I actually felt kind of nauseous when I was prepping for injections #1 and 2 – in a seriously? I’m here again? kind of way.
After IVF #1 I swore I didn’t have it in me to do it again.
Then, the desire to grow the family was greater than my dread.
So we gave it another go – insisting “this is it” – the end.
Then, well, I couldn’t just leave it where we ended up.
So, here we are. Again.
The reality of it seemed to hit home the hardest when I was cooking up a batch of Luveris in the kitchen, preparing to give myself the first jab. Then the Gonal-F. Then the cleaning up of the crack house debris.
I wonder if people who make babies with sex (novel thought) instill the same sense of importance to the first thrust? I doubt it. They’re probably thinking about whether they look fat. Or if the other person is as into it. Or something. They probably think it’s fun – making a baby. They probably don’t feel nauseous. Unless they had one too many glasses of Chardonnay.
They’re probably not thinking about anything at all.
But that would mean they’re also not thinking about how this exact moment could be the start of a chain of events that changes everything.
Which is what I needed to do to get through. Because a part of me keeps thinking “we weren’t supposed to be here. We were happy. It was supposed to be ok.”
Sure, it wasn’t ok. But I need to remember that doesn’t mean it won’t be this time.
I need to think about whether these bruises make me look fat. Or if I look hot holding a syringe. I need to think about nothing at all.
I need to think that this could be the start of something that changes everything.
In a good way.
According to my pregnancy books, Bubble’s heart is supposed to start beating today. We have no way of knowing until next Thursday if this particular miracle actually happened – but I am choosing to believe it did.
That Little Bubble’s heart has started beating in double time with mine. We’re six weeks in now and it seems just as precarious today as the first day we saw the other line.
I went to see my family doc for an OB referral. I asked him for someone who’s good with the nervous. He asked me when I thought my nerves would subside. I told him maybe in about 9 months or so. It remains to be seen if the Baby Doc is as understanding as my Doc lead me to believe.
We’ll find out next friday.
I imagine with every beat of that teeny tiny heart, my heart grows just a little more. I hope we get the chance to find out if the Bubble has enough room in there eight months from now, with my swollen heart taking up so much space.
Last night I had cramping so bad it woke me up. I was sure it was all over. Went to pee and no evidence of the Bubble in distress but the cramping continued and kept me up almost till morning.
The pain continued on and off in the morning then picked up again in the afternoon.
I emailed the clinic first thing in the AM and they’ve moved my ultrasound up to tomorrow morning just to be sure everything is ok.
When I got word they were moving me up I packed it in at the office and came home to work. Which was more nap than work because it was seasick time and that time is better passed asleep.
Today – as far as I know, I am still pregnant. Tomorrow I might not be. I might be waiting for an impending miscarriage. I really hope that’s not the case. I hope that it’s just some weird intestinal thing, or uterus stretching and moving to make room for Bubble.
I’m not ready to say goodbye. I haven’t really had the chance to say hello!
So I have to believe that it’s just growing pains. That Bubble is there. Safe and sound. And that we’ll see him there – bubbling along tomorrow. Oblivious to all the cramps, cramps and more cramps that are going on around him.
It feels like I have them. They were always um…ample. But currently my cups runneth over. And they hurt like the dickens. But I find myself goosing them, almost without noticing – like a nervous tic – just to see if they’re still sore. It’s like when Bryan A.dams said “Hurts so good”. I wince every time I squeeze them, but them I smile cause they still hurt so the bubblebabies, (or at least one) are still hanging around.
It’s going to be a long ride, counting one day at a time till the middle of november. Though I have to say, setting mental milestones is helping me wrap my head around it.
1. blood test
4. Ultrasound – whenever that is.
5. 8 weeks from now when the nausea that’s all ready setting in takes a hike.
All I want right now is to count all the way to five one step at a time. with no major mishaps. And the great wall of bosom standing high and proud, two vast beacons of hope leading the way.
There are two lines hidden in those stupid sticks. I know because against better judgment – knowing it’s really REALLY early – I peed on one today.
And low and behold there it was. The other pink line. I sort of thought it was a cosmic joke – that there was no other line and no one was telling me it was all a big hoax.
Apparently not. I just sucked until now.
The forum that I belong to has a number of girls with Beta’s in March and they were peeing up a storm today. And I thought I had willpower. And that I would hold out. And that because I knew it was really to early to see anything that I was just setting myself up for a big letdown.
Then as I was making dinner, I was searching for a seldom used ingredient in a seldom used cupboard, I came across the stash of sticks that I’ve been collecting. I buy a box when they’re on sale out of habit. Well, with 4 months on the BCP, I have quite a collection. So I took them out and piled them on the stairs to carry up to our loo.
Well, then they were staring at me – and staring at me. And finally just as Idol was coming on I asked husband if he though it would be so bad if I – you know – just one. He’d barely sputtered out an answer and I had the box open and was racing up the stairs.
I’m sure glad I did.
Now I know that there are about a million little milestones between a premature pee stick and baby. And I know that it’s so early this blip on the radar could be gone as early as tomorrow.
But tonight – for the first time – I head off to bed pee-stick pregnant.
I’ll test again in the morning to see if it’s getting any more…pink. Or if it’s back to one pink line.
I just can’t believe it. The bubblebabies may be staying longer than I imagined, and if I’m really lucky, longer than I ever thought possible.
Waiting to pee for 9 or 10 days isn’t a pleasant experience. And wondering if every tickle in your tummy, every twinge, every gas bubble has deeper meaning is enough to drive you crazy. And I think it just might.
You’ve got to wonder why I’m not used to waiting by now. I mean we’ve been waiting for the stork for 2 and a half years. Waiting for medical help for 1.5 of those, waiting for IVF for 3 months before starting, waiting for the suppression to end, the stims to end – the trigger, the ER, the ET, the call about the remaining morulas. Sheesh. It’s like waiting has become the number one hobby around here.
The thing is, that pesky Doc kept talking about “grade one” this and “perfect” that. And gosh darn it, he looked hopeful. Now that hope was as much that we’d help his positive stats as it was for getting us a baby I’m sure. But hey – I can live with that. I like to be good at my job too – and if other people benefit too, well winners all around.
It’s the old ‘H’ word. The word that must not be spoken -(hope)- and it’s hanging around just close enough that I can feel it. And it makes the days pass so very slowly. But at night? When it’s quiet? And I can feel every bubble and gurgle and pop? Then – that (hope). That’s when I’m holding it close.
Sad news on our remaining 4 little fellers. All arrested so we’ve nothing to freeze.
Here are 4 things I feel about that.
1. This means if this cycle doesn’t turn out as we hope we have to start at the beginning. A thought that’s hard to comprehend at this time.
2. I feel more pressure for a BFP – as if there wasn’t enough of that already.
3. I wanted them to make it – I was rooting for them to pull through and I’m disappointed I didn’t make them strong enough to do so.
4. They were only part of my life for 6 days, but I loved them. And now they’re gone. And it may seem ridiculous but it’s sad just the same.
Not much else to report. Except if the probability of success increases in proportion to the increase of my bust size, we’re laughing.