Yes, I am a control freak

So I'm in charge of this Big Deal departmental event tomorrow, something that my chair has sunk a fair amount of money into, even though we've got a major budgetary crisis going on.  And yesterday, a fucking TWO DAYS before the event, it comes to my attention that a) our contract has not yet been signed for the venue and b) we have not yet paid.  And the student working with me on this--it's a student organization thing--has not really followed through in terms of the planning of what will actually happen during the 3 hrs we will be at said venue.

My department chair apparently does not answer emails.
My department secretary apparently does not answer her phone.
And apparently either does our contact person at the venue.
And the student is AWOL.

Which is to say I spent way too much time today freaking out about something I cannot control.  I mean, I can't pay without an account number.  I can't get an account number unless the secretary gives it to me.  She won't give it to me unless the chair tells her that he's authorized all this.

So finally the contact at the venue called me and said that indeed the secretary gave her the secret password, the student brought over the signed contract, and we are good to go.  Would be nice if anyone had actually bothered to tell me this before the freakout.  Because Boy-o and I really don't need this right now.

Occurs to me this feels a whole lot like doing DE and waiting for people to do their jobs and worrying that they weren't doing their jobs.

I really could use a glass of wine, people.  And this little boy to get his head out of my rib cage. 

Argh.

Holy wildlife in the office, Batman!

Can I just say what the fuck?!

It was a year ago, maybe to the day (feel free to check the archives) that I found a dead bat on my living room floor.

Last night I woke to squeaking/squealing/some godawful noise, followed by IVF Kitten chasing something barely-off-the-ground into my office.  Which is directly off my bedroom, in case you were wondering.

At that point I barricaded myself and LG in her room.  And can I just say trying to sleep with a 7-year-old on a twin bed when you are 6 months pregnant is not exactly comfortable?

Eventually the need to pee won out, so I turned on every upstairs light.  Found the bat hovering in my office.  Slammed that door shut.  Got cats out.  Grabbed extra bedding.  Slammed my bedroom door shut.  Holed up on LG's floor.  (No, that was not any better than the bed.)

I am now on campus, because my fucking laptop is locked in with the bat.  And my friend Batman (who got rid of the last installment of bats, plus the squirrels) is not due to arrive for another hour.

But, hey, at least LG thinks bats are cute.

The Interlude

So as I mentioned, I've been incredibly emotional, with snippets from conversations with Dr. Gorgeous on instant playback in my head.  I'm not sure what that's about, but I suspect it's linked to the LONG gap between OB appointments.  Because of the sac issue--and seeing four different doctors at four different clinics for early pregnancy care--until now the longest I've gone between visits is two weeks.  But that also meant I'm "off" a usual OB schedule (I'm not having a 16 week appointment, having gone in at 14) and the next time I see my doctor will be at 19w5d, for the anatomy scan.  That's 5.5 weeks between appointments, and 7.5 from my last ultrasound.  The nurse said I'm welcome to come in for a heartbeat check anytime, but that seems sort of pointless since I have a doppler.  So unless something really freaky happens, like the contractions start up again full speed or I have an amniotic fluid leak scare (which is how I ended up learning LG was a girl at barely 17 weeks) I just have to be okay assuming everything's okay in my uterus.  (What, was that laughter?)

I find myself in the interlude of the second trimester, when, at least according to my OB, things rarely go wrong (rarely, I guess, being a comparative number between number of first trimester losses and third trimester mishaps).  I wait, then, more or less pretending to be a normal pregnant woman, gaining weight, doing prenatal yoga, until 28 weeks rolls around, at which point I get to be a high risk patient with heavy duty monitoring.  I'd really like to enjoy this time.  But I'm just waiting for the next bad thing to happen...

The Zen Spot

I wouldn't say I'm quite at that zen spot Dr. G would like. But much closer, I think, than I've been since this cycle got started. The fact that she's recommending eSET--even if I don't want to do it--suggests her confidence about this cycle. She's pleased with my embryos, my lining, everything. She's excited, she said, for Friday.

I slept last night. I think I might have actually slept through the night if laying in bed weren't so freaking painful (I'm a side sleeper, which is pretty much impossible from PIO soreness).

Thanks to my mother and a good friend, I've worked out a plan for LG and me for tomorrow. I plan to do a bit of cleaning today so I can go into transfer and bedrest with things done. I've also got a massage scheduled. By this time tomorrow, I should have 1-2 embryos looking for a home in my uterus.

I've never been this scared in my life. But at least right now, I'm something resembling zen.

Update on All Things DE

I was 10 minutes away from having Dr. Gorgeous paged when she called me, profusely apologetic (10:00 or 11:00 became 3:36). Apparently one of her patients (hopefully not my donor) ended up in the hospital post-retrieval and she spent the day dealing with that situation. Of course I understand, but really not good for my mental health.

So, the lowdown: 15 eggs. I didn't ask the question, but I might, depending on how many blasts we end up with. Transfer probably Friday morning. She'll call tomorrow with fert report. PIO tonight, Lovenox tomorrow, Medrol on Tuesday and on it goes.

And because she's Dr. G: I know you're really anxious, but please be sure you're eating well.

I hope she means having a brownie and a glass of wine along with my salmon tonight :)

So Not Zen #100,502

I'm exhausted. In this way I can't even begin to explain. It's like having a progesterone level of 100 and running a marathon at the same time. Or something. I think I slept nine hours last night, other than a brief waking at 5:30, which seems to be when the Ambien wears off, and it wasn't nearly enough.

My response to my own exhaustion is, typically, frantic hyperstimulation. I see it in LG, too, when she's trying desperately to keep herself awake. So now I'm jittery, OD'd on caffeine jittery.

I'm waiting for THE phone call. You know, the one where I'm told whether retrieval is happening on Sunday and I can finally stop taking lupron. And start taking all the other crap. And wringing my hands about embryos in a dish an hour and a half from here.

In the meantime, I've been scrambling to get the dregs of the work done so I can actually ignore things related to students over spring break (yeah, it won't actually happen, but a girl can dream).

Small Good Things

1. I found an empty toilet paper tube that says "Made in Chinae" (sic). I guess I know why LG takes so long in the bathroom. Totally cracked me up.
2. Things are progressing. My E2 level is over 2100, my lining at 10.8, the donor has ~15 follicles. I now have blue bulls' eyes on my ass for PIO injections, and retrieval is most likely Sunday.
3. They did not need to stick me more than once for my blood draw today. After 2.5 years of this shit, my veins are done.
4. Weeds, oh my goodness. I seriously need to write an article about motherhood in that show. Am thinking about shows/films to watch post-transfer. Smart comedy. Any recs?
5. Have I mentioned that all I have to do is get through one meeting and then I can consider myself on spring break?

A Little DE Freakout

Every time someone from Dr. G's office has called to give me an update on the donor, they've said something vague about how "things look good." To which I reply: "can you tell me specifically?" On Friday, Nurse of the Everchanging Nickname told me that her e2 level was rising appropriately and we'd have a clearer sense of follicle count on Monday.

So yesterday New Nurse left me an even vaguer message that said to stay at 4 estrace tablets (umm, I'm only on 3) and that retrieval looks like it will be Sat or Sun. When I called back for more info, I got another message saying that her largest follicle is at 12mm and she has "more coming up." What the fuck does that mean? Because if this were my cycle, frankly, that would mean I'd have 1 follicle at retrieval. And while I understand donors stim very differently than people with DOR, that kind of vague talk does not put my mind at ease that things are "going well."

Let's just say I left a message to that effect this morning, basically suggesting that if I don't hear specific enough information to put my mind at ease that she'll end up with more than the 7 follicles I could produce on an IVF cycle I WANT TO TALK TO DR. G ABOUT CANCELLING THIS.

Seriously, I cannot be the only DE patient who wants info as specific as 1 at 12mm, 4 at 10mm, 12 less than 10mm, etc. I realize she's a proven donor (x3). I realize she's also hyperstimulated (at least) once before. But, fuck, that doesn't mean anything for this cycle, particularly as she's had one cycle (her first) that didn't, I think, get to transfer because of the way she was stimulated.

Oh yeah, I'm relaxed.

Apparently this is my 800th post

You'd think 800 posts later I'd have a kid, or at least be pregnant, or have experienced some kind of monumental life change. I guess not.

There was a moment a few days ago I felt really good. On top of things. Like the plan I'd cooked up with my therapist to not think (my new mantra) but redirect with one of the 100 million things I need to get done was actually working.

Let's just say that spending almost 3 hours at Dr. Gorgeous's office on Thursday, which was also LG's birthday, really threw me. I cried before my mock transfer. I cried when she asked me to talk about the ultrasound tech from hell. I cried when she asked me if I thought I was ready to do this. I spent the better part of 3 hours crying. And then I drove home and went to work and cried some more. She once joked that I was going to get PTSD from her consult room. I wonder how close to the truth that actually is. I was so messed up on Thursday I almost started hyperventilating in the waiting room, which was crammed, and took myself out into the hallway where I paced and freaked out and cried some more before my nurse consult.

I think it would be easy to say I'm overemotional because I'm completely hopped up on hormones. But I've spent the better part of the past 2.5 years hopped up on hormones, and I'm usually not like this. I think it would be too easy to say it's the lupron.

The truth is, the closer I get to March the more petrified I get. I think Dr. Gorgeous finally gets it; I'm not scared of DE working (she asked me point-blank if I was worried about being able to love this baby, or bond with it, or whatever [apparently she's had one patient who never bonded with her DE kid]) but scared of it not working. Because I'm out of plans. And time. And energy. And if this doesn't work, well....I can't even really imagine that. Nor can I really imagine it working, that I might actually be something resembling happy in a month or so.

I'm sad. And scared. And, really, what a fuckhead I was not to ask for valium when it was pretty much offered to me. Because let me tell you, I'm not sure how I'm going to get through the 2ww. The donor hasn't even started stims yet and I'm a wreck. All I can say is thank goodness for the nurse who decided taking me out of the office for our consult was a good idea.

~26 days until transfer.

And Now a Funny From Dr. Gorgeous

(on the subject of whether or not she should write me a prescription for Ambien):

"Frankly, I like Valium better for sleep."

I think I should have taken her up on that one instead.

*

Follicle's down to 11mm, so I think we're on for March.

Lupron, and a little bit of grace

I've got a new mantra, which I find myself repeating in my head if not out loud for a good portion of the day: grace and calm, grace and calm, grace and calm. Perhaps I'll say more about that later.

For now, tell me true, how awful is lupron? Starting Sat, I'll be on birth control, lupron, and estrace; then a week of just lupron; then the lupron/estrace combo.

I am not freaking out, I am not freaking out, I am not freaking out.

Grace and calm.

Freakouts and Loose Ends

I think (hope?) the pinnacle of the crazy hit over the weekend. I slept at most, I think, an hour Saturday night. I tried to explain to my therapist that this insomnia doesn't start with head-spinning but actual physical sensations of anxiety (racing heart, in particular). I literally can't calm my body and then I'm awake and I start thinking and then, well, you know how it goes. The upside (is there an upside to not sleeping?) was finishing course prep in the middle of the night when it became clear that lying in bed was not helping.

Honestly, people, this might be the most anxious I've ever been in my life. (I seem to recall similar anxiety/sleeplessness when I was applying for jobs back in 2001, but I don't remember not sleeping at all).

My calendar's been changed by 2 days, for personal rather than medical reasons, which I'm not happy about, and that seems to be what set off this freakout. Also don't have my lupron, which I'm supposed to start on Saturday, even though I've been trying to get it for a week. Specialty Pharmacy #2 told me they could have it to me by tomorrow if I wanted to pay cash. Umm, no, I'd like to milk my insurance for all it's worth, so please just verify it! Today I waited for about 20 minutes at the campus pharmacy--when I should have been in a department meeting--because they didn't give me 3 mm syringes *with* 22 gauge needles for PIO, and I only have a handful of them left from the last IVF debacle. These minor glitches are really getting to me, even though I know they are minor in the whole scheme of things. (It sort of feels like when I moved halfway across the country my mother couldn't just say she was worried about me but obsessed about where I'd get enough boxes for my stuff.)

Then there's work. I have to say I love my classes this semester, and those moments with students are the best, most focused, calmest of my days. Because all the nervousness gets chanelled into performance, which, frankly, I'm good at. But the details about student organizations and the summer program I'm supposed to do and dealing with general incompetence of staff is another layer of complexity and stress that I don't need.

LG is good. I'm trying to savor the parts of mothering like snuggling and reading and talking, and I'm trying not to get overwhelmed by the parts of mothering that are work, like food preparation and grooming and rushing her out the door. I actually forgot to put her booster seat back in the car (my mother visited this weekend), which she pointed out to me when I picked her up from school, and I'm the kind of mother who kept her kid in a real carseat with a 5-point harness until she finally protested at age 6.

Anyway, I took it as a sign that my therapist's office called with an opening for tomorrow, so I took it. And I also scheduled myself for a massage (instead of acupuncture) as a way to try to deal with the physical effects of all this stressing and not sleeping.

If everything goes as planned, 33 days until retrieval. Sigh.

Oh yeah, I'm fine

Oh, the phone calls and the providing of credit card information and the hassling of Fancypants Cryobank. Oh the tears and the drama (speaking of which, I need to leave for therapy in 5 minutes) and the ratting out the Ultrasound Tech from Hell to the office manager. I wasn't going to do it, I really wasn't, but she left me an innocuous message about calling in a prescription order and I was instantly in tears. Yes, people, it's THAT BAD around here.

But, another $200 later my donor has every last drug she should require (apparently the lupron is for trigger, not for suppression) and I'm only slightly concerned that she will have been on the pill for 37 days before stims. Because she's, like, in her 20s and has hyperstimulated at least once before, and she's not, well, me. And I have everything except lupron--national shortage anticipated, people, get your lupron!--which will require phone calls to this, that, and the other pharmacy. After therapy.

But oh my goodness the thought of my Discover bill next month makes me want to vomit (LG's windows, donor's drugs, my last cycle, blech). And I haven't even mentioned how crazy work is...

To say I'm nervous wreck would be a radical understatement.

In Case You Were Wondering

No, I have not peed on a stick.

No, I have no plans to pee on a stick. Let's get real: I've literally bet $5300 that this cycle will fail.

Yes, I'm somewhat of a basket case at present. Although an hour ago I was happily drinking my hot chocolate and reading for class.

Yes, this is somewhat typical of me at 9dpo.

Yes, I'm more than moderately irritated at anyone who has asked me anything about my current cycle or my state of mind.

Yes, both expressions of sympathy and expressions of hope have the capacity to piss me off, so it's better just to keep your mouth shut.

Yes, I've already contemplated the absolute worst case scenario which I will not share here, because you know then it will come true.

Yes, I realize that the worst case scenario I've contemplated is not actually the worst case scenario. If it can get worse, it usually does.

No, there is not an herbal tea in the world that will make me feel better. But if you have a magic potion that will make me fall asleep and wake up in July, pregnant and tenured, please send it my way.

A Little Closer to Zen

1. I painted again last night. Black, bloody uterus, biohazard containers, lots of lovely follicles in blue, vials of sprm. (What's that? LG wanted to know. Will you teach me to paint like that on the weekend?)
2. I am meeting with the real lawyer next week. Although I will have to pay her (which I wouldn't have to do if I met with A's friend), she sounds awesome; she's tinkering with a standard contract to eliminate "intended father" language; and we have a shared alma mater. My ducklings are lining up nicely.
3. Just got off the phone with the nurse, who said she sees no reason March won't work. Scheduled for mock transfer, physical exam and all kinds of goodies. I was hoping to get that out of the way on Monday when I meet with Dr. G, but I guess having an IUI precludes that possibility (duh). Still, we arranged all of my monitoring on Tues/Thurs, none conflicts with the conference I'm going to (the week before retrieval!!!), and the donor is scheduled and things look good. Sigh. It will be an intense month, but absolutely no time for moping. And that's exactly why I needed this to be MARCH.
4. IrrationalEx, you are so right. What the acupuncturist is asking me to do is nuts. (Although I still might talk to my neighbors about herbs. Herbs okay. Medical Food? No way.)
5. And now, folks, I'm going to take a walk around my neighborhood in the snow.

Rage

So what my therapy app't the other day made abundantly clear is that I go from zen to rage in about 30 seconds flat.

Today's trigger: my acupuncturist actually had the gall to suggest that I undergo a "cleanse" during my 5 weeks between pg test and DE retrieval, which would involve a "medical food" (the last time I used the term "medical food" it was when I was trying to get insurance to cover LG's nasty prescription-only formula). Amino-acid based nutrition? Fuck that. I told her, gently, that I really couldn't do anything more than I already am in terms of diet (well, I could not be drinking wine and decaf this week, but generally you get the point). I have cut wheat, dairy, soy, eggs, corn, beef, sugar, tomatoes, eggplant, citrus, coffee and black teas, and I'm sure there are things I'm leaving out. Recent self-destructive behavior aside, I've done that pretty well for months. I weigh **97** pounds. And she's seriously trying to tell me that the magic cure for my infertility is a liver detox?

I need to figure out what this rage is all about. It was like she poked every raw spot on my body. I see a black, bloody painting in my future. And a (passive-agressive) glass of red wine.

Mental Health for the Fertility Patient

So my therapist was quite happy with the painting revelation because, as she says, I need a "release valve" on my emotions. I guess she's right. But she also seems to prefer the calmer, less anxious version of me (as do I). And those two things are pretty much mutually exclusive. I can't paint, cry, go to sleep and wake up functional. It's more like paint, cry, fall into skittery half-sleep insomniation, and the next day I'm depressed and too tired to think clearly.

And if I have a choice here, it would be to prioritize those activities that reduce stress and bring me calm (yoga, taking walks, drinking tea), as opposed to those activities that allow me to express emotion, which is highly stressful. Obviously I'm seeing that my choice more often than not is to bury and numb emotion (vodka, anyone?), which, from a mental health standpoint probably isn't good. Anyway, it's something to think about.

*

In other news, I paid for another woman's birth control pills tonight. Target retrieval: March 3. That's scary soon. And desperately far away.

ART and Art Therapy

I cracked out the watercolors tonight, for the first time in I can't remember how long. I painted a bunch of abstract things that resemble angry vaginas. Think Georgia O'Keeffe meets Frida Kahlo.

I'm not sure it was exactly therapeutic, as it made me cry. Or maybe that's a good thing. My therapist told me something like she didn't want to mess with my standard way of dealing with grief (I guess it seems to be working?).

It's going to be a LONG two months.

Small Good Things

1. Tazo Rest Tea. Can I just say that's like drinking valium?
2. LG is outside playing. Which means she's not inside singing. Which was making me more than a little nuts.
3. Dr. Gorgeous emailed me this afternoon and said the donor looks very good. I think that's a green light.
4. My favorite ultrasound tech is letting me come in for monitoring on Mon afternoon, instead of the morning. Because sandwiching appointments between my classes is easier than finding someone to take LG at 7:00 in the morning and see her off to school later. IUI either Tues or Weds.
5. LG gives really good hugs. I need a lot of them these days.

I have to say I'm a little afraid I'm cracking up. The combination of regular IUI stress, DE stress, and going-back-to-school stress is a bit much. I'm feeling a lot like I did just before IVF attempt #1, when Dr. Gorgeous infamously told me I needed to be a little more zen. More on that later...

I'm Too Tired to Title This (or, This Whole Thing Fucking Sucks)

On my way home from the meeting with the donor coordinator lady (hereafter referred to as DCL), I stopped out the outlet mall. I ended up at the Gap, where I found myself trying on size zero jeans (why they make size zero is sort of beyond me, not to mention beyond the scope of this post). So there I was, stripping off my clothes, and maybe it's just the mirrors in the Gap, or maybe it's real, but I looked at myself and saw for the first time that I've gotten old. Old and haggard and skinny. (I also looked like an actual grown up professor for the first time, and that, I suppose, is not a bad thing. Did I mention I actually did not get carded when I bought the vodka for NYE, which is a first?)

What I saw in the mirror is what these past 2.5 years have done to me. And I am fucking tired, people. This needs to be over NOW. And I don't think I did anything more than make DCL think I was slightly nuts when I said that this has to happen in March. April is not okay. March. March. March. So what the fuck do I need to do to make this happen in March?

DCL said she wouldn't want me to put any money down (nonrefundable and all that) before the outcome of my next pregnancy test. But waiting until then (roughly 1/25) pretty much guarantees that March is out of the question. Am I willing to gamble something in the vicinity of $6K that I won't get pregnant in January? Because I'm pretty certain if I do get pregnant, I really won't care about that money. It's a lot less than I'd spend on the chance of a DE cycle failing, right? Am I just crazy here?

*

Someone tell me what to do here that doesn't involve drinking large quanities of vodka or smashing all my plates (my sister said to break eggs in a bathtub, but, metaphorical significance aside, that sounds really gross, and who would want to clean eggs out of her bathtub?). I'm tired. And sad. And full of rage. And that strikes me as a pretty bad combo. My therapist chose the worst two weeks to be off, let me tell you.

*

Update at 7:09 pm:

"Hi, Gwinne. I think if you are ok with the idea of potentially losing a deposit if you are successful, then I think you should go ahead. The donor sounds good! Dr. Gorgeous"