Sandy's Web Rotating Header Image

IVF

B is for Baby…

Meet Dublin!

Meet Dublin!

I’ve been trying to write this blog for the last 9 weeks…but I’m finding it hard to write with just one hand! Why one hand?? Because the other arm is busy holding my new little man!

Yes, my beautiful bundle of joy has arrived. Packaged in a 7 pounds, 8 ounce, package. I’m too tired from every two hour feedings to process that I am now a parent again! No time to think, only time to do!!

My little bundle is taking a nap and I’m going to test the bounds of how fast I can type, in order to fill in the gaps of the past 9 weeks:

After hearing the statistics regarding “maternal advanced aged” placenta’s falling short on the job past the 40 week mark, I was going to take no chances and agreed to the advantages of being induced at 39 weeks. I set the date for October 28th, because it was a Friday and would be convenient for grand parents to visit. Though, I truly believed he’d show up before the scheduled date. He didn’t, I was induced.

October 27th I went to work, as usual, came home… and packed for the hospital. I went to bed early, but sleep eluded me. I couldn’t believe my journey was finally coming to the finale, that the finish line had arrived.

To recap the crazy journey that lead up to this date: I’m a sorta cougar. I met and fell in love with a man who is a decade younger than I. On our first date we discussed the fact that he wanted kids in his future and I had my tubes tied. After celebrating a year together, we decided to pursue starting a family together. We met with a doctor to discuss our options… IVF was touted as the best option, but a tubal reversal was also brought up. Tubal reversal was the cheapest option (though, by no means cheap!!) and though the statistics said that having a tubal at my age didn’t put the cards in our favor, we decided to roll the dice and go for it. I had the surgery and month after month we tested negative for a pregnancy. We heard about a study that offered “free” IVF (though it really was to cost around $4000, which compared to the normal $20,000 of IVF makes it feel sorta free) and decided to try for it. After having to go through several testing procedures, we were accepted into the program. I made arrangements with my work to take off the necessary time off and we were at the start line, just waiting for my cycle to start, when I ended up with a positive pregnancy test.

Every bit of the 9 months I was pregnant I didn’t take for granted the fragility of it all. Every day I worried that we wouldn’t make it to the finish line. And even once that wonderful day arrived, I was still nervous and feeling anxious.

It had been 19 years since the last time I was in the maternity ward. The last visit, I woke up in labor, my water broke at home and once I arrived at the hospital it was only about 3 hour before my daughter arrived. This go around I knew it wouldn’t be so fast. I arrived on schedule at 8 a.m. By 9:30 they gave me the little pill that was supposed to get things started. My doctor arrived at some point in the morning to let me know what to expect for the day. I was told that I was probably going to start feeling things in a few hours and could hopefully expect the arrival of my son sometime that night.

My daughter, Scott, his mom and his dad were my visitors for the day. I forbid food to be eaten in the room, because I wasn’t allowed to eat any solids (in case of C-secion). I spent my time walking in circles around the halls of the maternity ward and peeing (he was resting on my bladder until the very end).

Sometime around 6pm-ish my doctor walks into my room and after I smiled and said, “Hi”, he replied, “Tis isn’t what I wanted to see… “

I guess I didn’t seem like I was in pain. But I was, I just hide it well. In fact, the nurses didn’t believe that I was really in pain either. They said that even though my external monitors showed my levels being really high, the contractions were probably measuring less severe. They said they’d put an internal monitor to more accurately monitor my contraction levels. Once the internal monitor was put into place, they found that my contraction levels were actually measuring more intense than the external.

Ha-ha! Boo-YA!

After that… all hell broke loose! My contractions intensified and next thing I knew, they were scrambling saying that they didn’t know if the doctor would make it on time. He did. Though, in all the excitement, the room hadn’t been prepared.

All the while, I am busying myself with pushing. Pushing. Pushing.

While pushing. Pushing. Pushing. I felt EVERYTHING. The song “Ring of Fire” (Jonny Cash) played in my brain. And the thought “I’m NEVER doing this AGAIN” occurred to me more than once.

I pushed and pushed and pushed. Believing the doctor when he said, “you’re almost there… “ And he wasn’t lying, because I was almost there.

At 7:25p, on October 28th…. our son, Dublin, arrived. He weighed in at 7 lbs, 8oz, and was 20 inches long.

He’s wonderful and beautiful… and healthy. I feel like I have won the lottery. I’ve never been so tired in my entire life… but I’m also over the moon in love with him.

Life is a crazy journey. Who woulda thought I would try to have a baby at 40. Who woulda thought I would succeed!! YAY ME!

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

Waiting game….

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting…. wait, what’s that… oh right, I’m still waiting! I thought it would only take a couple of days, from the last round of testing, for us to find out if we were officially in the IVF study program; but here it is five days later and we still do not have our official, “YOU’RE IN!”.

Everything is moving forward as if we’re in the program. Since mother nature stops for no one, we need to get through all the protocol so we’re ready to go if we’re accepted. That meant my having a phone consultation educating me about the IVF experience and what I can expect if I am to soon become quite closely acquainted with a needle that likes tummy fat. I also had another phone consultation informing me of more blood tests that are required to be completed and in their office no later than two weeks before my Aunt Flows arrival, as well as one blood test and a visit to a porn-o-matic for HIM. He gets off so easily in all this testing stuff!! (pun not intended… ok, fine. Pun intended.)

During both phone consults I asked about my recent blood test results and if they had come in yet and if I’d be able to view them online (at the patient portal the fertility clinic has set up). She said that I would hear from them before they ever made it to the online portal. I asked her if that meant that I could stop compulsively checking my portal every few minutes, she laughed and said I could stop checking, I’d hear from them first. I didn’t stop checking, because I’m neurotic like that. Interestingly enough, lab results ended up being posted, despite my ever hearing from the clinic. Unfortunately, they were incomplete and didn’t have all the results, only some I didn’t understand and my Estradiol levels. And the Estradiol levels were what had me concerned the last go around…. and even more unfortunate: they had gone up some more! Now I’m sitting here biting my nails wondering what this means to my FSH levels…. because if the FSH levels come back too high, we will be declined from the program.

Yes, yes… gibberish gibberish gibberish. So, translation: high levels are bad, low levels are good….. and I’m higher than Charlie Sheen on an average Friday night.

I feel like this fertility time bomb that might just blow at any moment. So I hold my breath and tip toe around, willing my levels to remain steady….. “Steady girls, steady… almost there, alllll mossssst THERE!”

Though, the truth is, at any moment during the IVF treatment we could get kicked out. There are so many check points that we have to pass, and it won’t be until that final needle hits my belly that I can fully exhale. It’s very intense, like a several month long thriller movie.

Meanwhile, my mood is great and I’m optimistic. I find myself perusing the twin strollers on Amazon and maternity clothes.

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.

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! :)

Ms. Potential….

Potential… such an optimistic word. So hopeful. So encouraging….. yet, so not guaranteed.

That first date, that job interview, the artistic abilities displayed… such potential….. but really, what really counts is the view in retrospect: did the relationship pan out past the 2nd date, did the job interview land the job, did the artistic abilities reach their…. potential…..??

Potential, so optimistic a word…. but still, until the end, a gamble.

I’m so excited about tomorrow’s appointment. We’re going to a fertility clinic to discuss our potential participation in an IVF research study… IF we’re accepted into the study, we’ll receive FREE IVF treatments!!!

Translation: IVF normally costs anywhere from $15-20,000!!

IF we are accepted into this program, it will be like winning the fertility lottery. It’s just feeling too good to be true. Potentially a very interesting kick off to a new year!

New years always offer such potential, a clean slate….. a great starting point. And right about now I would be writing my list of New Year’s Resolutions, but this year I’m just not feeling it. Instead, I’m feeling a bit more introspective and have decided to write a list of questions that I want to answer by the end of 2011. So, with all the pomp and grandeur of an official New Year’s Resolutions list… I here by give you the list of things I want to answer in the coming year:

1.Where am I living?
2.What job do I have?
3.Did I get pregnant?
4.Did my pregnancy take?
5.Did I have twins?
6.How did Sonora like Florida?
7.Did Sonora extend her stay with the Florida program?
8.Did I lose anybody I love?
9.Did I meet any new friends?
10.Did I get in shape?
11.What books did I read?
12.Did I have an epiphany?
13.Hows my relationship?
14.Did I go on vacation?
15.Did I finally use my passport?
16.Did I learn a new skill?
17.Did I continue to bite back?
18.Did I train my dogs?
19.Am I happy?
20.Did I make a difference?

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.

Universe are you there? It’s me… Sandy.

I was truly expecting that I’d be expecting after only one month of trying. From the depths of my inner being I just KNEW it was fated.  After all, I AM a positive thinker.

Perhaps I didn’t phrase it correctly when I presented the universe with my intentions, because here I am five months later and my womb is still vacant.

After the deed wasn’t accomplished in that first month… I began to worry. This is fated, right? RIGHT?!?!??  Well, if the Universe was going to make me work for this, then I decided I’d better get serious about it…. Time to get educated. Time to get my laptop out and visit some forums…..

Immediately I encountered a problem…. I had no friggon idea what they were talking about. I mean, literally… no idea what they were even discussing. See for yourself, here’s a typical forum post:

“Me and my DH BD’d 15 days ago, then he had to go out-of-town. When he got back, 5 days ago, we bd again. Now I’m 6dpo and I couldn’t help but poas, because I’m addicted lol. Thing is, I got a BFP!!!! Does that mean I calculated wrong?!?”

Seriously! That’s what It was like. I felt like I was back in school and having to look up every word I didn’t understand… jotting down the definitions, so I would remember what they meant for the next time.

(FYI: the above fictitious post was a woman talking about having sex with her husband 15 days ago and then again after his business trip, 5 days ago. She’s now thinking shes 6 days after ovulation and she got a positive pregnancy test. So she’s thinking that she messed up her ovulation calculations.)

When I first started wandering around the forums, I was SHOCKED at how many YOUNG women out there are unable to get pregnant. How is this possible?? And what does that mean for me? Here are 20 year old’s talking about how they’ve been trying to conceive for months and months…. and still nothing. There are posts I read from women in their early 30’s who had already opted into IVF treatments and have still not gotten pregnant…. So five months in, compared to many of the women on the forums, doesn’t seem very far in it at all. However, my being 40 adds more pressure to the timing. For a woman of mature maternal age, the game changes. It’s like counting in dog years…… my eggs have no doubt accelerated their aging process and now are kickin’ it 7 times as fast as a 20 year olds!

I promised myself that I would not panic…. I would not become as crazy as some of the crazy I witnessed on the forums. I would not start stomping my feet (metaphorically or otherwise) while yelling at the universe about how my biological clock is TIC-TIC-TICKING!!!! And though the 15 pregnancy tests and 25 ovulation test strips underneath my bathroom sink are sorta screaming, “Tooooo late, you’re there…” I am trying to do my best to keep sane, stay positive and not give up hope.

But my foot is twitching and I might feel a stomp coming on….

Reverse and Rewind….

When I first met Scott, I was still riding the high off of my overdose on relationship self-help books. I was going through my “put it all on the table” phase. I was determined to show him all my cards and for him to show all of his too. The theory behind this is: if you let it all hang out, sure you might scare off a few, but you’re more likely to find THE someone who will love you for exactly who you are…. thus avoiding the awkwardness of being 2 year into a relationship and finally admitting that you never really liked football and you prefer to cook once every two weeks.

A real convert of the I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours thinking, I took every opportunity to NOT hide who I was. Where some (sane) 38 year old women might try to hide their age from the hot 28 year old they find themselves lucky enough to be on a date with…. I compulsively dropped my age several times during those first few dates. I just didn’t want him to ever say, “You never told me you were THAT old!” Because I did….over and over again. Also, with no fear I broached the subject of children. I was able to get out of him his expectations for children in his future and I remember telling him that because my tubes were tied and I was 38, it would take medical intervention or adoption for us to ever have kids together.

Yes, I know… nothing like a little playful-flirty, “You have beautiful eyes…. by the way my tubes are tied and my eggs are old, so we might need to see a fertility doctor….gawd, you’ve got a gorgeous smile too….”

Fast forward several months…..

I knew that having kids was very important to Scott. I enjoyed having my daughter and was not against doing it again. Hell, she was almost 18… so I knew I could get a kid to the finish line without screwing them up too bad. And that was on my first go at parenthood, imagine what I could do on my second try!

I decided to talk to my doctor about whether or not having kids was even an option for me. Blood tests were ordered, needles inserted, blood work sent off…. and then finally the results were in. My numbers were pretty damn impressive for a woman of 38. In fact, if my stats could go to bars, they might just get carded!

Fast forward several more months…..

He’s THE ONE. I’m THE ONE. We’re blissful. But time is not on my baby-making side. So instead of a few years of uninterrupted-by-poopie-diaper happiness…. we decide to jump into the baby making.

Fast forward a several weeks……

I researched my insurance options for getting my tubes reversed (none), I researched doctors who perform the surgery (several), and narrowed down my choices (few).

Fast forward several more weeks….

If you want to feel old at 39, sit in a fertility clinic, next to your younger paramour and listen to how old your woman bits are.

Fast forward a few more weeks….

I get wheeled in, I get wheeled out….. they could rebuild me, they had the technology!

Fast forward to present……

If something interests me, REALLY interests me, then I’m all over it. I will research that puppy to its death. Some might call this “obsessing”, but I prefer to call it “getting educated”. Fertility and pregnancy have become my new area of interest. True, I already have been pregnant before, so you’d think it’s like riding a bike…. but this is not the case since there was no planning with her. She was my serendipity baby and a happy surprise.

This time it’s going to be different….. this time it’s going to take some work!

To be continued…..