Oh my!

Twins. One measured 6w0d, which is what I am; the other measured 5w6d, so one day behind. We saw both heartbeats.

I am in a bit of shock. It seems very much more real now. It's still so early and plenty of things can still go wrong, but I am beginning to feel like I might actually get a baby out of this process, if not two.

We go back for another ultrasound in two weeks.

Symptom-wise, I have been moderately nauseous and food adverse, just enough to be reassured that I’m pregnant. The armtit is still large and sensitive, while my actual breasts seem unaware that I’m pregnant.

So far, so very good.

That's the update. Good, yes?

Anniversary, missed.

I found out I was pregnant on December 21st, 2004. I started spotting on December 24th, 2004, and it was all downhill from there. I had been dreading the arrival of these anniversaries for quite some time, but evidently the fact that I’m pregnant now was enough comfort to me that I managed to completely forget about the anniversary on the 21st.

Stranger still, when thinking about the anniversary I managed to convince myself that it was this last Thursday. I woke up Friday morning and thought, “gee, I totally didn’t think about last year at all yesterday.” Glancing at the calendar later that day I realized that the 21st was actually Wednesday, not Thursday.

I’m not complaining. In fact, I’m thrilled that such a depressing subject has so easily been put on the back burner. If this IVF cycle had failed I would most certainly be deeply, deeply depressed right now; a break from that is most welcome.

Happy holidays to you!

Introducing: The Armtit!

Can my body do nothing normally? It turns out that what I thought was a very swollen lymph node in my right armpit is actually breast tissue. In my armpit. Or, as I'm calling it now, my "armtit." The breast specialist doctor said some women have breast tissue (including milk ducts) way up into their armpits, and I'm one of 'em. Here I was hoping for my breasts to grow and instead I get a swollen armpit. Brilliant, right? And why only on one side?

It’s not likely to go away and may, in fact, get worse. I can expect to look deformed all the way through breastfeeding. I suppose after I wean, my armtit will sag.

Flat chested as I am, for years I've dreamt of how pregnancy would finally give me at least a little bit of the breasts I longed for. Instead I get the armtit.

So that's my first real pregnancy symptom. I wonder what’s next? (I’m trying to think of other potential funny symptoms to list here, but I think my armtit has pretty much taken the cake.)

If we can figure out how to use the new digital camera handed down to us by B.'s father, I'll have him shoot a picture of said armtit and I'll post it. It's quite dramatic and just a tad disturbing.

Ooh, ooh, me next!

How fun! Thanks Lindy for the tag. Here goes...

Seven things to do before I die:

1. Move on to some acreage and have various and assorted kinds of livestock.
   
2. Learn to play the piano.
   
3. Get a college degree of some sort.
   
4. Travel as much as possible.
   
5. A track day on my motorcycle.
   
6. Own more Catahoulas.
   
7. Become a mother. (Fingers crossed on that one!)

Seven things I cannot do:

1. Sing.
   
2. Dance.
   
3. Style my hair in any sort of girly way.
   
4. Eat olives. (The Devil’s Food! Ick!)
   
5. Bake brownies. They’re my Kitchen Nemesis. I’ve no idea why. I’m quite competent in the kitchen otherwise, but I’m never satisfied with my attempts at brownies.
   
6. Walk in high heels.
   
7. Get pregnant easily.

Seven things that attract me to my spouse:

1. He’s damn handsome.
   
2. How sweet he is with our dogs.
   
3. I can depend on him to protect and provide for me.
   
4. How goofy he is in private.
   
5. He loves cars & motorcycles as much as I do.
   
6. His hands. Well, okay, his whole body is pretty smokin’.
   
7. He smells really, really good, even when he stinks.

Seven things I say most often:

1. Bless their heart! (Read: what a fucking idiot.)
   
2. I love you.
   
3. What do you want to do for dinner?
   
4. Can you go let the dogs in/out?
   
5. Feral, no!
   
6. Get the hell out of the left lane, slowpoke!
   
7. I can’t believe I’m pregnant. (A new one, but I sure am saying it a lot.)

Seven books I love:

1. A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (a cliche, I know, but it really is damned funny.)
   
2. Homeboy by Seth Morgan
   
3. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
   
4. The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen
   
5. Anything by John Irving
   
6. The Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All by Allan Gurganus
   
7. The Army Wife’s Handbook It’s funny, but it’s not supposed to be.

Seven movies I watch over and over again:

1. Gummo
   
2. Gone With the Wind
   
3. Urban Cowboy
   
4. Coal Miner’s Daughter
   
5. Scarface
   
6. Natural Born Killers
   
7. Good Fellas

A bump in the road - or armpit, as it were...

Monday’s beta came in at 3753, giving us a doubling time of 46.5 hours. Quite a bit slower than it had been, but hopefully still okay.

Hey, did I mention that my lymph node in my right armpit is swollen to the size of half a baseball? No? Well, it is. It had been growing larger and larger over the last week, and I had been doing a damned fine job of ignoring it. Until B. saw me naked, that is.

“Oh my god, what the hell is that?”

I guess it does look a little alarming.

I had one of those rare gratifying moments at the doctor’s office yesterday. After she drew my blood, I told my RE’s nurse about the swollen lymph node. She said, “oh, that’s just your breast tissue growing, honey.” I asked if she could look at it anyway, just to be sure. As I pulled my shirt off over my head her eyes grew wide, really wide.

“Well, maybe we should have the doctor look at that after all.”

Um, yeah, that’s what I thought.

Bottom line is, the doc thinks I’ve got some sort of infection. I’m still on steroids, so my immune system is compromised, so something small could cause this sort of reaction. I’ve got an appointment on Thursday at a breast specialist for further diagnosis. ‘Cause you know, I haven’t been spending enough time at doctor’s offices lately.

I’m oddly not concerned about it at all. B., on the other hand, is convinced it’s cancer. Dr. Google fed him a bunch of crap about how pregnancy can make dormant breast cancer pop up. He was practically begging me to call a doctor on Sunday, but I refused. I had an appointment for the next morning anyway; what would we accomplish by disturbing someone over the weekend?

Still no real pregnancy symptoms. I will be 5 weeks pregnant tomorrow, so I know it’s still very early. Odd, isn’t it? Never would you think someone would long for nausea so badly...

Still pregnant. (!)

Friday’s beta came in at 1282, up from Wednesday’s 417, giving it a doubling time of 29.6 hours. Pretty damned fast. I go in for another beta Monday morning; my local RE wants to keep a close eye on the numbers for whatever reason. He also says that there’s no way we’re waiting until January 4th for an ultrasound. Depending on how my numbers increase, he’ll recommend an ultrasound either late next week or early the week after.

Fine by me, even if we have to repeat the ultrasound in a week to get to see the heartbeat(s). I’d rather have too much information than not enough.

B. and I went to Barnes & Noble last night where I purchased my first pregnancy book. I got teary eyed in the pregnancy & childbirth section. I couldn’t believe that I was actually buying something pregnancy related.

Funny, as educated as I am about infertility, I’m ignorant about pregnancy. Sure, I’ve listened in to my girlfriends as they’ve been pregnant, but as time went by without a pregnancy of my own I gradually started to tune them out. Listening to the specifics was just too painful, so now I find myself with a lot to learn. At the same time I don’t want to totally dive in just yet - too much can still go wrong, and I’m working hard to keep my feet on the ground.

My mantra du jour? One day at a time.

Who are you and what have you done with my husband?

B. is a changed man. All of a sudden I’m of vital interest to him. My pregnancy is absolutely fascinating to him, a subject that requires hours of internet surfing and long discussions.

Needless to say, I’m happy that he’s enthusiastic, but I can’t help wonder...

Where the hell have you been for the last three years?

I would never in a million years point out his, shall we say, transformation to him, for fear he’d go all stubborn on me and withdraw back into not caring.

His indifference to my infertility these past few years has flat-out damaged our relationship. Now that I’m pregnant (for today, at least - one day at a time) and he’s finally involved, am I supposed to forget how unsupportive he’s been up until now?

I’m not really complaining. I’m too happy to linger over anything negative, but the thought remains, like a firecracker just waiting for a match.

More good news - and what a relief it is to type that.

Today's beta came back at 417, giving me a doubling time of 24.1 hours. My progesterone also looks good.

The clinic in LA says that the numbers are very strong, so I'm worrying less about a chemical pregnancy at this point.

Next beta this Friday, and the first ultrasound is tentatively scheduled for January 4th, if I don't lose my mind by then. Fortunately I'm blessed with a very accomodating local RE, so if I absolutely must peek before January, they'll squeeze me in. I might have to pay for it out of my own pocket, but that could be a small price to pay for my sanity.

I wonder how many embies are growing in there...

Beyond grateful!

First beta came back at 105, progesterone at 27. Both very good numbers for 9dp3dt.

The line on this morning's HPT was a tad darker too.

I am delighted. Terrified too. It’s all very unreal. I can’t believe this is happening to me.

***pinch***

Yup, it’s real. At least for today.

Next betas scheduled for Wednesday and Friday. Think doubling numbers...

Unreal.

So, just for shits and giggles (or piss and giggles, as the case may be), I thought I'd go ahead and give an HPT a whirl this morning.

There's a second line.

It's very faint, but still undeniably there, and at 8dp3dt no less. I am taking this as a good sign, a very good sign. I know anything can yet happen, including the onset of my period, but I'm going to do my best to not dwell on the negative possibilities for once. I will walk in to tomorrow's beta with a light & hopeful heart.

How nice is that?

Systems check.

I feel like I’m about to get my period. I’m intermittently crampy and I’ve got a low grade headache, both usual precursors to the arrival of a period. I’m also way mood-swingy, which also speaks to my usual PMS.

Please tell me that these are all just normal side effects from the progesterone. I know it’s way too early to have pregnancy symptoms, so I’m not even allowing for that possibility.

The only thing stopping me from completely believing that a period is imminent is that it’s awfully early. I normally have a two week long luteal phase, which would mean I shouldn’t expect a period any earlier than next Wednesday. I know bodies can behave differently during an IVF cycle, but last cycle I got my period at a normal interval, so I’m hoping that would be the same case this go-round...if I’m not pregnant, that is.

I’m so wrapped up in this that I’m exhausted.

Puhleeeeze, puhleeeeze, puhleeeeze.

Sweet jeebus, let this work. I’m begging - not sure who, exactly, but there’s a constant train of thought running through my mind, making deals, hoping, bargaining, and trying to keep a sense of reality all at the same time.

As with last IVF cycle, I’m obsessed with whether or not the embryos are still alive. I so, so badly want them to be. At least one/some of them.

Beta scheduled for 9:45 EST Monday morning. It’ll only be 9dp3dt, which is really honking early, but that’s how the LA clinic likes to do it. Luckily for me I won’t have to play by their usual rules, which would be not to get any results back until after my second beta on Wednesday. I couldn't stand the thought of that, knowing that there was information out there that I wasn't allowed access to. I've never clued in my local RE to this method of operation, so they can be expected to call me with the results Monday afternoon.

I’m not sure if I’ll even bother to do an HPT beforehand, knowing how early after transfer it is. Well, okay, I might, but I know a negative wouldn’t be at all conclusive. A positive sure would be grand, though, wouldn’t it?

Resting, pondering.

One last day in California, then it’s home to Atlanta tomorrow morning. I am doing my best to be as inactive as possible, not that I truly believe it’d make a huge difference one way or the other, but you never know.

I’m walking a fine line between my usual pessimism and rather unfamiliar hope. I have to allow for the possibility that this cycle could work, otherwise what would be the point of even trying? A negative result would be so much easier for me if I refused to hope at all, but that doesn’t seem healthy.

I had an unpleasant realization this morning. Let’s suppose I do get pregnant. I don’t know why it never occurred to me before, but given B.’s behavior to date, it’s unlikely I’d get much in the way of support from him during a pregnancy. God forbid something go wrong or even become difficult, I’d be largely on my own. He’s got over a year of grad school left; we’ve already established that I’m a distant third behind that and his work. I don’t predict that’ll change.

That’s, ummm, pretty damned depressing.

We are as distant as two people desperately trying to have a baby together could be. I wonder what will be left of us when the dust settles. Part of me is so angry, so frustrated with him that I just hate him. Another part of me is scared that I’ll drive him away with my constant unhappiness. I wouldn’t want to live with me, hell no.

I know there’s no predicting the future. All I do know is that I’m scheduled for my first beta a week from today, and a lot more will become clear then.

And...it's a wrap.

Transfer happened as scheduled yesterday. At the doctor’s recommendation and our own gut feeling we went ahead and put all four embryos back. Two of them were 95s (out of 100) and the other two were pretty good looking too. The doctor did admit though, that being pretty in the lab on day three doesn’t mean a whole lot. He also stated that my less than 50% survival rate does not bode particularly well for our overall embryo quality, but hopefully one of those four will be normal, or as normal as our progeny could be.

Yesterday was an emotional day for me. And as much as I hate to say it, B. was borderline useless. In fact, instead of being supportive he managed to stress me out. He spent the better part of the morning exuding stress about his schoolwork, to the point that I was crying in the shower ‘cause I couldn’t take being around him. I wanted to ask him if he really believed that the assignment he was struggling with was more important than my wellbeing on the day of transfer, but I knew it’d start a fight, so I didn’t.

The morning set the tone for the rest of the day. I was silent for much of the time before transfer, then during transfer I focused on relaxing and ignoring how bad I had to pee. At one point B. tried to massage my forehead, but his hands smelled like the smoked salmon and onion he had for breakfast. I told him he smelled like breakfast, so he left me alone for the rest of the transfer process. I probably hurt his feelings, but you know what? Go wash your hands and rise above it.

While he did make some attempt to care for me for the rest of the day, I certainly didn’t feel fussed over. He served me leftovers reheated in their styrofoam containers, which he knows is a pet peeve of mine – I just don’t think it’s healthy. How hard would it have been to serve me food on an actual plate?

I’m being hard on him, aren’t I?

Before he left to return to Atlanta this morning he asked me if I was mad at him. Since I was asleep and really didn’t feel like getting into it then, I said no, I was just overly emotional, which is certainly true.

Leaving the clinic yesterday I kept thinking that it might be the last time I was there, and not because I necessarily expect that I’ll get pregnant; more that it’s very possible that this is our last IVF cycle. I know I need to be focusing on getting through the two week wait on this cycle before worrying about what the future holds, but I’m such a planner by nature that it’s difficult to do.

A less nice number.

Out of the nine eggs retrieved eight were M1, or completely mature. The remaining egg was M2, or less mature, but still potentially viable. All nine fertilized, but five didn’t fertilize correctly, whatever that means. That’s what the nurse coordinator said, anyway. So we’re left with four viable embryos as of today. I will not hear from the clinic again before transfer on Saturday unless something goes wrong between now and then.

I was hoping to have more embryos to choose from, but as B. said, we’ve got one embryo more than last cycle. I seem to be running at a fifty-percent rate at making embryos out of eggs. I believe this protocol is as good as it’s going to get for me.