick my lower jaw up off the ground and we carry on to the staff lounge. As we walk the short distance, I wonder, "What are the odds? Really? Someone else on my staff, going through the same thing? And she's pregnant? Damn!" I'm puzzled. I'm pissed. I'm piecing everything together.
Sitting in the lounge, having lunch, who waltzes in to make copies? Deana, of course. Mind you the copy machine at our school is equivalent to an office's water cooler. Gossip galore lingers over paper, toner and collated copies. As her copies spit out the machine, she announces to the munching staff members she is indeed pregnant...four and half months...with twin girls. Shock, joy, excitement, praise, hugs and giggles commence.
Damn! Why couldn't that be me??? The jealous, envious, looking for approval little girl in me wants the same attention and acknowledgement! Once again, my thunder is stolen! A huge part of me wants to shout out, "Me too! I'm doing the same! I could be pregnant RIGHT NOW!!!"......Oh wait. The good little angel on my other shoulder reminds me that I would be stealing Deana's thunder if I blabbed all that. That's right. This is her time. You'll get yours, T. Patience.
Boisterous, bold and out-spoken as she is, Deana carries on to broadcast the details. She disseminates (no pun intended, haha) the information across the lounge from copier to lunch tables. 39 years old, summer time, sperm donor, IUI, IVF, blah, blah, blah. I act surprised, congratulate her, quiz her on how many times she tried and turn back to eat my chicken pot pie.
Three times and one IVF.
Hmm....Now I've more to chew on than just my chicken, peas and carrots. I muddle over in my mind the number of times I've tried. The number of times she's tried. Her age. My age. Her doctor's. My doctor's. Her health. My health. (Ridiculous, I know.) I start to wonder...should I go straight to IVF??? She said the three IUI's were, "A complete waste of time!" Gee, come to think of it...so were mine! In fact, so were the first FIVE!!!
Ack!!! Cinnamon! Peanut Butter! (sorry, inside Sistren joke). STOP! I tell myself to get out of my head. After finishing my lunch, I send out an email and tell the Sistrens I need a check in. Time to make sure I deal with this and don't internalize it.
At the end of the day, I'm alright. Just another obstacle, bump in the road, a hiccup. I'm back on track and focusing on what's most important - #6, not the first five, or #7 or #10 (though we all hope they're won't be;). I went in for IUI #6 last Monday and I'm currently playing the waiting game.
Everything went smoothly. I picked up the swimmers two weeks prior to my insemination, so as to avoid last month's mishap. I was a little freaked out when Crystal, the office manger at the sperm bank, smiled, waved and said, "Tania, I'll be right with you!" Oh great, we're on first name basis now. Sure, it's swell that I'm getting a little personal attention...and at the same time, it also goes to show how many times I've been to their office! Yikes!
As I waited for my little swimmers in the waiting room, I looked upon three women, two clearly a lesbian couple, another sitting on her own, (as I once did), all looking through the enormous binders filled with donor profiles. Wow. What a reminder. It felt like ages ago that I sat in the same chairs, pondering over profiles, taking notes, debating over donors. I was so excited for them. And I felt proud. Proud of myself. Look how far I've come!
At that moment, Crystal reentered the waiting room and set down my box of swimmers. As she confirmed my donor's number on the envelope, I feel the gaze of three sets of eyes on me. I smile and thank Crystal and tell her I'll see her in a few hours to return the tank. I look back to the eager women who are all smiles. Sizing up my box of swimmers, that the reaches the height of my thigh, one of the ladies says to me, "Wow, looks like you've got a caged animal in there!" Lady, I think, you have no idea! They wish me luck, as I do the same to them.
Everything at Kasier SF, later that afternoon went well. I brought my iPod, meditated while waiting in the exam room, felt comfortable and relaxed with the physician performing the insemination, and laid back and "relaxed" a bit more after the procedure;) It's been a week since the insemination and my body has reacted similarly after past inseminations. Crampy the first few days and then back to "normal." Only time will tell.
In the meantime, I'll continue to don my superhero cape and fight the battles that get thrown in my direction. Every challenge that brings me down only makes me stronger, after all. And of course, I'm always looking for the lessons in each troubling time. In this case, I feel some relief. In the back of my mind, I've been wondering how my staff would react to the news of my pregnancy. How much should I reveal? Today's experience taught me to not worry.
Now that Deana was the icebreaker, and witnessing the acceptance, joy and admiration she received from our staff, I feel safe knowing that when my time comes, I'll revel in the same bliss, blessings and best wishes. Ok, so I won't be the trailblazer in alternative pregnancy methods at my school site. Oh well, guess I can live with that. I've got other things to focus on - like getting pregnant!
Finally, I'd like to give a shout out to my girl Jeanette, who has been my rock not only seven hours of the school day, but throughout this journey. She has been my shoulder, my logical mind when my own is twisted and stuck, she has been my confidant, my savior and therapist. It was she who hustled me into her classroom and had the good sense to arm me with tools to deal with the potentially damaging information before releasing me onto the vicious school grounds. This blog may have been terribly different had I heard the news first from Deana's loose lips. Thankfully, J prepared and protected me. She deserves a cape too!
Now that we're over that road block, let's get on with the waiting game. What'd ya say? Tick...tick...tick...
***Some character names have been changed to protect their identity***
Hehe, did that sound official, or what!?
In the darkened privacy of her classroom she faces me and says, "I wanted you to hear this from me first." The stern look on her face tells me I'm about to hear something that may ruin my appetite. "Deana is pregnant...four and half months...twins." She tells me slowly, allowing each bit of the increasingly shocking information to settle in and digest before revealing the cherry on top. She proceeds to explain that Deana has been trying to get pregnant using donor sperm, just like me, and was finally successful with IVF.
Omph! I feel my head sway back with the weight of the heavy news. Seriously? Didn't I just go through this? Am I an extra in the movie Groundhog Day??? Ok, no worries, I can get through this. I just survived the worst case scenario, right? One of my closest Sistrens getting pregnant? Eh, this is just a co-worker, I can get through this. Nothing in comparison!
I pick my lower jaw up off the ground and we carry on to the staff lounge. As we walk the short distance, I wonder, "What are the odds? Really? Someone else on my staff, going through the same thing? And she's pregnant? Damn!" I'm puzzled. I'm pissed. I'm piecing everything together.
Sitting in the lounge, having lunch, who waltzes in to make copies? Deana, of course. Mind you the copy machine at our school is equivalent to an office's water cooler. Gossip galore lingers over paper, toner and collated copies. As her copies spit out the machine, she announces to the munching staff members she is indeed pregnant...four and half months...with twin girls. Shock, joy, excitement, praise, hugs and giggles commence.
Damn! Why couldn't that be me??? The jealous, envious, looking for approval little girl in me wants the same attention and acknowledgement! Once again, my thunder is stolen! A huge part of me wants to shout out, "Me too! I'm doing the same! I could be pregnant RIGHT NOW!!!"......Oh wait. The good little angel on my other shoulder reminds me that I would be stealing Deana's thunder if I blabbed all that. That's right. This is her time. You'll get yours, T. Patience.
Boisterous, bold and out-spoken as she is, Deana carries on to broadcast the details. She disseminates (no pun intended, haha) the information across the lounge from copier to lunch tables. 39 years old, summer time, sperm donor, IUI, IVF, blah, blah, blah. I act surprised, congratulate her, quiz her on how many times she tried and turn back to eat my chicken pot pie.
Three times and one IVF.
Hmm....Now I've more to chew on than just my chicken, peas and carrots. I muddle over in my mind the number of times I've tried. The number of times she's tried. Her age. My age. Her doctor's. My doctor's. Her health. My health. (Ridiculous, I know.) I start to wonder...should I go straight to IVF??? She said the three IUI's were, "A complete waste of time!" Gee, come to think of it...so were mine! In fact, so were the first FIVE!!!
Ack!!! Cinnamon! Peanut Butter! (sorry, inside Sistren joke). STOP! I tell myself to get out of my head. After finishing my lunch, I send out an email and tell the Sistrens I need a check in. Time to make sure I deal with this and don't internalize it.
At the end of the day, I'm alright. Just another obstacle, bump in the road, a hiccup. I'm back on track and focusing on what's most important - #6, not the first five, or #7 or #10 (though we all hope they're won't be;). I went in for IUI #6 last Monday and I'm currently playing the waiting game.
Everything went smoothly. I picked up the swimmers two weeks prior to my insemination, so as to avoid last month's mishap. I was a little freaked out when Crystal, the office manger at the sperm bank, smiled, waved and said, "Tania, I'll be right with you!" Oh great, we're on first name basis now. Sure, it's swell that I'm getting a little personal attention...and at the same time, it also goes to show how many times I've been to their office! Yikes!
As I waited for my little swimmers in the waiting room, I looked upon three women, two clearly a lesbian couple, another sitting on her own, (as I once did), all looking through the enormous binders filled with donor profiles. Wow. What a reminder. It felt like ages ago that I sat in the same chairs, pondering over profiles, taking notes, debating over donors. I was so excited for them. And I felt proud. Proud of myself. Look how far I've come!
At that moment, Crystal reentered the waiting room and set down my box of swimmers. As she confirmed my donor's number on the envelope, I feel the gaze of three sets of eyes on me. I smile and thank Crystal and tell her I'll see her in a few hours to return the tank. I look back to the eager women who are all smiles. Sizing up my box of swimmers, that the reaches the height of my thigh, one of the ladies says to me, "Wow, looks like you've got a caged animal in there!" Lady, I think, you have no idea! They wish me luck, as I do the same to them.
Everything at Kasier SF, later that afternoon went well. I brought my iPod, meditated while waiting in the exam room, felt comfortable and relaxed with the physician performing the insemination, and laid back and "relaxed" a bit more after the procedure;) It's been a week since the insemination and my body has reacted similarly after past inseminations. Crampy the first few days and then back to "normal." Only time will tell.
In the meantime, I'll continue to don my superhero cape and fight the battles that get thrown in my direction. Every challenge that brings me down only makes me stronger, after all. And of course, I'm always looking for the lessons in each troubling time. In this case, I feel some relief. In the back of my mind, I've been wondering how my staff would react to the news of my pregnancy. How much should I reveal? Today's experience taught me to not worry.
Now that Deana was the icebreaker, and witnessing the acceptance, joy and admiration she received from our staff, I feel safe knowing that when my time comes, I'll revel in the same bliss, blessings and best wishes. Ok, so I won't be the trailblazer in alternative pregnancy methods at my school site. Oh well, guess I can live with that. I've got other things to focus on - like getting pregnant!
Finally, I'd like to give a shout out to my girl Jeanette, who has been my rock not only seven hours of the school day, but throughout this journey. She has been my shoulder, my logical mind when my own is twisted and stuck, she has been my confidant, my savior and therapist. It was she who hustled me into her classroom and had the good sense to arm me with tools to deal with the potentially damaging information before releasing me onto the vicious school grounds. This blog may have been terribly different had I heard the news first from Deana's loose lips. Thankfully, J prepared and protected me. She deserves a cape too!
Now that we're over that road block, let's get on with the waiting game. What'd ya say? Tick...tick...tick...
***Some character names have been changed to protect their identity***
Hehe, did that sound official, or what!?
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Got the Blues and Feeling Green with Envy
Ooohwee, what a month! Been tried, tested and tossed around this month! Creator has sent me a number of challenges that have had me working, praying, wondering and listening for lessons. I won't lie, I've also been raging, crying, questioning and shutting down.
Missing my golden opportunity last month was disappointing. Congratulating yet another woman in my support group on her pregnancy was hard. Hearing from one of my closest sistrens that she too was pregnant - now that...that was devastating.
Yes, I understand that sounds insensitive and shallow.
Each time a member of my on-line or my SF based SMC (Single Mothers by Choice) support group announces their pregnancy, I am overjoyed and congratulatory. After traveling this tumultuous journey with them, sharing the same challenges, getting each other through the hard times, when someone finally announces they are pregnant, it's as if we've all won; I'm thrilled and share in the excitement. At the same time however, I feel a tinge of envy, (ok, maybe a whole lot of envy) and deeply wish it was me announcing the good news.
Now take that experience - learning that someone you've never met or someone you may see once a month is pregnant - and replace the individual with someone who is one of your closest friends, whom you spend quite a bit of time with - and you're hit with a double-whammy. Double the emotion, double the envy, double the pain. This has been my month.
Having lunch after church one Sunday afternoon, my sistren says, "I have something to tell you guys." Not hesitating, I respond, " You're pregnant." Still not sure how I knew, but some how I called it, and was spot on. The next twenty minutes was spent discussing the who, what to do, next steps and settling her frazzled state. After she left and hurried off to work, the next twenty minutes were spent settling my frazzled state.
The next several weeks thereafter, I engulfed myself in a series of projects, trips and clever ways to dodge my sistrens' calls, emails and visits. Yes, I went to that place. I needed to escape the reality of the situation, avoid the emotional drama and live in my protective bubble.
Of course that bubble could stay afloat for only so long. I had sistrens riding my behind, checking in with me and pushing for me to deal with the inevitable. I finally had to do what I tried so hard to keep in - acknowledge and divulge my innermost feelings. Ugh!
When the sistrens and I check in at group meetings, we begin with a "three word check in" - a mental inventory of your emotions at that moment. That was easy. I was feeling: 1. frustrated 2. pissed and 3. jealous.
I was frustrated that someone like me, a woman who makes a conscious decision to get pregnant and goes to extreme measures to get pregnant is not getting pregnant, whereas my sistren, who was not trying to get pregnant, blinks and eye and conceives. Argh!
Pissed. Another freakin reminder of how long and how hard I've been trying to get pregnant and it's still not happening. Great! Now I'm going to have a pregnant sistren with a growing belly as yet another reminder that I'm NOT pregnant! Talk about in your face!
Jealous. Down right, plain and simple jelaousy. I want it to be me. I want to be the pregnant one. This was my path, my journey, my show. I made this decision. I was going to be the one to bring a baby into the sistrenhood. I was Baby Mama! Rain on my parade and steal my thunder!
Childish, I know. Me, me, me. It's all about me. Yes, I understand there is another sistren involved. And I know she is struggling as well. Getting pregnant may indeed have been my plan, but it wasn't hers. She has her own struggles. I am having a hard time with this and so is she. We are both troubled - differently.
I look for the lesson in all this. I just know that Creator has given my sistren a baby and not me for a reason. I wonder, question, pray and listen. She is my teacher now. At the same time, I cry, rage, and curse. I know that this experience will only bring us closer together and make us both stronger women. Damn, by the time I finally get pregnant and have a baby I will be wearing a blue leotard, red cape and have a "S" on my chest.
I love my sistren dearly and will support, share and send love to her every step of her journey. And I know she's doing the same for me.
Missing my golden opportunity last month was disappointing. Congratulating yet another woman in my support group on her pregnancy was hard. Hearing from one of my closest sistrens that she too was pregnant - now that...that was devastating.
Yes, I understand that sounds insensitive and shallow.
Each time a member of my on-line or my SF based SMC (Single Mothers by Choice) support group announces their pregnancy, I am overjoyed and congratulatory. After traveling this tumultuous journey with them, sharing the same challenges, getting each other through the hard times, when someone finally announces they are pregnant, it's as if we've all won; I'm thrilled and share in the excitement. At the same time however, I feel a tinge of envy, (ok, maybe a whole lot of envy) and deeply wish it was me announcing the good news.
Now take that experience - learning that someone you've never met or someone you may see once a month is pregnant - and replace the individual with someone who is one of your closest friends, whom you spend quite a bit of time with - and you're hit with a double-whammy. Double the emotion, double the envy, double the pain. This has been my month.
Having lunch after church one Sunday afternoon, my sistren says, "I have something to tell you guys." Not hesitating, I respond, " You're pregnant." Still not sure how I knew, but some how I called it, and was spot on. The next twenty minutes was spent discussing the who, what to do, next steps and settling her frazzled state. After she left and hurried off to work, the next twenty minutes were spent settling my frazzled state.
The next several weeks thereafter, I engulfed myself in a series of projects, trips and clever ways to dodge my sistrens' calls, emails and visits. Yes, I went to that place. I needed to escape the reality of the situation, avoid the emotional drama and live in my protective bubble.
Of course that bubble could stay afloat for only so long. I had sistrens riding my behind, checking in with me and pushing for me to deal with the inevitable. I finally had to do what I tried so hard to keep in - acknowledge and divulge my innermost feelings. Ugh!
When the sistrens and I check in at group meetings, we begin with a "three word check in" - a mental inventory of your emotions at that moment. That was easy. I was feeling: 1. frustrated 2. pissed and 3. jealous.
I was frustrated that someone like me, a woman who makes a conscious decision to get pregnant and goes to extreme measures to get pregnant is not getting pregnant, whereas my sistren, who was not trying to get pregnant, blinks and eye and conceives. Argh!
Pissed. Another freakin reminder of how long and how hard I've been trying to get pregnant and it's still not happening. Great! Now I'm going to have a pregnant sistren with a growing belly as yet another reminder that I'm NOT pregnant! Talk about in your face!
Jealous. Down right, plain and simple jelaousy. I want it to be me. I want to be the pregnant one. This was my path, my journey, my show. I made this decision. I was going to be the one to bring a baby into the sistrenhood. I was Baby Mama! Rain on my parade and steal my thunder!
Childish, I know. Me, me, me. It's all about me. Yes, I understand there is another sistren involved. And I know she is struggling as well. Getting pregnant may indeed have been my plan, but it wasn't hers. She has her own struggles. I am having a hard time with this and so is she. We are both troubled - differently.
I look for the lesson in all this. I just know that Creator has given my sistren a baby and not me for a reason. I wonder, question, pray and listen. She is my teacher now. At the same time, I cry, rage, and curse. I know that this experience will only bring us closer together and make us both stronger women. Damn, by the time I finally get pregnant and have a baby I will be wearing a blue leotard, red cape and have a "S" on my chest.
I love my sistren dearly and will support, share and send love to her every step of her journey. And I know she's doing the same for me.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
It's All About Control
Smiley Face.
Damn it!
For the first time in six months, I cursed the smiley face glowing on my ovulation pee stick. Ordinarily, I would've beamed as bright as the digital cheeky guy - his appearance meant that within hours I could proceed with operation Turkey Baste!
This morning however, was another story. This morning happened to be Saturday - a day in which my swimmers are locked behind closed doors, not to be reopened until Monday morning. We all know what that means - no swimmers, no fertilization, no chance of pregnancy this month. Damn!
After cursing the little guy and indignantly tossing him in the trash, I turned on myself. I paced my apartment's floors spewing words of a truck driver, beating myself up over my decision to not pick up my swimmers yesterday afternoon. Still, at this very moment, it makes me sick to my stomach that someone like me - Type A, freakishly organized, a planner, a note taker, a list maker - could possibly err on such a monumental move in this game.
How ever does a control freak like me screw this up? By letting go of the reigns. Even just a bit. Yes, last month, this spirited and care-free girl frolicked playfully day after day, enjoying life's pleasures off of hormones. I was reveling in a blissful state - free of mood swings, worry, fear and doubt. Positivity, good vibes and a "let's go with the flow" attitude was on my side and led the way.
While I acknowledged my growth, praised my new attitude and gave myself the "thumb's-up", I failed to keep track of my cycle. I was too busy patting myself on the back for a job well done, that I got lazy keeping a record of my temperature and was inconsistent when peeing on my ovulation sticks. So inconsistent in fact, that I never discovered when I actually ovulated. (Of course I had decided to not inseminate last month, though I knew it would be best to keep a record of what day I ovulated, as that could help to predict next month's day of ovulation.)
So much for letting go and giving up control. I totally screwed myself. It was my lackadaisy attitude that convinced myself to not stop off at the clinic to pick up my swimmers, before heading over the bridge for a show. Leave work on time (unheard of), drive 25 miles, fight rush hour traffic - "Nah, too much!" - my new and improved free-spirited mind told me. "Don't worry," "You won't ovulate over the weekend!" it continued to chime.
Well, mind and body were clearly not aligned and in balance as of 8am this morning. While my mind convinced me yesterday to keep driving and pass the clinic, my body decided that today, Saturday, Day #13 of my cycle, would be the day to ovulate. Great, just great! So, there goes this month. As I sit on the couch doing the ugly cry, my little guys are hanging out, frozen behind sealed doors on DeHaro Street, while my egg most likely travels its lonesome journey through one of my fallopian tubes.
At the end of the day, I still am a firm believer that "everything happens for a reason." I know, just as with the previous five attempts, that the timing is just not right. Creator doesn't want me to get pregnant this month. She has something else in store for me. Yeah, yeah, same story; different month. It's getting old and I know it's still the truth. I accept it and I'm still pissed, frustrated and uttering profanity from under my breath.
I'm sure there is a significant lesson somewhere in this all. I wait and listen to discover what meaning is to come of this botched step of the journey. There have been several mini-lessons along the way. What I have learned thus far is that I do prefer to proceed without hormones. I've learned that off of the hormones, my cycle is 28 days opposed to 31 and that I ovulate much earlier.
Most importantly, I've realized I need to find a balance between manipulation and fluidity. Early in the game, I discovered that having rigid control creates stress and emotional let-downs. Just recently however, I've learned that completely letting go may also lead to emotional let-downs and missed opportunities.
Getting pregnant in this manner requires some control. I truly have a narrow window of opportunity to get pregnant each month - timing is essential - and there are so many variables that need to be tended to and considered. So...whereas I know I need to let go and try not to control every step, at the same time, it is vital that I maintain a reasonable amount of control in order to not miss another opportunity.
In the words of the beautifully talented Janet Jackson -
This is a story about control, my control
Control of what I say, control of what I do
And this time I'm gonna do it my way
I hope you enjoy this as much as I do
Are we ready? I am? Cause it's all about control
And I've got lots of it
Damn it!
For the first time in six months, I cursed the smiley face glowing on my ovulation pee stick. Ordinarily, I would've beamed as bright as the digital cheeky guy - his appearance meant that within hours I could proceed with operation Turkey Baste!
This morning however, was another story. This morning happened to be Saturday - a day in which my swimmers are locked behind closed doors, not to be reopened until Monday morning. We all know what that means - no swimmers, no fertilization, no chance of pregnancy this month. Damn!
After cursing the little guy and indignantly tossing him in the trash, I turned on myself. I paced my apartment's floors spewing words of a truck driver, beating myself up over my decision to not pick up my swimmers yesterday afternoon. Still, at this very moment, it makes me sick to my stomach that someone like me - Type A, freakishly organized, a planner, a note taker, a list maker - could possibly err on such a monumental move in this game.
How ever does a control freak like me screw this up? By letting go of the reigns. Even just a bit. Yes, last month, this spirited and care-free girl frolicked playfully day after day, enjoying life's pleasures off of hormones. I was reveling in a blissful state - free of mood swings, worry, fear and doubt. Positivity, good vibes and a "let's go with the flow" attitude was on my side and led the way.
While I acknowledged my growth, praised my new attitude and gave myself the "thumb's-up", I failed to keep track of my cycle. I was too busy patting myself on the back for a job well done, that I got lazy keeping a record of my temperature and was inconsistent when peeing on my ovulation sticks. So inconsistent in fact, that I never discovered when I actually ovulated. (Of course I had decided to not inseminate last month, though I knew it would be best to keep a record of what day I ovulated, as that could help to predict next month's day of ovulation.)
So much for letting go and giving up control. I totally screwed myself. It was my lackadaisy attitude that convinced myself to not stop off at the clinic to pick up my swimmers, before heading over the bridge for a show. Leave work on time (unheard of), drive 25 miles, fight rush hour traffic - "Nah, too much!" - my new and improved free-spirited mind told me. "Don't worry," "You won't ovulate over the weekend!" it continued to chime.
Well, mind and body were clearly not aligned and in balance as of 8am this morning. While my mind convinced me yesterday to keep driving and pass the clinic, my body decided that today, Saturday, Day #13 of my cycle, would be the day to ovulate. Great, just great! So, there goes this month. As I sit on the couch doing the ugly cry, my little guys are hanging out, frozen behind sealed doors on DeHaro Street, while my egg most likely travels its lonesome journey through one of my fallopian tubes.
At the end of the day, I still am a firm believer that "everything happens for a reason." I know, just as with the previous five attempts, that the timing is just not right. Creator doesn't want me to get pregnant this month. She has something else in store for me. Yeah, yeah, same story; different month. It's getting old and I know it's still the truth. I accept it and I'm still pissed, frustrated and uttering profanity from under my breath.
I'm sure there is a significant lesson somewhere in this all. I wait and listen to discover what meaning is to come of this botched step of the journey. There have been several mini-lessons along the way. What I have learned thus far is that I do prefer to proceed without hormones. I've learned that off of the hormones, my cycle is 28 days opposed to 31 and that I ovulate much earlier.
Most importantly, I've realized I need to find a balance between manipulation and fluidity. Early in the game, I discovered that having rigid control creates stress and emotional let-downs. Just recently however, I've learned that completely letting go may also lead to emotional let-downs and missed opportunities.
Getting pregnant in this manner requires some control. I truly have a narrow window of opportunity to get pregnant each month - timing is essential - and there are so many variables that need to be tended to and considered. So...whereas I know I need to let go and try not to control every step, at the same time, it is vital that I maintain a reasonable amount of control in order to not miss another opportunity.
In the words of the beautifully talented Janet Jackson -
This is a story about control, my control
Control of what I say, control of what I do
And this time I'm gonna do it my way
I hope you enjoy this as much as I do
Are we ready? I am? Cause it's all about control
And I've got lots of it
Friday, February 25, 2011
Gone Fishin'
So the at-home sexy time with syringe was just as unsuccessful as the previous five doctor-assisted IUI attempts. No worries, I'm not blaming 5696. It was our first date and we're just starting to get to know each other.
Surprisingly, even after another failed attempt, I've been in a remarkable mood this month. Really, I have. Astounding, yes, I know. It took my Sistren Sandy to point out to me that perhaps I've been feeling pleasant and upbeat because I opted to not take hormones this month. Dagnamit, that's got to be it!
Yes, indeed, this month I decided to not inseminate and therefor not take the ovulatory stimulant, Clomid. For the first time in four months, I feel stress-free, content and above all, free! Wow, what a difference! I can't begin to explain how different a person I have been this month! I've also been attending the East Bay Church with Sistrens Chrissy, Cil and Azh, and that's been positive and uplifting. I've been going to bed earlier, reading more and simply enjoying life. Incredible!
With a heavy heart, I decided to not inseminate this month. Though I'm a little sad and disappointed that I had to press pause on operation "Baby-Making" this month, the reasons for doing so were important to me. I needed to give myself time to pursue possibilities, play a bit, and now I'm realizing, time to take a break from the drugs. Everything happens for a reason, right? Had I not decided to take this month off, I would never had discovered how detrimental the Clomid was on my attitude, state of being and pyhsical body.
In my time off the drugs (geesh, I sound like an addict), I've been able to get back to the gym, dance with passion, make the decision to compete in solos, and spend time dating and having fun with a "special friend." I also visited San Francisco Kaiser's Endocrinologist, Dr. Huang to discuss Operation Turkey-Baste's next steps.
Dr Huang, is the specialist my gynecologist recommended I see, when I started this journey. I wasn't able to schedule an appointment with him however, as he is one of only two endocrinologists in San Francisco - he's apparently the better of the two, I'm now learning.
Since Dr. Huang was booked solid for several months, I settled with Dr. Feigenbaum, the "left over" physician. I remember the day I arrived at his Geary Blvd. office - hopeful, inspired and excited to get my journey started. He began with a series of personal questions, several of which I later realized were inappropriate and took offense to. In so many ways, he insinuated that I was promiscuous, carried an STD and requested I take a pregnancy test since I had skipped a period while traveling for six weeks in Indonesia. I sensed that he did not approve of my decision to become a single mother and I asked if he would be asking the same questions and giving the same recommendations to a married woman who sat in his office with her partner. After fumbling over his words and attempting to redeem himself, I left his office discouraged, scared and sought refuge, crying, in the parking lot. After such a negative experience, it's no wonder I never returned to SF Kaiser for my inseminations.
I did however, return recently to meet with Dr. Huang, whom I felt instantly comfortable with and deeply appreciated his professional and patient demeanor. We discussed next steps of mission make-a-baby. I explained that I had had five unsuccessful IUI's and wanted to know whether I should pursue more evasive procedures. He clearly explained my options, posing no judgement and offering no personal suggestions. My next option, should I chose, would be to go with hormone injections, in which I would inject myself at home, with a daily dose of hormones and return to the clinic frequently to monitor the growth of follicles and egg development. The costs are high - $1500 a cycle. Add that to the cost of sperm -$650 - yowzers!
Dr. Huang also offered to take a sonogram of my uterus to determine whether there were any problems, such as fibroids, that could be hindering my chances of getting pregnant. A chance to see a picture of my uterus!? I was totally game!
Dr. Huang led me down the hall to a room wallpapered with posters of "the cycle of life," and a sonogram machine resting in the center of the room. A female nurse remained in the room as Dr. Huang conducted the procedure. He inserted a long, narrow speculum into me and miraculously, on the screen, I could see the insides of my uterus! Simply amazing! He gently maneuvered the wand around and showed me both of my ovaries. Examining the small television screen, he counted the darker, fuzzier spots on each ovary, which turned out to be the follicles growing on each - 9 on the right side and five on the left - both good numbers (he hopped for at least five on each).
After the exam, Dr. Huang was happy to report that all appeared normal. He reviewed by next-step options with me once again. I explained to him that I was considering trying to conceive naturally (or as naturally as this progress could possibly be) the next time around, as I think my positive mental attitude, off the drugs, could be a benefit to my physical state. Dr. Huang was supportive of my decision and encouraged me to return to SF Kaiser to continue my inseminations.
So, the HSG proved that my tubes were clear, and now this sonogram determined that my uterus is healthy as well. All systems go, once again! Though the time off has been good for me, I'm looking forward to getting back to inseminating next month and date #2 with 5696. Until then, you can find me reveling in my blissful state, taking it easy and maybe even doing some fishing! haha
Surprisingly, even after another failed attempt, I've been in a remarkable mood this month. Really, I have. Astounding, yes, I know. It took my Sistren Sandy to point out to me that perhaps I've been feeling pleasant and upbeat because I opted to not take hormones this month. Dagnamit, that's got to be it!
Yes, indeed, this month I decided to not inseminate and therefor not take the ovulatory stimulant, Clomid. For the first time in four months, I feel stress-free, content and above all, free! Wow, what a difference! I can't begin to explain how different a person I have been this month! I've also been attending the East Bay Church with Sistrens Chrissy, Cil and Azh, and that's been positive and uplifting. I've been going to bed earlier, reading more and simply enjoying life. Incredible!
With a heavy heart, I decided to not inseminate this month. Though I'm a little sad and disappointed that I had to press pause on operation "Baby-Making" this month, the reasons for doing so were important to me. I needed to give myself time to pursue possibilities, play a bit, and now I'm realizing, time to take a break from the drugs. Everything happens for a reason, right? Had I not decided to take this month off, I would never had discovered how detrimental the Clomid was on my attitude, state of being and pyhsical body.
In my time off the drugs (geesh, I sound like an addict), I've been able to get back to the gym, dance with passion, make the decision to compete in solos, and spend time dating and having fun with a "special friend." I also visited San Francisco Kaiser's Endocrinologist, Dr. Huang to discuss Operation Turkey-Baste's next steps.
Dr Huang, is the specialist my gynecologist recommended I see, when I started this journey. I wasn't able to schedule an appointment with him however, as he is one of only two endocrinologists in San Francisco - he's apparently the better of the two, I'm now learning.
Since Dr. Huang was booked solid for several months, I settled with Dr. Feigenbaum, the "left over" physician. I remember the day I arrived at his Geary Blvd. office - hopeful, inspired and excited to get my journey started. He began with a series of personal questions, several of which I later realized were inappropriate and took offense to. In so many ways, he insinuated that I was promiscuous, carried an STD and requested I take a pregnancy test since I had skipped a period while traveling for six weeks in Indonesia. I sensed that he did not approve of my decision to become a single mother and I asked if he would be asking the same questions and giving the same recommendations to a married woman who sat in his office with her partner. After fumbling over his words and attempting to redeem himself, I left his office discouraged, scared and sought refuge, crying, in the parking lot. After such a negative experience, it's no wonder I never returned to SF Kaiser for my inseminations.
I did however, return recently to meet with Dr. Huang, whom I felt instantly comfortable with and deeply appreciated his professional and patient demeanor. We discussed next steps of mission make-a-baby. I explained that I had had five unsuccessful IUI's and wanted to know whether I should pursue more evasive procedures. He clearly explained my options, posing no judgement and offering no personal suggestions. My next option, should I chose, would be to go with hormone injections, in which I would inject myself at home, with a daily dose of hormones and return to the clinic frequently to monitor the growth of follicles and egg development. The costs are high - $1500 a cycle. Add that to the cost of sperm -$650 - yowzers!
Dr. Huang also offered to take a sonogram of my uterus to determine whether there were any problems, such as fibroids, that could be hindering my chances of getting pregnant. A chance to see a picture of my uterus!? I was totally game!
Dr. Huang led me down the hall to a room wallpapered with posters of "the cycle of life," and a sonogram machine resting in the center of the room. A female nurse remained in the room as Dr. Huang conducted the procedure. He inserted a long, narrow speculum into me and miraculously, on the screen, I could see the insides of my uterus! Simply amazing! He gently maneuvered the wand around and showed me both of my ovaries. Examining the small television screen, he counted the darker, fuzzier spots on each ovary, which turned out to be the follicles growing on each - 9 on the right side and five on the left - both good numbers (he hopped for at least five on each).
After the exam, Dr. Huang was happy to report that all appeared normal. He reviewed by next-step options with me once again. I explained to him that I was considering trying to conceive naturally (or as naturally as this progress could possibly be) the next time around, as I think my positive mental attitude, off the drugs, could be a benefit to my physical state. Dr. Huang was supportive of my decision and encouraged me to return to SF Kaiser to continue my inseminations.
So, the HSG proved that my tubes were clear, and now this sonogram determined that my uterus is healthy as well. All systems go, once again! Though the time off has been good for me, I'm looking forward to getting back to inseminating next month and date #2 with 5696. Until then, you can find me reveling in my blissful state, taking it easy and maybe even doing some fishing! haha
Friday, January 21, 2011
DIY!
"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!
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!
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!
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