After the hiatus

It's been a while since I last posted, but I didn't have any news of any kind. This is the first cycle we are really trying, and the OPK gave me positive reading on Friday. If we don't get pregnant this month, it will not be because we didn't try. So, now that I am done with the OPKs for at least fifteen days, I have to start the progesterone tomorrow. and I hate the thing. I forget it. I don't like popping orange little balls in my vagina. They turn all my underwear orange. They make my stomach upset, and give me gas problems way worse than the ones I had during my pregnancy. But I guess I have to keep doing it. I am not ready to lose another baby. This time it has to be ok.
Meanwhile, we are planning a trip to Mexico. In March. Supposedly I cannot travel until the fifteenth week, but I don't really care. I will ask. If it increases my chance of miscarrying, I will not go. But if they are just scared of me having any trouble in a foreign country without fancy American hospitals, I'm going. After all, I don't think I could be treated worse than I have been here until I found Dr S. And after a loooooong year, I really need a break. A palm tree. That's all I am asking for.
We'll see. About everything. Now to the "I think I have all kinds of pregnancy symptoms". I will test in ten days. Hopefully then, I will have a happy post.

This is getting very nasty

We had our last appointment with doctor S on Christmas Eve. We had started trying before we got her permission, on Sunday, but I thought that after staying in Chicago over Christmas, a very hard first for us, just to try to get pregnant, I should give it a shot. According to Fertility Friend our chances are good. The results from the uterine lining biopsy came back normal, but doctor S thought it may be maturing a little slowly, so she prescribed progesterone. I thought this would be taken by mouth, or injected... Of course not, you have to insert it vaginally, behind your cervix. Twice a day. In my case, with my tiny little fingers, which were never very practical even for masturbation, not to talk about placing little tiny orange balls behind a piece of myself... And now I say, "ho, ho, ho,ho...". What did Santa bring? 60 little round orange pills. I just inserted the first one, and it is nasty. Not easy. And my vagina feels funny. I hope that at least it will work...I have to start putting it in three days after the LH surge, and until my period starts again, or until the tenth week of pregnancy. I have some long months ahead of me...
Reviewing my daily routine, now that I have to teach at 8 am... I wake up at 6 so I can take the levothyroxine, so I can have breakfast one hour later at 7 so I can run to the University on time.While I wait to eat, I pop a little pill into my vagina. Repeat at night, followed by the prenatal vitamin. Ho, ho, ho, ho!!!!

Up... and down... up... and down...

... tarararararatararararara... This was a disco song from my teens. Long time ago. We are back to trying. I have to admit that we started on Sunday, without the doc's ok. But they left a message in my voicemail yesterday telling us to go ahead. My thyroid is back at 1.8, nice and comfortable. I still have to go on Thursday to get the results fromj the Yaleman. Nice start for my first Christmas Eve in the States. I don't enjoy the trying, but there is no way around it if I want a baby. DIY insemination is way cheaper than the medical one. So we'll keep trying. And if I don't get pregnant this month, 2010's will be the second Christmas I spend far from home. Tararararararatararararara. Up... and down... Just like my mood.

Done and cleared

I finally had my hysteroscopy done yesterday, and it wasn't nearly as scary or painful as I expected. They took very good care of me, the were gentle and sensitive, and doped me accordingly. As my doctor said, I was loopy. She also said that my uterus looked lovely, one of the best compliments I have ever heard. I left a happy woman. She found some scarring in my cervix (probably due to the IUD) that she had to remove in order to get in. But everything else is good. She took a biopsy that we sent to the man in Yale, so he tells us how my uterine lining is doing. And she wants to see us again on the 17th, to regroup, and, as far as my thyroid is back to normal, give us the go to trying again.
On the down side, we saw a genetic counselor on Tuesday regarding Hubby's chromosomal translocation. We have a 15% higher chance of miscarriage than everybody else, and we have a 3% higher chance of having a baby with birth defects, of any kind. Of course they offered embryo selection, sperm donation, and all kind of prenatal invasive tests to decide whether to continue with the pregnancy or not. Of course I refused. They were understanding, and not at all pushy. They understood. And I am glad they did. Because there is no reason that would make me get rid of my baby. I totally respect whatever decision anyone else does. But not me. I couldn't. They will be my babies. As the three I lost were. As the one who is running around the apartment naked still is. No mother should aspire to perfection. It's not how it works. And if you do, maybe you shouldn't be a mother at all. Am I being judgemental? Maybe. But I feel entitled. I will be just happy to keep being a mom. I know where I am getting myself into. I know the chances. And I will welcome and love every child we have. We won't cope with the problems until they arrive. Wisdom learning of the week.
Despite all this, I couldn't be happier. Because little L is walking (and running, and bouncing, and hugging, and kissing) proof that we can have a baby. I just can't wait to try again, with more knowledge, and more peace.

One year

I can't believe it, but it has been one year since I started this blog. Tomorrow is my birthday, which means that I should be cleaning up and preparing things for the party I finally had to organize myself. I'm certainly not happy about that. One year ago I hoped I would have a chubby baby in my arms by this time. I don't. I could have, the due date for the first miscarriage passed this week. But I don't. An I have two more missed due dates to go. They will be hard. I don't have a baby in my arms, but I know more than last week. It turns out that I'm fine. But our chances of carrying a baby to term are slimmer. Apparently little L was our lucky shot. The doc said we have good chances of having more babies. But they want to do all kinds of prenatal testing. And I don't. I won't. Because even in the worst case scenario, I would never terminate the pregnancy. I'm as agnostic as they come, but I have lost three tiny babies. As little as they could be at six weeks of pregnancy, they were my babies. I also won't get pregnant unless I have realistic expectations of having a VBAC. If a c-section is mandatory, I'm out.
We have an appointment with a genetic doctor in two weeks. They wanted to meet this week, but of course Mr Hubby is too busy. Which bugs me. A lot. The doctor made sure to repeat him one hundred times that it is not his fault. I didn't hear anything of the kind when the ball was on my side of the court. Am I pissed? Very much. Do I feel bad for him? Certainly. But when today I got a package with all the forms from the genetic office, I got mad. Because they are addressed at me. Because they include a shiny brochure of all the fancy prenatal tests they can perform. Because I know I'm in for a fight. And one year later, I don't know if it is a fight I can endure. What a lovely birthday I will have. In four hours, I will be thirty.

Incertidumbre

If you thought (as I did) that this sucks, wait until you read the next development. After I don't know how many calls to Dr S's office, trying to get the thyroid medication, the nurse finally called back. Of course, she didn't remember why I called her on the first place. I told her, and she told me she would check my test results, talk to the doctor, and call me back with the prescription. Instead, one hour later the doctor called. She just told me that she want to meet us as soon as possible to discuss some test results. I know something is wrong because the nurse told me that unless there is some red flag they don't give results until they have all the test, hysteroscopy included. And since she called, I asked the doctor if I should assume that there is something wrong. She said yes. We have the appointment for Wednesday, which will make for five very long days. I have already gone through the worst case scenarios: lupus, cancer, not being able to have more kids... It's a defense mechanism. Which won't work. And it will make me crazy. If there is something worse than bad news, is waiting for them in the dark. Arrrrggghhhh!

Mad

I am actually beyond mad. I just realized, that if my cycles do whatever FF expects them to do, my next tiny window for the hysteroscopy is... Thanksgiving!?F*&%# And the next one... Christmas!?@#%$&^**^( You can guess the rest. I went again on Wednesday to have my blood drawn for chromosomal testing. My arm is still sore and tender. And I couldn't even get the flu shot. Not that I want to, I would actually skip it altogether, and I won't get Little L one, but Dr S said it was not open to discussion. I told her I will get it if I can get before I'm pregnant, but that I won't, for anything, get it afterwards.
I had a revealing experience this weekend. I attended a workshop about Spanish feminine short stories, and while analyzing the texts I realized how much my life is focused on infertility right now. I see it everywhere. The funny thing was that my obsession led the well known author who was leading the workshop to talk to me at the end, and I managed to buy her lunch the day after, only to discover that she has also dealt with this kind of issues. Her advice? Stop it. Don't make yourself suffer anymore. Adopt. Not bad. At least she got me writing again, I think I have an idea for a short story book, and I already started. Let's see what happens. Of course, infertility is there. As it is everywhere else. I have nightmares. I have gained at least six pounds in the last three weeks. I'm anxious, all the time. I'm not smoking because I don't feel like it (weiiiiird). So I eat. All the time. Constantly. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet... It's disgusting. I want to stop. I had managed to lose some weight over the last months... Gaining it back in mere weeks doesn't seem like a good idea. I guess I need my therapist. A lot. Or a baby. But that will not happen in at least a couple of months. Sigh.