No cavities

Had my dentist appointment today, and when the dentist asked what medications I am currently on, I rattled them out and then paused when I felt like a big ole junkie. So I threw in that the reason I am on so many meds is because we have IVF scheduled for two weeks from now. And the hygienist (in her obviously pregnant state) put her hand on her belly and went, "Awwwww"  and the dentist scratched his (mostly bald) head and went "I-V what?"

And then I demanded the revocation of his medical degree. No just kidding. But I did say "Uh, in-vitro....fertilization" (and paused because I didn't know if it was exactly PC to talk about fertilization in a dentist office unless you are discussing your gardening technique) and then his face got really red and he mumbled something and went around the corner. And then a thousand questions came from the hygienist about what the drugs are for and what day I will be having my procedure and various other topics, which I really didn't  (and don't) mind answering. And as I was getting ready to leave with my freshly cleaned teeth, the (old) dentist man came back around and managed to give me a "good luck on getting the little one here" rallying cheer while clapping me on the back.

And I struggled to hold back my enthusiasm. And laughter. But I did manage to give him the thumbs up sign with a small smile.

Awkward. Very awkward.

In other news, tomorrow night I will be packing my bags up to prepare for my early departure on Thursday where I must make the-worst-four-hour-drive-ever to Boise to attend my afternoon (delight) doctor's appointment and start my additional (stimming) shots, yippee.

How did we get here?

When I say it in my head it makes sense that we would be to the point of trying IVF. After all, who wouldn't move to that option after two years of infertility? But when I really think about it, I guess I have some lingering hope that we could still become parents on our own without such drastic medical intervention. Wow. A die-hard, right? But it really is a conflict in my head, part of me feeling that we are waaaayyyyy past due for our family, and part of me feeling that IVF seems like such an extreme and maybe if we try one more month, it might happen for us.

Ok. Maybe not. Medically we are facing two little bitty problems. Numero uno, no ovulation. Numero dos, no functioning tubes. Tiny, right? But both are things that IVF is practically designed to overcome. I have eggs, he has sperm, we just need someone to take them out and put them where they belong. No biggie....Ok wait, maybe there is also Numero tres, possibility of miscarriage/tubal. Which IVF does pretty much nothing for. But still, no biggie, right? (Right? Please please please let that be right...)

One more week and I will head up to Boise to stay with my gracious sister-hostess and get the baseline ultrasound. Two more weeks and I will have a follicle scan to see how those little eggies are growing. Three weeks and those eggs will be out of me and in some laboratory starting to form into multiple cells, and getting ready to go back into me. Four weeks and I will be going CRAZY waiting for the news. Five weeks and I will know if this was all a successful endeavor and we have a baby on the way or if we get to make another plan for making our family. (IVF numero dos? Adoption? Foster care? Who knows!) (Please please please let it work so I don't have to face making a decision between those options!!!)

Shots, day one

I used to hate needles. Like, pass out at the very sight of them, hate them. Then in an act of what can only be defined as pure desperation, I started donating plasma. Remember that? The two inches of surgical steel being thrust into my arm twice a week kinda killed the fear of needles for me.

That being said, I can't tell you that I was not nervous at all about starting self injections of Lupron today. Yesterday afternoon I started to get a bit of the nerves while watching an instructional video. It only lasted until I got home and realized that the very medication I needed to start injecting was missing from my many packages. Then the nerves went entirely away as I entered full on panic mode. As in screaming "What am I going to do if I can't start these medications tomorrow and they don't let me do IVF this month?!?!?" while running around my house with my arms flailing in the air. Ah yes.....I am as always, the very picture of sanity and strength.

Meanwhile, my poor Scotland was on the phone with everyone he could think of to determine where my package was, why it had not arrived and when to expect it. When bedtime came and none of those answers had been provided to us, I went to sleep thinking that there was every possibility that we would be tossed unceremoniously from our scheduled IVF month and coldly told to never return.

It was a restless night for both of us...mostly because I kept waking him up with my dramatics. But darling Scotland is not one to complain for the most part, so he put up with my sighs of consternation and the occasional escaping sob of greif without commenting on them. Bless his heart...

Anyhow, the next morning he called me at work to let me know that fed-ex (who really should be named fed-up for how many times they have irritated me) had located my package and that it would be delivered to our box that morning by ten. A wave of relief washed over me, and I gushed to Scotland how wonderful he was for dealing with all of that for me. And when the call came in that the package was there waiting for me, I rushed off with a mumbled "gotta run an errand" to my boss to go pick it up.

I grabbed it from the box and opened it right there in the parkinglot to make sure it was what I needed. I considered (for maybe half a second) popping one of those hypodermic needles open right then and there to inject, but figured that would be a bit much. So I took them home and gave myself the shot in the belly with that tiny nice little needle. No problemo...

So day one, starting the daily IVF shots was not as bad as I thought it would be. The actual obtaining the medications was way worse, which makes me wonder why they don't warn you about that sort of thing at the doctors office. I had to sign my life away for all the other side effects and warning....why not this one too?

My meds. Minus the tiny bottle that caused all that consternation...

Obtaining medication through flaky mail order pharmacy may cause panic, light headedness, bouts of screaming and general hysteria if not recieved in time. Be sure to order early to avoid such symptoms.

And take with food. Cause that typically makes things better.

Numero Uno

I hate the first post of a blog. It is almost always incessant prattle that no one really wants or needs to read. And as a writer, it is always the very hardest to create. Just like the first line of a book. It has to really say something in order to get the attention of the reader.

Did you ever see that movie Alex and Emma? It was somewhat forgettable, but there was one part that really stuck with me, where Alex is trying to write the first sentence of his book and he is completely blocked. He quotes the first line of Moby Dick, "Call me Ishmael" and explains that with such giants who have gone before ("It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" A Tale of Two Cities) he couldn't possibly manage to write a good first sentence with that sort of pressure.

That is what it is like to write the first post of a blog for me. I agonize over everything from the topic to the tone, all to put something down on the page that most visitors to the blog will never even read. Do you want the first post to explain who you are? The backstory of what has been going on up until this point? The reason you choose this very public forum for your expressions? Why you left blogging over a year ago and are just now returning? Why you are starting a new blog rather than just adding to the old one? The questions could go on and on...

......Well you see I wanted to......What's been going on is.........um.......I blog for a lot of reasons including..........oh..........well.....ok then.

Yah. I got nutthin.