For the last week or so I've been meaning to post but the Lupron keeps getting in the way.
I'm back on the BC. It's called "Seasonique" - don't you love it? It sounds like a lovely pill. It's not but it pales in comparison to Lupron. The doctor started me on the BC on 7/20. OK, fine. same weepy, emotional, oversensitivity as before. I can handle that now. Started the Lupron on 8/22- while on vacation at the Outer Banks with the in-laws. How's that for a fun combination?
Let me just say that it was horrible. HORRIBLE. Warning to future Suzanne, do not attempt to mix Lupron with Anorexic Beach Week ever again! In addition to the side effects of the Lupron including nausea, lack of appetite (which isn't a bad thing during Anorexic Beach Week), exhaustion, breast pain, headaches, confusion, growing gills and webbed feet I also started bleeding.
So here's me at the beach with the entire in-law family bopping around and having fun the first day. I tell John, "Sweetie. I feel good. This is going to be the best week ever." By the end of day two I'm cramping something fierce and just want to go to bed. By day three I'm bleeding profusely and passing large blood clots all day. The cramping is so bad I can barely walk. I get a brief reprieve the next day. Still bleeding but not so bad. THEN on the 4Th day of vacation we start the Lupron injections. Things went downhill fast from there. Depression set in. I didn't want to do anything or go anywhere but to bed... or Dairy Queen.
For those not in the know, Lupron must be given with tiny insulin needles, my favorite kind of needle. Here's an interesting fact for future Suzanne. Lupron injections on the left side of the belly don't hurt at all. Lupron injections on the right side of the belly sting. Weird. So the shots are in the belly right around the belly button but not too close. It really, really hurts if you get too close. The injection site burns and itches after. Usually placing an alcohol swab over the site helps with the discomfort, which fades and is gone within the hour.
I can't do the injections myself. I've tried before. Occasionally we'll be in a rush in the morning and John will leave without giving me the injection. I can't make myself do it. It freaks me out. I usually drive into John's work to have him do the shot.
So the Lupron sucks. Now what's going to suck worse is the Lupron Estrace combo. But I'm holding on because in less than a month I get to start the progesterone and that makes everything better. Plus I might actually be pregnant which is the best thing in the whole world.
One fun thing about the Lupron is that I occasionally feel like I have a libido. I think it does something to FSH or FHS levels - forget the order of letters or what they stand for. But it also does something to testosterone levels. Go team. So while I'm intensely evil and short tempered, I also think about sex more. It could be worse.
We're praying for twins or triplets. Feeling somewhat confident about this time. Don't know why. We'll see what happens I guess. Only four more weeks until the transfer and only 7 more weeks until we find out if we're pregnant. Woo hoo.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The Other Child
Recently I confided to my mom that I sometimes struggle with questions about why God made us Will's parents. Will is our older child, adopted from Russia two years ago. This doubt isn't a symptom of the drugs and has nothing to do with the embryo adoption, rather it has to do with motherhood "at long last."
For years and years and years DH and I prayed, tested, ate organic, tested more, had surgery, took drugs (from a doctor), read, prayed, and over and over our desire for children was thwarted. When our adoption of Will finally worked out we breathed a sigh of relief. I assure you we didn't think things would go perfectly from there on out but we thought we'd get a pretty normal kid that we could be tender loving parents to.
I can't imagine how I must have looked to the people around these last two years. Most of the time I am frazzled, exhausted, and at the edge of my patience. Understand that I know I'm an adult and that I'm responsible for handling my feelings and emotions and temper etc. However, as I admitted to my mom, sometimes I wonder if God couldn't have found better, more appropriate parents for Will.
After I confided in her, she talked to someone and that someone said I should read about attachment disorder. Funny thing is that from day 1 I have been convinced that my son absolutely did not have an attachment disorder. Kids with attachment disorders are commonly (so I thought) cruel, torture animals and small children (for real), light fires, rage against parents - Hilter in his youth.
My child isn't like that. My child is a good boy. He has a conscience. He's kind toward small children and I've only seen him pull the dog's whiskers once. I did much worse things to our cat growing up so pulling whiskers one time doesn't not a sociopath make. However, a neighbor had given me some books about RAD and bonding for adoptive parents, which I wasn't in any hurry to read since our son didn't have RAD but I picked them up after the conversation w/ my mom.
I saw Will in the pages. And I saw myself. Parents of children with RAD are angry, inordinately angry - drained, exhausted, even hostile toward their children. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad about wanting to get away from him. There is a reason.
Over the last two years things have calmed dramatically. But he continues to do things that wear us down. I know, we're parents - big surprise - our kid is draining. Cry me a river. It's hard to explain what I mean but to live with him on a day to day basis saps the life from me.
"The Will Show" starts as soon as he sees me. His good mornings are spoken in a strange, off-putting voice. His hug is stiff and he rubs his face on me. Often he reaches too low or too high with his arms and so I have to redirect him to a more comfortable position for the hug. Then he just starts talking. He talks about what he wants for breakfast, the sun in the sky, what Mr. Cubby is doing, where apples come from. Often in the middle of normal conversations he'll ask a question that cannot be answered and doesn't make sense. For example, when does dirt turn into snow, is it hard to chew wood floors without breaking your teeth, why do frogs grow fur when it's cold inside but not outside. When I try to make sense of his question, always assuming a language barrier because he is ESL, he gets angry and exclaims, "That's NOT what I said. I meant why don't frogs have fur." Which is clearly NOT what he said or even intended to say the first time.
After a fifteen minute conversation I'm ready to shut down. I've been listening at maximum capacity, unable to tune out a single detail because often what he says is unclear or in garbled syntax. I'm constantly translating his English into standard English. Then trying to figure out if he meant what he said or meant to say a different word. Then trying to figure out an answer to the question, which 9 times out of 10 I discover he's not interested in knowing to begin with. Finish all that with his extreme volatility when I ask him for clarification.
In addition to the constant, and I do mean constant jabbering, he likes to make noise. So if he's not chatting about frog fur, he's making noises. The noises differ in length and intensity but they are ever present reminding me that he is ever present lest I forget. It is literally an assault on my hearing the entire time he's within earshot.
When I ask him to complete a task no matter how small, the second he's finished he pops into my face (smell the milk on his breath he's so close) and announces he has competed his task. He demands by word and action my immediate attention. Sometimes he physically pulls at me. Most of the time, if I don't give him my immediate attention he does something negative, against the rules of the house, to try to force me to pay attention to him.
All day he struggles for power and control. We ask, "Do you want milk or water." He answers, "Juice." We stick to our guns but most conversations take much more time than they should.
When I announce we're going to the store he peppers me with constant questions about the trip. Where are we going? Have I been there before? How long will we be there? Will my friends be there? What are we getting? What will it cost? Did you remember to bring money? Can I have candy? What if someone just gives me money, can I buy whatever I want? And so on. It continues through the store as I buy things. What is that? Who is it for? Is it mine? Do I have to share it? How much does it cost? Do you have enough money? What if someone steals it from us? Will it break if I do this? Can I open it now? If I open it now will the store make us not buy it? Can I carry it? It's too heavy; can I put it in the cart? Is it OK if Mr. Cubby is touching it? Will he break it?
He is indiscriminately affectionate with other children and adults. He hugs like crazy - everyone. He came home from camp last week reeking of perfume because he was hanging all over a counselor. He's gotten in trouble for kissing kids in class. He touches people too, not in a sexual way but in a creepy way. Plays with the hair of the kids in front of him in line. Touches or rubs shirts, belts, swimming suits. It's a little creepy especially when I imagine he could turn into an old man with these habits.
That said, I do love him but it's hard to FEEL love for him and the thing is, sometimes you really have to feel love in order to truly bond with a person. I'm not holy enough to bond with a repellent person. I can tolerate but I can't bond. The books I'm reading say all of this can be fixed. And like I said in the beginning, we've come a very long way. But tonight I felt like sharing the downs that most people don't see.
It seems like a lot of people judge me and my husband harshly because of our relationship with our son. We're very strict and structured. But we've found that it is best for him if we are. He's more calm when he knows what we expect, what to expect from us, from his life. Most people don't get that. Most people also don't get that we'd rather be tender-loving parents. But before we can do that, we have to have a son that trusts us.
NOTE: Added 10/3/07 - While there may well be some residual attachment problems and a lot of insecurity (can you blame him) further research has led us to decide that Will probably doesn't have an attachment disorder. It's more likely to be a sensory integration problem. The thing with all these things - RAD, ADHD, SID, Tourette's, Asburger's, Autism - have overlapping symptoms/ behaviors. We took Will in early on for evaluations and everyone said that he seems to be adjusting and attaching well but those exhausting, sometimes repellent behaviors that we see all day aren't getting better. So we continue to search for answers... because we love him and we want to help him. And we want to be better parents to him.
For years and years and years DH and I prayed, tested, ate organic, tested more, had surgery, took drugs (from a doctor), read, prayed, and over and over our desire for children was thwarted. When our adoption of Will finally worked out we breathed a sigh of relief. I assure you we didn't think things would go perfectly from there on out but we thought we'd get a pretty normal kid that we could be tender loving parents to.
I can't imagine how I must have looked to the people around these last two years. Most of the time I am frazzled, exhausted, and at the edge of my patience. Understand that I know I'm an adult and that I'm responsible for handling my feelings and emotions and temper etc. However, as I admitted to my mom, sometimes I wonder if God couldn't have found better, more appropriate parents for Will.
After I confided in her, she talked to someone and that someone said I should read about attachment disorder. Funny thing is that from day 1 I have been convinced that my son absolutely did not have an attachment disorder. Kids with attachment disorders are commonly (so I thought) cruel, torture animals and small children (for real), light fires, rage against parents - Hilter in his youth.
My child isn't like that. My child is a good boy. He has a conscience. He's kind toward small children and I've only seen him pull the dog's whiskers once. I did much worse things to our cat growing up so pulling whiskers one time doesn't not a sociopath make. However, a neighbor had given me some books about RAD and bonding for adoptive parents, which I wasn't in any hurry to read since our son didn't have RAD but I picked them up after the conversation w/ my mom.
I saw Will in the pages. And I saw myself. Parents of children with RAD are angry, inordinately angry - drained, exhausted, even hostile toward their children. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad about wanting to get away from him. There is a reason.
Over the last two years things have calmed dramatically. But he continues to do things that wear us down. I know, we're parents - big surprise - our kid is draining. Cry me a river. It's hard to explain what I mean but to live with him on a day to day basis saps the life from me.
"The Will Show" starts as soon as he sees me. His good mornings are spoken in a strange, off-putting voice. His hug is stiff and he rubs his face on me. Often he reaches too low or too high with his arms and so I have to redirect him to a more comfortable position for the hug. Then he just starts talking. He talks about what he wants for breakfast, the sun in the sky, what Mr. Cubby is doing, where apples come from. Often in the middle of normal conversations he'll ask a question that cannot be answered and doesn't make sense. For example, when does dirt turn into snow, is it hard to chew wood floors without breaking your teeth, why do frogs grow fur when it's cold inside but not outside. When I try to make sense of his question, always assuming a language barrier because he is ESL, he gets angry and exclaims, "That's NOT what I said. I meant why don't frogs have fur." Which is clearly NOT what he said or even intended to say the first time.
After a fifteen minute conversation I'm ready to shut down. I've been listening at maximum capacity, unable to tune out a single detail because often what he says is unclear or in garbled syntax. I'm constantly translating his English into standard English. Then trying to figure out if he meant what he said or meant to say a different word. Then trying to figure out an answer to the question, which 9 times out of 10 I discover he's not interested in knowing to begin with. Finish all that with his extreme volatility when I ask him for clarification.
In addition to the constant, and I do mean constant jabbering, he likes to make noise. So if he's not chatting about frog fur, he's making noises. The noises differ in length and intensity but they are ever present reminding me that he is ever present lest I forget. It is literally an assault on my hearing the entire time he's within earshot.
When I ask him to complete a task no matter how small, the second he's finished he pops into my face (smell the milk on his breath he's so close) and announces he has competed his task. He demands by word and action my immediate attention. Sometimes he physically pulls at me. Most of the time, if I don't give him my immediate attention he does something negative, against the rules of the house, to try to force me to pay attention to him.
All day he struggles for power and control. We ask, "Do you want milk or water." He answers, "Juice." We stick to our guns but most conversations take much more time than they should.
When I announce we're going to the store he peppers me with constant questions about the trip. Where are we going? Have I been there before? How long will we be there? Will my friends be there? What are we getting? What will it cost? Did you remember to bring money? Can I have candy? What if someone just gives me money, can I buy whatever I want? And so on. It continues through the store as I buy things. What is that? Who is it for? Is it mine? Do I have to share it? How much does it cost? Do you have enough money? What if someone steals it from us? Will it break if I do this? Can I open it now? If I open it now will the store make us not buy it? Can I carry it? It's too heavy; can I put it in the cart? Is it OK if Mr. Cubby is touching it? Will he break it?
He is indiscriminately affectionate with other children and adults. He hugs like crazy - everyone. He came home from camp last week reeking of perfume because he was hanging all over a counselor. He's gotten in trouble for kissing kids in class. He touches people too, not in a sexual way but in a creepy way. Plays with the hair of the kids in front of him in line. Touches or rubs shirts, belts, swimming suits. It's a little creepy especially when I imagine he could turn into an old man with these habits.
That said, I do love him but it's hard to FEEL love for him and the thing is, sometimes you really have to feel love in order to truly bond with a person. I'm not holy enough to bond with a repellent person. I can tolerate but I can't bond. The books I'm reading say all of this can be fixed. And like I said in the beginning, we've come a very long way. But tonight I felt like sharing the downs that most people don't see.
It seems like a lot of people judge me and my husband harshly because of our relationship with our son. We're very strict and structured. But we've found that it is best for him if we are. He's more calm when he knows what we expect, what to expect from us, from his life. Most people don't get that. Most people also don't get that we'd rather be tender-loving parents. But before we can do that, we have to have a son that trusts us.
NOTE: Added 10/3/07 - While there may well be some residual attachment problems and a lot of insecurity (can you blame him) further research has led us to decide that Will probably doesn't have an attachment disorder. It's more likely to be a sensory integration problem. The thing with all these things - RAD, ADHD, SID, Tourette's, Asburger's, Autism - have overlapping symptoms/ behaviors. We took Will in early on for evaluations and everyone said that he seems to be adjusting and attaching well but those exhausting, sometimes repellent behaviors that we see all day aren't getting better. So we continue to search for answers... because we love him and we want to help him. And we want to be better parents to him.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Mock Embryo Transfer
Today, I'd like to share what happened during my mock embryo transfer and how it compares with my previous transfers.
Now, the way I understand the mechanics of an FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer) is that a catheter is "threaded" past the cervix, high into the uterus. Then the embryos are "loaded" into the catheter and pushed through into the uterus. I don't know how they get the embryos through the catheter. I do know, last time, one of our embryos got stuck and so the process had to be repeated to get him in. Anyway, it's a simple enough procedure on paper.
In my experience, however, the mock embryo transfer (and the real embryo transfer), had been painful and difficult. The problem used to be that my uterus was so tilted and cervix so tightly closed that the doctor needed a very thin, flexible catheter. It took forever to get it where it needed to be. And it hurt.
The procedure is done laying flat with feet in stirrups, just like those lovely GYN appointments. It must be done with a full bladder. Fun. The nurse stands by with the sonogram thingy, PRESSING DOWN on my full bladder so that the doctor can see the catheter going into the uterus. I know, you can't believe how much fun this is. In the past, they've also had to "manipulate" my uterus by pushing from the outside and pulling from the inside... at least, I think that's what happened. It was traumatic; I may have blacked out. (Just kidding... sort of.)
This time, thanks to Mr. Cubby, the catheter threaded easily and the whole procedure was over and done with in a few minutes. And it was painless. Woo hoo!
They also checked the uterine lining. Mine was at 12. Twelve what I'm not sure. Probably 12 cm but I'm going to tell people it's 12 inches so then they can think the little pooch in my tummy is caused by my uterine lining and not the 1/2 pan of brownies I ate last night.
When that's over, you get to run to the bathroom and come back for round two. This is the part that I forgot about because the first part was such an ordeal. It is the most fun part of all. I like to call it the Water Torture Test. So OK, you get back in the saddle, feet in stirrups. Then the doctor preps and the nurse fills a huge syringe with sterile water. Then the doctor says, "You may feel a little cramping."
Here's a clue if you ever have to have this done, "a little cramping" is code. It means that it HURTS. When I had this done the previous three times, I situated my arms over my head, crossed them and gripped my upper arms, squeezing with all my might while I hyperventilated until the cramping subsided. Not your regular cramps. With each injection of water, the cramping would happen all over again. They go through two or three rounds of this. While it hurts like the dickens, it has to be done because they're looking for fibroids and cysts that may interfere with the embryos' implantation.
I have to say, this time around, having experienced the mother of all cramping - contractions - and an unmedicated birth (gold star for me), the cramping was pretty easy to endure. And thankfully I am fibroid and cyst free.
During one of my previous three tests, they found a cyst or two. The good news is that this is not a deal breaker. I asked my RE here at home to monitor the cyst with ultrasounds and within a month or so it had gone away. One of the medical professionals mentioned that it's not uncommon for women to develop cysts especially with the high doses of estrogen in the Estrace. Now you know.
After the mock transfer and the water torture test I got dressed. Then the nurse came in and gave me more birth control pills. Argh. Instructions that I was to stop the Estrace immediately and begin on the BC again. Argh. And she also gave me the injection instruction guides. Don't underestimate the importance of the injection instruction guides or you may end up with a 16 gauge needle in your rear.
If you don't know much about needles, 16 gauge is what "home piercers" use for body piercing. It makes a big hole.
Next, the business manager came in and we talked numbers for a few minutes.
Then the embryologist came in and we talked embryos for a few minutes.
Then the doctor came back and said everything looks great and that he'll see me in September.
Hooray!
Now, the way I understand the mechanics of an FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer) is that a catheter is "threaded" past the cervix, high into the uterus. Then the embryos are "loaded" into the catheter and pushed through into the uterus. I don't know how they get the embryos through the catheter. I do know, last time, one of our embryos got stuck and so the process had to be repeated to get him in. Anyway, it's a simple enough procedure on paper.
In my experience, however, the mock embryo transfer (and the real embryo transfer), had been painful and difficult. The problem used to be that my uterus was so tilted and cervix so tightly closed that the doctor needed a very thin, flexible catheter. It took forever to get it where it needed to be. And it hurt.
The procedure is done laying flat with feet in stirrups, just like those lovely GYN appointments. It must be done with a full bladder. Fun. The nurse stands by with the sonogram thingy, PRESSING DOWN on my full bladder so that the doctor can see the catheter going into the uterus. I know, you can't believe how much fun this is. In the past, they've also had to "manipulate" my uterus by pushing from the outside and pulling from the inside... at least, I think that's what happened. It was traumatic; I may have blacked out. (Just kidding... sort of.)
This time, thanks to Mr. Cubby, the catheter threaded easily and the whole procedure was over and done with in a few minutes. And it was painless. Woo hoo!
They also checked the uterine lining. Mine was at 12. Twelve what I'm not sure. Probably 12 cm but I'm going to tell people it's 12 inches so then they can think the little pooch in my tummy is caused by my uterine lining and not the 1/2 pan of brownies I ate last night.
When that's over, you get to run to the bathroom and come back for round two. This is the part that I forgot about because the first part was such an ordeal. It is the most fun part of all. I like to call it the Water Torture Test. So OK, you get back in the saddle, feet in stirrups. Then the doctor preps and the nurse fills a huge syringe with sterile water. Then the doctor says, "You may feel a little cramping."
Here's a clue if you ever have to have this done, "a little cramping" is code. It means that it HURTS. When I had this done the previous three times, I situated my arms over my head, crossed them and gripped my upper arms, squeezing with all my might while I hyperventilated until the cramping subsided. Not your regular cramps. With each injection of water, the cramping would happen all over again. They go through two or three rounds of this. While it hurts like the dickens, it has to be done because they're looking for fibroids and cysts that may interfere with the embryos' implantation.
I have to say, this time around, having experienced the mother of all cramping - contractions - and an unmedicated birth (gold star for me), the cramping was pretty easy to endure. And thankfully I am fibroid and cyst free.
During one of my previous three tests, they found a cyst or two. The good news is that this is not a deal breaker. I asked my RE here at home to monitor the cyst with ultrasounds and within a month or so it had gone away. One of the medical professionals mentioned that it's not uncommon for women to develop cysts especially with the high doses of estrogen in the Estrace. Now you know.
After the mock transfer and the water torture test I got dressed. Then the nurse came in and gave me more birth control pills. Argh. Instructions that I was to stop the Estrace immediately and begin on the BC again. Argh. And she also gave me the injection instruction guides. Don't underestimate the importance of the injection instruction guides or you may end up with a 16 gauge needle in your rear.
If you don't know much about needles, 16 gauge is what "home piercers" use for body piercing. It makes a big hole.
Next, the business manager came in and we talked numbers for a few minutes.
Then the embryologist came in and we talked embryos for a few minutes.
Then the doctor came back and said everything looks great and that he'll see me in September.
Hooray!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Adventures in Tennessee
So, a few days ago I alluded to an adventure we had involving a missed exit, various pungent bodily fluids and no hotel rooms available. This is what can happen when deciding to drive to the NEDC and continue on for a family vacation and why it probably will not happen again.
On our way back up the interstate from Chattanooga to Nashville, about an hour from our hotel (or so we thought) Mr. Cubby struggled with a very busy diaper. This set off a screaming fit that rendered him inconsolable unless taken out of his car seat and held, which is against the law to do if you're in a minivan (or car) unless you're in Mexico, which I've been told has no laws requiring child restraint - in case you were wondering. We stopped and changed him, hoping this would relieve his discomfort but it was to no avail. The screaming continued.
So Mr. Cubby has this thing that used to happen before he started taking Previcid. At night, when I'd put him down for bed, if he wasn't completely asleep, he'd wake up and scream so hard that he would vomit. We hadn't given him the Previcid for that day and about ten minutes into the post-diaper change crying jag, he vomited all over himself and his car seat.
We did what we could to contain the spill with baby wipes and arrived at the Embassy Suites, Nashville Airport with our nearly naked stenchified baby only to be turned away. They had just sold their last room (to be fair, we didn't have a reservation). John asked them to call around to several other nearby properties, all were full. He finally settled on a Ramada Suites a few miles away. When Will and I walked into our room there the first thing Will said was, "Hey guys, this is just like Russia." Needless to say, we got a refund and left the hotel.
So, after leaving Knoxville at 5pm, we arrived at our hotel (The Drury Inn) in Nashville at 9:30 (10:30 Knoxville time).
On our way back up the interstate from Chattanooga to Nashville, about an hour from our hotel (or so we thought) Mr. Cubby struggled with a very busy diaper. This set off a screaming fit that rendered him inconsolable unless taken out of his car seat and held, which is against the law to do if you're in a minivan (or car) unless you're in Mexico, which I've been told has no laws requiring child restraint - in case you were wondering. We stopped and changed him, hoping this would relieve his discomfort but it was to no avail. The screaming continued.
So Mr. Cubby has this thing that used to happen before he started taking Previcid. At night, when I'd put him down for bed, if he wasn't completely asleep, he'd wake up and scream so hard that he would vomit. We hadn't given him the Previcid for that day and about ten minutes into the post-diaper change crying jag, he vomited all over himself and his car seat.
We did what we could to contain the spill with baby wipes and arrived at the Embassy Suites, Nashville Airport with our nearly naked stenchified baby only to be turned away. They had just sold their last room (to be fair, we didn't have a reservation). John asked them to call around to several other nearby properties, all were full. He finally settled on a Ramada Suites a few miles away. When Will and I walked into our room there the first thing Will said was, "Hey guys, this is just like Russia." Needless to say, we got a refund and left the hotel.
So, after leaving Knoxville at 5pm, we arrived at our hotel (The Drury Inn) in Nashville at 9:30 (10:30 Knoxville time).
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Mr. Cubby and The Doctor
Sitting in the car (new minivan) next to Mr. Squawkapotomus and the ever bored Will has given me a new appreciation for my parents. I wonder how they did cross-country trips with four kids from the Midwest to Utah or Arizona.
We’re finally kicking into high gear with our embryo adoption and I have some exciting news to report. We drove to Knoxville and arrived today, after a grueling 4.5 hours last night (stopping just past Roanoke) and another 3.5 today to the Baptist Hospital for Women.
I haven’t been in to see Dr. Keenan and his amazing staff since our successful embryo transfer of Mr. Squawkapotomus (aka Mr. Cubby) nearly 2 years ago. Wow, time sure flies. So we went in with several unknowns in play and several misconceptions. But before I get into that, some background first.
Before the embryo transfer, in order to make sure all things are warm and womb-like, Dr. Keenan does a mock transfer. What that means is that he dopes me up on estrogen (faithfully taking it 3x/ day) then brings me in to make sure that a) the catheter (aka embryo subway) will thread into my uterus properly and b) my uterine lining is such that an embryo could snuggle down and make himself at home for nine months without having to share the space with polyps or fibroids. Fun, right?
*At this point blog writing was interrupted due to a wrong turn that landed us in Chattenooga, TN. Wrong turn resulted in a “comedy” of errors in involving screaming, pooping, vomiting, and no suites upon arrival at the hotel.
We’re finally kicking into high gear with our embryo adoption and I have some exciting news to report. We drove to Knoxville and arrived today, after a grueling 4.5 hours last night (stopping just past Roanoke) and another 3.5 today to the Baptist Hospital for Women.
I haven’t been in to see Dr. Keenan and his amazing staff since our successful embryo transfer of Mr. Squawkapotomus (aka Mr. Cubby) nearly 2 years ago. Wow, time sure flies. So we went in with several unknowns in play and several misconceptions. But before I get into that, some background first.
Before the embryo transfer, in order to make sure all things are warm and womb-like, Dr. Keenan does a mock transfer. What that means is that he dopes me up on estrogen (faithfully taking it 3x/ day) then brings me in to make sure that a) the catheter (aka embryo subway) will thread into my uterus properly and b) my uterine lining is such that an embryo could snuggle down and make himself at home for nine months without having to share the space with polyps or fibroids. Fun, right?
*At this point blog writing was interrupted due to a wrong turn that landed us in Chattenooga, TN. Wrong turn resulted in a “comedy” of errors in involving screaming, pooping, vomiting, and no suites upon arrival at the hotel.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Can't Leave Well Enough Alone
So the thing is I can't stop worring about my phone call with the Spit Test Nurse. I'm worried that I do have something wrong with me that might cause a problem with our next embryo adoption. Knowing those antibodies are there is bothering me. So I'm going to do a little more study and a little more talking to doctors to see if I can find some peace of mind.
In the meantime, we're scheduled to meet with Embryo Doctor soon. We're finishing up our embryo adoption homestudy. I had blood drawn yesterday to test for HIV, Hep B & C, Syphilis. I need to have a TB test done in the next day or so at Urgent Care. Aaaaannnnd, what else???? Oh, put in all my orders for the drugs I'll need soon. The hardest to get is the progesterone in olive oil.
Normally progesterone comes in sesame oil. Sesame oil provides an easy to inject suspension for the progesterone. Olive oil is slightly thicker and a little harder to get through the needle into my rear. The only problem is that the sesame gives me welts the size of New Jersey and makes it painful for me to sit - allergic reaction to the sesame. I'm fine for the first week or so but then I start getting knots at the injection site and then bruises and then huge welts. I suffered through the first transfer thinking this was normal. Thank goodness it's not.
So that's my current list of things to do. It doesn't look too bad. But hanging over my head is the whole question about treating or not treating my non-diseased but being attacked by my own body thyroid. I just want to have as healthy a pregnancy as possible.
I'm so excited to be pregnant in September.
In the meantime, we're scheduled to meet with Embryo Doctor soon. We're finishing up our embryo adoption homestudy. I had blood drawn yesterday to test for HIV, Hep B & C, Syphilis. I need to have a TB test done in the next day or so at Urgent Care. Aaaaannnnd, what else???? Oh, put in all my orders for the drugs I'll need soon. The hardest to get is the progesterone in olive oil.
Normally progesterone comes in sesame oil. Sesame oil provides an easy to inject suspension for the progesterone. Olive oil is slightly thicker and a little harder to get through the needle into my rear. The only problem is that the sesame gives me welts the size of New Jersey and makes it painful for me to sit - allergic reaction to the sesame. I'm fine for the first week or so but then I start getting knots at the injection site and then bruises and then huge welts. I suffered through the first transfer thinking this was normal. Thank goodness it's not.
So that's my current list of things to do. It doesn't look too bad. But hanging over my head is the whole question about treating or not treating my non-diseased but being attacked by my own body thyroid. I just want to have as healthy a pregnancy as possible.
I'm so excited to be pregnant in September.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Apparently it's all in my head
I had a tough day yesterday. I've had a hard day for the last two weeks now that I think about it. The Estrace (as of day 9 of this cycle I'm taking it 3 times a day) magnifies my every anxiety, problem, concern.
So the problem this time is two fold. First, I got a call from the amazing thyroid spit test and was told that ..... I'm normal. Now for most people, this would be great news. I, on the other hand, cried. Part of that was the Estrace. Part of it was that the doctor PROMISED me that I had thyroid issues and I was really hoping that I had finally found a simple answer to the crummy way I feel.
So my levels are normal but, here is the part that makes me search the Internet like crazy, I have thyroid antibodies. Now I hear that and I think, that can't be good. Of course, online there are pages and pages devoted to tales of thyroid antibodies being responsible for miscarriages, infertility, exhaustion, armed robbery and, of course, nuclear war. Apparently it's not enough to worry the medical profession. So now I'm worried that the embryo transfer might fail because I have thyroid antibodies.
I have two friends with real thyroid issues and I feel like a complete stooge because all along I thought it was only a matter of time before I got to join their ranks, get on some good medication, and start to feel better. Deja vu because I also remember feeling this exact same way after most of my other doctor visits, especially the ones where the reproductive endocrinologist reassured me that I probably had endomitriosis.
The second sad thing is that we're changing insurance companies as John changes jobs and our new one ... bites. Well, at least it does compared to our old one. The worst part is that I don't think my midwives are covered.
So to sum up. I'm 11 days into my second cycle. I'm done with the birth control and now into the Estrace part. The Estrace makes me crazy. My crazy makes me sad that my thyroid works. My thyroid meds, which I apparently don't need, would be covered by the new insurance but the Estrace and my midwives will not.
Also of note, for the past two weeks I've been spotting on and off. I seem to remember this happening last time. Mentioned it when I called the nurse and she seemed a little concerned so they'll check things out when I go in.
So tired. I get so wiped out. It's only midnight for crying out loud. I should be good for another two hours.
So the problem this time is two fold. First, I got a call from the amazing thyroid spit test and was told that ..... I'm normal. Now for most people, this would be great news. I, on the other hand, cried. Part of that was the Estrace. Part of it was that the doctor PROMISED me that I had thyroid issues and I was really hoping that I had finally found a simple answer to the crummy way I feel.
So my levels are normal but, here is the part that makes me search the Internet like crazy, I have thyroid antibodies. Now I hear that and I think, that can't be good. Of course, online there are pages and pages devoted to tales of thyroid antibodies being responsible for miscarriages, infertility, exhaustion, armed robbery and, of course, nuclear war. Apparently it's not enough to worry the medical profession. So now I'm worried that the embryo transfer might fail because I have thyroid antibodies.
I have two friends with real thyroid issues and I feel like a complete stooge because all along I thought it was only a matter of time before I got to join their ranks, get on some good medication, and start to feel better. Deja vu because I also remember feeling this exact same way after most of my other doctor visits, especially the ones where the reproductive endocrinologist reassured me that I probably had endomitriosis.
The second sad thing is that we're changing insurance companies as John changes jobs and our new one ... bites. Well, at least it does compared to our old one. The worst part is that I don't think my midwives are covered.
So to sum up. I'm 11 days into my second cycle. I'm done with the birth control and now into the Estrace part. The Estrace makes me crazy. My crazy makes me sad that my thyroid works. My thyroid meds, which I apparently don't need, would be covered by the new insurance but the Estrace and my midwives will not.
Also of note, for the past two weeks I've been spotting on and off. I seem to remember this happening last time. Mentioned it when I called the nurse and she seemed a little concerned so they'll check things out when I go in.
So tired. I get so wiped out. It's only midnight for crying out loud. I should be good for another two hours.
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