Sandy's Web Rotating Header Image

infertility

Third Times a Charm

This is me and my little (almost) 15 month old D-Man.

Me and my little D-Man.

Tomorrow I’ll be 16 weeks. For the last few weeks, about once a week, I pull out my at-home Doppler and give a little listen to the newbies heartbeat. Once a week I’m all smiles to hear it thump thump thumpin’ away. Everything is going great and in 24 (omg-that’s-not-so-far-away!!) weeks, we’ll be welcoming the newbies arrival. This pregnancy seems to be flying by. Perhaps it’s my days spent chasing my little D-Man around the house that is making this all fly by so fast. Whatever the cause, the days are flying and it has me thinking about some big decisions I’ll be having to make soon enough.


When I had Dublin I wasn’t really nervous about the birth. I kept telling myself that I’d done it before, I can do it again. This time, however, I’m sort of freaking out. Perhaps it’s because instead of a nineteen year gap to cushion pains memory, I only have 14 months. I remember vividly my thinking, during the middle of it all, this HURTS. THIS REALLY F*#!ING HURTS!!!


Both of my previous deliveries were fast and furious– as in, the room isn’t even ready and I’m about to plop out a baby, F-A-S-T. With both of my previous deliveries I experienced the panic that comes when you see your baby’s heartbeat drop drastically with each contraction. With both of my previous deliveries, before the doctor arrived, the nurses dropped the “C” word (c-section) a few times. Both of my previous deliveries ended with lots of stitches to repair down there (ouch!). So this time around, when the doctor put the option of an elective c-section on the table, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.


I love the idea of scheduling my due date. It would make arranging child care for Dublin sooo much easier. I love the idea of not feeling the pain of contractions. I love the idea of not having to see my baby’s heart rate show signs of distress. However, the thought of a needle in my back makes me want to hurl from fright. Also, the thought of being numb from my waste down and feeling the tugging as they pull the baby out of my stomach into the world… Fright. Hurling. AWK.. So any way I look at it, I’m a bit nervous and scared. BUT… not as nervous and scared as I am at the thought of being a mom to TWO children under TWO. Now that… THAT thought gives me night terrors! 😉

Pregnant at 42…

No, Im not psycho... just like to be sure. (7 tests)

Yes, you counted right-- that's SEVEN tests. I wanted to be sure!

If luck be a lady and I be that lady, then I am so knocked up right now! Despite the fact that we were on the look out for a double lined pregnancy test, it was still a shock to get one. Then to get another one and the one after that one… and 7 tests later, still seeing all the positive results lined up in a row, I’m in a state of disbelief. I feel so very lucky and oh-so-very scared at the same time.

Though I’m obviously beating out the statistics for a woman my age in the conception department, it’s still very scary- all those statistics running around in my head. I know it’s possible to beat the odds, I just did it with the fabulously healthy little one-year-old running around my house. But will I beat the odds again?? I truly hope so.

I’m 7 weeks along, or at least I think. Being me, things were not cut and dry. First off, I got an “inconclusive” blood test. Never even knew that “maybe pregnant” was an option for pregnancy blood tests! It did, after a few days and a retest, give me the positive I was hoping for. Our first ultrasound appointment, where we were supposed to see a heartbeat, showed that we were earlier than THEY thought. I’d have been freaking out, but I suspected with a certainty that I’d ovulated late. So now we’re waiting for our next ultrasound, which will be in a week.

Meanwhile, I hold my breath, look at my son and repeat, “Yes… I CAN do this!”

Seeing Double….

A funny thing happened on the way to IVF….. I wound up pregnant. I know, that was such an incredibly cliché thing to do!

So here I am 8 weeks, 5 days, pregnant. I am still living in disbelief and a bit of terror. One of my first thoughts was, “What. Have. I. Done.” It’s almost like I got so transfixed with the trying aspect of getting pregnant, that I really didn’t see beyond that. I mean I DID… but I didn’t. It was the dream that seemed a bit unattainable. Seriously think about it, I can’t even mend a garden hose and yet a doctor was able to sew up my fallopian tubes, after having had them lie around twiddling their thumbs for over 10 years, and on top of that, to have them…. WORK!?!?! And at my age. With my numbers. Disbelief.
Soooo…. Here I am, pregnant. Wow.

I didn’t NOT write about being pregnant because I was trying to follow some first trimester announcement protocol, no… it is simply because I’ve still not exhaled. I’m still holding my breath, though with this blog I hope to exhale a little bit.

We were literally waiting to start the IVF cycle when I found out I was pregnant. I don’t even know what possessed me to take a pregnancy test, perhaps it has just become such a habit and it built itself into my cycle routine. Whatever the reason, there I was taking a pregnancy test in the middle of the afternoon. I was ready to toss it with disgust at another single line staring back at me, when I realized that I was being greeted by two lines. TWO LINES!!??!! I was shocked. Sonora, who was heading out that weekend for Florida, had JUST said to me, “I bet you end up pregnant and don’t need IVF…” That girl was eerily correct!! That night Scott, Sonora and I go out for a “goodbye” dinner for Sonora and afterwards stop and buy another pregnancy test, this time a digital one. I say that I’m going to take it in the morning, but of course I don’t wait and take it immediately when we get home. The next day there are four tests all lined up in a row…. All saying the same thing: Pregnant.

3.5 weeks and Scott and I are at the doctor’s office. The doctor is shocked that I even took a test. He even asked me why I took a test so soon and I just sort of shrugged and laughed, which was much better than having to admit that I buy them in bulk and take them like they had become my new hobby.

Since 3.5 weeks was too soon to see anything on an ultrasound, the doctor sent me for blood work. My HCG levels came back and yup… pregnant! Feb 22nd they were 323 and on the 25th they jumped to 1453! (They’re supposed to double every couple of days.)

5 weeks in I developed a HUGE cold. Obviously I didn’t take anything for it, just spent the weekend in bed blowing my nose and feeling miserable. 5 and a half weeks in I am feeling better, but decided to stay home from work and get a little bit more rest. I was walking to the kitchen when I realize that something wasn’t right. I was bleeding. I called my doctors office and they told me they could get me in later that afternoon. I just knew that I’d lost the baby. I sat down on my sofa and cried….

Later that day in my doctor’s office, the doctor dimmed the lights and performed an ultrasound. And we got to see that the baby was located in the right spot and after magnifying the image, the doctor said that he could see what looked like heart activity. He said this made him “Cautiously optimistic” and things were probably fine and the baby was ok.

I spotted for a week and a half. Each day that I spotted I was miserable. Scott was patient with me as I had several emotional ups and downs. We didn’t want to lose the baby… though I knew that if we did, it was probably some genetic issue and it “would be for the best.”

7.5 weeks in and we have another doctor’s appointment. This time there is no doubt about seeing a heart beat! The baby is the appropriate size and has a heartbeat. The doctor tells us that after seeing a heartbeat, the risk of miscarriage goes down…. However, because of my age- there is still a higher risk for me. But, again, he’s optimistic.

Today I’m 8 weeks and 5 days. I’m still scared, daily. We’ve already announced it to friends and family, already posted a picture of the ultrasound on Facebook…. And have already received the cautionary warnings that we’re announcing it too soon. But here’s the deal: We’re celebrating the life that is inside me RIGHT NOW. Because as of the last doctors visit, this baby was alive. What if things don’t work out?? Well, then they don’t work out. But we’ll know that we did get to enjoy the little time I had being pregnant with this baby. Not for everybody, but this is how we roll. And that makes me happy. Because it’s too easy to rest in that familiar space of fear, at least for me.

I know my risk for miscarriage is higher than the average under 35 year old. And I don’t think I’m above complications. But when do you say when?? I can list off several examples of women who have sadly experienced miscarriages from 5 week to 8 months. And I find it easy to dwell on these, with pure terror… but, at some point I need to give my neurotic self a break and say, “whatever will be will be…. “ And instead of being on some morbid death watch…. I’m going to try and be optimistic that it IS going to work out. And instead I want to focus my terror on things to come, like childbirth (OUCH!) and terrible two’s (AWK!) and having a teen in my 50’s (AHHHHHHH!!!!).

7.5 Weeks

7.5 Weeks

Eggs on film…. an anniversary story.

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow’s testing will be the deciding factor in whether or not the GAME-IS-ON for IVF. Tomorrow I strip, scooch down to the end of a table and spread for a nice man in a white coat (that’s an indicator that he’s the good guy), while letting him explore my nether regions with a probe that projects the whole thing onto a huge flat-screen hanging from the wall…. not exactly how I’d envisioned spending my two year anniversary, but fairly close.


Yes it’s true, coincidentally, tomorrow will be the two year anniversary of when my guy and I met, an event that led to where I am today: trying to have a baby at 40, when my one and only other child has JUST flown the nest.


Unlike previous/recent appointments, I have not had one pre-appointment-mini-melt-down and no irrational tears have been shed. No crying at work. No crying at my doctors office. No crying during an end-all fight with my future baby daddy. No… I’ve been quite happy the last few days, which is really strange because it was all-star-PMS week too. Here I am in the midst of the final seconds of the IVF game, where if I win, we go to the IVF play-offs…. GO TEAM GO. Meanwhile I’m calm… very-very calm…. and all this inner calmness is starting to freak me out.


The pivotal moment has arrived. From our last appointment they learned my mid-cycle endometrial lining was excellent, but my follicle count was a bit low: 4 on one side and 6 on the other. Not even a bakers dozen. However, it wasn’t so low that we were rejected out of the program. Tomorrow they will take a day-three looksie to find out what my antral follicle count is. They’ll also do more blood work to see if my day three levels are the same as they were last time, which were okay, but not great (FSH 5.61, Estridol 92, and LH 2.16). Yes, yes.. I know, for those who don’t speak Over-40-Baby-Making-101 all of this is a bit of gibberish, but trust me, these numbers and tests are important to the baby making process! Sadly, the numbers are more necessary than having the s-e-x! Turns out you can have a baby after forty with good numbers and no sex, but you can’t have a baby after forty with bad numbers and lots of sex. HMPH!


So far everyone at the fertility clinic have been very reassuring as to thinking that we’re in. I however do not count my chickens before their little follicular eggs hatch!


Stay tuned…. things are going to get exciting. Maybe. I hope.

Crazy about eggs….

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained…”  ~Mark Twain

I’m a pretty in touch with my brain…. that is, until I become passionately not. The brainy and oh-so-intellect side of me talks the big talk and fully believes in what it’s saying, so perhaps that’s why me (and everyone else around me) become shocked to find out that despite the hard exterior, I’m really sort of emotionally fragile. Life is always easy during the game planning portion. But once you get out there, on the playing field, things become a bit more challenging…..

Brainy me: We’re going to have another test
Emotionally fragile me: We’re going to have a test and it’s going to tell me I’m o-o-old. *Sniff *
Brainy me: The likelihood of finding infertility issues are high, but we don’t know that’s what they’ll find.
Emotionally fragile me: The tests will say I’m old and HE will leave me for y-y-younger eggs-s-s. *sniff *
Brainy me: Even if I’m infertile, there are ways to have babies.
Emotionally fragile me: I’m never going to have a baby because I’m o-o-old *sniff * *hic *
Brainy me: His staying up the entire night before the big test and playing video games is unrelated to his desire to have kids…
Emotionally: He doesn’t l-l-ove me…. he doesn’t feel my u-u-rgency… doom….. doom…. DOOOOM!

And so on and so on.

Despite the fact that HE has not learned to “talk me down” yet, here we are a few days later and the following things miraculously happened: Our relationship survived another mini-melt down of mine. And after our newest fertility office visit, where we had an ultra sound and the doctor reviewed some recent test results with us, we were told that my getting pregnant is probably related more to my tubes potentially being blocked, then to my age.

I’m feeling sane again. And hopeful. Things are looking rather well for us being part of the IVF research program. But I don’t think that I’ll fully believe it until they’re sticking the needles into my belly.

We will go back to the fertility clinic in a couple of weeks. I’ll have another ultrasound and some blood work done…. if that goes well, we’ll sign a contract and some release forms… and booYA, we’re in and the shots will start in March!

Sunshine on my mind…

I have repeatedly said this, but it’s so true: I am solar powered. When the sun comes out, my energy increases and my outlook brightens. The sun is shining bright today and I’m feeling rather sunny.


After the mini melt down of last Thursday’s appointment, I received a phone call that night from the nurse practitioner I’d visited. She called to give me my blood work results. She said that, though she didn’t know how to interpret them, she thought I would like to know the results. (How awesome-nice was that?!?!) So she gave me the numbers, I thanked her for her call… and I immediately scrambled to find my past results to see how they compared.


Damn. They had changed. Stupid turning-40-age-thing.


My Estradiol levels have jumped to way above the normal range, which might explain why I haven’t been seeing any double blue lines on the gazillion pregnancy pee sticks I’ve gone through. Obviously I’m not a doctor and will not pretend that I can self diagnose myself….. but here it is, the scribbling figures I had written down, and there is an obvious and glaring blip on a previously spotless blood test results. A year and a half has made quite a difference.


I called and asked the person in charge of registering applicants for the research IVF study if my new numbers would have an effect on our being accepted into the program. She said that they wouldn’t. So one test down, a few more to go.


I have another doctors appointment on Monday and then ANOTHER one on Thursday. Thursday’s is the biggie though, because it’s the one at the fertility clinic and we’ll be able to discuss the tests results with the doctor and hopefully get a better idea of where we stand in regard to being able to participate in the study program.


It feels like a bit of a whirlwind, all of these doctors appointments and hoops that need jumping through. The good news is that, just like all whirlwinds, before we know it, we will arrive at whatever destination we’re to arrive at.


Whether or not we are accepted into the program or not, I think there will be a sense of relief knowing if I’m officially “infertile” and if I am, is there anything we can do about it. Seven months ago it felt like it was my destiny to get pregnant. Now, not so much. I think all along the knowledge that I am not capable of getting pregnant was there lurking, subconsciously, in the back of my brain and that’s why it was never too much of a shock not to see those double blue lines appear on any pregnancy test.


Every time someone told me to “just relax” and it will happen, it made me feel so much pressure. It made me feel judged. It made me feel like this not having a baby was some how all of my controllable fault. Though the test results are seemingly not at all good… at least now I know that even if I had become master of all things zen, so relaxed that I appeared to be sleeping…. I would STILL probably NOT be pregnant! I feel like holding up the piece of paper with the newly scribbled numbers, running it around and waving it, while yelling…. “seeeeee I told yooooou, I. AM. JUST. OLD!”


But as stated before, I am not a doctor. Maybe the blood test results have nothing to do with age, I’ll let the doctor diagnose that. Meanwhile, I can’t help but wondering where the whirlwind will land. Will we receive IVF. Will it work? Will my elevated Estradiol levels be unrelated to age, can they easily be fixed? Will the end of 2011 find us under a pile of diapers and baby clothes…. oh, the suspense of it all is killing me!

Tiny Little Bubbles….

In an out-of-body sort of way, I look at how I’m responding to this baby making stuff and it shocks me. I am the one who is cool under pressure. I am mostly in tune with my logical self and my own parents described as an Ice Princess… but here I am, having emotional break downs in doctors offices.

Let me rewind a little bit to explain why I was at the doctors office this time….

After we found out about all the costs associated with the tests required by the clinic before we were accepted into the “free ivf” research program, my bubble was burst. With the burst a little bit of crazy leaked out. And when the crazy leaks out…. well, it just has to sort of dissipate before I can get on with things.

My first mini-breakdown was at home, when I informed my significant other that I am done with the baby making and wanted to take a break from it for a year. I accused him of not being involved and said I felt like I was doing this all on my own. I suggested that he was not worried about any biological clocks, probably because his was far from being up so he can’t feel my urgency. I should mention that he was just waking up and his eyes were barely open. I should also mention that I’m paraphrasing.

My guy is mellow. He patiently let the crazy talk flow and when I went back to work, he got on the computer and found another clinic participating in the same study. He made a few phone calls, asked a ton of questions…. .and now all of a sudden we’re back in the game.

Turns out, the individual clinics can decide what tests they’ll include in the study. A couple of the more pricey tests the other clinic wanted me to have before we were accepted, this new clinic will give for free after we’re accepted. There are still some tests I need to do, but this new clinic has been very helpful in sharing tips on how to cut the costs of the initial tests. It’s looking hopeful again….

And that’s how I found myself in the doctors office today, having breakdown number two. One of the tests that the other clinic said I needed to have is a Day 3 FSH test. Today was my day three… can’t have a day three test on day four…. so HAD to have it today, or wait another month. Time is ticking… TICKING …. ticking….. so I called my primary physicians office and asked if they could order the tests for me. They said they wouldn’t order the tests without my coming into the office and discussing it with a doctor. Ok, fine… I set an appointment. An appointment that I write down wrong. This meant that I was ten minutes late arriving at my doctors office. I had to wait behind two other (slow moving) people checking in, so by the time I check in, I’m 15 min’s late. The receptionist informs me that I’m late and will probably not be able to be seen. She said she’d go and ask the nurse practitioner if she’d still be willing to see me, which of course she wasn’t. I explain that I just need 5 min’s of somebody’s time to write an order for blood work. She say’s sorry, but I was late…. blah blah blah… and this is where my mini-breakdown number two starts.

I put both hands on the counter and talk slowly…. explaining that I have been coming here for 13 years and have never been late, but have often waited in the waiting room way past my appointment time. I explained that I NEED to get this blood work today. I explained that I’d been fasting since 8pm the previous night…. and all I need is 5 min’s…. so I can get blood work that a fertility clinic is requiring that I get. Again, I’m paraphrasing.

I say a bunch more, it just sort of spills out, a bit disjointed. She says she can reschedule me and after she tappity taps on her keyboard, she says that she can get me in at 10:20, that would be just another 20 minute wait. I told her I’d take it and I go and sit down….

Over 40 minutes later, I’m going into the dr’s office.

Without going into details, let me just say that my previous appointment at this doctor’s office was very unpleasant, mainly because I heard them laughing at my expense in the hallway. So perhaps it was a mixture of that last appointment and with the rudeness of how I was treated on this one, plus this feeling like everything (regarding my fertility) is just falling apart…. all these combinations of situations that have me pretty tightly wound…. it just was too much and I started crying in the room. I just lost it.

In the end, the nurse I saw was VERY nice and helped to make sure that I got the tests ordered that I needed. I went to the lab, got a needle stuck in my arm, and then quickly headed off to Starbucks to find comfort in a Venti Caramel Macchiato.

There are still hurdles and red tape…. but we’re again in the game. Maybe by the end of this month we’ll know if we’ll be getting IVF, maybe in March or April.

UPDATE: The nurse practitioner I saw called me this evening… .with my 3-day level results. They are NOT as good as they were a year and a half ago. While my FSH is in a decent range (5.61), my estradiol levels have shot up. They used to be 50 and now are 92. I don’t know what that means. Also, my LH is lower than what normal range is and I don’t know what that means. But anything that is not in range…. well, that can’t be good.

ANOTHER UPDATE: Just spoke with woman from the research study and told her my newly updated levels…. she said that they would NOT disqualify us from the study. YAY! :)

Balloon. Needle. Pop.

I get an IM today that potentially changes everything. It went something like this:


HIM: Did you know that the free IVF is going to cost $5000??

ME: WHAAAT?!

HIM: Yea, that’s not exactly free…

ME: I knew we’d have to pay for some test, but I thought my tests were going to cost somewhere in the range of $1600 out-of-pocket.

HIM: Yea, but you didn’t include my tests…

ME: Your tests???

HIM: The semen analysis costs $2000

ME: It’s going to cost you $2000 to watch porn and catch it in a cup?!??


This baffles me because yesterday, during the consultation, there was little said about all of these hidden costs. In fact, it wasn’t until they started telling me all of the appointments I was to schedule on this coming Friday and Monday that they started throwing prices in the air. I’d catch a $250 here and a $450 there… all the while scribbling each figure down. That’s how I came up with the $1600.


HE is, apparently, a bit more savvy than I…. since he decided to call and clarify the costs….. and that’s where my blissful-baby-bubble went POP.


So, the hard cold facts as we know it is now this: FREE = somewhere between $4000-5000… give or take $500. AND that $4000-5000, give or take $500, is BEFORE we’re even accepted into the FREE program.


GAH! I know it’s not a “gimmick” because it was a real facility, at a real hospital ,with real doctors and shiiit. However, it was definitely misleading. I wish that they’d spelled it out BEFORE the $288 consultation…. even in the small print, because I swear- I would have read it…. word for word.


So what to do. What to do.


I think I’ve already established that we do not have the bank roll of Celine Dion and we’ve already broke into saving to pay OUT OF POCKET to have my tubal ligation reversal surgery. OUT. OF. POCKET. Yea, and out-o-pocket ain’t cheap!


The “FREE” was appealing…. a bit blinding to the 40-year-old-my-eggs-are-numbered-me…. But at the end of the day, I’m a pretty realistic woman. Though I’m emotional as the next “infertile” woman, I am also a realist. I can’t NOT think about how IF we spend the $4000-5000 and NOT get accepted into the program, we’ll be out $4000-5000 and have NOTHING to show for it except maybe some numbers on a piece of paper…. numbers that will just confirm that I’m a 40 year old woman who is of “advanced maternal baby making age….”


This depresses me. I fully understand that this baby-less state that we find ourselves in is solely due to my age. HE could go out and hook up with numerous other woman out there his age and BOOM….that 30 year old chick is knocked up. But with me…. well, it’s just not happening.


Having progeny is important to him. I get that. I did that. I LOVE love LOVE that I have a mini-me running around on this planet…. and I want to be able to give that to him too. I want him to experience how wicked cool it is to look at your child and see yourself in them.


For me, it is this baby making thing that is the hardest thing about dating someone younger than I. Because….. like I said before, I’m the one and only glitch… the 40 year old baby making faux pas… among the two of us. And that is totally and utterly depressing.


We’ve decided to put off deciding if we’re going to beg out until later tomorrow afternoon. But I don’t think I’m going to hold my breath on this one….


Balloon. Needle. POP.

Infertility is a misogynistic disorder….

This “rant” is not based on anything but opinion, since I didn’t fact check one ounce of this brain spew…. it’s just an observation from a slightly bitter and very barren me.


Infertility is totally sexist. Yes, it affects couples, but really the majority of women I come across on the sites are the one’s being treated for and actively engaged in fighting infertility. Infertility, for the most part, is quite a misogynistic condition.


For one thing, the mere act of aging and turning another day older will guarantee another step towards the inevitable decline of a woman’s ability to conceive. But for a man…. as long as he can still get jiggy with it and hobble to the bed (couch or kitchen counter) he can procreate to the grave!


I have male counter parts who are dating with the same age gap as I*…. but the struggle to conceive would be inconceivable, if say, they were to wake up one day and decide they wanted to pop a few more progeny out.


(*10 year gap, for those keeping track)


I am in the midst of another “lets not try” month. I suppose we’ve only had two of these. This one is easier because I have the potential IVF looming in the near future. As I filled out the chapters of paper work the fertility clinic sent me, I had to look up where I was at in my current cycle. This was a forced cheat and I am not to blame for having to “pay attention” for a moment as to where I am ovulation wise. It’s funny, one look at the fertility calendar I keep and my brain instantaneously runs off with the facts, figures and statistics…. the good news is that even if I wanted to jump in and start “trying” this month, the fertile time frame has already past. Yes, a mere second and my brain figured that out. And that is a good example of why I say that infertility is directed at woman. What man passes his significant others fertility calendar and has any idea what in the hell he is looking at, or does calculations as to whether or not IT (bow wow chicka bow wow) should be on the agenda for the evening.


I don’t want to be in this place of trying for another 2 years…. I give mad props to the women out there who have hung in it for that long, I’m just not going to be one of them. I’ve decided that I’ll give it a go for a year, maybe a year and a half…. but after that, I’m not going to call it a night.


When I say that I don’t consider myself to be infertile, I mean it. True, my age might dictate that I’m less than fertile… but I think that I am far more impatient, then infertile. I don’t want to be 43 and pregnant. I don’t want to be 42 and pregnant… I want to be 40 or 41.


People always say that there are “options”…. but friggon hell, not only is infertility sexist, it’s damn expensive too! We’ve already spent some serious CHAching on this quest…. and I feel fortunate that we even had the money to spend. But we’re not a bottomless pit of money and our bank account is not that of Celine Dion.


The appointment with the fertility clinic is one week from Monday….. and I hope that we come away with some idea of whether or not we’re going to be able to participate in the research program or not. I’ve already decided that if we do get to participate in the free IVF program and if it doesn’t take, I only want to pay out-of-pocket one more time for IVF and probably with donor eggs. After that…. I think we need to look into adoption.


Not Pregnant

I do not consider myself infertile, which is ironic because I’m seemingly not able to get pregnant….

The Clomid did not work. I could feel the Clomid in my system, since I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling pretty damn nauseous. As for poppin’ the eggs out, I don’t know that it did . At first I was excited, because I didn’t experience any of my normal PMS-y type of stuff when I should have been. I was confused because the pregnancy tests were coming back negative, but the PMS was not kicking in. I was about to declare Clomid worth in, just because I thought I wasn’t having any PMS.

Me: I should be PMS-ing, but I don’t feel suicidal at all… isn’t it grand?!?
Him: Really, this is PMS week?? You’re not homicidal either! YAY!

Turns out Clomid didn’t do away with the PMS, nor knock me up, it just delayed my cycle. About a week later my suicidal/homicidal tendencies kicked in. All was back to norm and another month was shot down.

I’ve always been under the assumption that it was the fertility meds that wreaked havoc on a relationship, but now I think it’s the baby making business in general that does it. This month I was asked once again to give up the temping and charting…. and to just let things happen. He told me that he loves the thought of having children with me, but that this baby making is ruining our relationship. I’m too focused on it. I’m too driven. The sex is becoming too scheduled and then the mating frenzy tends to fade out at the end of the month when the big “O” is past and there is no chance of impregnation. (“o” is for ovulation)

And here is where the curse of being a cougar comes into play. He’s 30…. I am not. Two 30 somethings walk into a bar and fall in love… they have another good 5 or 6 years of playing it cool with the “lets see what happens and lets go with the flow-free-lovin-sex….” But for me, I’m 40… in another 5 or 6 years I’m not only 40, but I’m in my LATE 40’s. That baby makin magic will long be dead at that point.

Quite a quandary I find myself in. To make a baby without TRYING to make a baby, AND to get this done within the next couple of years.

So I agree, again, to just stop with the trying…. And then, just like that, an interesting development occurs. A friend spots an ad in the online SF Chronicle telling of FREE IVF. He forwards the ad link to me and I call the number. There is a new drug study going on across the United States and San Jose has one of the clinics participating in the study. It’s a drug that will cut down the daily shots involved with IFV to just one shot per week. It’s a drug that’s already in use in Europe…..

I’m game! So I call up and answer some preliminary questions and am ok’d to proceed. I was to set up an appointment and get some tests done, if all my levels are good… we’re in. Free IVF!!!

I’m not counting my chickens yet…. but I’m super hopeful. My appointment is in a couple of weeks… After that, I don’t know what the time frame will be. Perhaps in two months time I will be getting daily shots into my stomach… and in two months two weeks, I’ll be getting implanted with two embryos… and in three months time…. maybe, just maybe…. I’ll finally be seeing two lines on a pee stick.