Shootin’ up a storm

So after a seemingly never-ending round of BCP’s, September 18th finally rolled around. And it was over with in a heartbeat.

I went in. Spoke to the nurse. She stabbed me in the stomach and charged me R900 for more of the same! I was feeling a bit weird after the first Lucrin shot, and got this disgustingly bitter taste in my mouth, but other than that, nothing major. Today I actually felt fantastic… until about six o’clock. That’s when the headache set in, and it is here to stay.

So far I am feeling quite good, not exactly optimistic, but not entirely pessimistic, either. I am trying to keep positive, but very scared to let hope in the door. Yes, I have started daydreaming again… Picturing myself in the mirror, rubbing my swollen tummy… laying under the trees on a picnic blanky with “The Embryo That Could”. (Okay, that was a bit weird! But you get my meaning…) At the same time I realise how very dangerous this type of thinking can be. Damnit.

Also, I have been keeping up with my mandatory 50 gajillion litres of water per day, and I must tell you that my skin is definitely thanking me. My bladder is using abusive four lettered hate words. It is a good kick start on the whole “living more healthily” angle that I have ranted about in the recent past. Plus the nurse says it gives my ovaries a fighting chance. And I’m all for that!

I still have to post the obligatory show of needles, but I am too tired and headachey to lay them all out, so you may just get a photo of the bucket which they came in 🙂 Oh, all right, I’ll lay them out all fancy! Don’t beg! It’s actually not that impressive because I don’t have the Menopur shots yet, so this will be like a preview, really. (Watch this space)

From the not-so-secret Garden, that’s all I have to report right now. You know what they say: “No news is good news.”


Fat Lady Warming Up Her Vocals

Honestly… I feel a little PMS coming on.

My breasts are feeling a little tender, and my lower back is starting to ache: classic symptoms of AF for me. *sigh* I am trying to remain neutral until I know for sure, but we all know how easy that is!

I am deeply sorry for Debbie, who got a BFN yesterday. There is nothing that can be said, that can take away the feeling of emptiness and disappointment when that happens. There has been so much good news in the blogs lately, and we all hope to be a part of that, too. Sadly though, whilst some of us will move on to happier times, some will inevitably have to stay behind and continue to struggle against the odds.

When I started reading other people’s blogs, and sharing in their disappointment, I would often try to give an upbeat, positive message to those people, thinking that it would make them feel better. (Yes, I am a Stage 6 NTI – Baby Dust -kinda gal). Silly me, there is nothing positive about a Big Fat Negative. All that people really want is support: a thoughtful comment, mail or sms; a small bunch of flowers or any other kind gesture; or just a hug. Plain and simple: acknowledgement of their loss.
I know what you’re thinking, “How can they grieve a loss when they never had anything to begin with?” Believe me, when you are staring down the barrel of a BFN, it is with an overwhelming sense of having lost something. I cried like my heart would break with my last failed IUI. (And I don’t cry easily.) It’s just that you pour your heart and soul into the process, you allow yourself to “breathe out” and feel a little hopeful again. You imagine how you will tell people, you imagine their delighted reactions. You dream about holding your baby close to your heart and feeling that love welling up inside that everyone tells you about. It’s a massive investment of yourself, and when it crashes, the repercussions are great.

At the aforementioned 21st birthday party, I failed to mention that there was a 6 month old baby there. He was the most adorable little thing, cute as a button, really. BUT: I could not for the life of me spend more than 5 minutes around him without a feeling of absolute despair setting in. I avoided being near him or his mother (21). I watched from across the room as people handed him around, playing with him and making him smile. I felt such a heavy weight bearing down on me. Without realising it, I have avoided babies and all things baby related for so long, that I am not even sure what it is that I want so badly anymore. All I know is that the ache won’t go away until I have it.

So I am still here, waiting patiently for my own result. You’ll be happy to know that I have not given up on this cycle. Yet.

Giant Country, The Land of Dreams

Tootled off to the labs this morning with my “goods” safely tucked into my bra for IUI Round 2. I had forgotten to phone and book the semen wash yesterday, so I was dreaming up all sorts of ways to convince them to do it for me. “I’ll just cry. A lot. Loudly.” They were quite understanding though, so there was no need for any Oscar performances. Went for some breks, then back to the lab to fetch my little test tube. Safely tucked it back into the bra, and off to the clinic.
(Quick note: there is a lot of sense in getting IUI clothes. You really need something comfy for after. Only problem is that I am becoming poor very quickly, so I may have to make do.) 😦

The receptionist smiled when I walked in, and we made small talk. I am quite the local down there these days.
“Hi Lizette, how are the kids?”.
“Fine thanks, got to leave now now to fetch them from school. I have paged Doctor, he should be up any minute now.”
“Fantastic, can I get a peek of the sperm results?”
“No problem. Cuppa tea?”
“Wonderful. Could I get copies of those results for DH to look at?”
“Absolutely, fetch them on your way out.”
“Thanks, you’re a gem!”
Just then, my BFG came loping in, (that’s how BFG’s walk, you know) dressed in blue theater “pyjamas”, with a sea green paper “gown” and a white mask hanging loosely around his neck, all smiles. As we chatted amicably, he reviewed my file. He always takes time to read the file thoroughly, then looks up, smiles, and says, “How are you feeling today?” No wonder he bagged a 29 year old.
The insemination went very smoothly. I must be getting used to my BFG , as I felt very calm and relaxed. Hitched up the legs, wriggled to get comfy and fluffed up the pillow. We made small talk whilst he was inserting the catheter, he was giving me a running commentary about what was going on “down there”, and that all uteri (is that the plural?) are different. Interesting observation.
Then I got the standard issue pat on the leg, another smile and, “Well done, that went very well. Just relax there and Lizette can bring you some tea, okay? Need a magazine or something? Alright, see you tomorrow then.”
He loped off, and with a swish of his sea green gown, he was gone.
I lay back with my iPod playing softly, sipping my herbal tea, feeling quite pleased with the way it had gone down. Staring at the sonogram pictures of a developing embryo on the wall , I could not help myself. I began to daydream all over again…


I am officially one week into my two week wait. And that’s all there is to it. Wait. Wait. And wait some more. Hurry up and wait.
So anyway, I’ve been getting twinges, which is supposedly quite common. Because I’m expecting something to happen, I feel every little creak and cramp. If I get the slightest little sensation down there, it’s implanting!!! It has to be!!!
So I am trying very hard to stay calm and level-headed about the whole thing. I do find myself daydreaming…..

Mands: “Hi mom. How are you?”
Mom: “Hello my love! I’m fine – any news?”
Mands: “Actually, mom, are you sitting down?”
Mands: “Mom? You there? I have some really good news…. mom???”
(Mom does not respond, having fallen off her chair in dead faint!)


Mands: “Hi sweets. Guess what?”
DH (Dear Husband): “Hello. What?”
Mands “Just got back my blood test results.”
DH: “And….?”
Mands: “Bad news I’m afraid.”
DH: “So it was negative?”
Mands: “Actually, there is no bad news. It was a BIG FAT POSITIVE!!!!”
DH: “WooooHoooooo!” Well done sweets, now excuse me while I go have a celebratory beer with the guys”
Mands: “Kay, Love you. Bye.”
DH: “Love you back! Bye!”

Other daydreams include taking out the compactum that BF (best friend) gave me, and filling it up with baby-smelling goodies. Sneaking off to Woolies and buying some of those fluffy white baby-gro’s. I am getting ahead of myself aren’t I? DH and I are already arguing about who’s getting up for the night feeds! It feels more real than ever, and yet, I only have a 10-20% chance of success. My conclusion: I HATE the 2ww!