The Reason . . .

. . . I can do this again--the shots, the hormones, the headaches, etc.


. . . I did not pass out after injecting myself this morning.

. . . we have hope.

All Is Well . . . I Think

I had the ultrasound this morning. It was scheduled for 8:20 am, and I was finally seen at TEN. My paperwork got misplaced somehow. I actually appreciated the quiet sitting for a while, but then it got a bit obnoxious. They were all very apologetic about it, so I just let it go and didn't complain.

I didn't actually see my doctor today. Interestingly enough, I saw the doctor on-call whom I talked to over the phone--I totally recognized her voice. She had a no-big-deal attitude about the situation. ??? This is why I get so frustrated with doctors sometimes; they all have different and perspectives and opinions on things.


Anyway, she said everything looked "great" and we could continue on as scheduled. I have to wonder what my doctor would say, but I guess the pictures don't lie.

When I got home, I went ahead and applied the estrogen patches and administered my own Lupron shot. Yay, me! I still have to do it very slowly, but I'm proud of myself for being able to do it . . . even though I did feel a little light-headed afterwards today.

I have to go in for a blood test Friday or early next week to check that I'm getting enough estrogen from the patches. I have no doubt that I will be getting plenty. Stay tuned for my adventures on estrogen. I'm praying for homeostasis.

Cash Money

Whilst I wait for the verdict on whether or not I have trashed this cycle by being confused (stupid, stupid!), I figured I'd break down the financials of this whole thing.

*It cost us 16K to have Noah. We paid him off last month with our tax return and cashing out a small 401K from Chris' old job in FL. Yes, we essentially financed our son. No, he would not be repo'd if we defaulted on the loan. We settled with the loan company for 1,000 less than we originally financed. Thanks, bad economy, for helping us out!

*The actual thawing and re-implant will cost $1,700 on the day we show up.

*That cost does not include the cost of the medication. Including the birth control, we have paid $240 in drugs.

*The $1,700 also does not include the co-pays we pay for every office visit. Ironically, by the time we're finished, we will also have spent $240 on co-pays.

*That brings the total cost to $2,180.

*We pay the cost of the drugs and co-pays out of our savings account. The $1,700 will be paid from the remainder of our tax return.

*Another cost--We essentially pay rent to Duke to house our embryos. We have a lump sum of money saved, but the lab director has yet to issue bills for storage. (Yay!) As of January, he was on the D's. He still has some ground to cover before he gets to us. If we get them out before he bills us, we'll be able to reimburse our savings account for the co-pays and drugs.

So there's the reality in dollars and cents.

I have no idea what it's like to say casually, "Hey, Chris, let's have a baby." We didn't speak these words to each other until we knew that we knew that we knew we were "in."

There's nothing casual about this. It's business. It's planning. It's accounting. And yet it's intimately romantic . . . in its own way . . .

Oops?

So I think I might have messed up our cycle inadvertently. The story is kind of long and confusing in my mind, but the short of it is I didn't have enough days of overlap on birth control and the Lupron shots. I thought that it wasn't going to be a problem because the doctor on-call told me it was better that I was bleeding early and that I could just continue on with the pills I had left and start the shots when I did. I must have misunderstood her? Or she must have misunderstood me?

Well, I talked to our nurse Soonja the other day who was kind of upset with me (in a cute way) that I didn't call her for more active pills. She talked to our doctor, and the doctor wants to see me on Monday for ANOTHER ultrasound. OOOPS. I'm so nervous I messed this up.

Dangerous

As promised, here is a quick glimpse of how I start my day. Isn't it romantic?

The rest of the day, I don't think so much about the process surprisingly. If I did, I might want to quit--I know what high estrogen does to me, I know how badly the progesterone shots hurt and literally cripple me, I know how long the two weeks until the pregnancy test feels, etc.

I think more about how the process' success will change us, our rhythm and routine. I guess that's the optimistic side of me, seeing as the papers we signed last week stated very clearly there are no guarantees. We both are guilty of hope--both kinds of hope I know of. One kind of hope: I hope for sunshine tomorrow. (In other words, "I want . . ."). Another kind of hope: I hope for heaven, a hope that will not disappoint.

If I'm totally honest, we say with our lips, "There are no guarantees." But, I don't think we truly believe that. At all. Our hope is of the not-disappointing strand. The dangerous strand.

All throughout my day, as I go through normal routines, I think about what the presence of another baby will mean for the routine: going to the gym, hitting the grocery store, loading up car seats, cooking, relaxing, etc. It will all take on a different form. We talk about how the house will be rearranged, what baby equipment we need to replace, etc. It's dangerous, I know.

Lupron Day 3

The Lupron seems to be OK. I haven't noticed any major side effects . . . YET. Chris is now doing the injections for me. There's no better way to start the day than being stabbed in the abs by your husband. I think I shall post a photo tomorrow . . .

Needles . . .

I hate needles. So much so that it took me 30 minutes to inject myself with the Lupron this morning. We are in SC visiting my sister in lieu of our ski trip (the resort closed down due to the economy), and I didn't want to have to draw attention to myself to get Chris to do it. SO I tried to be brave and do it myself.


I sat in the bed for about 30 minutes with the needle ready, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. I laid there with the needle suspended over my stomach, and the thought of me puncturing my skin with THAT . . . I couldn't do it. I prayed. I practiced stabbing the alcohol swab. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I determined that people who shoot up drugs (illegal ones, that is) MUST be crazy. I prayed some more.


Finally, I was able to do it very, very, very slowly. And thus, it hurt and left a nice red spot on my stomach. Around the nice red spot are a bunch of little red dots from my stabbing and stopping routine. Me and needles . . . not friends. And this is only the beginning . . .

And P.S --I'm coming down with Noah's cold; the one that gave him a raging fever. The one that sent us to the ER and got us a pneumonia diagnosis. Not fun.