Ultrasound #2, Day 4 of Stimms

Me and my lucky socks took a quick trip to see our favorite ultrasound tech this morning. E. was in a good mood and generous with the blue goo as always. My stats: EL-8, Right side 1@ 11×8 and “a lot” of smaller ones Left side 1@ 13×9 and a bunch more smaller ones. E. said “Looks like you’re off to a good start.” I’ll take that. Thanks. E2 pending . . .

Does anyone know if this is really good or was E. just being nice?

One bad bit: my blood pressure is 130/92. Not great. Not great at all. I really debated on confessing this to my IVF team. I was a bit paranoid they’d cancel my cycle or something. Dr. P is to call me back later to tell me whether he wants to treat it or ignore it. Nurse M. said they will most likely do nothing. If I get pregnant they will punt the problem to the neonatal guy and if I am not pregnant they will punt me to my family physician. Sounds like a plan, I guess. ??

The reason I even checked the B/P was because of the whopper headache I developed on Lupron. The headache combined with feeling whacky on the BCP’s convinced me that I was going to be one of the statistical women over 35 who had a stroke while taking the pill. I checked my B/P several times and it was high each time. My parents are both hypertensive, so I’m not really that surprised. I am also now about 30 pounds overweight since starting on this infertility adventure. That can’t help either. My third wedding anniversary is in less than four weeks and already I can’t fit into my wedding dress. (Not that I was planning to wear it anytime soon). Just the thought of it is depressing.

Over all I feel pretty OK today. I actually had a burst of happiness after reading this post. I was further encouraged by my “off to a good start” prognosis at the RE’s. My sad mood persists though . . . kind of just hovering there threatening to swoop in and make me cry.

The sad mood is not being helped by my lack of sleep. Saturday night (first night of stimms, if that’s even related) I had really f*cked up dreams. Wanna hear one? I dreamt that C.’s ex-wife** showed up very pregnant (not his) and invited him to her baby shower and he felt he had to go to be polite. Needless to say, I was not invited. I will give you some background on her so you understand just how ridiculous this dream is (to follow). Anyway, I had a series of equally ridiculous and upsetting dreams, that one was the one I woke up to, so I still remember it in detail. I’ve had an aversion to sleep the last two nights, for fear of more crappy dreams which leave me more tired than when I went to bed.

**The ex-wife background: she was a highschool girlfriend who pressured C. to get married because all her friends were getting married. It was never that happy, no kids, lasted less than four years, some of which was spent apart when on and off he moved home or she left for spells.When it finally ended they never spoke or saw each other again. She moved to another state, far, far away. She didn’t want kids. So, all in all, the idea of her showing up pregnant at our home decades later is completely absurd. Yet somehow my brain cooks this crazy dream up. What the????

So, I digress, yet again!

I am still feeling sh*tty about yesterday’s post and have decided to revise it (again!) Thank you to those who commented yesterday. The support means a lot. I have kind of rehashed it one more time in my whirling dervish brain. It boils down to my regret. I regret that infertility has changed me to the point that I can’t see things from her hyperfertile point of view. I regret opening up as much as I did to someone who just doesn’t get it. I also regret that my best friend has turned into one of those smug mommies that feels she is more woman because of her motherhood. (We all know some of these women. They act like childless women don’t get it. Sadly they never stop to ask themselves why the childless woman might be childless.) I know she (best friend) means well, she tries to understand. I believe she is a true friend because her heart is in the right place. But she truly does not get it.

She is tied for first place with my mom for giving assvice and making well meaning comments that hurt like hell. So, I am closing the door on my flow of info to her on the topic of project baby. Still I don’t want to lose that friendship and I am afraid it is slowly choking.

Is there a blog etiquette guide somewhere?? Is it totally uncouth to revise a post after people have commented? I need to get up to speed on this stuff. I also need to figure out how to post links and interesting stuff. So far I am lucky if I get a post up on my own blog and read maybe a half dozen others per day, sometimes a full dozen if work is slow. IVF feels like a part time job. (Except I pay them!)

Blogging is really an amazing phenomenon to me. I cannot express how lucky I feel to have found all these amazing women out here in Webland.

Infertility is so damn lonely. Even when you have a good “real life” support system of friends and family, chances are they just don’t “get it.” And if you live in a new or far away place or lack a support system for any other reason . . . then it is really, really extra lonely. Sometimes I even count my husband among those who don’t get it. It’s just different for the men. But I will say C. has come a very long way. Much of that I have our (social worker/therapist/specializing in ART assessments/infertility counselor) to thank. There were days I left that office crying harder or feeling worse than when I went in. But looking back, it has done our marriage a world of good and I’ve learned a lot about myself in the process. That may just be the silver lining to our infertility. I am hoping that a baby is the gold lining. And, if it’s not too greedy, I’ll go for broke and say that twins would be the platinum lining to beat all other linings!

So between lacking restful sleep, the insanity of slowly rising hormone levels, and best friends who decide to drop bombshells of bad news at the worst possible time . . . I am not at my best. But, I do think I am doing pretty damn well all things considered!

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it . . . (until the next guilt trip sends me into revision mode!)

And the clouds roll in . . .

***revised Tuesday morning after “sleeping on it”, again.

Here is where I should take my own advice and blame the hormones and leave it at that. But what is a blog if not a place to put all these messed up feelings. Maybe that will get a few of them out of my head?

So here it goes:

While I actually had a very nice weekend with C., I am miserable this morning. The clouds started rolling in late last night, but by this morning, they had formed into thunderheads. I just wanted to crawl back under the covers and wait for the storm to pass. But, instead, I had to put on a happy face and go to work and pretend all is well in my world.

What triggered this funk? Who knows? A dozen small things. One really huge one: I woke up today and my first thoughts were about this whole infertile mess.What often happens for me is that I pick one of the dozen small things and start to seriously ruminate about it. Obsess is the better description really. It keeps me from getting as caught up in the bigger pain, the real pain.

This weekend I had a phone call with one of my closest friends. This phone call triggered a kind of emotional firestorm for me. Bestfriend (BF) and I have been close since highschool, which means about two decades now (gasp, am I really that old??) She and I have had similar paths in many ways. We both met “him” later than average which led to getting married later than average which led to trying for a baby at an “advanced maternal age.” She actually did each of these things even later than me but ended up “ahead” on all counts. She met her “him” about 18 months later but got married about the same time as me and she started trying for a baby 6 months later and now already has a one year old. She also already conceived baby #2, when baby #1 was only 10 months old. Now when we started out on this quest to motherhood, we of course assumed we’d both get there in now time. It quickly became apparent that one of us would not. This is were the similar paths veered apart. We didn’t mean for them to, they just did. But when we were still naive and optimistic we vowed to do this together in the sense of sharing the joys and the scary bits and all the gory details in the classic way two best girlfriends do. We bought the same pregnancy books and made our plans. One of those plans was to wait until the second trimester to tell everyone. Everone but each other that is. So that is where betrayal number one occurred. She treated me like everyone despite our promise, while in the meantime I spilled my guts down to the last detail about all my scary infertility tests, trials and traumas. I got over that, I figured she felt sorry for me, maybe felt guilty for being such an overachiever while I stuggled with infertility. Then the assvice started. Great stuff about taking a vacation, about relaxing, about “when you least expect it”, about her friends who adopted and got pregnant, about her friends, a lesbian couple, who were expecting too (and I quote: “If two women can have a baby surely it can’t be that hard for you and C. Right?”) Wrong. So these early signs should have been my clue to duct tape my mouth shut. But I had not found you internets yet. I had no one to talk to. My mother was giving worse assvice that BF and my husband was still chanting the mantra of “it will work, give it time”. So I told BF everything and opened my soul so wide that I feel just totally foolish in retrospect.

I think I did my part along the way . . . I sent her happy pregnancy cards, gifts for her, for baby, ooh and aahed at photos and so on. I never voiced jealousy or acted petty. No matter how shitty I was feeling I dug deep enough to celebrate her good fortune with her.

So fast forward to now. She gets pregnant back in November when cute cherub #1 is 10 months old. (Again does not tell me which is fine.) Sadly she then had a miscarriage at 9 weeks, again does not tell me which is fine. Waits another month approx until I am in the full crisis of my own life (which she DOES know since naive me tells her everything) and tada! She suddenly wants to open up to me and tell me this tragic news. I feel like crap. But, I say all the right things. I don’t regret my end of the phone call in any way. I did manage to pull it together quite seamlessly and say all the right things to comfort her. But I guess what got me is how much it drained me and this at a time when I am already so empty. And what I do regret is my internal reaction. I was so floored by her being pregnant again, so soon, so easily again . . . that I could hardly absorb the miscarriage part of the news at all. I also felt like crap for resenting her choosing this exact time to dump the news on me. If she had called me in real time, in the heat of the crisis because she needed a friend to lean on, I would have never resented that. But if she waits to tell me, if telling me isn’t urgent then why not wait until I am not in a crisis of my own? When I asked how she was coping with it, she said she has pretty much worked through it by now, she’s just still really sad. So why then, tell me all this now?

And to get to the real highlight of the conversation . . . the bit that really put me over the edge was her smug mommy comment. She expressed to me (of all people) that having a miscarriage is harder once you have a child because you know what you’re missing. Call me crazy but I find this concept absurd. A loss is a loss. Can she really believe that the women who miscarry over and over and never end up with a baby to hold in their arms have it easier than she, who has a beautiful one year old to hold while she grieves her loss? Which of these pictures is sadder? And why compare anyway? Pain is pain. But if she insists on comparing then I have to say I think she is better off, even with this tragic loss, than any women who never gets to hold a baby in her arms. The arrogance (or maybe it is ignorance) of that remark hit me so hard I wasn’t sure if I knew the person at the other end of the phone at all. And that has me questioning this friendship most of all.

Maybe this is the most asinine thing I’ve ever said but I think I could feel for her more fully if she had not felt the need to say that it takes having a child to understand losing one. So maybe she is right, maybe I just don’t understand her pain. But I also learned during that conversation that she clearly does not understand my pain either. I do know what it is to lose a child without ever having been pregnant at all. I lose that child more every day that goes by. The hope of a child that is yet to be or that may never be. That loss is real too.

My heart goes out to her. She is grieving and for that I am truly sorry. I will lend whatever support I can. The biggest thing that has changed between us is that I will no longer be hoping for that support back. She cannot see my situation in the context of loss or grief. But whether she sees it or not, I am grieving too. I have been for a long time now, right under her nose. Infertility is an invisible wound but it is a gaping, festering, debilitating would nonetheless. I would not wish it on anyone. And for each of us here . . . I wish for a cure. Whatever form that cure comes in.

So writing it all this out (three times revised by now!) did help. My head feels clearer, and I know where to go from here. The clouds remain but I know they will leave in their own time. I’m not sure I’ve helped anyone else by sharing this ramble, but I sincerely hope I have not offended anyone.

***sadly, revision didn’t make this post any shorter!

Your present plans are going to succeed

By request. Here they are. My lucky socks. They are all washed and ready to take a trip back to the RE for ultrasound #2. (Tuesday at 8:15 am)

Now these socks may not be everyone’s idea of “cool” and I’m pretty sure they would not meet very many people’s criteria for fashionable, but I really like them. It may have something to do with my recent knitting kick and the fact that these are really well made and fit perfectly. At any rate, I am convinced they have luck woven into them.

I also got a very good fortune cookie this weekend. I am not sure if it will show up here, but it said: “Your present plans are going to succeed.” I kid you not. If only these fortune cookies really meant something!

I am having technical difficulties with my digital camera, so I may need to revise this photo later with a new battery or better lighting or something.***

The rest of what is on my mind today does not jive with this mini post on good luck and good omens. So I will post the dark cloud of doom and gloom separately.

***If you click on the picture to enlarge it you can barely read the fortune cookie message.

The Green Light means GO

Well, we got the green light! My uterine lining and ovaries are “good to go.” They took a tube of blood for good measure to make sure the E2 is as it should be.

Tomorrow morning I continue with Lupron at half the dose (now only 5 units from here on out) and in the evening I get two shots: one vial (75u) of Menopur and another shot with 75u Follistim. Because the delivery systems are not compatible this means two shots per evening instead of one, with a grand total of three per day. This sounds worse than it is. The subcutaneous shots really don’t phase me much but I still plan to play it up for all the sympathy I can get!

So there we have the plan in it’s latest version. My retrieval will be “sometime the week of Jan. 30th.” That’s pretty vague. I realize that this is all, at least in part, a guessing game. The benefit of having been through several injectible/IUI cycles is that they have a pretty good idea by now how to dose me based on my past reactions to FSH/LH medications. From what my RE said last cycle, my body’s tendency to overreact to the drugs may actually work in our favor for IVF. Apparently adding the low dose Lupron is like driving with your foot on the gas and the brake at the same time and this gives them an added measure of control. The idea is to get lots of nice follicles without letting one big whopper take the lead and trigger ovulation prematurely. It sounds like a sensible plan. I hope it turns out as planned.

AF has decided to show up after all. So far she’s not being too horrible. The blue goo was as awful as ever, but at least it was warm. (they always use a warming unit, but if you have a very early appointment, as I usually try to do, the warming hasn’t really happened yet.)

I wore my lucky socks to my appointment. They are hand knit with very fine wool and are made of that variegated sort of tie-dye looking yarn in a rainbow sorbet of colors. I figure if that’s all I’m allowed to wear below the waist then my socks may as well be super cool. They cost me $25 at a local handcrafts shop. I sell my pottery there. So, when I went earlier this week to check on my inventory, I spotted these socks. Of course, as always I spend all my “profits” while I’m there. They have the coolest collection of gifts. I decided I deserved a gift: cool socks.

Spending money on extravagent luxuries like $25 socks has become a rather relative thing. After charging $9,590 to my Visa for the RE’s bill, the socks seem downright cheap. (Just FYI anyone wanting to compare IVF prices regionally: That sum includes RE’s fees only for monitoring, bloodwork, retrieval and transfer. This does not include medications, anesthesia, freezing of embryos (please God let us have extras), etc. That price seems high to me. But who would I complain to? Well, that’s enough whining about what I cannot change! I just keep thinking how nice that money would look in my child(ren)’s college fund instead.

Oh, and a “funny” tidbit: to add to the stress and agony of handing over said Visa card for abovementioned bill . . . it was DENIED! That was just so embarrassing. Well, C. and I had a little momentary panic but I quickly figured out that I had handed her an expired card (we just got new ones). I guess it was nerves! I handed her the new Visa and we were on our merry, if poorer, way.

This afternoon I am having a reunion with my long lost acupuncturist. I figured what the hell . . . why not . . . it can’t hurt and it may help. I do know it helps me relax. So I am going for that reason alone and if she can work some miracle on my ovaries by sticking needles into my ankles then . . . hey . . . I’m up for that too!

First think of what you WANT to do; then do what you HAVE to do

OK, so yesterday I may have sounded unnaturally happy about having an appointment. So here’s the truth: I don’t want to be doing IVF at all. I don’t want to have to do IVF to get what I want. I don’t want an appointment for an ultrasound, especially not a transvaginal one. That hard plastic thing stuck into my tender parts . . . with a half a bottle of blue goo for good measure . . . not a fab start to a dreary winter’s day.

But, if I have to do this, if this is the only chance I have to end up with what I want: a real live baby of my own . . . then I will do it with a smile. Because that is what I do: keep smiling. The worse I feel the more pasted on the smile gets. I figure there are extra points for the effort at this stage, to hell with authenticity!

It’s the oddest stuff that gets to me in stressful times. Like why can’t I work up the nerve to tell ultrasound technician that it is really not necessary to use that much goo. Think of the money the clinic could save in a year. The RE uses about 1/3 as much and he can a) insert the dildocam just fine b) see my ovaries just fine. I hate walking around all day wondering if I should start paying attention to all those incontinence commercials. I mean you just can’t wipe that blue crap off! (I try . . . using about half a box of doctor’s office Kleenex each time . . . to little avail.)

But, then I wonder why this bugs me so much. I mean really: In the grand scheme of things what’s a little blue goo?

Here’s what I came up with:

• It’s an unnecessary evil, so why can’t they spare me at least that?
• It’s a dignity thing. Let me keep some. Just a tiny bit.
• It forces me to wear ragged undies on appointment days.
• It gives my mind some inane thing to obsess over that is easier to process than the big stuff of infertility.

So that those are my best guesses as to why I am so hung up on the blue goo. The blue goo is my infertility scapegoat.

It’s all about the context, isn’t it? I think I would love the blue goo if we were slathering it on my protruding pregnant belly to have a look at my baby(ies).

Well, if I ever get there . . . I may reconsider my hatred of the blue goo, but for now I am standing my ground. When I push past the silly annoyances I know the real issue is that I am dreading another round of treatments that may end up like all the others. That is what I am really hating . . . the single blue line, the negative Beta HCG . . . the emptiness. The unfairness of it all . . . the never ending (so it seems now) limbo.

Just once I want to go through all of this and exit the ride holding the brass ring. (I feel guilty even saying that . . . like wanting it for me, somehow steals someone else’s prize.) Surely there are enough to go around?

Today’s Fortune cookie wisdom: First think of what you WANT to do; then do what you HAVE to do.

I want a baby; I will do whatever it takes to be a mother.

One Ultrasound and One E2 Coming Right Up!

I have an appointment!

I go in Friday morning at 10:15 for an ultrasound and an E2 level. I am not sure exactly when I start the Follistim, but I am sure “my IVF team” will tell me. My instructions were to call with AF, who has not exactly arrived. But, I called anyway when I started spotting this afternoon so that I could get on the wanding roster. The nurse said AF may or may not really show on Lupron and that this was OK. (OK? That’s sounds great to me!) And she (AF) can stay away altogether until . . . oh . . . say Autumn! That would be really great!!

My mood was OK today but I still feel like my head is in outer space. Does this mean menopause will really suck? Or is it just that being female really sucks? But I digress . . .

I was almost (naively I am sure) looking forward to having a hot flash. I am usually too cold rather than too warm. So, to me, “hot flash” actually sounds like a momentary trip to the beach. Well, I haven’t had one yet. As a matter of fact I’ve been having cold flashes. (Not weather related either). Other than the constant headache, the only other physical symptom I have experienced since starting Lupron is a diminished ability to regulate my body temperature. I shiver in a hot shower. I sleep with fleece jammies and an extra blanket (poor C.) and I am still cold. Is that weird or what?? So I feel a bit cheated about those hot flashes. I know, I know, I should be grateful.

So in honor of my missing hot flashes, I am posting this Maxine cartoon.

A mini-Poll for fellow IVF’ers

I don’t even know if it’s “OK” to conduct a poll in a Blog . . . you’ll have to forgive my ignorance and my tendency to cling to Discussion Board habits!

So, if you’re willing to humor me, here are a few questions for everyone:

Bedrest:
1) How strict and how long is your RE suggesting?
2) How strict and how long are you planning to actually stick to?

Embryo Transfer:
3) How many is your RE planning/suggesting to transfer? If it’s more than two, what reason does your RE give for the aggressive approach?
4) Given a choice how many would you like to transfer?
5) Does your clinic do 3 day or 5 day transfers and/or which are they suggesting for you and why?
6) ICSI or “regular” fertilization?

My answers:
1) RE says take it easy the day of the transfer, OK to go back to work right away unless job is strenuous/stressful
2) Taking day off, am also considering self imposed bedrest after reading that so many people are on it. (??Not sure though.)
3) Have not discussed specifics yet, probably two but may go up to three. He’s pretty cautious and conservative.
4) I plan to “push” for three if we have enough good candidates. (At 37 and with our history that does not seem excessive to me . . . but what do I know??)
5) 5 day transfers whenever possible. Reason as I understand it is to weed out the weaker blasts.
6) Our “plan” is 50/50 ICSI/Regular. The RE wants all regular I wanted ICSI so this is our compromise. If we get a low number of eggs for some reason he strongly suggests doing all regular. (I will defer to his expertise.) We will cross that bridge when we get there but historically, I overstim not under. But stranger things have happened in the wild and whacky world of infertility!

Thanks for taking the time to read and/or reply in the comments!

unFORTUN(E)ately

Unfortunately I am in a bugger of a funk. I’m not sure I’m allowed to blame it on the drugs this early on. I took my last BCP yesterday and I took my sixth Lupron injection this morning. I am not even taking the stimms yet! I am awaiting the arrival of the ever popular “Aunt Flo.” Then it’s off to my first wanding (for this round anyway) and an FSH and an E2 level. Follistim will be added by the weekend and then the fun REALLY begins!

I am getting nervous for all the usual reasons PLUS the fact that I am so depressed already. It just hit me yesterday. I was fine right up until I awakened Sunday morning. C. and I even had a really nice date night Saturday. Can I blame it on the weather? I am so discouraged with myself. To be losing my grip this early in the game?! Do you think some mean sneak greased the handle? I hate when these funks hit me with a surprise attack. I prefer to at least see them coming and have a chance to brace myself. I was not planning to brace myself until NEXT weekend.

Well that is my total update . . . not much, eh? I am trying to “pep talk” my way through this, I know I can do it, it’s just a matter of how ugly it might get at the lowest point. It is, however, survivable! There is comfort in that.

I sincerely hope that the reader(s) of this post is (are) faring better than the the writer!

This too shall pass . . .

3 down, 97 more to go . . .

Many thanks to Lindy and her DH for doing the math: 100 Injections!

Holy Crap! This is why they say ignorance is bliss. 100 injections is of course assuming a successful cycle which at this point I’d prefer to assume. (Not that this assumption should be mistaken for optimism.) I am still only cautiously optimistic and even that is a stretch. Though I have started to worry about very odd things like what will we do if we have b/g twins. We only have a three bedroom house, including master so that leaves two potential kid rooms. Of these, one is huge and one is tiny. So, how to be fair about who should get which room? I also recently read a blog (sorry my memory is bust re: who) about registering for baby gifts and how this couple was struggling with all the details and choices. All at once it hit me . . . that I too had no idea what makes a bouncy seat good or bad, or how many onsies a newborn really needs, or which stinky diaper containment gadget is the most effective, etc!

But back to reality here . . . I am still taking BCP . . . two more days worth to be exact. I think I will feel more like someone who is trying to get pregnant once I am no longer taking Birth Contol Pills!

I have a killer headache today. Is this a Lupron side effect or is this just caused by trying to decide which of my not yet conceived children should get the bigger bedroom?

T.G.I.F. (Albeit Friday the 13th!)

In four weeks (give or take) this will all be over . . . for better or for worse. I hope it is for the better. And then I really, really, really hope it stays for the better!

Name my IVF Team

There are a lot of reasons I like my RE. (Assuming that I have to have one at all that is.) One of them is that he and his wife have been there. I don’t know the details of their story, but I do know that they have IVF twins themselves. I also know that he deals with his patients like a man who gets it. Now I have no illusions that he doesn’t enjoy earning a living as well . . . but I’m not holding that against him. My RE is also very supportive of “alternative” approaches like Chinese herbs and acupuncture. He offers to work with patients on stress reduction: suggesting things like yoga, meditation, etc.

Several months ago when we finally hit the last stop on the infertility train: Choose one: IVF, or adopt or live child-free. We chose to give IVF a whirl. (I will interject here that we both don’t consider child-free an actual “choice” at this time and while I wanted to adopt, DH really wanted to try IVF. I came around pretty easily to agreeing to try IVF at least once.)

We considered jumping ship and going to a “big name” university clinic for IVF. This was very tempting since their stats were better and the cost somewhat lower. But, we decided to stay right here. There is something to be said for the reduced stress of having a clinic 10 – 15 minutes away instead of 90 minutes (especially if doing said IVF in January/February!) And, a group of familiar faces and a familiar location when you have to come in for your bazillionth round of bloodwork and ultrasound seemed soothing.

I have noticed that many infertility bloggers have very clever nicknames for their RE and staff. I have not come up with any.

Our RE has hairplugs but I would feel like such a heel for making fun of those. He dresses in black Dockers and a black turtle neck topped with a white lab coat. He is also into all things oriental (including the decor in his office.) He practices Tai Chi and Kung Fu. Maybe Dr. Fu Man Chu?

The nurses vary. My very favorite left right before the holidays. I could tell she was about to . . . I know that burn out look. (I am an OR nurse on hiatus.) The two that remain are both very nice. One has a super knack for inserting IUI catheters, truly a talent! But that skill will no longer benefit me. The other is my new favorite. She is kind of that “cool mom you always wish you had” kind of woman. One day (just in there for cd3 bloodwork) I burst into tears when she asked me how I was doing. Instead of forging ahead all business, she stopped what she was doing and hugged me. Then she sat and held my hand until I got control enough to speak clearly. (It was not my finest moment. I do not cry in public!) DH had been a jerk that morning. I gave her the gist of it and she very empathetically explained that, sadly, most of the DH’s just don’t get it. I had to go in the next day again and she stopped to check in on me. I told her I was feeling much better but that I still wanted to kill DH. Her answer? “Honey, don’t kill him just yet, we need his sperm for this IVF to work!” I laughed out loud and secretly smiled about it the rest of the day. That made her my new favorite! The newest member of the nursing staff (and my least favorite) will probably not stay long. She just doesn’t fit. She is sort of an old grouchy nun / matronly type with no nurturing about her. Luckily I haven’t seen her much. Last but not least there is an ultrasound tech. Her mood runs a bit hot and cold and she uses way too much gel . . . but overall she is kind and gentle so we’ll keep her.

In the IVF lab we have a very funny little man who is the Embryologist. He actually gives very practical advice. He told the women how to “practice” having a full bladder and hold it. And guess what the men get to practice . . . exactly! He stressed that this was very important because they could not get gunshy on the day of the retrieval there was too much at stake. And for those of us lucky enough to do ICSI, the men have to produce twice in a fairly short period of time. He also advised the men to bring their own video or magazines since his are outdated and most men complain about them.

So that is my team. Anyone want to help me name them?
RE? Nurses #1, 2, 3? Ultrasound tech? Embryologist?

I also confess that I will like my RE much, much, much more if we get a baby out of this thrilling adventure! Maybe that’s not entirely fair, but then neither is infertility!