Which way to the exit?

I promised myself that I wouldn't obsess about things until at least after the holiday.

But I am a fool. I don't have that kind of self-control.

I've been poking around. Researching. Contemplating. Reading your feedback. Hanging out on websites, making phone calls to big clinics and adoption agencies.

I had my follow-up appointment with my RE, and well, it was somewhat pleasant and horrifying at the same time. Pleasant in that, I really like the team of doctors there. They've never not provided an answer when I ask a direct question. They have hearts, and are genuinely interested in wanting me to succeed.

We talked about the FET. Dr. Nerd opened my file and we went through every embryology report. We talked about how the donor may have not been the best choice (hindsight being 20/20). I gave feedback on what I liked/disliked about their donor program. We talked options for the future. I walked out with closure, sort of, and that's about it.

The reality is my chances of succeeding are still high if I were to cycle again with another donor... no matter where I cycle.

The bigger reality staring me in the face is that we are tapped out of cash. I could want this more than anything, but there's a point where I need to take into account "the rest of our lives". I can't put our family in financial ruin chasing a dream. There's still a lot of living to do.

Yes, if a wad of money appeared out of nowhere, or embryos miraculously dropped in my lap I would jump on it. But for now, dreaming is just that... dreaming.

Unbeknownst to me my decision has sort of lingering here all along.

I would have loved to make a dramatic exit out of the land of infertility, emerge vicoriously, flipping the middle finger on my way out....but this story ends quietly for now.

Not necessarily closing the book, just bookmarking it if I ever choose to return.

Cue Monster

The post I didn't want to write.

I don't know where to go from here.  You see, there's comfort in having a plan. Even if it's the best or worst plan in the world, HAVING a plan gives you something to hold on to when you are trying to keep your head above water.  A point of reference, a direction.  A lighthouse on a foggy shore.

This is the first time in my life I don't have a plan.

I mean, wasn't donor eggs SUPPOSED to be the magic bullet? It sure has been for practically everyone else I know. You would think, in life, that if you are willing to walk the longest and thinnest tight rope to get what you want that you might be rewarded for having the BALLS, the GUSTO! the blind MADNESS!! and ultimately succeed.

But no.

So where does that leave me?

I don't have a clue. 

Truth be told, I had a bit of a hissy fit with the RE today.  I put on my big girl pants and went in for the blood draw and had an emotional discussion with one of the lead nurses on staff.  I am not letting them off the hook for the poor thaw last week.  When they called with the negative results this afternoon (shocking!) I gave an earful again.  They are now off to have their own consult (a staff meeting to discuss the DE/IVF flunkies and determine what went wrong).  Afterwards, I requested a WTF meeting with the lead doctor and nurse coordinator for the DE program.  I may be done, but I won't shrink into the background because of it.

In recent days- I had an epiphany... this isn't just about ME. It's also about my husband. He has always had a stake in this too, and to my surprise his level of investment is exceeding mine at the moment.

A short time ago, I was prepared for this end. As much as I could be anyway. And then, as S. and I discussed this week's events and prepared for the final curtain, he turned to me and said... "We'll find a way, and we'll do it again. We'll figure something out.  This can't be IT!"

"That's crazy talk! What the hell are you smoking???" I retorted.

We didn't say much after that. Actually, I think we made a date this weekend to eat fine food until we can't move and drink vast quantities of our favorite microbrew beer, but we settled for an immediate fix of leftover Halloween candy and playing Nerf guns with David.

But I have to admit, I was perplexed. Here I am at the end of my emotional rope, that, admittedly... I drug him along at times over the years (maybe nudged is a better word). And now that we reach the end, and I am maybe ready? to make peace with the universe for giving me a shit sandwich... Husband and I have each swung 180 degrees in a different direction.

He wants to pull ME.

So I did it.

I opened the closet door. Yes, that door. My heart was in my mouth. I felt the monsters hot, nasty breath for a split second...and...

...just as I was about to be pulled in and consumed...

S. pulled me back.


-------
No, we don't have a plan.  We may never have another plan.

Yes, my heart is aching and shattered into a million pieces.  Yes, it's hard to keep the anger at bay.  I don't know if I will ever get over the unfairness of life.  There are so many of us that would risk certain danger for this ONE THING that comes so easy to most of the population.  It seems, at times, that this has to be a world that has gone mad!  How can the highest joy and ultimate sadness coexist on this earth?  What is the meaning, the lesson??  So many questions.

I don't know where we're going, but we will hold on to each other in the darkness and walk in circles if we have to.

We will find a path eventually.  And almost certainly, it will lead somewhere other than here.

The last chapter...

For the inquiring minds: I tested this morning. I stared back at nothing. Not even a whisper of a line.

Please, do not tell me it's too early. It's not.

So this is what it feels like to really fail at something. To exhaust every path, to endure every last available technology.  To pump myself full of chemicals that have god knows what affect down the road.

Almost five years of misery. Five years of loss. Five years of chasing a dream only to come up empty.

Empty in mind, body, spirit, and finances.

No next step. No back up plan to the back up plan.

Just sadness, regret, and unbearable pain.

A swine Halloween

Swine flu or no swine flu, we managed to have Halloween here at the BagMomma house after all.

It's been a long week, and I am not lying when I tell you I had almost forgotten I had my FET last Tuesday. David being sick was all the diversion I needed.

Thankfully, the boy started feeling better at the end of the week, and was awake enough to put on his Halloween costume and venture out for a little while with Daddy while I stayed behind to give out candy.

He even stayed in costume when it got dark, and attempted to scare trick-or-treaters by standing still as a statue under the maple tree.

Now that the weekend is over, I guess I can start wondering if the lone embryo made it.

My first guess is a no, and I judge that only from extensive experience in the 2ww.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I know my body quite well (even though I've grown to hate it).  There's no way I am pregnant.

Beta is on Friday, but I intend to test very soon just so I can get it over with.

*Sigh*

Yep, I just took the "Happy" out of Halloween.  Sorry about that.

I Want Candy

Day two of bedrest.

So with the incredibily suck-ass news yesterday, I forgot to update you all on the flu situation here at the house.

David, yes, is an H1N1 victim (as is a host of kids in his school). This morning, as I was sipping coffee and eating a peanut butter cup (don't judge me, the coffee was decaf, and the candy, well, wasn't.. it's Halloween week for goodness sakes so what better time to eat candy than 7:30am??)

I digress.

So, David is starting to feel better. He still has a fever, albeit a low-grade one now. He's out of school for the week, which means he misses all the Halloween parties so he's already guilting me into a toy from Target this weekend.

Meanwhile, S. and I have no symptoms. However, I began taking Tamiflu as a precaution (recommended because of my situation). Can I just tell you how EVIL Tamiflu is??? Tamiflu makes you feel like you HAVE the flu (minus the fever). What the hell hair-brained idiot thought that one up? I should have read the damn prescription dossier before I took it.

In any event, my goal is to stay healthy.

I cannot guarantee, however, that I will not consume the entire bag of peanut butter cups. I will attempt to balance it out with a salad or two, don't worry.

Thank you all for you kind comments and e-mails. It is because of you that I have any shred of humor left today.

I've decided to not think about what will happen if this doesn't work. Well, I know, sure.... it's a giant road sign that screams "THE END", but I figure I'll spend the next week pretending it's not there.

The Lone Ranger

My bad luck follows me like a stray dog.

They had to thaw all 7 remaining embryos, and of those, only ONE made it through the thaw.  My clinic has a 70% thaw rate.  There I go beating the crappy odds once again.

I'm disappointed, sad, and generally pissed off.

The one that made it is "extremely good quality", so says embryologist. I know it only takes one, but let's face it... the odds are already slim that an FET will work at all, and now I just decreased my odds even further.

My journey... it's so close to the end.

And now I have 48 hours of bedrest to ponder it over and over.

Dammit.

Breathe In...

Well, this FET cycle sure snuck up on me.

Lining check today and all is well.  Lining is a very cushy 13mm (which is way thicker than last time, I'm not sure if that makes a difference).  Bloodwork also came in right on target.

Transfer is Tuesday.

{Breathe Out}

Here we go again.

How much?

I just can't seem to get my head together.

I'd blame it on the heat wave, but sitting in my air-conditioned home office I haven't spent much time outside to blame heat exhaustion (although I almost fell over weeding my flower beds yesterday).

I am working. Work is good. It completely removes all thoughts about bills, insurance, failure, and the fact that I am entering year five of infertility hell.

I know it's a sick thought, but if this last DE cycle tanked from end to end (and I had no frozen embryos) I could begin to move on. I would do so with lots of therapy and foot stomping, but I know I would at least.... move.

But the reality is that I spent thousands of dollars and mortgaged my home for this, and I can't just let the frosties sit there. I am afraid if I take a break I might give up.

See? I told you I was sick.

So, I haven't even paid the bills from last month, and now I am embarking on more. The bad news, no more sucky-but-covered-a-little-of-my-bills insurance. Everything is 100% on me from here on out, so I placed a call last week to the billing person at the clinic to send me a quote for an FET. Quickest response I ever got from a billing person. I had it in writing two days later in my mailbox.

Yowza.

Of course, it pales in comparison to the fresh cycle. But honestly, when you add the monitoring (minimal) and drugs (which I *thought* I could get covered, until I realized that I can only get anything paid that doesn't need authorization which is like such a small portion of the total amount) it isn't the cheapest venture in town.

And once again, I am soon to be back on a "calendar". This makes me angry and sad at the same time.

Curiously, I am not excited to start this at all. I am hoping to sleepwalk though this entire FET.

I know...

what the hell is wrong with me???

Luck, a Keg, and my date with the Devil Turtle

Here I am.

I don't know where to start... I do want to say thank you. Your comments and e-mails are appreciated. I know we are all such a supportive community, but hearing from all of you when I need it most means a lot. I wish I could give you all a hug.

I've been ok. I've progressed through the stages of grief at breakneck speed and made it out to the other side. And, by other side, I mean well enough to function as human again.

Sigh.

This cycle really hurt more than I expected. I thought that by kicking my old eggs to the curb that THIS surely would be my ticket to babydom. And nearly all my DE cycle buddies succeeded---- How could I fail?

And then, I was welcomed to the place I know well. The flip side of the statistics.

I should have known.

What have I been doing the last week? Doing all the things a rebellious infertile would do. I drank beer and wine. I (gasp!) haven't taken my vitamins. I bought a super-sized bag of pistachios and ate every last one. I watched movies. I tortured myself by going to a neighborhood party and made small talk with THREE pregnant women.

Ok, I lie. I ran for the keg just to get away from them.

But, hey... I socialized two days after that stupid beta. At least give me credit for that.

I cried a lot.

I got AF on Sunday and cried again.

I stole my son's Nintendo DS and played Super Mario Brothers non-stop. You know what's great about playing a video game? You don't have to think about anything but the game. My goal simply was to collect sparkly coins and beat the "old lady devil turtle" (that's David's description). A welcome respite.

And then, I got the call that the WTF appointment (yes, it means what you think for those of you who don't know) occurred at the RE's office. Two of my doctors and my DC sat down and talked about my recent failure. Hmmm, perfect lining, perfect eggs, perfect transfer.

Hmmmmmm..... HMMMMMM!

The verdict?

Come on now.... you already know.

BAD LUCK.

Oh my m-f-ing lord, could they please have told me ANYTHING other than that???

Like a stake in my heart.

Oh, and the BEST part! My insurance denied all my claims the clinic submitted thus far. So I spent today ripping them a new a-hole. I may have suck-ass insurance (far from 100% coverage), but they are supposed to cover TWO IVF attempts. 1+1=2! You. Morons.

Anyway, we move on.

Over the next week or two, I'm going to set up the FET. I am still pondering if I want to take a short break. I am also pondering that this FET is cash only since my insurance is dry. So- netting it out.... I'm pondering. You'll be the first to know.

Let's review my warped reality, shall we?

My DE cycle carried with it a 70% chance of it working (my clinic stats). That means I was in the unlucky 30%.

The success rate for an FET from a DE cycle is 34% (again, my clinic stats). That means I have a 66% chance that it won't work.

My dear husband (who I should say is usually NOT the optimistic one), reasoned it like this...

"If we were in the unlucky 30%, then this FET will be perfect since we have just as much chance to be in the lucky 34%!!"

!?!

I love you honey.

6dp5dt

I bet you hurriedly clicked over to this post thinking...

"OMG, has she tested yet??"

and the answer is NO.

To further disappoint my readers/friends/family and Peeveme, I've made a decision to not buy any pee sticks at all. I'm not even tempted.

Really.

Many of you have been commenting here and in e-mail saying how "disciplined" I am, and let me tell you... far from it. The operative word is FEAR.

That's right folks, FEAR. I am too afraid to test. If you know my history, you might understand. Six pregnancies, five miscarriages. For me, a BFP is merely the first step in what I like to affectionately call the "Pregnancy Obstacle Course from Hell", fraught with roadblocks, betas that look great but NOT!, and ultrasounds that feel like walking The Green Mile (for my Stephen King fans).

Symptoms? Yep, the are still here. Saturday was kind of a lull, but yesterday and today they are back. The trifecta: Cramping, low back pain, sore boo.bs

Strangely, if I weren't on enough meds to choke a cow, I would say.. "Yep! This is it." However I do know that progesterone can mock every pg symptom in the book.

I miss the days when I could get pregnant on my own... at least I knew when I was pregnant even before I reached for the pee stick. Yes, it's the upside of being pregnant so many times. I know too much for my own damn good.

I will give you one nugget of info that weighs on my mind. The feelings and symptoms I have this time (as compared to the failed IVF attempt last summer) are completely different... even taking the meds into consideration. What it means? I don't know.

Take from it what you will.

For my blogging friends that DO test before beta day, I salute you. You are a brave bunch.

I am a wuss.

Sparkly

Thanks guys for hanging with me on that last post. I think the appropriate word someone used in the comments was "panic", and yes that pretty much hits the nail on the head. As much as I am excited to finally get here, the anticipation of finally being here just reminds me how close I am to the end of it all.

I've been stewing on these emotions for the last two weeks, but this week it just reared it's ugly head to the forefront.

So what's new? Well, I started the estrogen (in pill AND patch form), and just counting down the days for the donor to start stimming on the 10th.

Man, was I EVER glad to knock down the Lupron injection... the headaches were a royal PITA. Made me grumpy too.

Or, perhaps the grumpy part came from running into two Moms from David's old school (gloriously pregnant with #2 and #4 respectively). They were talking about being sick and tired during their pregnancies, and all I could think was how I wanted to be in their shoes. I wished they knew how lucky they were. I put on my happy face and let them rattle on until I couldn't take it anymore, and excused myself to my car. Driving home, the whole way... all I felt was a large lump in my throat. I will not cry. I am so damn sick of crying.

Looking forward to the holiday weekend, although not a long or restful one for either of us.

S. has to work for some of it. I'm not off any extra days. I want to check out fireworks somewhere (last year if I remember correctly, I think it rained a bit and we missed them).

Fireworks make me happy. I think I even have a few boxes of sparklers somewhere that I picked up out of state (NJ says NO! to fireworks... freaking buzzkillers). Yes, I know they are dangerous... (funny how when I was a kid no one thought they were dangerous at all) but again, they make me happy.

I have such fond memories of running around the backyard with two sparklers in each hand... wishing they could stay lit forever.

So what are you doing this weekend?

The Monster in the closet

This post has been brewing for awhile now- the draft locked in my head wanting to finally be documented to make room for other thoughts.
...
I had a dream, not long after the drama in March after Donor#1 failed. I thought it was just the stress talking, a way for my mind to reset...

In my dream I was putting together a scrapbook, all lovely pictures of me, S., and David. As I turned the page there was a blank page just begging for photos. I reached into the pile of photos that remained on my desk.

The first thing that was seemed off was that each picture was black and white. I remember thinking "how odd" but when I looked closer to visually inspect them I noticed there were no people in any of the pictures. They were scenes familiar to me... our backyard, the beach, my family room.

But no people. I became frantic looking for pictures that had anyone I knew in them. But the pile seemed endless, and one after another, each picture was curiously absent of living things. Not even the cats.

I remember having the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach, so in my dream I ran to the two people closest to me looking for an answer. I glided into my kitchen, and S. and David were eating eggs. The table was set for six. But they seemed sad, and again I found that the color in my dream had vanished to a dark grey.

And then the dream ended.

I woke up in tears, and my first instinct was to reach over to S. to ensure he was there, and then I walked off to David's room to check on him. He was sleeping of course. But I sat down in the rocking chair next to his bed and replayed that dream in my head... looking for meaning.

And so began those terrible thoughts in my head after that night.

What is to become of me if this cycle doesn't work???

This is it. This is the last stop in my journey. There is no more after this. No more injections, no more tests, no more doctors visits. No more loans on top of loans. No more planning around a 28 day calendar.

How will I ever become whole again when I've been carrying around years of disappointment and loss like a monkey on my back?

I've been trying to shove these thoughts from my head. "Worry about that when the time comes.." I say to myself.

But each morning it is the first thing on my mind when I awake.

...and it is the last thing I think about when I lie down to sleep.

It's the monster in the closet, behind the door I don't dare open. What is to become of me when I have to turn that doorknob? It's almost like being told you are going to die, but instead of not knowing when.. you have a date.

Because very soon ...I will know.

Sick time, Entertainment, and a Bitter Infertile

I am feeling tons better (thank you!) and back to work with my head firmly atop my torso.

The upside to being sick is a lot of couch time, and therefore, a lot of TV time. After copious amounts of channel surfing I've come to the conclusion that regular TV programming is pretty boring and repetitive. There are some exceptions.

I caught up on the Top Chef marathon last week and awaiting the finale. Is it me, or is there something very magnetic about Tom Colicchio? He can cook for me anytime. lol.

I wasted hours I'll never get back watching Celebrity Rehab "Sober House" (is it wrong that I feel sad for Andy D.ick?) and Rock of Love (where do they GET these vapid skanks???)

But my favorite catch-up was Dr. 90210. He may be a master of plastic surgery, but Dr. Rey is a BONEHEAD when it comes to female reproduction. His wife (who seems really sweet, but spends far too much time locked up in their mansion) thought she "could" be pregnant. A conversation ensures where Dr. Rey says (and I am paraphrasing here)... "I just KNOW you are pregnant. You are MOODY and you have been eating A LOT." Wow. Now that is a diagnosis. When the test is ultimately negative, Mrs. (Hayley) Rey adds "my pregnancies never show up on a pregnancy test when my period is due". Apparently she is not infertile NOR a follower of Taking Charge of Your Fertility. For this fact, I am uber jealous, because I am reminded that most women are fertile beings like Hayley, not bitter and subfertile like me. Plus, her husband is a plastic surgeon. I mean, come ON!

I resisted throwing my banana peel at the TV mocking the injustices of the world.

I then thanked the heavens that Dr. Rey is not a Reproductive Endocrinologist. Although, if I am in the market for a boob job and a tummy tuck he's the guy I want doing it.

Perhaps I should take the money for the donor cycle and just get that done instead?

Nah. I'd rather be flabby with a baby in my arms.

What, you missed me?

I got a call from the RE today (actually, Nurse T) to say the donor was having her last bloodwork done today (for STD's and communicable diseases). They got back her Day 3 blood work end of last week, and all was well. A beautiful, low FSH and on the money estradiol.

Today I start BCP's and wait. The donor is already on them... won't start Lupron until the psych eval is completed end of this month. The good news is since we are already being primed to start, there won't be much of a delay once we get the go.

Interestingly, Nurse T had more questions for me. I thought I had already gone through them all, but since I haven't signed anything yet they are preparing the paperwork.

Like,

Are you freezing any extra embryos from the donor cycle? ummmm... hell yeah, I'm paying $15k for them, what's another $1k?
Did you make a decision on disposal or donation of said embryos should you not need them/want them at a later date? more of a question for my husband, methinks.
Are you open to a single-embryo transfer, or not more than suggested amount by embryologist (in other words, we need to CYA because of the Octuplet scandal)? My take... I'm not looking for octuplets. I just want a live baby or two please.
Are you open to selective reduction if suggested? I am open to anything that does not put my life in jeopardy, and again, the goal is a LIVE baby. I will do whatever is in my best interest.

Interestingly enough, the RE happened to be standing in the wings on this phone call, and I heard some banter. Then Nurse T says...

"We're thinking of having you come in for another trial transfer. We know your last trial transfer went easy, but your ACTUAL transfer last August was.... um, challenging."

Gee, I thought you'd never ask. My answer, well OF COURSE. And for extra insurance, I get TWO of my RE's to perform the trial transfer and take copious notes because of my complicated (or not?) cervix. An RE wing-man so to speak.

If you ask my opinion, I think they just miss me.

What you don't know...

So, it's almost been a year since the last failed pregnancy. The "almost" perfect one that ended too soon.

The weird thing is even though I am now in Year Four of this huge mess, this is the longest time I've gone without being pregnant.

That seems a little odd saying that. In fact, I giggle a bit because at first glance seeing that sentence you might think I was Miche.lle Dugga.r. But you would be wrong. Because none of my last five babies were born alive.

Granted, for the last 3 months, we've guarded against a "spontaneous" conception (for you fertile types, that's how the other 99% of the world gets pregnant). The last thing I need is another pregnancy with my broken eggs.

Lying in bed last night, I realized that I can only remember the dates of the first and the last miscarriage. I am envious that my fellow sisters-in-loss can remember each anniversary of each positive HPT, each loss, and each unfulfilled due date.

I cannot.

I remember the first. It was on a Saturday in April. I was watching the "Chronicle.s of Nar.nia" on DVD with my husband and D. I was 11 weeks pregnant. By Sunday, I was not. I should have been due on my husband's birthday. I had just turned 38 years old, and my own OB/GYN came into the recovery room after my first D&E and told me I had "PLENTY of time left to have another baby."

PLENTY, I remember that word like it was yesterday. And that sentence echos onward. How wrong she would be.

My last pregnancy that looked so promising ended after the dreaded viability scan. I had just seen a heartbeat, a perfect one, and thought that pregnancy #6 would be THE ONE. It was not, and on a cold February morning one week after, I had another D&E.

In between loss number one and five is just a hazy history. A trail of broken dreams and hearts.

Some people still wonder why I am still marching down this road. They have grown weary of my trek, and lost interest. I don't blame them at all, and I have finally reached peace with that.

The hard thing is looking in people's eyes... and I know what they are thinking...

... they think I am crazy.

Well, I should say the ones who think THAT certainly aren't infertiles, moms, or compassionate women/men themselves. The are either very naive or very ignorant. Sometimes both.

The difference now between that old me and the battered me is I am able to more easily move from that conversation, or just go about my business knowing that not everyone will understand.

They will never understand.

Occasionally, the few who do are life lifeboats on a vast ocean. I used to be the type of person that dealt with my pain alone, but infertility has changed that. Instead of reaching for the lifeboat I would doggie paddle to keep my head above water. I would suck it up and wade in the ocean even if my legs went numb and I was gasping for breath.

Now, when I feel too burdened by myself, I swim.

And swim.

Until I find a lifeboat. That lifeboat is now a such a welcoming oasis. It is all of you, my bloggy friends, and a select group of real life friends and family who are commited to standing next to me.

Or swimming, as it were.

I never knew how much I would appreciate a community that can listen to my dribble- really listen, and despite my failed history... still be my cheerleaders.

I've done nothing but fail lately, but here I am about to embark one last time, and there you are still wishing and praying for me.

For that, I say Thank You.

Trivialities

It's Friday, and I've had a long week at work, so forgive me for these most random thoughts.

I don't know if I mentioned it here (I did a few weeks ago over here), but I started W.eight W.atchers again. I cashed in on my head start (being sick after the holiday), and went into serious detox mode. Lost 5 pounds on my own, and another 8 since. My quick goal before starting my DE cycle was to drop as much weight as I could, and basically get myself to a healthier place.

To my surprise, I've been hanging in there. And after two weeks of hard-core detoxing, I must report I am feeling wonderful. My energy is back again! It's as is I flipped a light switch. Who knew? It was just the right time, and the right place of mind for me to do this. I am eating foods I never would have touched before. It seems a radical approach, BUT it is working for me right now.

David is having a great time @ basketball. The first practice was, well, hard for him. He seriously needed some help dribbling. But one basketball purchase later from T.arget, (and some practice time in with his Mom the "former teen basketball queen"), he is doing a lot better and loving the game. He especially loves the warm-ups (as evidenced to the right>>>>)


Also, I've been obsessing over something that is driving me crazy lately, and it has nothing to do with infertility (surprise!). It's my anonymity as a blogger. I am slowly coming to grips that some people might find me on the web whether I want them to or not. Either that or I need to drop every social networking tool. lol. Check out my latest post on New Jersey Moms Blog )and you'll read what I'm talking about.

Last but not least, next week I should hear something (in the form of a schedule) from the RE on the donor. She has an appointment on Tuesday to get the ball rolling.

That's it from here! Have a great weekend friends!

Step One

We have a donor.

The nurse coordinator and the donor are on vacation now, so won't have a schedule until the week of Christmas at the earliest I suppose.

I am happy, elated, nervous, and hopeful.

And in the pit of my stomach, terrified. But in a good way.

[...exhale]

Mystery Date

Hello! Are you ready for your Mystery Date? You will never guess where your going! A Picnic, a Formal Dance, Skating, the Beach! you will just have to play the game to find out! You will never know where it is for sure until you open the door!

I saw a revamped version of the board game, Mystery Date in Target over the weekend. Anyone around my age can remember the 70s-80s version above. Oh, how I wanted the brown-haired stud to take me to the formal dance.

Pluuueeeezzze be behind the door!

Today's RE appointment felt A LOT like a mystery date.

How strange it was to sit down with a huge binder and pick your future child's genetic donor. Strange indeed.

I admit, I was a bit nervous. The Donor Coordinator (she was so cute and perky) gave me the instructions on how the binder was set up. Then she brought me a drink, a notepad, and pen.

"I'll be back in an hour to check on you. If you have any questions beyond each 20 page dossier, write them down, and I can call the donor for answers while your looking."

Wow, I thought... fast service.

So it was just me and about 40 in-house profiles. I was hoping to find at least a few in-house donors, to cut down on the travel costs and such. And I was not disappointed. Since I did not restrict myself on a lot of the visual characteristics, I narrowed down to 6 profiles within about 90 minutes.

I did have some 'deal breakers', however. Not going to go into serious detail here, but there was one profile I loved, but she had a specific medical concern in her family that was my deal breaker. That one, sadly, went back into the binder.

I was bowled over by some of the meticulous details provided. At the end of each packet it was as if I had a visual drawing in my head of each donor. One particular packet caught my eye. She wrote it as if I wrote it myself. She was almost me, but 15 years younger, and with brown eyes. I didn't think it was possible.

Nurse V called two of the donors for me with regards to the questions I had. Both donors provided answers within 10 minutes.

It was as if they were waiting by the phone.

For a date.

In the end, I brought home four profiles. Each one very different in their own way, and all having special reasons why I chose them.

This is finally real to me now.

I'm about to open the door and go to The Dance.

How much fun can you handle?

Whew! What a holiday weekend. From Turkey Day all the way through Sunday we managed to use every last spare moment of time.

Thanksgiving Day here at home was... exhausting, but fun. This is me and S. after 24 hours of cleaning and cooking...lol

Then we woke up Friday morning and drug out every last box of Christmas decorations. Was I meaning to do that? Hell, no. I was looking to just kick back and relax, but David had other plans. He's the worst supervisor, by the way.

Saturday we got up early and headed to the Please Touch Museum in Philly. It's in a new venue (such a beautiful building).


It had lots of hands-on stuff for the kids, and the adults. My personal favorite was the restored Dickens Village (think Christmas Animatronics set in 1776). The last time I saw the full display was waaay back in the 70's. It was an annual Christmas event at Lit Bros. Department Store in the city.


Oh, and the indoor fully restored carousel... just stunning...


Sunday, we woke up to rain. And fog. And sleet. And more rain. We had tickets for the North Pole Express Train Ride. We met my brother, SIL, and the kids after a 90 minute drive, but it was well worth it.

It was the worst weather day... but you know what? It made for a great day anyway. Lots of rain meant people stayed in. Which meant we had a great time in a place that is normally packed with people.


The rain actually added character to the day. Doesn't it look Christmas-y?

David and my nephews were bowled over when Santa walked onto the train to present them with a Christmas sleigh bell... they looked terrified and elated at the same time.. lol


Afterwards we kicked back in a nearly empty brewpub, had great beer and pretty awesome burgers.

Yeah, it was a pretty cool weekend indeed.

Lastly... a fertility update: In case you all were missing my status posts on the donor egg cycle, well, get ready. Pre-work is complete, and the cash has been procured. Tomorrow is the appointment to delve into the Great Big Book of Donors. More to come...

3rd Down and Long

Oh, I feel so unproductive on the infertility front. Since the August let-down, I've not even been keeping track of my cycle. Seriously.

The last two arrivals of AF are a merely a circle on the calendar.

And having this mini-break really has been........ well........... surprisingly okay.

This month marks the first month of YEAR FOUR in my secondary infertility challenge. It almost seems comical some days. Something so easy for most, but decidedly hard for me.

So where are we on the donor egg cycle? Well, my current objective is securing the cash. The stock market has taken the wind out of my sails, as my rainy day savings bucket is tied up in investments all of which are tanking at the moment. I refuse to pull money out of there, so we are looking at some other methods.

I am calling today to schedule our psych evaluations. I want to get as much pre-work out of the way before the holidays. I owe a bloodtest, and S. owes another SA sample at the lab since he hasn't had a full work-up since last November.

But among these things, I am also curiously lazy at the moment.

I haven't looked at the donor profiles yet.

I guess the crux of it is, once I am invested, I am in it all the way. Which means another possibility of failure. I am so sick and tired of failing. But I am willing to jump in one more time, because I know that this really is the last attempt.

Remember when I referred to my last IVF cycle as my "Swan Song" for my old and broken eggs?

Well, if that was the swan song, this is.......... the "Hail Mary".

My RE is the quarterback, my donor is the football, and I am the wide receiver. We are on our own 10 yard line (90 yards from a touchdown and the WIN), and about to throw the longest pass in infertility history.

It will either be the miracle catch in the end zone, an incomplete, or a dropped pass.

Are you sick of my analogies yet?

Good. Because I have about 100 more over the next couple of months.