An update on Dr. Needle. GatorMan and I have been going to him now for about a month. Every week, on Wednesday, like clockwork. I'm not sure anything different is happening to my body - except the incredibly noticeable pubescent break-outs I've been experiencing. Not sure if Dr. Needle is monkey-ing with my hormones, or if I need to remember to wash my face more at night! But my last cycle was just like the 18 cycles before it.... no noticeable change. Dr. Needle says "wait anudda psycho" and then to reassure me he says: "free uvva woman get pregnant heo last yeo" and as he cups his hands together as if receiving a wafer at communion, he says "and day bwing utrasound pic tour". (For those that cannot understand my hooked-on-phonics version, here is what transpired: "Wait another cycle"; "three other women got pregnant here last year"; "and they bring their ultrasound pictures.") I'm hoping he only saw three fertility patients and three of them got knocked-up -- but not preferably IN his office, but through his acupuncture assistance! (You know what I mean....) Dr. Needle states it may take six months to see some changes with me. Who knows? Personally, I am enjoying laying there for half an hour and relaxing!
As for GatorMan, he says there has been a considerable change for him. Dr. Needle treats him with acupuncture and herbs. Although GatorMan will be mortified when he reads this - he says the amount he produces has increased. I'm just hoping those little swimmers are waking up and on the move!
For those who may be confused and wondering if we have gone from adopting to pursuing fertility treatments again, no need to check the blog heading... yes, we are still adopting. But do those who reach the fork in the road and choose the adoption path ever give up the hopes of conceiving a child as well? Mom of Tinkerbell and Chickadee put it best in her November 12 post. A big shout-out to her for discussing the dichotomy. GatorMan and I are not going to love Ukulele any less because she does not carry our DNA, nor would we love a biological child any more because they do carry our DNA. Perhaps it is human nature to wonder what your offspring would look like? And perhaps it is my human nature to know what it is like to be pregnant? I know we will be parents, I just do not know how it is going to happen. And in pursuit of that desire, GatorMan and I will try whatever we can.... even if it means splitting our car in half and driving down both sides of the fork-in-the-road simultaneously.
Showing posts with label fertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fertility. Show all posts
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
How We Got Here
I figured I'd add a post discussing how we got to where we are today. IF-wise, of course.
We got married in 2005 and discussed children right away. I was 35 when we married, GatorMan was 33. Neither of us had any children prior to meeting each other. We discussed adoption as something we definitely wanted to do - even if we had biological children. We decided to spend a year being married with just "us" and add children to the mix later. Our first month of official trying was in February 2007. My OB/GYN gave us six months to succeed - if no success, then to the RE we would go.
We met with our RE in August 2007. Because of my age (36, almost 37), the RE did an FSH test on me immediately. I've always been an overachiever - an my FSH complied. It was 15.7 the first go-round. The RE was hoping for about a 6 or 7. GatorMan was also tested, and where my scores were high, his were unfortunately low. So now the RE realized he was working with a double-whammy. We were told to keep trying, and keep track of my temperature, period days, all that business. A couple of months later, RE tested my FSH again - and this time I scored a 17. Not good. It was at this point RE told us to consider donor eggs. Still no drugs being administered. In November 2007, I had a test done to make sure my tubes were not blocked (I've blocked the name of that particular funride test). RE, who is male, said "Don't worry. It'll just be a mild cramp." Mild cramp my ass! I thought I was going to shoot right off that table and jump through the ceiling tiles. But in the end, the news was good - no blocked passageways.
With this piece of information, RE decided to put GatorMan on Clomid. (He determined that surgery was not necessary for GatorMan, thank goodness.) My FSH did not improve. RE again discussed donor eggs for us. I had a minor (okay, major) meltdown over that one. We were told we could share a donor with another couple and therefore cut the cost. Before that was to happen, RE wanted to try IUI. This is where the fun really started.
An appointment was made for me to learn how to give myself injections in the stomach. Probably not an issue for most, but I have this horrible fear of needles. I have been known to almost hyperventilate when blood was drawn, and I am a sure-bet for crying hysterically once the needle penetrates the skin. Now this joker (RE) wanted me to inflict that drama upon myself. Of course I started crying in the demonstration appointment and wondered how the hell I was going to be able to do it all. Because of my propensity for scoring high on the FSH test, RE prescribed the full amount of Follistim for me. Yay. That meant that the needle would be in my stomach even longer while I injected myself. Woo hoo.
The dreaded day came for my first injection. I had to teach that night, so I left my day job early so that I would have enough time to re-apply all the make-up and recover from the meltdown I was sure to have. As I was driving home, trying to gear up for what I had to do, I kept telling myself "I own this bitch." I marched in the door, took the meds out of the fridge, prepped the needle, wiped my stomach, and shoved the needle in. After the plunger was depressed, I left the needle in for the entire 5 seconds (as per directions). Talk about a mind game. Me, terrified of needles, staring at my own hand keeping a needle in my body on my own accord. Surprisingly, no tears. No drama. I think the whole pep-talk to myself on the way home did the trick. Although I never came to enjoy the whole injection thing, it did get easier each day. I'm not even going to discuss the whole booster-shot-in-the-ass fun. That never was fun.
From this fiasco, I developed two (almost three!) viable eggs. And that was going full-force on the meds. Not the result we wanted.
The day for the first IUI came. RE wanted to do another one the next morning, so we did. After the IUI was finished, RE said we were done. He was not going to do another one and waste our money. Because of my (less than) stellar performance and GatorMan's (less than) stellar reaction to Clomid, RE said he was cutting us off. He did not even want to discuss IVF because I would not be able to develop the eggs necessary to make it worthwhile. But, a donor egg was still an option (because RE could go through GatorMan's sperm and take the good ones and inject the eggs). GatorMan and I discussed this option, and decided that we would spend our money on adoption. So here we are.
Being told that you will never have your own biological child really plays with your mind. You have to go through a mourning process similar to losing a child (so I'm told, but will hopefully never experience). But it's the child you will not carry. I personally could not truly get over the donor-egg option. I was never totally on board with it for a myriad of reasons, all of which are purely vain. It still is incredibly painful to hear that a friend is pregnant, or see a pregnant woman on the street. Even more painful is when I read the stories of people who clearly have no reason being parents because of how they treat their children (keeping them in cages, throwing them out of windows, abusing them, and every other horrible thing one could imagine). I've yelled at God A LOT and still do not understand His choice. Whenever I read one of these stories, I remind Him of His stellar decisions, and make the comment that something made them better at parenting than me. (Unfortunately the sacrcasm does not come through in the writing of that statement quite like it does when I yell it through my tears in the car.) But if I hear another person say "Well, He has a plan" I think I'll punch them in the face. Of course He has a plan - it just doesn't include me experiencing what it would be like to give birth. Or how about this one: "There's a baby out there waiting for you." Really Sherlock? Because we're looking, how about a little assistance? But here's my favorite one: "Once you adopt, you'll end up getting pregnant and have a baby of your own." There are a couple of things wrong with that statement: (1) chances are we will NOT get pregnant - it only happens in approximately 5% of the cases, and I'm not that lucky; and (2) when we adopt, that baby will be own own. I don't have to give birth to make a child ours.
I apologize for the length of this post, but I wanted to cover all of this at once and then leave it. Kind of a catharsis. And for those of you who are wondering if I ever got a second opinion, I did. That doctor said my RE was being as aggressive as possible and that going to a different doctor would not likely change the outcome. Did I try accupuncture? No - please refer to the above regarding the whole fear-of-needles issue.
However, through all of this I have grown. Not only in girth (thank you, fertility drugs), but also in courage. It's getting easier to talk about IF with people. I'm more understanding of people and their personal problems. I've apologized for my uneducated comments (i.e. the ones above that now bother me) made to friends experiencing IF before I experienced it. I'm no longer afraid of needles. Not saying I'm going to shoot-up tomorrow, but I don't have a major meltdown like I used to. And..... dah dah Dah.... I'm going to try accupuncture (I hear it can do wonders for headaches). Hopefully all these baby-steps are going to lead to the sound of baby-steps in my life soon.
Dealing with IF is definitely a process.
We got married in 2005 and discussed children right away. I was 35 when we married, GatorMan was 33. Neither of us had any children prior to meeting each other. We discussed adoption as something we definitely wanted to do - even if we had biological children. We decided to spend a year being married with just "us" and add children to the mix later. Our first month of official trying was in February 2007. My OB/GYN gave us six months to succeed - if no success, then to the RE we would go.
We met with our RE in August 2007. Because of my age (36, almost 37), the RE did an FSH test on me immediately. I've always been an overachiever - an my FSH complied. It was 15.7 the first go-round. The RE was hoping for about a 6 or 7. GatorMan was also tested, and where my scores were high, his were unfortunately low. So now the RE realized he was working with a double-whammy. We were told to keep trying, and keep track of my temperature, period days, all that business. A couple of months later, RE tested my FSH again - and this time I scored a 17. Not good. It was at this point RE told us to consider donor eggs. Still no drugs being administered. In November 2007, I had a test done to make sure my tubes were not blocked (I've blocked the name of that particular funride test). RE, who is male, said "Don't worry. It'll just be a mild cramp." Mild cramp my ass! I thought I was going to shoot right off that table and jump through the ceiling tiles. But in the end, the news was good - no blocked passageways.
With this piece of information, RE decided to put GatorMan on Clomid. (He determined that surgery was not necessary for GatorMan, thank goodness.) My FSH did not improve. RE again discussed donor eggs for us. I had a minor (okay, major) meltdown over that one. We were told we could share a donor with another couple and therefore cut the cost. Before that was to happen, RE wanted to try IUI. This is where the fun really started.
An appointment was made for me to learn how to give myself injections in the stomach. Probably not an issue for most, but I have this horrible fear of needles. I have been known to almost hyperventilate when blood was drawn, and I am a sure-bet for crying hysterically once the needle penetrates the skin. Now this joker (RE) wanted me to inflict that drama upon myself. Of course I started crying in the demonstration appointment and wondered how the hell I was going to be able to do it all. Because of my propensity for scoring high on the FSH test, RE prescribed the full amount of Follistim for me. Yay. That meant that the needle would be in my stomach even longer while I injected myself. Woo hoo.
The dreaded day came for my first injection. I had to teach that night, so I left my day job early so that I would have enough time to re-apply all the make-up and recover from the meltdown I was sure to have. As I was driving home, trying to gear up for what I had to do, I kept telling myself "I own this bitch." I marched in the door, took the meds out of the fridge, prepped the needle, wiped my stomach, and shoved the needle in. After the plunger was depressed, I left the needle in for the entire 5 seconds (as per directions). Talk about a mind game. Me, terrified of needles, staring at my own hand keeping a needle in my body on my own accord. Surprisingly, no tears. No drama. I think the whole pep-talk to myself on the way home did the trick. Although I never came to enjoy the whole injection thing, it did get easier each day. I'm not even going to discuss the whole booster-shot-in-the-ass fun. That never was fun.
From this fiasco, I developed two (almost three!) viable eggs. And that was going full-force on the meds. Not the result we wanted.
The day for the first IUI came. RE wanted to do another one the next morning, so we did. After the IUI was finished, RE said we were done. He was not going to do another one and waste our money. Because of my (less than) stellar performance and GatorMan's (less than) stellar reaction to Clomid, RE said he was cutting us off. He did not even want to discuss IVF because I would not be able to develop the eggs necessary to make it worthwhile. But, a donor egg was still an option (because RE could go through GatorMan's sperm and take the good ones and inject the eggs). GatorMan and I discussed this option, and decided that we would spend our money on adoption. So here we are.
Being told that you will never have your own biological child really plays with your mind. You have to go through a mourning process similar to losing a child (so I'm told, but will hopefully never experience). But it's the child you will not carry. I personally could not truly get over the donor-egg option. I was never totally on board with it for a myriad of reasons, all of which are purely vain. It still is incredibly painful to hear that a friend is pregnant, or see a pregnant woman on the street. Even more painful is when I read the stories of people who clearly have no reason being parents because of how they treat their children (keeping them in cages, throwing them out of windows, abusing them, and every other horrible thing one could imagine). I've yelled at God A LOT and still do not understand His choice. Whenever I read one of these stories, I remind Him of His stellar decisions, and make the comment that something made them better at parenting than me. (Unfortunately the sacrcasm does not come through in the writing of that statement quite like it does when I yell it through my tears in the car.) But if I hear another person say "Well, He has a plan" I think I'll punch them in the face. Of course He has a plan - it just doesn't include me experiencing what it would be like to give birth. Or how about this one: "There's a baby out there waiting for you." Really Sherlock? Because we're looking, how about a little assistance? But here's my favorite one: "Once you adopt, you'll end up getting pregnant and have a baby of your own." There are a couple of things wrong with that statement: (1) chances are we will NOT get pregnant - it only happens in approximately 5% of the cases, and I'm not that lucky; and (2) when we adopt, that baby will be own own. I don't have to give birth to make a child ours.
I apologize for the length of this post, but I wanted to cover all of this at once and then leave it. Kind of a catharsis. And for those of you who are wondering if I ever got a second opinion, I did. That doctor said my RE was being as aggressive as possible and that going to a different doctor would not likely change the outcome. Did I try accupuncture? No - please refer to the above regarding the whole fear-of-needles issue.
However, through all of this I have grown. Not only in girth (thank you, fertility drugs), but also in courage. It's getting easier to talk about IF with people. I'm more understanding of people and their personal problems. I've apologized for my uneducated comments (i.e. the ones above that now bother me) made to friends experiencing IF before I experienced it. I'm no longer afraid of needles. Not saying I'm going to shoot-up tomorrow, but I don't have a major meltdown like I used to. And..... dah dah Dah.... I'm going to try accupuncture (I hear it can do wonders for headaches). Hopefully all these baby-steps are going to lead to the sound of baby-steps in my life soon.
Dealing with IF is definitely a process.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Creation of the "Ukulele"
I hope you have not found this blog because you are a music enthusiast.... "Ukulele" is the code-word for our not-yet-adopted daughter. My husband and I travelled to Hawaii with my sister's family, and we had hoped to come back with a little "Ukulele" of our own (at least that was my brother-in-law's term for a baby). That was two years ago. After lots of trying, many tests, and the rollercoaster ride of fertility treatments, our doctor said "no more." We always wanted to adopt, we just never anticipated that it would be our only option. So, this will be my story of "Waiting for the Ukulele."
I am creating this blog to help me through the waiting period of adoption. I'm not sure I can put my eyes on another page of mainstream media adoption rhetoric without going crazy. I feel like I have read way too many articles about successful adoptions, failed adoptions, birthmother stories, whatever. Right now I need to sort through MY thoughts and fears.
Here's the thing: we are waiting on our Ukulele. We have not gone through an adoption agency (although that was the original plan). A friend of ours knows a birthmother who wants to give her baby up for adoption. This friend contacted us, and of course we said yes. We're calling the birthmother "Juno" for obvious reasons. Juno is due at the end of January, and she is having a girl. I cannot imagine what is going through Juno's mind as she experiences pregnancy and tries to maneuver her way through high school. Yes, Juno is a teenager. My husband (whom I will call GatorMan) and I have a number of reasons to be afraid that Juno will change her mind, yet we cannot help be feel euphoric at the thought of having our Ukulele.
The adoption with Juno will be closed/private. We do not know her real name, she does not know ours. That's the way she wants it, that's the way we want it. Although I have read so many great stories about open adoption.... a part of me is sort of sad that this one will not be handled in that manner.
Anyway, Juno is 23 weeks along. I've found a plethora of pregnancy-tracking sites for birthmothers, but alas, none that I have found for adoptive mothers. So I visit one of the birthmother sites and watch Ukulele's progress.
Not sure if anyone out there is going to find this, or be interested in what I have to say, but I am certainly hoping it calms my crazy head during our wait for Ukulele.
I am creating this blog to help me through the waiting period of adoption. I'm not sure I can put my eyes on another page of mainstream media adoption rhetoric without going crazy. I feel like I have read way too many articles about successful adoptions, failed adoptions, birthmother stories, whatever. Right now I need to sort through MY thoughts and fears.
Here's the thing: we are waiting on our Ukulele. We have not gone through an adoption agency (although that was the original plan). A friend of ours knows a birthmother who wants to give her baby up for adoption. This friend contacted us, and of course we said yes. We're calling the birthmother "Juno" for obvious reasons. Juno is due at the end of January, and she is having a girl. I cannot imagine what is going through Juno's mind as she experiences pregnancy and tries to maneuver her way through high school. Yes, Juno is a teenager. My husband (whom I will call GatorMan) and I have a number of reasons to be afraid that Juno will change her mind, yet we cannot help be feel euphoric at the thought of having our Ukulele.
The adoption with Juno will be closed/private. We do not know her real name, she does not know ours. That's the way she wants it, that's the way we want it. Although I have read so many great stories about open adoption.... a part of me is sort of sad that this one will not be handled in that manner.
Anyway, Juno is 23 weeks along. I've found a plethora of pregnancy-tracking sites for birthmothers, but alas, none that I have found for adoptive mothers. So I visit one of the birthmother sites and watch Ukulele's progress.
Not sure if anyone out there is going to find this, or be interested in what I have to say, but I am certainly hoping it calms my crazy head during our wait for Ukulele.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
