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!