The Art of Nagging

The more I nag the more likely he is to agree with me...

Man, if only that was a true statement, but lets face it, I am not a stupid person. Nagging has never worked in this lifetime or any before it. People nag me at work...they go to the back of the pile. B-ray nags me at home and I pretend I don't hear him. If there is no blood or bones sticking out then it just isn't that important. I nag the hubs about baby-making and the hermit goes back in his shell...hence nagging unsuccessful.

Well it's a good thing I'm a smarty pants...

So having established that nagging doesn't work (this was not a recent epiphany), I developed a fail proof method. Don't nag. If you are starting to nag or think you are going to nag then STOP. Lack of words says volumes more than "yap yap yap". Because let's be real...that's what a hubs hears. I have mastered the cold shoulder...well it's more icy than cold. In the past couple weeks the hubs has felt the arctic chill more than once, but not because I was mad (well maybe a little). I became so annoyed with trying unsuccessfully to have rational conversation with him about our "options" that I just plain gave up.

So meanwhile I internally weigh my options...

1.) Be satisfied with life as I know it
2.) Sperm donor
3.) Adoption
4.) Try again in the U.S.
5.) Drive myself batty weighing options  

A New Day and a New Outlook

Man my previous posts were sort of depressing.

I don't have a lot of snarky comments today which is new for me. It's kind of cool because I've had just the right amount of "I'm so sorry" and hugs. I haven't had a lot of "it just wasn't meant to be" or "everything happens for a reason". 

I drank a bottle of champagne...

I can't really say this was an entirely good idea since it set off a chain reaction of anxiety attack and vomiting. I slept on the bathroom floor for awhile and downed some pedialite. I woke up with a raging headache, but nothing a little Advil couldn't cure. Seeing me down a bottle of alcohol resulted in the hubs first real acknowledgment that we were out of the game.

Why won't he just freaking talk to me??

For those of you who know the hubs, I can guarantee that none would disagree that he is a seriously sentimental and mushy man. Well, for all that mushiness and sensitivity, he sure is a stinky communicator (or maybe I am just super pushy and impatient). I am a horrible communicator, but for some reason it just makes me feel better to talk about it (except at work when people catch me off guard with unexpected questions). I want to talk about "what's next", "what if", "why", and "when". The hubs just wants to snuggle.
Geez-I am not only a horrible snuggler, but I cannot sit somewhere and be lost in my own thoughts right now. I try to talk to the hubs and I just get one word answers in his rare lucid moments. I want/need more than "we will figure it out". I've had a few people put me in my place (which for me is sometimes needed). I just hope that the hubs doesn't make me wait for ever before he's ready to open up.  At least I got him to agree to talk with someone here about all our options-now if we can both just keep an open mind.

Feeling more normal than yesterday.

Today is the first day I feel "normal". I am hoping I feel a little more normal and a little less numb each day.  I'm attempting to avoid becoming that "deranged fertility obsessed lady". Some moments I am successful (in my opinion-which is the only opinion that matters).  Minus my date with a bottle of champagne, I had a very enjoyable weekend with the in-laws.  I've bored my sister to death with my constant ramblings (what a trooper she is) and I am going to remind her of the Louis Vuitton she offered to buy me. When you're sister is not comfortable with "baby talk" it helps that she wants to buy stuff to shut you up.

Retail Therapy

Negative. We will be ok. Not now-but eventually. Looking for the silver-lining. 

If you see me...don't bring it up. You will feel completely uncomfortable by my sudden sobbing.

I'm not sure that retail therapy can soothe this heartache, but I'm sure gonna try. Hubs bought some Cardinals gloves for "winter" and I didn't even flinch. I must have hit bottom. Love you all.

This Public Service Announcement Brought to You By One Deeply Emotionally Unhinged Woman

She's Come Undone...

I've learned that throughout this process as much as I didn't want to be apart of the Secret Society of Infertility, it has at least provided me some comfort in knowing that there are others who can empathize with my situation. I appreciate the words of sympathy and encouragement from others. I know that people love us and care for us and want this to work for us. I know that those close of us want to reduce our pain, but that being said...it does not stop me from becoming a stark, raving, lunatic. I am a mad woman. On Friday (today-since I never posted my original until now) I need someone to be prepped with a padded room and straightjacket.

My co-worker pointed out to me that maybe I failed to admit to myself how much I really wanted this as I was sobbing at her desk the other day. This was not the cute sort of crying. This was the crumpled face, snotty, heavy breathing kind of sobbing. FML. She actually was sort of right and sort of wrong. I admitted to myself how much I wanted this and hoped in secret, but never had I admitted to anyone else my secret desire. Now I can't hold back...it is more than apparent how much I wanted this to work. I know I have to wait for the "official test" results, but I can't put my faith in something that in my rational mind seems so unlikely. I could pray for a miracle, but it might be a little late to start praying now-besides God probably is not overly concerned with my fertility. I have thought about what we would do when we had an answer one way or another and I considered many options: 1.) Lock myself in my room all weekend and come out refreshed and ready to conquer life. 2.) Sit in my car and cry until I can cry no more. 3.) Pretend I am ok and go about life as I know it.

Since my sister in law will be in town this weekend I will have to go with Option 3. It's gonna be a "baby-centric" weekend which is a little bit discouraging. I have been waiting for my period to rear her ugly head for a few days now. The cramping is such a splendid precursor to my already dreaded weekend. I have been really shitty at pretending I give a damn this week so I am hoping that my bright sunshiney personality will shine through. If not then apologies to the fam.

Last night I went out with some friends as a last hoorah before one of them moves away. Let me just be honest, despite the hub's protest, I enjoyed some champagne. I needed that, but not because I'm an alcoholic or anything.  I have resigned myself to the inevitable. If I am wrong, it will be the happiest wrong I have ever been. It would be one of the few times I would actually have to admit that I was wrong.

I Am Woman Hear Me Roar

Oh man-had I only known...

The fertility world calls this period the dreaded two week wait (2ww) for good reason. It f$&?ing sucks. Today was the first day I cried. I cried not once-not twice but three times and it's only 1 pm. I think this is pretty good considering it is the first time.

Today I am 9dp3dt (9 days past 3 day transfer). I'm not going to lie but I took some hpts (home pregnancy tests) Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday...all with the same dreaded results. Then yesterday I instructed the hubs to hide all the tests. Now I must wait (or lie to the hubs and go buy a test using my credit card).

I know I know...

It's still early. I won't know until Friday. Stay positive. It's not too late. Etc. etc. 

Yeah that just doesn't work for me. Last time I didn't prepare for the worst I was kicked in the gut and knocked breathless. That won't happen again.  I'd rather have everyone be able to say "I told you so and be shocked for good reason instead of a bad one.

Something to lift the spirits...

Yesterday I read an article about a drunk mom who killed her baby while breastfeeding. I want to kick that lady so hard in her peach that she can never have kids again. Did I mention that a year prior her other daughter was brought in to the hospital with fractured ribs? Yeah that sure brightened my mood. Today B-ray read his school book Arthur's Bad News Day. I'm happy to report that the book was about Arthur's parents telling him he was going to have a baby sister. B-ray wants one too. Surprise surprise.  

Today sucks...the end.

TMI But I Have to Tinkle

I am not quite sure where I left off on my last post, and honestly I am too lazy to go and check (I am going to blame it on the hormones-from now on everything is because of the hormones).

By October 24th, the day of our egg retrieval, I felt a little like my ovaries may potentially explode and tinkling became extremely unpleasant. We were up to 2 shots a day and you can only imagine how excited I was about that. As excited as the hubs is when I tell him he has to make room in man cave for the triplets. We arrived for our retrieval/sperm aspiration at 9:30 and were taken in to a nice little room with a recliner where the hubs was told to change. The hubs was a nervous wreck. I am not good with pep talks-I'm a tough love kind of gal, but I did my best to distract the hubs by taking a bunch of horribly depressing pictures.The hubs was given his iv and wheeled out for his procedure. I patiently read my book in the recliner. Before I knew it the hubs was being wheeled back in saying....you guessed it..."I feel drunk right now". He has oddly forgotten that this occurred, but I have happily reminded him. The doctor informed me that they were indeed able to find usable semi-swimmers in the epididymis and did not have to dig into the testicles. I was then asked to change and brought in to my own room. This part was one of the few parts that I was very unimpressed with. The girl that was to give me the iv went back and forth from arm to arm trying to find a usable vein. She tried once (very painfully) without success and left the room returning to tell me that the anesthesiologist would put in the iv. Once I got into the creepy sterile white room with lots of lights the doctor tried 2 more times and was successful on the second attempt. He told me I'd feel dizzy and then I was out.

The doctor ended up retrieving 10 follicles with 9 mature eggs and five fertilized. Not great numbers but not bad. Now to wait. Our transfer was scheduled for Sunday morning (also the day we flew back home).

Friday and Saturday were pretty uneventful days for us. The hubs was definitely not as sore as he was with his first biopsy, but still the coconuts were mighty tender. Oh wait, I lied. Friday was eventful. Friday was the first day for our shot in the bum. The shot was a progesterone shot which is mixed in oil.  Let me remind you all that oil is thick and thick requires a wide/long needle. My two fatal errors on Friday: looking at the needle and YouTubing how to give the shot. Both extremely stupid decisions. I refused to let the hubs give me the shot. I was certain it was not necessary and that we would be ok without it. I burst into tears and snot rolled down my face. I was in full on tantrum mode. The hubs was speechless. I honestly think he had no idea what to do. Should he pin me down? Not give it to me? Once I was done hyperventilating, I made the hubs call his mom on Skype. I took three shots of tequila and talked to the MIL while the hubs stabbed me in the butt cheek with a ginormous needle. It is almost a week later and my bum is still sore.

On Sunday it was officially the day. After this day I would be pregnant until proven otherwise (PUPO is the fertility lingo). The doctor advised me to arrive with a full bladder. Note to self-full bladder does not mean drinking 32 oz of water. We arrived at 8:30 am and by 9:00 I was begging the hubs to ask the nurse if I can pee "just a little". The nurse told me I could pee, but only "a little bit". Who were we kidding-who tinkles only a little? Now folks this is where there is some (a lot) of TMI. I went into the bathroom ready to tinkle and who would have thunk it but of course I have to go number 2. I dare you to try not tinkling and pooping at the same time. And moving on. I came out and my sweet dear hubs thinks I need more water, so because I am such an obedient wife I complied, all the while my bladder had already filled back up from the prior 32 oz of water.

They came to wheel me in for my transfer and I was in panic mode. I nearly had a meltdown. I have never had to pee so bad in my life and now they were going to stick an alligator clip up my peach. I am guessing the tossing, turning, hand over my eyes, near tears and looking for places to escape cued my doctor in to my discomfort because he offered me a catheter to relieve some discomfort. I have never been so relieved to have a tube up my tinkle hole in my entire life!  Once all was better and I was not worried I'd pee on my doctors hand I enjoyed the miracle of what they were about to do.

The doctor transferred 3 embryos. Trust me I thought it was a lot too, but one was sort of the runt of the litter and would have been discarded. The hubs watched the transfer on the monitor in another room. The process was easy and painless (minus the minor glitch). They wheeled me back into the room where my hubs was waiting and we had a brief holy crap moment then we were headed back to our hotel then off to the airport!

Mexican Godzilla and Huveos

Well if you haven't guessed we are still in Mexico. 

We have been here a total of 11 days so far and overall it's been a great time, but it's safe to say that I officially feel like crap. I think my ovaries may explode which unfortunately in this situation is probably a good thing.

I took 10 days of stimulation medicine which was a little rough, but minus some minor anxiety attacks and some bleeding and burning pain, we are almost done. I apparently am a somewhat slow responder which stinks because an extra $700 in medication is no bueno, but on the bright side in the states it would have easily been twice as much. We were slightly irritated to discover that our FSA accounts did work down here and the office manager charged the wrong amount so the hub's card didn't work. Now we have to wait to be reimbursed-again no bueno. Tomorrow we have one more shot to keep me from releasing one of my developing eggs then at 10:30 pm we do the "trigger shot". I can't say I completely understand this shot, but timing is crucial. Then Thursday morning is the moment of truth. We will finally see how many eggs my slow responding body produced.

Suffering in paradise...

The hubs is super excited to have a needle jammed into his testicles for the retrieval of his little swimmers. The hubs can't seem to understand why I have zero sympathy for him. Everyday for the last 10 days, sometimes twice a day, I have a shot in my stomach. Then if that wasn't fun enough, I get to have an internal ultrasound (that means they stick a wand up my peach) every other day. Yeah sympathy just isn't going to happen. The doctor told the hubs they would try to take the swimmers from the epididymis instead of the testicles which would be far less invasive for my wussy man. Needless to say, we are hoping that they can do this because not only will I have to listen to less whining, but the swimmers are more like a five year old with arm floaties instead of a newborn sinking to the bottom of the pool.

Entertainment in paradise...

We moved to an all-inclusive hotel for the last nine days of our trip which has been relatively stress free. They have 24 hour room service and unlimited champagne and bloody Mary's. I discovered that not only does snorkling make me sick when I'm hungover, but it also makes me want to vomit when I'm not. The hubs was thoroughly disappointed. Since snorkling was a no go for me, the hubs bought a snorkel and goggles and went out on his own adventure while I downed some bloody Mary's and read my second book on the beach.

Because there are only so many rocks I can stand to stare at for a period of time, the hubs and I decided not to go on one of the all day trips to the ruins. Instead, we went to El Rey which was a smaller site with an extremely large amount of Mexican Godzilla (iguanas). I don't like iguanas and I have no desire to feed them ever again. I stepped out of my comfort zone and threw some banana pieces to the iguanas who started biting each other like assholes. Then I threw a few more pieces and apparently that was not sufficient for one of them because it started running in my direction (with no fear I might add). I wasted no time and ran in the opposite direction screaming, and that jackwad kept coming. I threw the entire banana down and the beast took the banana and ran away. For the rest of the day I went nowhere near the Mexican Godzilla.

Now we have three more days before our retrieval and I am hoping that I can pull off the pregnant look because right now I can pass for a pregnant woman with the bloated belly and waddle-or maybe I will just hide out in my hotel room. Either way keeps us in your thoughts as we hope for the best!

The Journey Begins

On Wednesday night I spent the last little bit of time I had with B until his dad came and picked him up. Then I cried myself to sleep on the couch and slept with my puppies. The hubs slept up stairs with the cats...I am sure you can tell whose pets are whose.

Thursday morning I was up not so bright eyed and not so bushy tailed at 4 am. I cried some more. Geez it was hard leaving B-ray and the pups behind. My body was pretty much right on schedule. That just means that I get to start my vacation on my period-bummer. Our flight was uneventful-although my wussy hubby would say it was a "rough ride". One day he's got to man up with this whole flying thing-he's totally losing the man card he has left. We got to Mexico at 2:50 and had to high tail it through the airport to get to the doctors office by 4 pm. This was not my ideal scenario, but a minor glitch in scheduling and we were forced into a time crunch. We made it through immigration quickly and on to customs. (Red light....Green light) I prayed for green because going through five bags was going to be torturous. Green it was-phew! We got to the doctors where we were greeted by two extremely warm and inviting office staff. The office was modern and clean. The doctor performed an ultrasound and I was given the green light to start my meds the following day.  I was relieved to find out we only had to take one shot a day.

Our transportation arrived and we were finally on the way to our hotel!!

Impatiently waiting...

We arrived at the Marriott after a somewhat white knuckled taxi ride. BofA had put a flag on our card even after we called and told them we'd be in Mexico. After an agonizing phone call with the idiot they call a customer service rep, we got our keys and rushed eagerly to our room. By this point the hubs and I were wound up so tight from stress, anxiety and excitement that all we could manage was to eat dinner and pass out.

Day 2

The hubs and I both slept surprisingly well then spent most of our second day getting scorched by the ocean then by the pool.  I read my book and enjoyed a drink while the hubs read his "book" (I'd call it a children's picture book) and got giddy over his iguana colada. We had an amazing late lunch/early dinner at an oceanfront seafood restaurant. Then back to our hotel room to confront my worst nightmare. 

My worst nightmare...

I told the hubs about this magical trick a nurse had once done. When I was hyper ventilating she thumped me kind of hard in one place and stuck the needle in another...it was amazing. I was more focused on the thump then the needle. After two glasses of wine and a shot of tequila I was still no where near ready for this, but the hubs pulled it off! It was over...yeah well for the night anyways.

Day 3

On day three we enjoyed the hotel fitness center, the breakfast buffet (good thing we got this included in our stay because $50 a day for breakfast would have been a little much), then we grabbed a cab to one of the local shopping centers. We took a shot of tequila as we were shopping in one of the markets. The hubs takes a shot like a wuss. We ate lunch with dolphins swimming below us, iguanas walking past us and a band singing in front of us. The hubs had some disgusting looking shrimp, octopus, squid mixture which he inhaled. I took a safer route with some amazing shrimp. Then off for round two of me against the needle. Again, not as bad as I imagine in my head, but it definitely burns a little more when I only have one shot of tequila. 

The hubs had been watching the turtle sanctuary area all day.  Kudos to the hubs because we were able to send a brand new baby turtle to its new home in the ocean...which even I can admit is pretty cool. And those baby turtles are ADORABLE.  I named mine Little Guy. He was way faster than the hub's turtle. 

Day 4

We are becoming pros in Cancun. We got smart after talking to the concierge and made our way by city bus to the ferry for Isla Mujeres. It was an amazing day. We rented a golf cart and rode around the city. The hubs can finally leave me alone about the turtles. He has now seen more turtles than most people have seen in a lifetime. 

Day 5

It is the 5th day and this will be the the first time we head back to the doctor's office. Our patient facilitator will be picking us up at 9:30 to take us to the doctor for some bloodwork then I plan on another day of relaxation in paradise.

Prepping the Mind, Women Bits, and Soul

I am writing this post at 1:30 am in hopes that I will bore myself to sleep, but all I can think is holy crap-in 2 days we are taking a four hour flight that could lead to a huge change in our lives.

Prepping for the end of the world...

My suitcase has been essentially packed for a week now-which considering what a basket case I am going to be on Wednesday night this is probably a really good thing. I might as well stock up on guns and ammo cause I have enough stuff for the end of the world. I'm really thankful that we are going somewhere warm because swimsuits take up a lot less room than a parka.

I've had little to no sleep since Friday. For those of you who don't know that is now 4 nights ago.  Most people would probably assume I have a case of anxiety, although I continue to argue that point, because for whatever reason I cannot admit to that. Instead, I lay here staring at the humidifier I have set up next to my bed and blame this wretched cold I have been blessed with as an added vacation bonus. As if making a baby won't be hard enough-I get to fight against cracked nostrils, cold sores and sinus pressure that knocks me on my ass. Yippee!

So needless to say my mind is rebelling, my body is rebelling, but at least my soul is pretty well in tact.

A little food for the soul...

We had a "fairwell" dinner at my parent's house on Saturday night for our "get knocked up vacation". One thing I know for sure is my parents are pretty amazing. Each of them in their own unique way has been encouraging and supportive. My mom (who would fully admit she is not the most sentimental) surprised me when she pulled me aside and gave me a beautiful card and an even more beautiful necklace. I've come to think if it as my new good luck charm. She knows I'm anxious/nervous and won't admit it...curse the "mom intuition". My dad/Grandpa Baldy, well let's just say he coined the phrase "knocked up vacation". A little humor goes a long way.

My souls on a roll...the sappy, heartfelt, and emotional (with a touch of snarky) shout out-

I wanted to take an opportunity to again thank all those who have been supportive through this whole roller coaster. To the boss who has been more than generous in giving me this time off and not accepting that "it's not going to work as a response", to my coworkers who listen to my emotional mood swings and relentless talking about this, to the cousin who has agreed to stay at our animal farm, to the friends who are so excited for us and eagerly watch our journey, to the friends who were so generous in offering to board our dogs just because they are amazingly good people, to the family members who worry about us and care about us, to the neighbors who are just plain awesome and know what we are going through, to my sister for being so believable in pretending she cares (totally joking Bean), and to B (even though you don't really have a clue what's going on) for reminding me every day how amazing you are and why I am doing this. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. Lastly, to the hubs, I love you...and would you finish packing already! (No seriously-throwing a pile of clothes in a bag and waiting for me to sort through and fold them is not packing)

Next up...."Adventures in In Vito Fertilization"

The Things You Think But Do Not Say

Let me just preface this post by saying that the shit that stays in my brain is f%=#ed up. For those of you that already think I lack a filter-you have no idea. I am not saying that I am always a horrible person. I do have a very sweet, nurturing, and dedicated side. I'd like to think the hubs and B-ray see it more often than not. But be warned, if you have ever asked me what I am thinking and I say "nothing" then I am LYING.

Our trip is closing in on 9 days and the hubs and I are getting excited. I am not sure if I am more excited for the vacation or the possible outcome. I regulary ask the hubs if he is sure that he wants to do this. Not because I don't want to, but because I really don't think he has any idea what he's in for. Right now we have a walking, talking, wipe his own ass, use the toaster and microwave type of kid. We have a built in babysitter for half of the week.   I truly believe that I will be punished with my next child because the one I got in the first go around is in no way your typical kid. If I am blessed with another amazing child it is only because I did something really nice in a past life.

Oh the things I think but do not say...

Confession #1

I am terrified the hubs is going to drive me crazy if this actually work. I suggested to the hubs the other day that we choose a "safe word"-a word that says "if you ask me if I'm okay again I will rip your head off and throw it in th Ninja blender". The hubs was not keen on the idea. Actually, I think he may have been slightly irritated with me. To some this may seem like a stupid complaint, but if I don't feel good I just want to be left alone. If I want something then I will whimper, whine and complain at that time. The hubs suggested he answer with a "get it yourself woman" or something to that effect....I was not keen on that.

The hubs has a tendency to make sure I don't need anything or that I still feel sick every 5 minutes-how sweet I know, but let me be honest...I am a bitchy sick person. Sorry hubs-spooning is off the table.

The prospect of a high-risk pregnancy has me preparing for end times. I need a padded room, ear plugs, the Ninja Blender, and an arsenal of darts. One day I may learn to just let the hubs take care of me.

Confession #2

I am annoyed by "parenting methods". When did parenting become so difficult? Attachment parenting, baby wise parenting, and free-range parenting (because our kids are chickens now) are just a few of the methods that have been established to make me feel unqualified for motherhood. Kudos to the moms or moms-to-be who have the time to research all these methods and decide which one is best for your child in the womb.

I winged it with B-ray. I figured he needed food, a clean ass, and love. Let me just say that B is a child not lacking in the love department. I let him "cry it out" on occasion holy crap that is a parenting method now too apparently. Oh and he fell off the bed a couple times. I felt bad for a moment but we moved on with life. B has had stitches, a glued eye, endless supplies of bruises and road rash. To teach him to swim, I let him sink. Don't get your panties in a twist...I was in the pool with him. I dropped B off at daycare and didn't worry about him all day. I didn't linger and stare through the window and come to think of it B never had a meltdown going to school. He never clinged to my pants, screamed, and cried. I guess the love was one-sided. I just don't get it. No offense to the parenting styles; I just prefer the no rules method. 

The Waiting Game...

This part of our adventure is by far the hardest.  We don't know what to expect, we aren't sure how excited we should be, and the days are passing slowly. I am a workaholic and can't stand the thought of leaving stuff unfinished so I am putting in long days. Every day I am confident the hubs wants to scream and yell at me for living at work. I am actually surprised he has not put a sleeping bag in my car yet. I am feeling sad at the thought of leaving B for so long. I am worried that all we are going to end up with is a nice long vacation and a whole bunch of Pinterest posts that I will never be able to use. The what-ifs are daunting to say the least.

Tequila Shot of Reality

Our trip to Cancun is booked for October 10, 2013. We get to spend 18 semi-relaxing days in Cancun under the care of Fertility Center Cancun. The hubs wants this to be like a honeymoon meanwhile I think of it as more of a babymoon without the foreplay. There is something about the trip that just doesn't scream romance...unless the hubs injecting me in the stomach with massive amounts of hormones somehow just became super sexy. Note to self: make a conscience effort to add some additional belly fat for something to grab on to and stock up on tequila to calm the nerves. Once we booked the trip the anxiety started flooding my brain in an overwhelming manner. What if we have twins-or worse triplets? How much is everything going to cost? I have a child that wipes his own butt and makes it to the toilet to vomit-why do I want to start over? What if what happened last time happens again? 

Am I allowed to do a flashback in a flashback?

One could say that my last pregnancy did not go quite as planned. Now this story is not for those with weak stomachs.  At 30 weeks and 6 days I went in for a routine appointment. I deposited "my sample" into the cup and was ushered into my room to wait. The doctor came in to take my blood pressure. Confusion could be seen all over her face....she told me to lay down and she'd come back to recheck it. She came back-she mumbled something about protein in my urine as she rechecked my blood pressure. She then told me that I needed to leave the office drive myself across the street and check in to the hospital for monitoring. I asked her if I could run home first. If she was going to make me sit in a hospital I was going to at least have some socks (oh and B-rays dad). She told me no. Me listen-ha that's hilarious. I picked up my socks and "the dad" and went to the hospital. Every hour they checked my blood pressure while I waited impatiently. Finally they put me in a room. Is it just me, or are they REALLY vague at hospitals? The doctor came in and gracefully told me that I was going to take my first helicopter ride oh and get my first catheter. Then she told me not to expect to leave the hospital in 1 piece.  What the hell was that suppose to mean and why was it the catheter that made me cry?

I was air lifted to Banner Good Samaritan (worst hospital of all time).  I was put on magnesium sulfate (worst drug of all time) and poked with needles every hour. Those 2 days were a blur. I can honestly say that whatever forms they had me sign could have easily been fought in court since I was nowhere near lucid enough to sign them. On day two I was told that they would take me in for an emergency c-section in the morning when my blood platelets arrive. Google Class 1 HELLP. Well-doctors lie...at about 10:30 pm they were wheeling me into the operating room. Holy crap that is scarier than one could ever imagine. I came to at some point a day later to discover I no longer had a butt because my back swelling had consumed it. I couldn't see because my face had swelled up so bad. I had a long tube with a bubble attached coming out of my abdomen. I wouldn't wish that look on my worst enemy. 2 days after baby boy was pulled from my uterus at 2 lbs 15 oz I went to meet him in the NICU with my sister who refused to see him until I did.  Not sure what I did to deserve such an awesome sister-although I still do NOT want twin girls.  B-ray was doing well considering. I on the other hand was not at my prime. I went in for another surgery to have all the blood clots removed from my incision and was left to heal from the inside out. They even gave me this cool purse/vacuum to suck all the extra stuff out.  12 days after being admitted I was allowed to go home empty handed. The home nurse came for awhile, but soon I was on my own. Those were some extremely depressing times.  

Am I out of my freaking mind???

Why would I want to tempt fate again? I NEVER again want to leave a hospital without the child I carried, yet I am embarking on a process that could very likely put me in that position again. Boy that is a gloomy thought. 

But it was all worth it in the end....
Now that our trip is about a month away my nerves are starting to calm and excitement is brewing. The one thought I always remember when I think about what might be is that it will all be worth it in the end. I have a handsome, smart, caring, sweet, amazing son. Now I hope that I can have another child with my amazing, wonderful, bad-spelling ;-), affectionate, passionate hubs.

So hubs...just remember....you are not the only one that is broken. Love ya!

In a Land Far Far Away There Lived a Mexican Baby

Ladies, in case you were not aware men equate manliness to facial hair and sperm. The hubs is pretty proud of his ability to grow facial hair. As long as it doesn't spread to his back then I'm good to go. If you have both sperm and facial hair then you are a full fledged man. If you don't have both...well then you better be ready to defend your manhood. Ridiculous-I know. Last time I checked you can still be a woman without a uterus and boobs.

Disclaimer: This is all from my point of view...hubs may not agree. He seems to think I'm biased. Uhhhh...duh honey...it's my blog.

When the hubs first found out his diagnosis there was a lot of talk about "being broken". I tried to be encouraging, but at certain points I was just incredibly annoyed. What if it was me that was the problem? Would the hubs think I was less of a woman? I can say without a doubt that he would NOT think that. There were definitely a few rough patches. The people who knew tried to talk to the hubs, but there was no real talking that I was aware of. I could barely get him to talk about it. 

When the hubs confirmed he was indeed a full fledged man the blackout shades were suddenly lifted. If only I could get him to take down the real blackout shades then we wouldn't live in a flipping cave.

I found it very interesting that the more we talked about it the more we discovered couples hidden in the shadows who were dealing with infertility. We were a part of a strange secret society that no one wanted to be a part of. I looked back at all those times that I said "so when are you guys going to have kids" or "you guys would be great parents". I will never again say those things because I know from personal experience that those statements sting every time and it's none of my business. Hint hint people. But things for us were changing...holiday party-lets talk about the hub's sperm...wedding-lets talk about the hub's sperm.  The topic wasn't off limits. Shooting blanks was actually kind of funny but not really.

So what's next...

The research internet circle jerk had begun. I am actually quite mortified that the madre uses this term regularly after my Urban Dictionary research. How were we going to afford IVF? Do we take out a loan? Do we use our retirement? Do we try to save for an eternity? Lets be real here. For those that know me well, it is a known fact that I am all about immediate gratification. I want it now. Imagine spoiled brat temper tantrum in store. Our insurance covers no part of anything that could be considered assisted reporoductive technology. Glad I pay a premium for all those maternity benefits that I can't use. *insert sarcasm* The thought of paying 25-30k for IVF, ISCI, TESA, Medication was overwhelming. I'd explain what all those are but you all have Google.  There was no way. It just wasn't going to happen. Until....

Switched at implantation...bring on the Mexican baby.

Medical Tourism: is patient movement from highly developed nations to other areas of the world for medical care, usually to find treatment at a lower cost. Thanks Wikipedia

Lasik, gastric bypass, dental work, cancer treatment...all treatments people we knew had done in the great country of Mexico. That's right folks...we're off to Mexico-Cancun if you want to be specific! Again the advice and encouragement came pouring in "What if you come back with a Mexican baby" Then I will donate it to my Mexican friend "Is it safe" Well we won't get shot (hopefully) "Why not Canada" Canada has a waiting list and to be honest who wouldn't want to sit on a beach versus going to Canada? Other than the typical concerns most of the response we received was surprised but encouraging.

Flights booked, hotels booked...Cancun here we come....

Frozen Peas With a Cherry on Top

You ain't seen nothin yet...

Fertility doctors are sort of like the ambulance chasers of doctors. They benefit from the misfortune of patients and try to capitalize on it. I'd like to think that people become fertility specialists for the noble reason that they want to help a couple create a life. I am however a realist. These doctors are no dummies.

You see more often than not fertility treatments are not covered by insurances so they've come up with all these fancy ways to pay for a baby (something so many others do for free without even the slightest idea of how difficult the process can be). People finance babies, pull from their retirements, take out home equity loans, among countless other things. And before you rush to judgment think about how much money you may have had to shell out to get pregnant? Zero? I've come to discover the common response from those without fertility issues is "if you can't afford ivf then how are you going to afford a baby". Well I guess that's for me to worry about, but the first time you have to drop 30k dollars on your child in 1 shot I'd like to know how you do it.

So back to the fertility docs. In all honesty we only visited one. The office was beautiful, the staff was pleasant, and the doctor was nice enough. He went through his sales pitch of all the things we would do and try. Earth to doctor...what part of no sperm in semen do you think we are delusional about? When all was said and done the doc had me and the hubs prepped for the "turkey baster" method. 

"Turkey Baster"= Choke chicken in cup, insert chicken vomit in peach. Hope it works and you get a cheach.

 Hey doc-come over so I can shake you. I'm confident I would not damage the non-existent brain.

The hubs and I didn't go back to our doctor because let's be honest-there is no sperm to fertilize the egg. Why do I want a doctor who is going to "try" the cheaper method which has 0 chance of working. We knew our only choice was in vitro fertilization, or the "perti dish", but we still didn't know if the hubs could father a child or we would have to consider using a "donor" sperm.

Back to the old folks home....

After a couple hiccups (hubs being a procrastinator and insurance being stupid) we had an appointment scheduled for the hub's biopsy. The hubs was a wreck-I mean a full on nervous, anxious, scared ball of mess. Thank goodness for the anxiety pill otherwise I may have shot him up with some tequila. The nurse called the hubs back...it was time. I played on my phone, made some coffee, and read a couple magazines. The door opened and the hubs walked out (well if you want to call what he was doing "walking")There is a reason women go through pregnancy and give birth and men don't. Men are Big Babies. If you want to see the world come to an end then stick a "sperm extractor" into a man's testicles.  To make matters worse the doctor punctured BOTH testicles just to be extra sure. We got home and put the hubs to bed.  Oh man if only he had just stayed there. I'm heartless I know. A little bit of moaning and whining later and the hubs was hanging off the bed with a bag of peas in between his legs. Don't worry the peas were thrown out. A few days later the hubs was moving around a little less awkwardly and now wanted to show me his "trauma". I have had paper cuts bigger than his trauma. But in all fairness. I do not have testicles and from what I have seen they are uber sensitive and I actually feel for the hubs. Who knew that I was capable? I am thinking payback will be very enjoyable for him, but probably not cause the hubs has a much bigger heart than me. Cue gushing proud wife moment. MY HUBS IS THE BEST.

The results are in...

Doctor called when we were getting pizza for dinner. Come to think of it is was like 7:30 on a Friday night. Weird. There were TONS of swimmers locked away in there. Not the smart swimmers that are mature enough to know how to swim yet, but tons of swimmers to make our own baby!

Story Intermission and Drunken Text

Okay-you all get the a brief intermission in the story even though some of you have skipped ahead to the end.

This post is for all those who have been supportive and encouraging whether they knew it or not. This post is also written during intoxication... (Since I'm being oh so honest)

I went to a bachelorette party tonight...par-tay! 

It's nights like tonight where I forget about a lot of things. It's nights like tonight where I can just focus on someone else's happiness and be happy for them. Do NOT get me wrong...it has taken me a year to get to this point where I don't dwell in my own misery.Tonight  was especially special. Tonight was the first time where someone knew my story and NOTHING was hidden. Someone was genuinely intrigued about the blog and it was okay for me to talk about. Tonight wasn't about me AT ALL, but I felt not so alone. I admitted to myself  that a big reason for this blog is that if things don't work out for the hubs and I, then I still have people who are there for us and I can indeed get through anything that comes our way.

Okay...the rest will need to be written tomorrow...I'm fairly confident you know why. 

P.S. The hubs is AMAZING for picking up his drunk annoying wife at 2 am. 

I think he's prepping for 2 am feelings ;-)

Toddlers In Tiaras Style Meltdown and the Turning Point

This post is going to be a little bit difficult for me because it makes me look like a ginormous asshole. The hubs will attest that I never like to admit when I'm wrong, but I am writing in a moment of weakness.  If you ask me tomorrow I will plead the fifth.

Honey Boo Boo ain't got nothin on me...

I was beginning to feel like I was on a never ending scavenger hunt of things to find but no end in sight. The few months that followed the discovery of our infertility were very dark and depressing times. We chose a select few people who we confided in. Talking about or options was not easy and never seemed to end well. Don't get me wrong, my marriage to the hubs was always solid and my first priority.  The excitement of "trying" to conceive was gone. Sorry hubs and family members but there's no holding back here. Mattress mambo took a back burner-what was the point?  The hubs dealt with feelings of inadequacy as a man (because somehow in a man's sperm count equates to manliness). Dreams of a white picket fence and four kids were fading into a distant memory. I had convinced myself (Big Fat Lie) that I would be okay not having anymore children. Deep down my heart ached for my husband and myself, but it was my turn to be strong. The husband wondered if I would have married him had we known he couldn't have children and to be honest I know I would have, but it would have been the same huge blow before marriage as it was after.

Various couples close to us had started trying to get pregnant (or not trying not to). About four months into our journey rock bottom came in the form of a package. Although the hubs had noble intentions he waited till I was a few drinks in (okay more than a few) to tell me the news. In his loving "my wife is gonna blow a gasket" way he informed me that we had received a package in the mail that day. There was no time for him to finish-the tears were flowing and the screaming, sadness, and jealousy raged. "How dare someone not have the decency to tell us with more tact knowing our situation". "How self absorbed can they be that they didn't think to tell us more delicately". Yeah I'm a shitbag-although even now I have trouble admitting that.  In my typical manner I jumped the gun. I raised hell on people that only wanted us to share in their joy. I had no joy so how could I feel it for someone else? I put my husband in an awkward position (although at the time I don't know that he was in a better emotional state than me). I held out a long time before fences were mended. Being stubborn hurts no one but the stubborn person.  Two...three...pregnancy announcements...each one taken a little better than the last. End me being asshole...well I guess that could be up for debate.

Okay so no freeway to drive but are there cars in the garage? (Think analogy people)

One thing I have learned during this whole process is that doctors like to draw pictures. They draw pictures of  ovaries, uteruses, testicles, clowns, fish, and who knows what else. If they get a chance to draw you a picture they do. Who cares if the patient's eyes have glazed over, they want to hit the point home by drawing you a picture. I think for Christmas this year we are going to get our doctors an Etch-A-Sketch...at least this way they can save a few trees.

After the urologist we were moving on the the fertility doctor. The appointment was uneventful. We went through the same question and answers sessions we had gone through before. Then it was time...time for the camera up my "peach". Thanks Flynn if you're reading this-it's almost as good as tallywacker. Unlike the hubs, I was nice enough to not kick him out of the room. Yadda yadda..."you have a healthy uterus" "enough room for twins"...yadda yadda. Hubs has been officially initiated into the world of womanhood minus the creepy alligator crank. Women, you know what I'm talking about.

That question again....

Is there a history of cystic fibrosis in your family?

Uhhhhhh...how bout you just cut to the chase because the hubs is horrible about remembering names, birthdates, what he ate for dinner the night before (unless there is leftovers in the fridge). There is NO WAY he can tell you his family medical history.  One of the hubs few irritating qualities. Fast forward through a hole bunch of boring blood tests and WE HAVE AN ANSWER (well sort of)!

Long story short:
embryo=mutated cystic fibrosis gene
fetus=did not develop vas deferens
baby/man=natural vasectomy

Yeah I bet some of you men are jealous. Now on to the next hiccup in our journey (because the ones we have had have not been enough?). If I tested positive for being a carrier of the cystic fibrosis gene any child that we may potentially have would have 1 in 4 chance of having cystic fibrosis. This of course was assuming that the hubs even had sperm to father a child.

Then there it was, finally some good news, I was not a carrier.

Women think the speculum (creepy alligator crank ) is bad...a TESA is probably worse, and it is next on the agenda.

Cherry Popped Now Picking up the Pieces of 2 Broken Hearts

So now that I officially popped my blogging cherry I can safely say it was much more satisfying than some of my other firsts.

I want to thank those who read my first post and assure you all that:

1.) The hubs has indeed given me permission for full disclosure (well actually I plan on asking for forgiveness for a few things)
2.) This won't be all sad.
3.) I am writing this because I want the silent ones to know they are not alone.
4.) Sometimes its just good to talk/write about what's on your mind-somewhat theraputic actually.
5.) I think it's pretty cool that there are people who want to be a part of our journey.

The journey really begins...

So in case you didn't catch it-our "shooting blanks" discovery was now more than a year ago and a lot has happened since then. The hubs continues to kick himself for all the wasted money on condoms and all the time and stress that resulted from pregnancy scares. Ha-if he had only known!

But in all seriousness-our discovery resulted in two shattered hearts and whatever was remaining was bitter and jaded.

I would say that within a week (I know I know) I was pushing the idea of a sperm donor. I mean really did it matter who the genetic gunk came from?  That's not what makes a father anyways. I will fully admit my husband does not say no to me often, but he shot me down faster than I say no to another Cardinal's football helmet. For those of you who don't know-that is like the speed of light.

 I immediately began googling every reason possible as to why there could be no sperm. My "research" convinced me that there was a blockage somewhere and all they had to do was put a little draino in those suckers and we'd be good to go. You can't fault me for a little optimism right?

I realize now that I hadn't even let the wound stop bleeding before jumping the gun. Thanks hubs for still loving me even when I am impatient and selfish.  

At the urging of the hubs we started to dig a little deeper. Our first trip was to the urologist. I thought urologists were for old people and man was I right. We may have been the only people under 80 there. Maybe that is why the doctor and his staff moved at such a slow pace...I needed a fast forward button. But it was finally our turn-and the hubs has the nerve to KICK ME OUT. We're married and he can't handle a little finger up the poop shoot...men...bunch of babies. I paced aimlessly up and down the hallway keeping my eyes directed at the floor. (You don't even want to know the things they do at a urologists office) At one point I put my ear up to the door to easedrop. I mean really this had to do with me too!

FINALLY, the door opens and I'm allowed in.

Your husband is missing his vas deferens...

Huh? What? Repeat. And no you do not have to draw me a picture....I can manage without the visual. Testes-check. Tubes-MIA. Leave it to the doctor to find the silver lining in the fact that the little swimmers may be just stuck without a way out. BUT of course he won't know that without a biopsy. It was starting to feel like answers were just out of our reach.

So what next??

The advice and encouragement came pouring in..."I just don't want you to become one of those couples" Gee thanks I wanted this to consume my life and ruin my marriage. "Miracles happen" Nope for us science happens "You shouldn't finance in vitro" Really thanks for the advice-must be nice to get pregnant for free. "Everything happens for a reason"  Please enlighten me-I'd love to know the reason. "Stop Googling" Okay this was good advice. As I said before, I was very bitter and jaded then. I know that no one was coming from a bad place and only wanted the best for us.

The next 6 months...

Well modesty is about to go out the window for the hubs and I. Hypersensitivity will overwhelm us and doubt will consume me. One...two...three pregnancy announcements. Let the emotional meltdowns begin.

RESOLVE to Know More and Share More

If your reading this post I can only assume you stumbled here by accident, or that I guilted you into pretending that you care enough about me to read my "online diary".  I am content with living in my land of delusion, the land where I believe you are here because you just couldn't resist the urge to learn all about Azoospermia.

I know you are all thinking..."Stephanie, what is this Azoospermia that you keep referring to and why on earth are you writing a blog about it?" (Or at least I assume that is what you are thinking if you are still reading up until this point)

I think I can best explain by starting from the beginning...I bet you're on the edge of your seat...

The hubs and I got married in February of 2012 and knew we wanted to "not try not to have kids" right away. So let the obsessive compulsive tracking/timing/over analyzing begin. Just think Type A/OCD personality...I had ovulation kits, phone apps, thermometers, and what ever other money sucking tool they get us suckers to buy. (Disclaimer: This is your last chance to turn back now and head to Facebook if you don't want the ins and outs of my life)

Needless to say after a whopping 6 months of trying I knew something was up. I know in infertility time this is nothing, but it's an eternity when people around me were getting pregnant from just looking at a penis. For those who know me personally you know I have a child from a previous relationship, and I had a hard time believing there was something wrong on my end. Although, the pregnancy was not without some serious complications so who knows my women bits could have very well been damaged. Fast-forward through me being the pushy and impatient woman I am thereby getting the doctor to run some tests.  No surprise-I am in perfect health and even have room for TWINS. (Curse that doctor for even saying that)

Bring on the Semen Analysis (SA)....

The hubs will likely put me in time out for this one, but a little time out never hurt anyone. Getting a man to go into a doctors office to "choke the chicken" in a cup is hard, but my hubs downright refused. Long story short-"the goods" made their way to the doctor's office the long way, but they made it.

I like to think of myself as a realist. I prepare for the worst but hope for the best.  My appointment in June 2012 was one of those times where I conveniently prepared for the best and hoped for the best...stupid Stephanie. The hubs offered to go with me numerous times and each time I declined knowing he had just come off the night shift and had to work again that night.  I waited patiently as the doctor told me my ultrasound looked good and then she started to end the appointment with the typical question and answer session. I quickly reminded her we were suppose to go over the results to our SA.

I should have recognized the foreshadowing. I should have seen the signs. If only I believed in that stuff then maybe I could have known. There were no results in my chart. The doctor called the "choke the chicken" clinic and the goods were nowhere to be found.  In and out of the little white room she went, reassuring me each time she would have an answer for me. Fast forward through what felt like a hundred lifetimes and the doctor walked in with that look. The look that says "I have horrible news for you." The look that says "I hate this part of my job".  I played it cool (not sure who I was trying to impress). Then there was the hesitation followed by the slow sit and then the long pause-I felt the room spin and the walls close in.

"Do you know what Azoospermia is?"..."Is there a history of cystic fibrosis in your husband's family"..."Has your husband had any trauma to is testicles"..."Has your husband had chemo?"

No.No.No.and No.

At some point, maybe before all the questions or maybe after, the doctor explained that there was no sperm in the sample. ZERO. The definition of "shooting blanks". (My words-not hers) How...how...how...all I could think is how was I going to tell the hubs. How do you tell someone that? Oddly, thinking back on that moment I never asked "why". The rest of my encounter is a blur. I was given literature (Yeah cause that's a good idea-lets promote Google self-diagnosing) and I absorbed what she was saying without shedding a tear. I reassured her it was my husband I was worried about and I would be fine. HA-biggest lie ever told.

Delivering the News...

Well then I did what any reasonable person would do. I ran to my car and cried uncontrollably as I called my brother-in-law (yeah cause that what a reasonable person does). To this day I am pretty sure he thought I was calling to tell him the hubs had died. Whoops. Once I calmed down enough to breath and speak, I reassured him the hubs was not dead.  Well sure enough B-in-Law was no help (no offense if you are reading this). He told me what I already knew-go home and tell him. That was not the manly advice I was looking for. After an attempted pep talk I went back to work (yes another reasonable person action) to tell my manager I needed to go home as snot was dripping down my face. Classy-I know.

Now for the long tearful journey home. The hyperventilation began the tears flowed and I can guarantee I should have been pulled over for horrible driving. Instead of pulling over, like I probably should have, I called the one person I knew could give me courage or at the very least calm me town...the twin. To this day I wonder if I would have made it home had I not had her as my backbone, my counselor, and my support. If your reading this and I never told you...Thank you and I love you.

The garage door opened. I creeped up the stairs to the room. He knew...
I sat on the bed unable to get the words out-only sobs and strained breaths.
"You wouldn't be home unless it was bad news" he said. "What is it?"

At some point I got the words out. At some point I showed him the literature. This was the part where he pretended to be strong, but I knew. I knew this was just the beginning of our journey with Azoospermia.


www.resolve.org/infertility101 (Basic understanding of the disease of infertility.)
http://www.resolve.org/national-infertility-awareness-week/about.html (About NIAW)