PUPO

At the risk of becoming an 8th grade health teacher, here is a handy diagram that I've been consulting to remind myself what's going on in my body in real-time.

We skipped a lot of the process so we begin with Day 6 in the hatching blastocyst stage.  Yesterday was Day 7, today is Day 8 so these snow babies should be attaching themselves to my uterine wall by tomorrow morning.  It's quite a process.  They have to release an enzyme that eats its way through my lining in order to carve out a nice little nook for winter.  Been trying to do that positive imaging thing and I keep cracking up when I picture little PAC-man type creatures munching their way to safety. 

By late next week, if all goes well, they will be secreting enough hCG to be detectable on a blood test.  You can't test super accurately before day 20 or 21 and by that time, you're already considered "4 weeks pregnant" which is weird since they count from the first day of your last period even for IVF.

I'm home doing lesson plans for Wednesday when I formally take over all classes at MHS.  I'm sure every third thought will be "am I or aren't I?" but not a whole lot to do now but wait.  

Snow babies

Here they are!  As you can see, the one on the left was eager to start hatching already.  The one on the right has a little catching up to do but maybe they're like those capsules you put in hot water and watch expand into foam dinosaurs.  I've been keeping them nice and toasty and feeding them good food.  My my estimation, their first meal was either pineapple or greek yogurt and blueberries, assuming they've hunkered down in there for the long haul.

It's amazing to think that they already have a gender and their entire genetic code programed into a mere 300 or so cells.  I think the one on the left looks a little like a skeleton face and the one on the right could be a grinning jack-o-lantern so I'm feeling good about this October ETA.  

FET recap

This is the post I should have written after transfer so apologies for the delay.  That's what 5 mg of Valium will do to you, I guess...but it was so nice to sleep most of Saturday.

Here's how it went down during the FET:

1. Over the mountains and into the snow to arrive at fortress ovum at 12:10 pm

2. Instructed to empty my bladder, then immediately handed a 10 oz cup of water and told to drink

3. 5 minutes later, ushered into the super secret "transfer room" in the back.  There are maybe 8 of them next to the retrieval OR and the lights are turned way down low (how romantical!)

4. Light FM Piano music is playing from a box in the corner - me?  I prefer spa chimes but what can you do? 

5.  Wow, this must be where they actually do the deed.  They practically force you to RELAX by being super sweet and accommodating with their little yellow pill and warm blanket. 

6.  Ultrasound time to check my bladder.  It's too full for comfort so sent to pee in cup halfway to release some pressure.  Ahhhhh.

7.  Left alone for 30 minutes to laugh at stupid animal videos online (because laughter helps relax the uterus.  this is true.)

8.  Around 1:25, in wheels the traveling circus of ultrasound nurse, Dr. Kim, and the embryologist with the incubator.  They came whooshing through the door and meant business.  I'm instructed to lie down, reclined automatically by some magic button on the floor, then my vagina gets a spotlight and my cervix is "cleaned."  I asked Rhett what that looked like and he said like saline solution being shot out of a syringe.  Didn't feel a thing (thank you, Valium) so I began to relax.  Some arbitrary words of "release the tension in your legs, breathe in deeply, exhale" were uttered.  Gee, thanks, doc.  We are told to watch the screen above the incubator just in time to see two little dots sucked up into a pipette.   Dr. Kim is handed the pipette and though I can't see what's happening below, I look on the ultrasound to see the catheter go up into my uterus and watch as our two frosties are places in the upper left side of my uterus right where the opening to the fallopian tube would be.  He tucks them in and that's that. 

9. "Good luck" is uttered from the trio as the circus rolls out of town.  Nurse Sandy comes back in, puts the stirrups away and pulls out a shelf to rest my legs on as I recline for 30 minutes and stay warm. 

10.  We kind of look at each other like, "Did you see them?  I saw them!" and then exhaustion takes over because transfer is complete and took all of 5 minutes for a 7 month build-up.  That's all?  Are you sure they went in?  Well, yeah, I saw them.  

11.  Discharged to continue meds as prescribed until progesterone check on Monday morning.  Stop off at Panera for lunch because nothing says comfort like a warm bowl of french onion soup. 

12.  Pass out for 2.5 hours at home, get up, move to couch, watch "Lilo and Stitch," then move back to bed.  zzzzzz. 




 

Ice Ice Baby

Autumn and Harold are ready to go!  She's our Shark Boy's new pal, an acorn for October.  Can't wait till the nurses meet our twins. 

12:15 report time so I should get moving.  Got a lovely suppository to wrangle and a 30 minute drive.  By 1:30, we will be PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise.)   

This is the day

In the immortal words of my favorite One Hit Wonders of the 80's:

Well you didn't wake up this morning 'cause you didn't go to bed
You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red
The calendar on your wall was ticking the days off
You've been reading some old letters
You smile and think how much you've changed
All the money in the world couldn't buy back those days

You pull back the curtain
And the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying
Across a clear blue sky
This is the day, your life will surely change
This is the day, when things fall into place

Transfer day is here.

It's been a quiet morning, beginning with Oscar asking to go out at 4:30 AM by standing on my chest and licking me.  (We decided it was too cold to let him sleep in the basement these past few nights so he's been warming our bed.)  Managed to sleep until 6:30 and promptly took him out when the pink light had just begun to peek above the train tracks.  That's my favorite time of day: no one but us, a few trucks on river road, and the newspaper delivery man.  All that may change beginning today.  We may never be alone again.

We keep telling Oscar that he's going to be a big brother and he better behave himself during all the changes that are about to rock his world.  He just looks at us, stump wagging, and gives the usual kisses.  He is in for one rude awakening when he's not "the baby" anymore!

We're still waiting for The Call to tell us when to arrive at Fortress Ovum but in the meantime, we're watching TV in bed, just the three of us, savoring these moments.

Getting the hang of it

Three nights in and yes, I could see how this PIO business becomes a PIA.  Even though the rapid stabbing motion is now down solid (thanks, dear heart!) it's not the needle going in that hurts so much as it is the ring of fire on both of my flank steaks that's too tender for repeated violation.  Think of the most sore you've ever been after a race or workout or car accident.  Now multiply that by 2 and subtract any bed rest time and that's a good approximation of how my lower back/bum feels at every waking moment.  I'm guessing that by the time you find out you're pregnant, all the other charming symptoms of hCG take over to distract you from this particular discomfort.  It will be worth it, it will be worth it, it will be worth it...  

I'm okay laying down and standing but finding a comfortable seated position is a challenge.  Side plank during morning Pilates?  Forget it.  Tried that once and won't be repeating the mistake. Basically, flat back or totally upright is the way to go.  Good thing I'm teaching now or I'd need one of those standing desks.  Mood is quiet, contemplative.  I haven't been hysterically crying or flying off the handle at anyone.  Maybe it's the calm before the storm when they up my dose?  I decided it would be a great idea to gorge on "Call the Midwife" which just upset me when they institutionalized a 15 year-old Irish prostitute and took away her infant daughter after birth.  Sounds to me like the plot of that Judi Dench movie out now...

Also feeling the effects of the steroids and the antibiotics now: general queasiness, lack of appetite and - oh, gee - puffiness.  That's truly lovely.  I slept like a narcoleptic yesterday afternoon because I literally couldn't keep my eyes open.  Now that I'm in school I'm fine, but I suspect lots of green tea and gum will be needed come 1:00 PM.

Tomorrow morning we see Mel Brooks again who will hopefully NOT bring up my non-existent "hydrosalpinx" (it's an inclusion cyst, people - no tube = fluid outside.  Even Dr. Hock rolled her eyes at that one...) and give us the final lining stats.  I'll get a call in the afternoon with blood work results and hopefully a time when we have to report on Saturday. 

Can't shake the sense that I'm under prepared for this FET.  I only know two things: don't wear lotions/perfumes/deodorant of any kind (the blastocysts are sensitive) and drink a ton of water in pre-surgery so you have an uncomfortably full bladder.  Seriously, just add it to the list of indignities...I'll probably wet myself.  I have more questions to ask, I'm sure, but I honestly can't think of any right now.  It's like the night before final dress rehearsal and you're screaming inside, "I don't remember any of my lines" except all I have to do is show up and do what I'm told.  






 

Never underestimate a one-inch needle

Whoa, mama!  No joke: these things cut deep and the burn lingers for hours.  Doing the injection at 9 pm was a good call as I can roll around the bed with a hot washcloth pressed to my backside until I fall asleep.  I am so grateful these are not given in the morning because I can't foresee getting out the door in a timely manner.  It's a multi-step process, switching needles to draw the PIO, heating it in a mug for ten minutes, then switching needles again to inject.  Glad we met with Anne so she could give us some helpful hints to make it a little less traumatic like massaging the area and spreading the cheeks taut.  ha!

We actually have to re-record the inaugural shot-giving because I was swearing like a longshoreman in the midst of a squall last night.  Someone tried to go nice and easy with the initial plunge instead of treating my Sharpie targets like a dart board.  Bad move, bro.  Tonight he will be jamming it in there like a shiv in prison because that's the only way it doesn't feel like you've been struck by Zeus's lightening bold.

Dear future children: this will continue for 10 more weeks if we get our BFP.  You're welcome.  Love, Mum and Dad.