New Midlife Mommy

Starting Over Again

Sorry I haven't posted in so long.  I haven't been pining or morose or anything like that.  It does s*ck to get a negative, but I have been at this so long, it isn't as gut wrenching as it could be.  Now, if we didn't have anymore embryos, and this was really, really the end of the road, you would need to peel me off the floor.  But we do have some other options.  It's always good to have a plan, something to look forward to.  And being able to drink wine again is unbelievably helpful.

Just when I think things are going just fine with our clinic, they pull another bone-headed stunt.  This time, they sent us a bill for some co-pays that we do owe and do not dispute.  They came along with a credit card slip showing payment on May 22.  Except that neither my husband nor I authorized payment on the 22nd.  The last payment that was made was authorized by me on the 20th when I came in for my official, negative pregnancy test, and that was for some blood work and an ultrasound for the donor.

I guess that makes things easier for them, but haven't they ever heard that it is unlawful to use someone's credit card without permission?  I did send an e-mail, and I did try to be gracious.  How much do you want to bet that they will be pissy that I sent an e-mail and overlook the bigger issue?  They do like us patients to mind our places, you know.  We are only allowed to call between 8:00 and 4:30 during the week, and between 8:00 and 11:00 on the weekends (we can call a doctor through the service if there are emergencies).  They don't like e-mails, though they do have an e-mail contact on their website so that you can ask questions, which I did several months ago when I was trying to get an updated price on a donor cycle.  I think they would prefer that be for people who are planning on spending their money there; if you have already spent money there, see above for the limited contact.  And that goes for where you stand in the office -- recently, P, the person who generally contacts us about the bills (and not the person who self-authorized the charge), told me that she had something for me.  I stepped away from the counter over to her cubicle (which about four steps away from the counter), and I was directed to wait at the counter by the jerk behind the desk (this is the same jerk who told me that I couldn't leave the office without paying a bill that had been presented to me moments before).  And you will never be told anyone's last name, except for the doctors (otherwise, you could figure out their voice mail system).  This is just so different from any medical facility I've ever been to.  My OB/GYN is sort of like this, with limited phone hours and no voice mail or e-mail, but they are so nice and my doctor and his nurse are so wonderful, I do over look it.  Contrast this to DD's pediatrician, who encourages parents to send her e-mail.  She always responds within 24 hours, unless she's on vacation (and the auto response will tell you when she's planning to return).

Suffice it to say that once we are done with these people, we are really done, as in burn that bridge down to the ground.  I am going to write a letter to their managing partners (the doctors who are now running the show), spell out our experiences there (especially with this last cycle), and let them know that we wanted to them to be aware of the information that I am going to be posting on the IVF/infertility message boards about how someone can expect to be treated once they choose that clinic.  I do think that I owe at least that much to my fellow stirrup queens.

OK, enough complaining.  This has been a nice weekend.  Saturday was a date night, and DD really enjoyed herself at her godmother's house.  They baked brownies and went swimming in the hot tub.  Then we came back and talked for awhile (DH would only stay out two hours, because he said it was getting too late for DD).  But, by the time we finished talking and drove home, it was around 10:00.  DD was in bed by 10:30, and she slept until 9:00 the next morning.  Hooray!  Except I couldn't enjoy that, because I had to for blood work and an ultrasound at the clinic to begin my new cycle on Sunday morning (8:30 appointment; 45 minute drive). 

Sunday at my parents' house was kind of hard.  My dad wanted to clean out a couple of the closets.  The closet in their bedroom was easy, because we were only cleaning off the shelves.  We'd already done the hard part with the clothes in there, which were mostly older clothes anyway and not that emotional for me (my mom used another room for the clothes that she regularly wore, maybe because she was too lazy to clean this closet -- who knows).  The shelves mostly had things that she'd saved for me from junior high school.  We finished quickly.  But, the closet by the front door was surprisingly hard, and I frequently cried when my dad left the room.  I don't know why I was so upset about her coats and boots, but I was; they are all going to charity, in the hopes of keeping someone needy warm.  My mom would have liked that, and I do remember her saying once that we shouldn't wait to go through her clothes, like she did when her mom died.  She did want someone to get use out of her things. 

She also had what looked like a tackle box filled with all her oil paints on the floor.  She was so artistic.  She loved, loved, loved to paint and draw.  She was no Picasso, but she was light years away from anything I could ever do.  They are gone now, all gone.  I don't know how old they were, though some of the tubes seemed fairly supple.  I don't know anyone who would use them, so we tossed them all. 

And now, every trace of her is gone from the front closet.  It's like she was never there.  The closet where I think she hid from me once when she was trying to teach me a lesson, though I'm still not sure where she went.  I know that this would have to be done sometime, really I do.  If not now, then when my dad moves to assisted living (if that is ever necessary), or when he passes on. 

Someone else will hide in the closet someday.  Someone else will keep their boots, their coats, and maybe even their craft supplies there. 

Just not my mom anymore.

Stick Me With A Fork

I'm done.  The test was negative this morning.  I will test again tomorrow, because I am a masochist.  My blood test is also tomorrow.  The ever-hopeful me skipped a glass of wine tonight, but the pragmatic me has a bottle chilling.  The nice part about testing is that the bad news comes gradually.  I had my answer after my Sunday test, honestly.  The complete lack of symptoms was also a clue.

Thanks so much to all of you for your kind words.  It does mean a lot to be cheered on from people that I have never met outside of the computer, particularly since I don't much talk about this stuff anymore IRL.  It's nice to have people to commiserate with.

I'm going to ask tomorrow if I can get right back on the horse.  My doctor hasn't balked at that before.  It just means that I will start my pill month in a few days, and then we will cycle again.  I've already discussed this with DH, and he's on board.  I'm thinking that we should go for the the PNs (short for pronuclei, i.e., embryos that are frozen before division)-- the clinic seems to think that they survive the freeze/thaw process better.  We have two straws of them, with two each.  I would think we could thaw one straw and go from there.

You know, I've often described this process as an experience in manic/depression.  The end is sad, but it also means a new beginning, something to be excited about.  Ups, and downs.

Though it would be nice to have an up.

The Fat Lady Is Warming Up

I know it's not over yet, but, I can't help but think that it really is.  My test this morning was also negative.  FUCK FUCK FUCK.  (Sorry)  But FUCK!!!  I'm so tired, so tired, so tired of all of the stuff that we need to go through.  And DD gave me her little cold from last week, so that hasn't helped either.  I called in "sick" to my father today, taking the day off from my usual work at his house going through my mother's things.  No need to get him sick too.  I don't know why I have to catch everything DD gets, at least the respiratory bugs.  Fortunately, knock on wood, I don't get the stomach bugs.  I never really have.

I needed to take my mind off of things yesterday, so I decided to do something fun with DD.  We actually went shopping for a fishing pole yesterday.  We'd gone for a walk last week, and she was completely enchanted by some very nice boys who allowed her to watch them while they fished off a little cement dock in a lake near our house.  There are lots of small fish near the shoreline, and they were really active.  DD just loved it.

You know, we may live in a small little town, but we can get to the large box stores if we're willing to drive 10-20 miles to get there.  So, we went to a very large outdoor supply store, and I let DD pick out her fishing pole.  And?  She chose the Barbie pole.  With a light up handle.  And, the princesses have also invaded the outdoor arena.  DD chose a tackle box with three of them on it.  I am so not kidding.  I almost took a picture of the tag and posted it here -- "Disney princesses, tackle box."  Ugh.  And then we picked out the other things that I thought we needed (with help from the guy at the counter) -- bobbers, hooks, sinkers, and worms.  Small hooks, because we just planned to catch and release, and we don't want to hurt the fish.

Now, mind you, this is stretching my memory back decades, and I never really had to do the nuts and bolts myself.  I used to go to my grandparents' house every summer for a few weeks, and my grandpa and I would get up early and go fishing at a nearby lake.  We'd catch Bluegill, Sunfish, and Bass.  And then my grandmother taught me how to scale and clean them, and we had fresh fish for dinner.  It was wonderful. 

But, my grandfather always set up the poles.  And, if my mother came along, she might do it.  (My mother was especially close to her father, and this was one of their favorite things to do together.)  I never had to do it myself, though I did learn how to bait the hook, and I did learn how to hunt for bait (grubs -- under cow pies (yuck), worms, or crickets).  Unfortunately, the only fisher-people that I have known in my life have been my grandfather and my mom, and neither of them are here anymore for me to pepper with questions about what to do to set up this pole.

We went for a short while today.  I figured out the hook, though I can't tie the type of knot that I know I'm supposed to.  I'm just happy it stayed on.  I adjusted the bobber, and the sinker, and I baited the hook for DD.  (Guess what?  That's still as yucky as I remember.)

Apparently, DD's idea of fishing is that mommy does everything, including holding the pole.  Her job, I guess, was to whine and complain about how cold it was.  And, in fairness, it was pretty cold, damnit.  It's mid-May!  It was in the low 60s, but the wind was really blowing.  DD had a sweater on, but I also wrapped her in a blanket that we'd brought in case we wanted to sit on the bank and fish.  I think the fish were cold too, because they weren't biting (though one smart little guy managed to take the worm off the hook without getting caught).

So, our first experience was really rather "eh."  DD does want to try it again when it gets warmer, and I hope that she likes it, though I think she will, once she actually catches a fish. 

I have some really fond memories of sitting around with my grandpa, just talkin' and fishin'.  DD is just getting to the age where she will start to remember some of the things we do.  I hope that her memories will be as special as mine are.  And the bonus is that she is adding to my memories too.

Strike Two

I had to go downstairs to test this morning, because DD was bouncing around the bathroom.  But, nothing.  No second line.

When I came back upstairs, I thought DD had a look of anticipation (maybe excitement?) in his eyes, waiting for the news.  But, when I asked him, he said no.  I had to remind myself that he is in this only for me, but his preference is to stick with one child (only for the reason that he thinks he's too old).  I know that I keep fantasizing at some level that he will be excited, but maybe that's not going to happen.  Please understand -- my husband is the best father I could possibly imagine, and my own father regularly tells me that he is in awe of the relationship DH has built with our daughter.  I know that he would be just as wonderful with a second child, and that he would love that child unconditionally.  But still, I can hope for some excitement in the process.

Anyway.  Nothing, nothing, nothing.  And even though it's early, I'm starting to feel a little depressed.  I am telling myself that I will wait until Monday to test again, but who knows if I will have the willpower.  Especially since today is my errand day.  I'm certain that I'm going to run into some sticks on the shelf with my name on them, don't you think?

Updated to add:  I just looked at the date on this post, and it made me feel sad.  For some reason, I thought the 17th was yesterday, and I'd missed it for the month.  I still can't believe that it has been eight whole months since my mom died, and I haven't accepted it even yet.  I wish she were here, for oh so many reasons, but right now, I just want to complain to my mommy about my stupid test results.  Silly, I know.  If she were here, there would be so many more things that I would do, the first of which is hug her and never let her go.

Step Away

from the stick.  The pee stick, that is.  Affectionately knowing as POAS (pee[ing] on a stick). 

I just can't resist.  The sticks were calling to me yesterday.  From the shelf.  At the store.  So, DD and I went shopping.  I was feeling especially generous, so DD got the smoothie that she asked for.  I don't mind -- she likes strawberries and bananas, and we get them made with Splenda.  She could be drinking worse things.

It took everything that I had not to use one of those sticks yesterday.  But really, today is the very first day that I could have gotten a result, which is seven days post transfer of a three day embryo.  My "official" test is scheduled for May 20, twelve days after the transfer.

I ended up having to go to the bathroom at 4:30 this morning, so, that's when I did it.  And, nothing.  Only one line.  I know, I know.  What a waste.  Still, it was a distant possibility.

Good thing I bought a three pack!

Final Report

Still a little drowsy from the Valium.  But it's a nice drowsy.  We're leaving in a few minutes to pick up my daughter from day care.  She absolutely loves it when we both come together for some reason.

Anyway.  My fear of 11 was eased slightly, as one of the embryos simply stopped growing at two cells and was discarded. 

Transferred:  1 (eight-cell)

Frozen:  9 -- Four in two straws (two each) at the two cell stage (or maybe PN, I'm fuzzy on that).  The remaining five were frozen later on (two in one straw, three in another, four five-cell and one eight-cell).

And now the TWW (two week wait) begins.  I think I can sneak in one more glass of wine tonight, and then back on the wagon it is.

Thanks for all the good wishes and kind words.

Finally, A Status

They retrieved 27 eggs.  19 were ICSI'd (sperm are examined; good swimmers are identified; tails are cut off; a hole is poked in the egg; and, the sperm head is placed inside -- forced fertilization).  Of these, 11 are growing.  We are on schedule for a Thursday transfer at 12:30.

I have a confession to make.  I am not that superstitious.  Really, I'm not.  But I really hate the number 11.  It has been such a bad thing for me.  It all started in 1987.  Shortly before I lost my beloved grandmother, I started seeing 11s everywhere.  You know, I just happened to look up at the clock when it was 11:11 or 1:11 or any number of things.  I just tuned into the number 11.  It was really strange, and I remember mentioning it to my mother.  And, guess what?  We ended up burying my grandmother on January 20, exactly 11 years after we buried my grandfather.

Over the years, I've seen 11s frequently before something bad happened.  And, the absolute worst example of how sucky the number 11 is for me just happened last year.  When my mom went into the hospital, it was a roller coaster of emotion.  I honestly did not expect her to die, not then.  She did not expect to die.  But she got progressively worse, and they moved her up the line until she was in intensive care.  Her first room was #2.  And she was able to get out of that room the next day as things started to improve.  Then, she coded on a Saturday.  They revived her and put her back into intensive care.  Which room do you think they put her in?  That's right.  11.  Rather than freaking the f*ck out and demanding she be moved, I decided to trust God and put things in His hands.  After all, it was a stupid thing to worry about, right?  And God is more powerful than any silly number, and I did so want to get past this stupid fear.  Two days later, my mom died.  In room 11.  Thanks Father!

Anyway, I just f*cking hate the number 11.  And now I have 11 embryos.  I'm sure that you can imagine how that makes me feel.  Scared as h*ll, really.  I do have quiet fears in the back of my brain.  I'm afraid that maybe this isn't the right thing to do for our family.  I'm afraid that something will go wrong during the pregnancy and that will put the baby's life or my life at risk.  And, dare I say it?  I am absolutely petrified of having a special needs child.  I know that no one wants that.  Who would want that?

Tonight, after I shared my fears with a good friend, she told me that I needed to put this in God's hands.  That He could show me that my fears were unfounded.  But you know?  I don't know that I can trust Him to do that this time.  And that's where I am tonight.

I know, I know.  Stupid thoughts are all they are. 

Next Week -- Sometime

I appeared at the appointed time this morning.  And I was called in right away.  Great!

But it wasn't the ultrasound technician.  It was someone in billing, whom I've never seen before.  Who handed me a sheaf of papers she said had just come in from the other office.  Bills.  $1500 worth of bills, to be exact.  Which I needed to pay now.  I asked her if my husband could call her with the charge card number that we are using.  That would be fine, she said, as long as the bill was paid before I left the office.  She asked if I wanted to use her phone.  I told her not to bother.

Now, generally speaking, this is what happens.  They call me with the amount owing, I call my husband, and he calls them with the card number.  Always the same day.  Apparently, even though we have already paid thousands, that wasn't good enough.  And, let's be frank.  We have paid them tens of thousands of dollars over the last seven years or so.  They've never chased us to pay them.

I was p*ssed.  Really p*ssed.  And I really let her have it, specifically about courtesy, as in wouldn't a phone call about having to pay FIFTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS ON THE SPOT have been courteous?  So, I went out to my car, got my cell phone, and got the card number from my husband.  But I was so very, very angry.  This whole cycle has been one piece of idiocy after another.  I would like to say that they honestly don't give a damn, but I'm not sure that is the case.  They are just so disorganized.  At least when they were part of the hospital, things seemed to run better.  They are all the same people.  And I do recognize that I am experiencing all of this while hopped up on lots of estrogen.

So, eh, whatever.  My lining is OK.  The donor did not get her trigger shot tonight, but she probably will tomorrow.  Which means I can stop my Lupron injections (which really throw a person into temporary menopause).  Yes!  I'm getting tired of the hot flashes.  I don't think I have any other symptoms of Lupron craziness, though perhaps the billing person might tell you otherwise.  If the donor gets her trigger shot tomorrow, DH will have to provide his contribution on Monday morning.  Which means a Thursday transfer.  And the end of my evening glass of wine for awhile.

Other than that, the only excitement today was learning that the f*cking mice are back.  I know, I told you it was a mouse.  And, in fact, DH found a dead mouse today.  In our den.  Where we sit every night as a family.  We couldn't figure out why it decided to expire there, but we were glad.  The mouse was dead.  Yippee.  Later on, I saw something in the dim light as I crossed through the dining room.  I turned on the light, and it was another effing mouse.  Feet up.  Cat watching intently.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  But, it was just faking it, because in a moment, it was off again, trying to get away.  But the cat wasn't having any of it.  It was over in a heart beat.  And the mystery of the dead mouse in the den was solved.  I guess that will teach us not to put the traps out.  Thank G*d for my alley cats.  I really hope that this is the end of it.  Although DD's whole class will hear about this now, since she now knows that we had some uninvited guests.  Perhaps it was my screaming that got her attention and caused her to come running. 

Now we just have to figure out where they came from.  DH suggested that maybe they were eating the cat food that we have stored in the basement.  You know, the stash that we have in case the bird flu or some other catastrophe hits?  We're ready.  Dot gov.  Well, not so much. 

But at least the mice are happy.

I've Been Summoned

I just have time for a quick update.  I think that I must just be old and not very patient any more, but my clinic is still getting on my last nerve.  I've been summoned for an appointment tomorrow.

On Monday, I received a "follicle" update.  Our donor reacted well to the "stims," and she had "many, many" follicles approximately 9-10 mm in size.  That meant that in 2-3 days, they would be ready for retrieval, or thereabouts (it's really not an exact science).

I hadn't heard anything until this afternoon, when I received a call that I need an ultrasound tomorrow at 9:45.  That message was left on my home answering machine around 3:00, and I didn't receive it until this evening.  I think that the inconvenient time is due to the fact that mine is a last minute ultrasound, and all the earlier times are taken.  Be that as it may, it is very disruptive. 

As I've said before, I'm very, very glad that I have an understanding boss.  He doesn't know why I have had to call him from time to time and tell him that I have something to take care of and will be in late.  Of course, I would tell him if he asked.  But, the last time I went through this with DD, he shared all the details with his boss, and I wasn't quite ready for that.  I think it would have been OK if he'd said that I was having a medical procedure done, but he actually shared everything -- donor cycle, medications, etc.  I felt kind of funny about that, though in fairness, I didn't tell him that it was uber confidential.  Maybe I felt uncomfortable because his boss was a man at the time (I have the same supervisor, but we are both working for a new employer now, and his supervisor is a very nice woman).

I expect that my appointment will go just fine tomorrow.  The purpose of the ultrasound is to check the thickness of my uterine lining.  Since I've been taking Estrace so long, and I am back into my fat jeans, I expect that the lining will be just fine, thank you very much.

Anyway.  That's where we are.  I will keep you posted.

So Much F&*&ing Ado About Nothing

J (the nurse) called yesterday morning, leaving me a voice mail.  Our doctor's appointment was canceled.  She said that when she faxed the doctor about our appointment, he said that we should talk with A, the lab manager.  So, apparently, this mandatory doctor's appointment wasn't even the doctor's idea.  We were then directed to call A today.

I was just dreading this call.  Honestly, I spent Monday evening looking for attorneys who specialize in infertility issues (and I am the least litigious person you would ever want to meet).  I fully expected that we would be suing the clinic.  DH and I were both really angry about the whole thing.  Nonetheless, we decided that we would be civil and listen to what A had to say.

As it turned out, A is a very nice, knowledgeable person.  She told us that the problem was the result of their forms, which she freely admitted needed to be changed.  (Well, duh.  I don't know why they haven't done it, since it is very important -- everyone's legal rights are shaped by these forms.)

There are three choices on the forms, which direct the clinic with regard to what we would want them to do with unused embryos -- donate them to another couple, destroy them, or donate them for research.  It doesn't say freeze first, though that's implied, because it is discussed in another part of the form.  She said that the form should really have another option -- one that states "we haven't decided yet."  That leaves things open, and she admitted that the clinic would require a special written instruction before they did anything anyway.  But, saying that you haven't decided yet leaves things open for the future.  It's OK for DH to be tested later on if we have embryos left that we want to donate.  The regulations allow for that.  So, we were told to cross out that section of the form, write in a sentence stating that we haven't decided yet, and to return the form to the clinic. 

So much drama, so little substance.  I think J probably overreacted.  And I like J.  She is very nice, and she's been very helpful to me.  I don't know if she knows how to take me, because I think she's old-fashioned.  I, on the other hand, have absolutely no problem challenging the doctor if I think he's wrong.  He actually was wrong on my ability to take the cycle medications and still maintain a breast feeding relationship. To his credit, when he was provided solid, scientific information, he did change his position.  I'm kind of disappointed that he hasn't changed his position on the mandatory three day rest after transfer, since I gave him somewhere around ten abstracts discussing research studies that concluded that this was a waste of time (one study found that extended rest had an adverse affect on pregnancy rates).  I could only obtain the abstracts, but he told me he'd read the studies, they appeared to be good, solid studies, and he said something to the effect of "I guess that it does really boil down to embryo quality and patient compliance with the required medication."  In addition, there aren't any other clinics that I found that required three days of rest, and I told him that as well.  But, he didn't change his protocol.  I'm sorry about that, and that's his prerogative, but I won't be wasting time on the couch.   

Somehow, I sense J silently disapproves of me sometimes because I will push back, though I always do it politely.  That's kind of sad.  I do think that patients should be in a collaborative relationship with their doctors.  Doctors are not gods.  They forget to ask things.  It's the patient's job to bring up issues.  And to ask questions.  And, if the doctor is not amenable to that, then it's time to find another doctor.

So, here we are.  We are still on track.  And my blood pressure is slowly coming down.  I am glad that it was a minor misunderstanding.  If they actually were that unaware of the regulations, it really would be time to go elsewhere. 

And Now They Tell Me?

I should have a category for stupid doctors.  Or stupid clinics.  Caution:  Long rant follows.

I have been going to my clinic since 2001, I think.  My file is at least 4" thick.  We have spent a fortune there, and my insurance company has as well.  We've been through Clomid, injections with intrauterine insemination, IVF with my eggs, IVF with donor eggs, and FET (frozen embryo transfer).  Years and years of crap.

I didn't learn until after one of my FETs last year that my clinic had broken away from the hospital that they'd previously been a part of.  I was aware that they'd changed their name, but my FETs were performed at the hospital, in the same place that my IVF has been performed (while they were still officially connected to the hospital).  Apparently, they have an arrangement with the hospital to use their labs and facilities.  I thought that everything would be OK despite the change, as it was the same doctors, same staff, same offices.  I thought that they knew what they were doing.

I thought wrong, I guess.  This whole very expensive cycle has really been quite awful.  They charge $1,555 to "supervise" a donor cycle (paid by us, of course).  Yet, apparently "supervision" didn't include calling my donor a week or so ago to find out why she hadn't called them to tell them that her period had started.  As it turned out, her period had started, and she started her pills, as she had been instructed.  No one bothered to follow up with her until I called to ask for an update.  It makes me wonder what would have happened if I hadn't called.  It certainly pushed everything back, as I was supposed to have an April transfer; now it is scheduled for the first week of May.

I was in the office on Friday for an artificial cycle day 3.  I know, I previously told you that I would have to come in on cycle day 2.  That changed after my regular nurse called me and gave me different instructions (different nurses, different instructions?  Idiots.).  Apparently, they didn't care if my period started or not -- they just wanted me to come in five days after my last birth control pill, which they told me to stop on Sunday.  Payment is due on cycle day 3 (or 2 or whenever they bring you in).  Last year, before we embarked on another donor cycle, I'd sent an e-mail regarding what the expected cost would be for a cycle.  Including the "supervision," it is around $8500.  So, they knew why I was coming in, and based on their own policies, I was supposed to pay them.

Do you think that they might have had an itemized bill for me?  Not a chance.  The receptionist pulled out some standard form that had all kinds of procedures on it, which totaled around $11,000.  I told her that there was no way I was going to pay for that, because it included things that I've never used.  For example, my doctor doesn't use ultrasound guided transfers, and I don't need assisted hatching.  The receptionist was rather lost, and finally the office manager came over, apologized, and suggested that I pay for just the cycle.  The cost went up a bit, because it was $8730. 

As further evidence of how effed up they are, several weeks ago, they also tried to schedule me in for a "sounding" (where they determine the curvature, if any, of your cervix -- kind of like a dry run before an embryo transfer to make sure that everything goes smoothly).  Only one sounding is necessary, and I had one before my first IVF.  Since then, I've had two FETs.  My cervix remains unchanged.  They also wanted to schedule an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram), ostensibly to look for fibroids.  I'd had one of these tests when I first started treatment, and it was negative.  I've had no problems that are indicative of fibroids, and I have annual gynecologic exams (the last one in December 2007).  There is a risk of infection from an HSG, so I challenged this.  They ended up telling me that I didn't need to do it.  Honestly, I think it's probably just a revenue generator for them.

It does get worse, much much worse.  One thing that I have been crystal clear about is that we do plan to donate our unused embryos, if any, to another couple.  I have expressed concern, over and over, about whether or not all the required testing would be done.  I've told my regular nurse, J, and I talked with my doctor about it last year (in October?) when I had to come in for an exam (which is a crock in and of itself, since as I said, I see a regular gynecologist, and everything has always been just ducky).  I was assured that everything was fine, fine, fine.  They did give us the regular paperwork to sign, but it was really silly.  The paperwork is outdated, for example, it talks about participating in a study and requires consent for this study and a commitment for follow up after delivery of any child.  They are not doing any studies.  They told us that we could cross out what was inaccurate.  (Something wrong with this picture?  Shouldn't their lawyers have updated their forms before they embarked on this new adventure?)

Anyway.  Part of the form requires that you choose one of three options with regard to what you want done with your embryos.  The first choice is donate to another couple.  The second choice is to donate them for research.  The third choice is to have them destroyed.  The nurse tried repeatedly to push us away from selecting "donate to another couple," because there would be a lot of "extra tests" involved.  I have consistently said that I didn't care, I want the tests done; we want nothing to stand in the way of being able to donate the embryos to another couple.  The reason that this is so important is that the FDA regulations have recently changed, and if you do things incorrectly, the embryos may not be used, or sometimes, they may not be donated to another couple.

My clinic had an FDA inspection a few weeks ago.  They passed all of the technical things, but the inspector was critical of the paperwork and some of the testing that was required.  They were told that they weren't asking for all that they needed from the husband. 

So, when I met with J on Friday, she told me that my husband would need to come in for some additional tests, and he needed to provide them with a medical questionnaire and proof from his doctor that he was healthy.  And he had to do it before the eggs were harvested from the donor.  OK, pain in the a$$, but OK.  They took my $8730, and we were on our way.

Later in the day on Friday, J called me with "bad news."  She told me that DH would also need to give a sperm sample.  OK, fine.  And the sample would need to be tested and frozen.  OK, fine, fine.  And then DH would have to undergo more testing in six months to make sure that he was still OK with regard to the testing.  OK, fine, fine, FINE.  And then she said that we couldn't go ahead with our cycle until the six months have passed.  And they are blaming the new FDA regulations.

WTF?  I mean, really, WTF?  We've got at least $20,000 put into this so far.  NO ONE there has been unclear about what we wanted.  We started discussing this about six months ago.  I wanted to go through the phone and kill the messenger.  I really was not very polite, I must say, especially as I reminded J that she knew damned well what we wanted.  J promised that someone "who understood the regulations" would be calling us on Saturday between 9:30 and 10:00.

As it turned out, J called on Saturday and got both of us.  Apparently, whoever was supposed to call us would not be calling us.  Instead, we have been summoned to see my doctor to discuss the matter.  And we can't see him until Tuesday.

Right now, I just want to kill someone (and not J -- they are putting her in a very bad spot, as she admittedly doesn't understand the legalities).  I've learned since then that the clinic is just plain WRONG about what the regulations require.  I talked on my computer with Daisy.  I talked on my computer with Night Light Christian Adoption (they have an embryo adoption program known as "Snowflakes").  My husband and I looked at the regulations.  The fact of the matter is that these people are just plain f*cking wrong about what the regulations require.  IF we were creating embryos from a donor egg and my husband's sperm and giving them away out of the kindness of our hearts to someone else, then my husband would have to have his sperm quarantined for six months before transfer.  But, since we are intimate, there are different rules that apply to him.  Only the egg donor has to go through the testing.  Once we are finished with the embryos, if there are any left, then my husband would need to go through testing, though none of the testing would involve a six month sperm quarantine.  The embryos would have to be labeled so that any recipient would understand that his testing wasn't performed at the time the embryos were created, however, the testing was performed at a later date and there are no communicable diseases.  Easy breezy.

J said something about all of this being caused by our choice on "the form."  I am afraid that if we select "destroy" or "donate for research" just to continue on, we will have no legal recourse if they "accidentally" do either of these things.  I just don't trust them anymore.  In the back of my mind, it has now become obvious to me that this is a group of doctors who wanted to keep all the money for themselves (as opposed to sharing with the hospital).  What they forgot was that there are people's lives, hopes, and dreams hanging in the balance.  The new regulations are not that hard to understand.  If there is a problem with their forms, whose problem is it anyway?  Mine?  Clearly, they know what we want, and they've known it from the beginning.  The regulations may have recently gone into effect (perhaps last June?), but I'm certain they knew they were coming.  There is always a comment period, and then another period of time before regulations actually become effective.  They knew.  They knew.

I have no idea what will happen at our Tuesday meeting.  I trust that they don't have the unmitigated gall to actually charge us for this appointment.  But somehow, I wouldn't put it past them.

Gee Whiz, I'm Glad I Asked

Last Thursday, I decided to call my clinic for an update.  I was in the middle of my second batch of pills (with no break for Aunt Flo in between), and I was kind of wondering where we were.  I've told you before, the only time that we're guaranteed to hear anything from them is when there is a bill for something or other that comes due.

I was told that J, the nurse that I normally work with, was busy and probably wouldn't be able to call me that day.  OK, that's fine, I understand.  But then, I got a rushed call from another nurse at the end of the day (4:00 to be exact; they shut off their phones at 4:30).  Fortunately, they didn't call my cell phone this time, like they usually do.  I generally keep my cell off during the day, so I always miss the darn call and can't call back until the next day.

Anyway.  My call prompted a call to another clinic, where our donor is cycling.  To make a long story short, she started her pills too, but apparently, she didn't call them to tell them that she'd started taking them as they wanted her to.  I don't fault her -- this is her first donor cycle.  The woman has applied to medical school, for crying out loud, and she's completed an undergraduate degree in physiology.  So, I don't think compliance is a problem on her end.  Rather, I think that communication on their end is the issue.  You might wonder how I would draw that conclusion, given my own experience.  Ahem.

So, I'm on Lupron now.  And I took my last pill on Sunday.  We're waiting for the arrival of Aunt Flo, and I'm supposed to call on cycle day 1.  So that I can come into the clinic on cycle day 2.  That's rather odd in itself, because I've always come in on cycle day 3.  When I asked why there was a change (wondering if perhaps they'd kind of dropped the ball here), I was told that they want me to have as much time as possible on Estrace (the bane of my existence -- I'm sure I'll gain all 12 pounds back in short order).  Unfortunately, if I start my cycle after the clinic closes, I'm just supposed to show up the next morning and wait until they can fit me in for blood work and an ultrasound.  It's a blessing to have a job that I can call into and say that I have to take care of something unexpectedly and will be in later.

Obviously, nothing is written in stone right now, but we are looking at a transfer sometime between 5/2 and 5/6.  And, since the donor is so very young (26), as opposed to our first donor, who was 31, we have decided that we are just going to transfer one embryo.  I know, it seems like an awful lot of time, risk, and expense for just one embryo, but we are deathly afraid of multiples.  I know that people who have more than one feel they are doubly or triply blessed after the baby years are over, but I can't even wrap my mind around that.  And neither can DH. 

And hey, it worked for Julie. 

A Reconsidered Post

You know, I had paragraphs and paragraphs written about something that I can say in a couple sentences.  I called the R.E.'s office (reproductive endocrinologist) on cycle day 1 as instructed.  They didn't return my call.  I had to call again the next day (because they shut their phones off and you can't leave a message).  I ended up having to wait a long time on Sunday between my ultrasound and blood work because they delayed.  The end.  I have no idea how I managed to work that into eight long, boring paragraphs full of vitriol.

What has amazed me is how quickly I have descended into feeling that I've lost control of things again.  I've been here before.  It is very familiar to me.  My clinic file is at least four inches thick.  I don't really have options.  Well, I suppose that I do.  I could go somewhere else, but then I would likely have to repeat a lot of the tests, which is more time and expense.  And, I don't know that the people at any other clinic would be nicer, or more responsive, or generally give a damn.  Maybe they would.  Or maybe I am seeing them through jaundiced eyes.

I think the hallmark of infertility treatments is the loss of control.  They tell you what to do and when to do it.  You don't even have to have s*x to have a baby -- in fact, neither my husband nor I were there when my daughter was conceived by the lab technician's hand (we used ICSI -- intercytoplasmic sp*rm injection, where they actually insert the sp*rm head into a punctured egg to insure fertilization).

And, the whole thing is a little manic/depressive.  Cycle day 1 is the first day of your period.  And the beginning of fresh hope.  After two weeks of jumping through hoops, which vary depending on the treatment you've chosen, you wait for another two weeks (the 2WW as it is "affectionately" known).  And, most of the time, unless you're very, very lucky, your period comes.  On cycle day 1.  Which is depressing, because your hopes are dashed again.  But, at the same time, it's also exciting!  Because you can start all over again!  And again!  And again!  I was on that merry go round for about four years before I was able to get off. 

I wasn't quite the same when the ride was over, but I was able to put it behind me.  I'd crossed over to the other side.  I was a mom.  With a wonderful daughter, and by G*d, it didn't matter that she wasn't genetically related to me.  In fact, if someone told me now that it would be possible to have my "own" child, provided I gave my daughter back, I would turn away without hesitation.  Now, that's amazing.  The one thing that I wanted so badly that I was willing to subject myself to all kinds of torture is something that I would push away with both hands.  I have my miracle, thank you.

So, here we are again.  Our donor is on birth control pills, as am I.  We just received our bill from the egg br*ker -- $4,500 due as soon as the donor starts her Lupron.  Though we're not quite sure when that will be.  Because no one really tells us anything.  (Sorry, some snark crept in.)  The egg br*ker told us that they are looking at an April transfer.  They haven't told us that yet, though they have insured that we have made immediate payment for all the donor's medical expenses.  (The person who calls about the bills doesn't have any information -- she just processes the payments.)

I've decided to look at this differently, because everyone has a cross to bear, don't they?  I started thinking about what would be worse.  Losing my mom was worse.  Losing my husband, my daughter, or my father would be worse.  Being told I have cancer would be worse.  At least with infertility, there are options.  Clomid.  Intrauterine insemination.  Injections.  IVF.  IVF with donor eggs.  Adoption.  Foster parenting leading to adoption.  The hardest part, I think, is coming to grips with the fact that you can have your dream, but it might not come to you in the way you imagined, in the way that it seems to effortlessly come to everyone else.

So, there are worse things than infertility.  And sometimes, people who work in doctor's offices get busy.  And they don't have time to return phone calls.  And they are not always polite. 

I just need to remember that everyone has a cross to bear.  And I need to keep my eye on the prize.  And what a wonderful prize indeed.

I Stand Corrected

OK, I was wrong.  Partly wrong anyway.

The initial examination for the brand new donor is paid for by . . . us.  The exam is not a big deal, $190-$250.  But the $3,000 in blood work?  Not something that I expected.  And it doesn't include a test for cystic fibrosis.

Last time, we used a donor who'd donated five other times.  She'd just come off a donation cycle with someone else when she cycled with us.  Which is why this is all new to me.  The blood tests are good for a year.  So, someone else had paid for all of this blood work back then.  And, if we'd chosen a donor whose blood tests were more than a year old, we would have the same expense.  It's probably a little riskier to work with someone brand new, because if they don't pass the physical and the initial blood work, they can't donate.  I could be wrong, but it seems to me that someone is probably more likely to be disqualified at the initial screening than after she becomes a regular donor.  Don't we all wonder about what might show up on our own first round blood tests?  I know I was nervous when I had my first test for HIV and hepatitis, even though it was highly unlikely I was exposed.  I don't even give subsequent tests a second thought, and believe me, when you go through infertility treatments, they test you over and over and over.  (Think about that the next time you share a straw with someone -- it's better to choose the infertile to share with.  I'm just saying.)

As I mentioned before, DH and I discussed genetic testing (karyotyping), since the donor was brand new.  But, after talking with a nurse at the clinic, I've learned that it may not be all that helpful.  In the great scheme of things, it isn't that much more expense.  I think that the clinic quoted me something along the lines of $400.  I've asked that my doctor give me a call when he gets a moment to discuss it further.

The cystic fibrosis test is something that we will do, provided that the donor passes the first round of testing.  It's somewhere around $200.  I don't know if DH is a carrier, and both DH and the donor would have to contribute the gene in order to produce a child with CF.  However, even if the donor is a carrier, I wouldn't go forward, because I wouldn't want to take the 50% chance that the child would be a carrier.  And apparently, neither would my clinic, as the donor would be disqualified from their program. 

Honestly, I think that is the right choice.  If I knew that both DH and I were carriers, even if we were in our 20's, I wouldn't try to have a child in the first place with our genes.  I would adopt, or use donor eggs or donor sperm.  I say "if I knew."  I understand that most of the time, people don't know, and I am not casting aspersions.  It is a tough diagnosis for a child, and I don't think the parents should blame themselves for it.  Most people aren't running around getting genetic testing unless they are aware that there are risks.  But, since we have the chance to avoid it, I think we should.

So, that's where we are now.  The donor had her exam on Thursday, but we won't know the results of the blood work for about a week.  When the donor starts her Lupron, we will need to pay the $4,000 donor fee (which goes directly to the donor), as well as a $400 fee to insure that the donor has medical insurance for her cycle.  The insurance fee is required because not all donors have insurance, and the egg br*ker recently had a bad experience with a donor who hyperstimulated.  I guess the medical bills were upwards of $10,000, and they ended up working through Medicaid to get it covered.  Frankly, I'm amazed that the br*ker was able to find a short-term medical insurance policy for such a reasonable price.

Of course, nothing else in the cycle is "reasonable."  There is the medication (several thousand), ultrasounds, additional blood work, and $8,700 or so for the clinic to supervise the cycle and perform the retrieval/transfer.  And then there is the extra few hundred dollars or so to freeze any leftover embryos.

All of this reminds me of the Mastercard commercial.  When you lay out the fees on paper, it seems like so much.  But when you see that beating heart on the ultrasound, and finally hold your little one in your arms, it is indeed priceless.

We've Finally Decided

I know that I haven't talked about the donor egg thing in awhile.  That's because we were going back and forth about actually choosing a new donor.  We still have all of our same issues -- DH doesn't really want to do it, but he will do it if I want to.  I suppose there are many who would say that it is irresponsible at my age to have a child, though it has happened from time to time in this world.  My mother would describe those women as having been "caught."

I still have mixed feelings, such as:  Will this screw up our happy lives?  Things are going really, really well; we have a daily rhythm that works for us.  We love our daughter, and she is just starting to become self-sufficient.  I wonder if DD will be a better person with a sibling, or will we harm her in some way by taking away attention from her?  Can we survive that first two years (actually, I think the first 12 weeks, and then months 12-24 are the hardest)?  I also worry, worry, worry about having a child with special needs, because when I look into myself, I question my mettle when it comes to that.  I know that is not the PC thing to say.  But it scares the heck out of me.  And, I do have concerns about the effects of a pregnancy on my body, given all of the things that can go wrong, even though DD's pregnancy was very "low maintenance," according to my OB/GYN (who has since retired from obstetrics -- sigh).  But anyway, it looks as though we are going ahead with our project.

My husband has this whole elaborate thing that he does when choosing a donor -- he selects major categories, assigns point values to the donor responses, and then he totals and sorts the donors.  I just kind of "experience" the candidates and put them in order.  The things that are important to me are ethnic background (I want someone with a background that is the same as DH's and mine), education, and parental/grandparental health issues.  I don't like to see generational alcoholism (or liver disease) for that matter -- losing my mom to liver disease was quite enough for me -- and she wasn't a drinker.  I like to see long lives in the grandparents and good health in the parents, siblings, and the donor.  I also look at someone's interests as well.  And how they describe themselves.  If they've donated before, I want to know how many eggs were produced, and whether or not there was a pregnancy.

DH did his thing, taking all the candidates and ranking them.  His first choice, an engineer, is not available until June.  Not good.  I just don't want to wait that long.  We met with the egg br*ker in November, and I would have started immediately if I'd had my druthers.

This time, I was really only moved by one woman, and she was presented to us after we'd reviewed a large number of candidates.  Actually, this is the same way that it was last time, come to think of it -- only one candidate was really, really appealing to me. 

As it turned out, my first choice was DH's second choice.  I was really excited about her.  She is a nurse in a surgical ICU.  I just kind of clicked with her when she was first presented to us.  I thought she would be really motivated to move ahead, because she wanted to use the money from egg donation to pay for her master's program in nursing.  But, she stopped returning the egg br*ker's calls, so I guess that means she's not interested, at least for the time being.  We were told that she had a really hectic schedule before the holidays.  Maybe she just wasn't up to it.  But she could have returned the f*cking calls to say she wasn't interested so that we could have moved on rather than waiting and waiting and waiting to see if she would sign her contract and provide a picture.

I would have gone back to the other candidates that we had, but the br*ker gave us another new option.  And DH ranked her as a tie for second place.  She is OK, really, though I'm not as excited as I was by the first candidate, and I don't quite know why.  But I do want to get moving on this, and honestly, it really doesn't matter -- a healthy baby is what we are after.

Our new candidate is 27, and she has my coloring and build.  She is mostly my ethnic background, though she is Dutch as well.  Neither DH nor I have any Dutch in our background.  I guess I will explain why that bothers me a little in another post.  Nothing against the Dutch -- honest!  It just complicates things a bit.

Our candidate is interested in sports (unlike me), the theater (I like watching, not doing), and the outdoors (not me again).  She plans to go to medical school, and her undergraduate degree will be in physiology (almost finished).  Her father has a drinking problem, but only since retirement.  Her grandparents lived long lives for the most part, except for her paternal grandfather, who died at 49 of lung cancer (he was a heavy smoker).  No allergies (unlike me).

This will be her first donation.  That makes me a little nervous, because you can never know how someone will react to the medications.  Hopefully, she will be a good responder.  We also don't know if she will pass the basic FDA-required blood tests.  Our clinic also tests for cystic fibrosis, even though that's not required by the FDA (and why not???).  Since she's never donated before, we are going to try karyotyping (genetic testing).  The egg br*ker said that it would cost around $600.  Should there be a problem with the results, we will be matched with another donor at no additional charge.

If you knew me IRL, you would know that I have no patience.  And I hate having things that are out of my control.  So, why the Lord visited infertility on me is something of a mystery.  It's very frustrating, and most things are absolutely not in my control.

One of the things that is absolutely ticking me off right now is waiting for the donor to get in to see the doctor for her first examination.  When I followed up with the egg br*ker, she said that she would tell the donor to make the appointment after she received our $1,000 check for her administrative fee.  WTF?  In a perfect world, the donor wouldn't have been presented to us without having gone through her initial screening appointment, where she is screened for some basic things (STD's, for example).  This should not have anything to do with receiving our check!  But apparently it did.  Granted, we did send the check quickly, and the egg br*ker said that she would tell the donor to make the appointment. 

You know, I write these posts over many days, because it's hard to squeeze the time in to do it.  I just learned this evening that the donor has scheduled her appointment for Thursday.  I do hope that it goes well.  I've asked to be advised when the test results are in, and I'm not sure of the timing for the karyotyping.  I still need to call the clinic and find out if there are any tests they would like me to take, though I doubt it, given that we've just been through two FETs, the last one as recently as October.

So, here we go again.  It doesn't feel real yet.  But I know that it will soon.  And, I hope that I'm making the right decision for us.  Someone once told me that you never regret the children that you have.  I'm banking on that being true.

Back To Square One

Warning:  Exceptionally long post!

Well, I did locate our egg br*ker, and she's still working with our clinic.  We've arranged for a meeting on November 29.  I was kind of hoping to avoid the meeting, because I anticipate that it will cost us $125.  This is not much in the great scheme of things, but it seemed like an avoidable cost.

We had been exchanging e-mails to avoid the meeting at her suggestion, but for some reason, there was a bit of a disconnect.  I don't quite understand, since I thought I was being very clear.  I wanted the profiles, assessments, and photos of specific donors (she'd sent me a matrix of her available donors, and I chose from there).  I also wanted to know if the person was a new donor, and if not, how responsive she has been to the stims.  It's also nice if the donor has had children of her own, but even if she hasn't, that would be a deterrent for me.  She kept sending me things that I didn't ask for, duplicating things that I'd already received, and not giving me things that I asked for repeatedly.  Anyway, the egg br*ker thought it would be easier to meet.

It is kind of risky to choose a first time donor, because you don't know how many eggs the person will produce (and the cycle costs a fortune, regardless of the number of eggs retrieved).  When I did IVF with my own eggs, I produced ten eggs.  But most were immature and didn't divide after fertilization, even with ICSI (a process where the technician chooses a good sperm, cuts its tail off, pokes a hole in the egg, and sticks it in -- guaranteed fertilization).  I ended up with two embryos, supposedly of good quality, and they didn't result in a pregnancy.  Our last donor produced twenty eggs, and twelve of them went on to divide after fertilization (we used ICSI with those eggs as well).  We transferred three, two implanted, but only one grew, and that embryo was DD.  The rest were frozen, and you know that story -- four embryos survived, but none resulted in a pregnancy.  The general rule is the more eggs the better, but it is balanced by a need to keep the ovaries from being overstimulated (that is really not a good thing).

The egg br*ker said the rules have changed since the last time we went through the process.  I've looked up a summary of the new FDA regulations, and essentially, they require more tests of the donor.  Whatever.  I was never really that concerned about catching anything from our donor.  For example, while there are instances where HIV has been transmitted through a sperm donation, there have been ZERO cases of HIV transmission as a result of egg donation.  I felt comfortable before with the testing that they did (testing at time of donation), but I guess this is better.  With sperm donors, they test at time of donation, freeze the sperm, and then test six months later.  If both tests are negative for HIV, then the sperm is safe to use.  Sometimes, a person will not always test negatively right away because they need time to develop the antibodies to a particular virus.  At least with sperm, this procedure is the safest way to detect specific illnesses, because antibodies will likely develop within six months (and antibodies are what the blood tests are detecting).  Since you can't freeze eggs, at least at this point in time, this is not a feasible process for egg donation.  Our last donor had donated five previous times, was in a stable relationship (three kids), and had tested negatively each time (including the tests that she took for our donation), so I felt pretty safe.

Our egg br*ker also advised us that the regulations will have some impact on anonymous donation, but I wasn't able to find anything like that.  That does bring up an interesting issue for me -- anonymity.

When we used an egg donor for DD, I was happy that the donor would be anonymous.  I don't think that I'd really come to terms with my inability to have a biological child at that time.  If the donor was someone that I never met, someone whose face I would never see, with name I would never know, I could pretend that she wasn't really a part of the process.  Sounds crazy now, but I think that is why I embraced the anonymous part of the donor program without question.

I've grown up a lot since then, and I wouldn't really have a problem with a donation that wasn't anonymous now.  Not for my sake, but for DD's sake.  You see, I've read postings from children who were conceived with donor gametes (usually donor sperm), and they make some points that are really well taken.  When one of the genetic parents is unknown, some children feel very deprived due to lack of information (do I have her eyes?  His mannerisms?).  Some children even want to meet their donors.  Completely understandable to me.  At least it is now.  I'm not really interested in having an extra person at the Thanksgiving table, though.  I would probably be willing to provide an annual photo, and I certainly wouldn't object if DD and the donor wanted to meet when DD is older.  But that's about it for me, I think, because it is gamete donation, as opposed to open adoption.  But others feel differently, and that's OK too.

I do wonder if DD will want to know about her egg donor (who I sometimes refer to as the genetic mother, even though in some circles, the label "mother" is considered very inappropriate).  We do know a little bit about her.  We know how many children she had, how long she was married, how many brothers and sisters she had, how many children they had, whether anyone in her family (including grandparents) had any health issues, what her health issues were, her profession, body type, eye color, hair color, height, hobbies, education etc.  They gave us two initials to identify her, and I honestly think they were her real initials.  I believe that because I called during the middle of our cycle with a question, and the clinic called me by a different name, which matched her first initial on the profile, and said "______, why are you taking those medications?"  When I said "no, this is _____," they answered my question without missing a beat (or taking a moment to get another folder, as they would have done if they'd grabbed the wrong one).  It could be a coincidence, but I don't think so.

So, I did the only normal stalker-like thing to do, and searched for her first name and her last initial in my state's on-line licensing data base (she held a professional license).  I narrowed it down to people from the geographic area, since she would have had to go regularly to the clinic.  Kind of sneaky, I guess.  But I wasn't interested in meeting her, or bothering her in any way.  I was just looking at it as gathering more information for the file that I will someday give to DD.  If she asks.

But, we have never seen our donor's photo.  And, I was excited to learn that our egg br*ker has one in her files.  She said that she would let us see it, so I guess it would be worth $125 to do that.  I wonder if she will give us a copy.  I guess we'll have to see.  I also wonder why she didn't show us any photos back in 2003 when we were making our decision.  Perhaps it is part of her new process.  She does have some competition now from another broker (who is a bit more expensive). 

Speaking of expensive, let's see.  $125 for the consult with the egg br*ker.  $5,000 for the egg br*ker's services and the donor fee.  $8,700 for the clinic to oversee the cycle (supervision, retrieval, and transfer).  And then we need to pay for the donor's meds, blood tests, and monitoring.  I think that's another $5,000.  My meds and monitoring is covered by my insurance, thank goodness, and I think it's because they don't know the real reason why I'm doing it. 

All this to do something that my husband doesn't want to do, though he said that he hasn't changed his position -- if I want to do it, he will go along with it.  But time is marching on.  My birthday is coming up soon, and I shudder to think about how old we both will be when the baby is born.  But, since my brother and I are no longer speaking, and my daughter rarely sees her cousins from my husband's side of the family, I think the best gift we can give DD and her unborn sibling is each other.  I have suggested adopting a toddler, but DH wants nothing to do with it.  He's concerned about behavioral problems, I think, even though that can happen with a biological child.  That's a whole other can of worms.  I guess I've concluded if he doesn't want to, we won't go in that direction.

But it is still a hard choice to go forward.  Society really does have a bias toward younger parents, even though we are more financially and emotionally prepared to be good parents at our "advanced" ages.

Oh well.  It is what it is.

No Surprise

The "official" results were negative.  While I was there this morning, I asked for the number of the egg br*ker.  Hope springs eternal, I guess, at least for me.  DH really doesn't want to go further.  But I do.  I wonder if we can find someone who isn't already cycling, who is a proven donor, who produces lots of eggs, and who looks like me (or at least has my ethnic background).  I'll call on Monday, because what the hell.

What's wrong with me?  I should just be grateful.  I have a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent daughter.  Who likes me some of the time, at least.  Ah, but that's the rub -- it's only some of the time.

On the bright side, I've had a couple of glasses of wine, to go along with my sushi.  And I got to spend the afternoon with DD, who wanted to come with me on my errand runs.  She was babbling in the background about something or other as I received the call from the nurse, telling me it was OK to have that bottle of wine I'd told her I was going to buy.  It was a good thing that I had to be in mommy mode, because otherwise, I just would have cried for awhile.  Losing my mom, and two failed FETs -- all in the space of three months time.

My due date would have been July 14. 

I hate the world right now.

Third Time, Fourth Time, Not Very Charming

I am so down right now.  I tested this morning.  Negative.  Undaunted, I bought another test and did it again tonight.  Negative.  I think the early tests are about 76% accurate at this point, since Monday will be 14 days after transfer.  Someone commented that it is 14 days after fertilization, but honestly, I can't fathom what that would be in my case.  The eggs were fertilized in December 2004, and then they were frozen at different stages of development.  But that just means that the odds are even slimmer than a 1 in 4 chance that things could turn around.

I was so hopeful about this cycle.  We started Lupron on my grandmother's birthday.  My "official" pregnancy test is scheduled for my brother's birthday, and nine months from my transfer would have been my mother's birthday.  It just seemed like happy coincidence.  But I guess not.  I can't believe that there are no more embryos.  Which means that if we continue forward it is more time, and more money. 

I will probably go tomorrow morning for my blood test, just to get it over with.  At least I will be able to drink a big glass of wine after they tell me about my BFN (big fat negative). 

F*ckity f*ck f*ck.  I am so tired of crying.

Just Passing The Time By Driving Myself Crazy

My abdomen still feels yucky, just like it did in the beginning with DD.  Today, I was exhausted at around 3:00.  So tired that I was kind of bumping into things while walking to the printer.  The mild headaches have continued.  But, no other signs, and I've perked up a little bit this evening.  This morning, DD told me that I didn't have a baby in my tummy anymore.  DH says that any "symptoms" I have are all in my head.  He's probably right, and I know I'm obsessing over every little thing.

I'm going to use my last pregnancy test tomorrow morning.  This wait is driving me crazy, but it's almost over.

I know that this is changing the subject, but which way do you think the dancer turning?  DH and I think it's turning clockwise; we just can't see any counter-clockwise movement.  That means that we are both right-brained.  We share the same profession, so I guess that probably makes sense.  It was linked on another blog, and I found it fascinating.

Second Verse, Same As The First

They say that the essence of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.  I took my second pregnancy test this morning.  It was also negative.

My "official" test is scheduled for Saturday.  What I'm not quite certain about is that the instructions on the home tests say that this test is about 53% accurate five days from the first date of the missed period (the statistics get better and better the closer you are to the missed period).  So, if my transfer was on 10/22, wouldn't you add 14 days to that to get the "first day" of the missed period?  If that is the case, then the test wouldn't be 53% accurate until 11/1, right?

My abdomen still feels icky, off and on.  It is exactly the way that I felt when I was pregnant with DD in the first trimester.  And I have been getting little headaches off and on, and I don't usually get headaches of any kind.  But otherwise, no symptoms.  Not that symptoms would be particularly normal or abnormal at this point.  Though it would be nice if my breasts were sore, as that was a symptom that I had with every pregnancy (I can't believe that I'm wishing for that -- I hated it!).

And as for Saturday?  Eh.  I might just not show up until Monday, especially if my home tests aren't giving me good news.  Why give up lounging around with my husband and daughter in bed and then going out for a lazy breakfast, just to confirm bad news?  I'd rather be late for work on Monday.

Still Waiting . . .

My abdomen feels kind of yucky.  And it feels kind of big.  I don't know if this is from the progesterone and estrogen.  I suppose it could also be in my head.  My clothes are tight, but that is definitely from the estrogen.

I am really feeling rather stressed about having this cycle work.  I don't know where we will go if it doesn't.  Four years ago, a DE cycle was over $20,000.  I can't imagine what it would cost now.  And time is marching on.  We are going to be the oldest parents on earth.  La-la-la (just not going to think about it). 

For what it's worth, DD told her teacher that I have a baby in my tummy.  WTF?  We haven't said a word to her.  I asked why she said that, and she said "because you do."  Well, I guess that settles it then.

I couldn't resist, so I POAS (peed on a stick) this morning.  I knew that it was too soon, but I couldn't help myself.  After all, I bought a three pack of the early response tests.  And, if I hadn't talked myself out of it being such a colossal waste of money, I would have bought two three-packs, so that I could POAS every day.  Patience is a virtue, just not one of mine.

The test was negative.  No surprise there.  Sigh.

Is This Time The Last Time?

We had our embryo transfer today.  We had requested a transfer of no more than three embryos, and it took several paragraphs to explain the order in which we wanted the embryos thawed to achieve that result.  I expected, with seven embryos remaining, that we would have enough for a third FET, if that were necessary.

Well, things don't always go as planned.  We had two PN's (embryos frozen before they split).  Then we had two straws of two, and one straw with one embryo, frozen at different stages of development.  The two PN's needed to be thawed on Saturday for a Monday transfer, and only one survived.  When we arrived today, we learned that they had thawed the remaining five embryos, and only one of them survived.  At the time they did the transfer at 12:30, our two embryos were eight and five cells.

That was quite the shocker for me, since the first time we did this we asked for two to be thawed, and both were fine.  I expected really high thaw rates with the rest of the little ones, but I guess I was wrong.  This is the last time that we have a shot to have a biological sibling for our daughter.  Not that biology is everything for us, or we wouldn't have considered donor eggs in the first place.  But still.  I was hoping that at least everyone else in our family could be related.  Kind of a consolation prize, I guess.

So, now we wait.  DH and I each cast a penny in the hospital fountain on the way out.  He wished for "a good one," and I wished for "a happy and healthy baby."  So, I hope that our wishes will be granted.  This cycle has some important dates in it for our family, if that means anything.  I started my Lupron on my grandmother's birthday, and my "official" pregnancy test is scheduled on my brother's birthday.

You know, I mentioned that we were going to have a transfer today to my dad.  He gave me what I thought was a surprising response.  I expected "you're too old for this!"  What I got was "you have a perfect child -- what if you get one like your nephew S?" 

You'd have to know S to understand why my father said that.  He was a whiner from the time he was an infant, and it never stopped.  Now, he's just a brat.  I blame my brother and his wife, because they are inconsistent and don't follow through with him.  Rather than evaluating their own parenting skills, they have decided that he's "hyper," and he's now medicated.  Solves that problem in their minds, except that he likes to push the buttons of everyone around him just to p*ss them off, and get attention, I think.  They yell and scream at him, tell him how bad he is, and ground him from everything that he likes, but he's become immune to that.  However, that is the only attention that he gets from them, which is I think is why he's always doing things to annoy everyone around him -- it's more attention, and I guess bad attention is as good as good attention, if that's all you can expect.  I always believed that if my husband and I could just take him out of that house, he would be OK.  We do follow through.  And we do make an effort to give DD lots of attention when she's doing the things she's supposed to be doing.  I really think that's all that's missing with S.  My brother doesn't see it that way, and once, he told me that if S is still a problem when he turns 18, they will throw him out of the house.  Such a loving response to a troubled child, eh?  Especially when my brother and his wife are a large part of the problem.

But, oh well.  I do admit that S is a challenging child.  And we are blessed to have DD, though she is challenging sometimes as well. 

We'll see what the Lord has in store for us.  More than anything, I want a healthy child.  Beyond that, DD and DH want a girl, and I'm leaning towards another girl as well.

But for now, we wait.

CD Whatever

I mentioned before that I had my "official" BFN (big fat negative) on Monday, Labor Day.  At that time, I asked the nurse if they would allow me to skip the resting month and just go into another cycle.  I told her my reasons were my mother's end stage liver disease, as well as DH's and my age.  They approved, and I immediately started my birth control pills.

And then my mom died.  And nothing seemed important anymore.  And I wanted to die too.  She was that important to me. 

I still trudge through every day and try not to think about it.  And it slaps me in the face several times a day that she's gone.  But, my mom always said, "life is for the living."  She would have wanted me to continue with my plans to have another child.

And so I have.  Honestly, I can't tell you what cycle day I am right now.  But I can tell you that my embryo transfer is scheduled for 10/22.  I am taking my Estrace like a good little girl, but I have to tell you -- I freaking hate Estrace.  I don't mind the Lupron shots, or the accompanying hot flashes.  I don't mind the Crinone gel and the fact that what goes in must come out (I know, TMI).  I don't mind the blood draws, or the ultrasounds, or the millions of pills that I have to take (even the ones that taste yucky).

But the Estrace?  Ugh.  It makes me gain weight, and it makes me bloated.  I feel like a cow whose period is ready to start.  And that feeling never goes away with these pills; it just continues on a day to day basis. 

And that's where I am right now.  Fat.  And depressed.  And, DD hasn't helped, not that it's her job to help, but she does make me feel bad sometimes.  Here is a conversation that we had this morning:

Me:  (Kisses the top of DD's head)

DD:  (Wipes the kiss off and makes a throwing away motion)

DD:  I threw your kiss away, mommy.

Me:  Well, that wasn't very nice.  Do you throw daddy's kisses away?

DD:  No.

Me:  Why not?

DD:  Because I love him.

Me:  (Big mistake coming up)  Well, don't you love me?

DD:  No.

Me:  Oh, I see.

DD:  I'm tricking you mommy.  I love you.

Somehow, that's not so comforting.  Sigh.