Green Light

I got the go ahead to start this IVF cycle. The protocol changed slightly which is freaking me out a bit. I got the green light from a very long message left by one of my RE's nurses. She's new and I don't completely trust her. She also has a very think russian accent and I'm not sure if I heard her correctly. I'm usually really good with accents (unlike my mom,who I love very much, but who can't understand anyone who doesn't say "cah" and "pahk." She thinks the news anchors all have wicked accents.) Right now I think I'm too anxious to focus on my nurse's accent. I keep playing the message over and over to no avail. I have the RE's number set for speed dial on my cell phone and I'll be calling them tomorrow morning.

Getting the call that the cycle is a go has made me giddy. It's kind of like right before a first date-all excitement and nervous anticipation at the same time. It's just pure possibility. Of course, my last two first dates ended badly. I so hope this one works for us. Until my first monitoring appointment on December 10, I'm going to stay upbeat. Why not me, right?

Overindulging

I've been drinking a lot lately. I don't think I have an alcohol problem, but I am sensitive to the possibility because my dad is a recovering alcoholic who's been sober for 20 years now. I used to drink rarely just a few years ago. The problem is that having a glass of wine, or several, is one of the few privileges of not being pregnant, along with eating soft cheeses, processed meats, and sushi. I feel compelled to throw myself fully into these privileges. If I can't get knocked up at least I can drink my red wine and eat my bleu cheese and salami. I know it's not the best attitude, but it's the one I'm clinging to at the moment: I'm not jealous of you pregnant lady. Who cares if you have a baby? I have a spicy tuna roll.

Ho, ho, ho. . .$#*@

I put up my Christmas tree yesterday. I plan on decorating early this year and I have every intention of making my house look like a freakin' Santa's Village. I'm talking a wreath in every room, enough lights to see from outer space, 2 Christmas trees, Santa and snowman knick-knacks on every available surface, fake mistletoe, and trains. Yes, trains. My ipod has been fully loaded with holiday tunes for at least a week. I might even buy one of those inflatable snowmen or a motion-activated Santa.



I've decided that if I surround myself with Christmas kitsch and I just keep telling myself what a fantastic season it is, even though it's our third one TTC without a BFP, maybe I'll start to believe it. It's kind of like when I try to eat healthy and tell myself how much I like salads, really I do. I just love leafy green vegetables. Yum. Although, that's probably not the best analogy because really. . .I hate salads.



And right now I hate Christmas. For me the number of holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries that have passed since we started TTC is a harder number to face than the number of months. I guess it's because when I envision having a family, it's those special events I think of, or fantasize about. My fondest memories of childhood, of family, are centered around those moments. I want to bake gingerbread cookies with my child. I want to help my child make crappy paper chains and gluey ornaments to hang on the tree. I want to see my child's face light up on Christmas morning. Everyone else gets to do those things. When will it be my turn? (she says in a whiny voice)



That's one of the hardest parts about Christmas for me. Everyone's fertility, or lack thereof, is right there in my face. It's unavoidable. It comes in the mail every day in the form of holiday cards with the obligatory photos of all the kids. Look, this couple got married the same month we did and here's their 18 month old wearing a reindeer hat. These friends got married last year and here's their "new little elf." Opening each card is like a little stab to the heart. I should just let them pile up, yet I can't not open them. I must have some compulsion to torture myself. I think it's somehow related to the compulsion I have to check out posts on the WTT board. Why, why do I do it?!



After looking at all the "baby crying with Santa" photos, I always debate whether DH and I should still send out our holiday cards with the photo of our two dogs in elf hats. I adore our dogs, but every year the furbaby photo seems just a little more pathetic. And the chance to send out a photo of our baby crying with Santa seems that much farther away.



I really would prefer to skip December and go right to January. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is blissfully fertility free. Unfortunately, I can't do that so instead just pass me the frickin' ladder. I've got a neon sleigh and 8 reindeer to put on the roof. Ho, ho, ho.

Step right up. . .

I've realized that I have a lucky touch when it comes to helping other women get pregnant. Every time I counsel someone on how long it takes a normal couple to get pregnant or how to to chart or how to use OPKs. . .BAM, she's pg next cycle. It's happened four times already on a professional message board site I frequent. One had to resort to clomid when she realized she wasn't ovulating and got pg on her second cycle on the evil drug. The other three were worried about it taking a while and sought advice. All three got pg the next cycle. Yessirree, I have the magic touch for all but myself. I wonder if there's money to be made here. I could advertise that all someone has to do is talk to me and their chances of a BFP will increase ten-fold. It's got to be worth something. . .

Miracles happen. . .

Why do people think that telling stories about someone they know will give others hope? I just read a post about some woman's SIL on an IF board I frequent. Maybe I'm just cynical and bitter, but hearing about someone doing a few IUIS and getting pg does squat for me. I'm on IVF#3 and my ovaries are uncooperative yet again. But I'm supposed to feel hopeful because someone else got knocked up on IUI #4? I'm happy for the girl, but that whole "miracles happen, don't give up" crap is rubbing me the wrong way tonight. I wish I could think of something sarcastic to write back. Until then I'll just wallow in my bitterness until my attitude improves.

As you may have guessed, IVF#3 isn't starting off well. My RE's office called today and said my estrogen level was too high. The nurse said I won't get any good follies if my estrogen is too high. Now my RE wants to put me on birth control pills for a few weeks to suppress me. Then I may be able to start stims. I have no idea how the estrogen and suppression tie together. I was too shocked when the nurse called to ask any questions. I'm going to call back tomorrow for my bloodwork numbers and a clearer explanation. I was really looking forward to sticking myself with a needle tonight too!