Thursday, November 4, 2010


I wanted to get your attention and set the tone for this blog, right off the bat.  I'm going to be using words like "cervix" and "lady bits" and "hoo ha" and "vajayjay".  If this makes you blush, cringe or turn your nose up in self-righteous maturity, then you're probably not anyone I know.  Well, maybe one of several people I know.  Either way, stay and read for a might just laugh.

So, to make a long story short, my husband and I have done a year of shots and IUI (intrauterine insemination), adopted two, gorgeous, amazing boys and now, almost 10 years after our first attempts at getting knocked up, we're starting the IVF process (in vitro fertilization).

I've had a handful of very early miscarriages, have had a ton of fake outs (my reproductive system is such a prankster!) and have even developed two, pin-dot sized blisters, one on each eye from all the tears I've shed through all of this.  (The eye doctor actually asked me if I was a farmer.  He said that he only saw them in farmers when the weather turned dry.  Um, ok.  He also said it could be from constant eye irritation like rubbing or crying, but that I looked like a happy person, so I must be a farmer.  Riiiiight.)

Fast forward to now.  The price of IVF/ICSI (in vitro fertilization & intracytoplasmic sperm injection) has fallen well below the price of the average adoption, we're extremely fortunate to be able to have the cash in reserves (well, had the cash in was wired to these lovely people a few weeks ago) and there is a massive box of needles, alcohol swabs, and tiny vials of drugs that, Fertility Gods permitting, are going to add up to a baby (or four, according to my best friend.)

So, I start injecting myself (yes, I am going to attempt to shoot myself up) on November 10th.  As in, next week.  As in, holy-crap-this-is-coming-up-sooner-than-I-thought.  Not that I'm nervous or anything.  The Lupron injections are done with insulin needles (the words "ultra-comfort" are actually on each, individual wrapper.  I'm calling "bullshit" on this claim.) but the other drugs (progesterone IN FREAKING OIL and hCG) are done with 10 inch needles and are launched at my rump by my husband.

Our doctor goes in and digs out some eggs on December 7th (or somewhere around there) and three days later, I'm going to be what the IVF message board world calls, "PUPO" or, "pregnant until proven otherwise".

And not to put any pressure on things, but I am supposed to go in for a pregnancy test (bloodwork) on the 24th of December.  My dear husband said that it'd be kind of like the immaculate conception, because none of the "baby making" is actually happening in me.  I told him that if we get a big, ol' positive pregnancy test, I'd convert to Catholicism.

Although, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let me in.  The last time I drove by a church, my flesh started to sizzle.

True story.

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