Ever been on the brink of success or utter failure?

A universal experience, right. Well, the butterflies had been smacking our asses around all day today as if we were awaiting our award placement in a heavy duty competition--a marathon, if you will. This. Has. Been. One. LONG. ASS. race.

Called the lab after 3:00 and their response was: .59. No conclusive answer. She said they'd know for sure with the 2nd beta. The point is throwing me off and the doctor doesn't get in until after 5:00. Any of my few and beloved readers have a clue if this is a decent or shitty number? I keep reminding Dan and myself the news won't take anything away from what we've already got. It will only mean we won't get that icing.

Of course I've hit up the little person behind the curtain, The Internet, but am still confused by the damn POINT 59. Last time, our first IVF, for beta #1 the doctor mentioned 3, or some equally hopeless number to send me straight to the soft cheese, coffee, and vodka. The BFN was confirmed the following day by AF.

Though still holding my breath to see if we'll get to take home the trophy, I did win an award today. I was kindly nominated for a Sisterhood Award by Mrs. Joyner--put a nice big smile on my face. I'll follow up, posting later with the proper protocol when I can breathe again. Quite honored. Thank you, Mrs. Joyner.



So. WTF does .59 mean for our first beta, dammit?!

I have one answer at least: it means we must wait until the 11th for our 2nd beta. What's 2 more days after 7 fucking years?

I hate this. I hate this whole fucking process. I hate being infertile and I hate that I can't get pregnant like a normal woman. I hate that there are idiots who can get knocked up their first time and women who get knocked up after having their tubes tied. It's not fair, it's fucked up, and I hate it. And I'm OVER IT! OVER IT! Yes, I hope this time it worked, of course. Then we're onto a slew of other worries. But from what I've read, if I AM pregnant, 59 is about average for a singleton on the first beta. Don't trust that assessment as I am apparently kinda very retarded reading these sorts of numbers. There's a reason I never pursued anything involving science.

I could go pee on a stick. Maybe then I could at least see a couple of those damn lines--however misleading they may turn out to be. I could call the doctor after he gets in. Then we can hear conclusively that we're fucked on this last round of ours. Or not. Maybe I'll pull an ostrich and just wait. If there's any hope, I don't feel like being defeated with our equivocal reality. We'll find out conclusively in 2 days. 2 days.

Just 2 more days.

If we do get Gavin, we're so renaming him "Consolation Prize."

Old Paths/New Paths

I'm beyond sick of speculating about early pregnancy symptoms because it's SO tired after 7 years. Hexing be damned, I gotta say I AM feeling different: hyper sensitive to smells, things taste different, sleeeeeepy, murky brain, unusual twinges + tugging in the belly, uber hungry, then when I eat I feel full or nauseous or both...

Of course, not only have I had ALL these mind fuck symptoms a zillion times prior to seeing ZERO, nada, nunca, not a friggin' sign of the elusive double pink lines with my ineffective stream,* but I'm all too aware right now these nagging symptoms could simply be due to the hormones they have me on... Ho hum. Joys of the 2ww. At least our 2ww has been shortened by the lab babysitting the embies for those 6 days.

I keep steadying myself by going back to what I posted before. My wish post: "I hope whatever is supposed to happen, happens." It's the healthiest place for me to go with this whole IF roller coaster. Since it's really a sentiment about faith, it's actually a good mantra to apply beyond this world of IF.

After we get our beta results on Monday + Wednesday, we'll proceed w/ packing accordingly. Either I'll take my aggression/grief out on heaving + tossing my things into the luggage, or I'll be warmly bossing Dan around to do the heavy lifting. I'm really only talking books and paperwork. Our extraction won't be all that involved. It's hard to believe we're going to be home bound on the 18th. It's been quite a journey. As we wrap up our life-changing stint here, we're also wrapping up our life-changing 7 year stint TTC. Always a fan of life's symmetry.

Since you're up to date on our last bits of history here, I'll fill you in on the first bits of our history here... I wrote the following as we hunkered down for our year long stay, settling into life in Taipei:

When I arrived here on May 31st of this year, my head was literally spinning. I lost 24 hours of precious OCD-wrapping-up-final-details time because I lamely misread my itinerary (so I'm not so great at reading military hours) and scrambled to make my plane. Paul kindly dosed me up with a Xanax which shaved about 7 hours off my flight (I passed out for half of it). I fended off the dreaded jet lag from the 15 hour flight by faithfully following the protocol as directed on the NO JET LAG box my lovely friend and neighbor from the VOD had given me. He's a world traveler and swore by the stuff and I'm now an official convert. (If I am preggers, I will avoid them. If not, I'll be popping those things with as much dedicated regimented fervor as I have my infertility concoctions.) I hit the ground running--didn't sleep my first day away. Everything was new and interesting. I can see how people get addicted to indulging in wanderlust. It's invigorating to view things for the first time as if you're a child. My first night here I was met with a mini amateur fireworks show (an event I thought was just for me... turns out it's a frequent occurrence).

Uprooting oneself to live in a foreign country halfway around the world where one does not speak nor read the language, can tend to make one feel a bit out of their comfort zone! I'm actually not surprised at how well I've handled the transition. I do have resources here such as Dan's bilingual friend at work, and my language exchange partner (found each other through the online classifieds). It makes sense with how I excel under chaos and duress. My fight or flight instincts are literally more tapped here as simply surviving not being hit by their crazy driving/no sidewalks is a task unto itself. HOWEVER, my fight or flight instincts are NOT stimulated the same way as they are in LA--in that I'm not constantly late due to crazy traffic (don't miss one bit) and watching my back for fear of creeps fucking with me there.

Such a relief to have that defensive LA shield down. One really feels safe walking on the streets here no matter what time of day or night. Plus being a foreigner gives us extra protection b/c NO ONE wants to cross that legal bridge here. The government doesn't look too kindly upon its citizens messing with foreigners. And I'm adoring how easy riding their MRT (subway) is. They keep it spanking clean, it's safe, and it's extremely efficient. After spending over half my life wrestling with LA traffic, I'm going to enjoy the freedom from driving while I can. Overall, the people here have been extremely kind, helpful, patient, and friendly to us in helping us find our way around.

I don't know if we would have had the guts to take this challenge on had we not built up our stamina with living in the trailer in SD and then taking on the most challenging task of our lives in renovating our apartments. Now that prompted quick growth. Coming through that made us so extremely strong in our faith in each other and ourselves. So "being in the trenches" together, as with anyone, either breaks you or makes you stronger. I told him yesterday, we're like two strands in DNA - so inextricably intertwined. Codependent? Um, hell yeah! Far as I can tell, for us anyway, it's the best way to conduct this thing called marriage.

*Pathetic admission: It has crossed my mind more than once that I should have just forked over the 7 bucks and peed right after that trigger shot in December just to feel what it must be like to see a positive. Warned you, pathetic.

Sat. Morn.: First RE appt. since transfer. (!) (?)

Wasn't sure I should have ended that title with an, "!" or a "."

I can't say I'm even cautiously optimistic. I'm just going through the motions, following orders, getting rest (oh, so much rest!), bossing Dan around, and glad at the end of the day we will have at least tried--whatever the news may be. That's not to say if we get disappointing news today, I won't be balling.

Except I'm not exactly sure if we're going to find out anything conclusive today. The transfer was only a week ago. After we were done with our 4 hour jail time (no--looks like I'm just not letting that one go), I was hungry and we couldn't get out of there fast enough so when the nurse handed me my little instruction sheet which says at the bottom: clinic 1/3 before 12:00 PM, I didn't delve into it. Figured I'd get my answers soon enough. They probably just want to shoot more PIO in my ass to support my home vag. suppositories/pills regimen. And maybe I'll get to have another of those fun Albumin drips. But here's what I'm secretly hoping: They have some magic here in Taiwan that cuts the 2ww down to a 1ww.

Then of course... if it worked (though pretty certain we won't be magically finding out any HCG info today) here is but a small sampling of my fear list:

• Miscarrying (but perhaps putting so many in there will mitigate a "loss"?) naturally
• Miscarrying due to getting an amnio (yes, I fully intend to have one)
• Amnio results that we'd ball over
  
• Health--For all involved
• Side effects of simply being pregnant w/one, let alone possibly twins
• Giving birth
• How the new baby will affect/change my marriage
• Being a mom--the hardest part of it all.
  

Once an Infertile finally gets to the point of going through fertility procedures and if it actually works... the trepidation that the shoe will fall (off!) with every step, unfortunately doesn't appear to ever go away for infertile women. Once an "Infertile," always an "Infertile."

Theeeeey're i-in.

Friday night - December 26th, 2008:

We went to our final US to determine if we were going to get to do the fresh transfer after all. Based on previous post, the crickets and/ or tumbleweed out there reading this know that we had very low expectations of getting a thumbs up. Doc came in harried, did the US (no magic wand - on the belly) and said we were good to go. OMG! Dan and I looked at each other w/ shared dropped jaws. Did our "terrorist" fist bump and in a happily dazed state, took our orders to follow the next day. Went to one of our favorite parts of town - right near that Sogo, but closer to Dunhua. Stumbled upon the perfect spot. Not only was I excited about being able to complete this cycle, but for the first time since being stimmed, it felt like my ovaries weren't clanging together. We were pretty jubilant. Nice feeling.

Saturday morning - December 27th, 2008:

Transfer on the 27th right on schedule (I realized once I double checked my trusty IVF notebook). Instructions: still take the Progesterone suppository in the AM, drink a shitload of water at 10:00, register at hospital at 10:45. Do transfer at 11:00. All the while, remaining in a constant state of "OMG."
(see - OMGing in the taxi to the hospital.)
Luckily I drank up around 10:15, b/c Dr. Li was running late (he runs a crazy-busy practice) and rushed in at 11:30. I told him to chill, that I wasn't even close to peeing my pants. (Dan and I enjoy giving him our doses of inappropriate American levity - we know he doesn't come across it much.) He seemed to appreciate my attempt to calm him. It certainly wasn't an altruistic gesture though. I wanted him as CALM as POSSIBLE. I knew how important this stage of the IVF process was; getting the embryos centered just right in the sweet spot of the uterus is crucial to help aid implantation.

Dan was getting irritated (for those who know him: he was becoming what I like to refer to as "Forehead Dan") at being lied to about them not having Internet. Pushed his buttons about just how rule-following and robotic in nature the Chinese/Taiwanese culture can be. See, the nurse (?), embryologist (?), the woman who was to load up the catheter w/ our embryos and serve a major role in the procedure had showed us this:

(Day 5: 1 blastocyst - top, 2 embryos [but he kept calling them something else I can't recall. Starts w/ an "m?"])
prior to Dr. Li's arrival. Dan wanted her to send the actual image directly to him via email. That's when she lied about not having Internet service. For some reason, she couldn't tell us her real reason for denying the request. Perhaps it was against the rules, but she lacked the words in English to properly express that. It's hard to believe it was due to rules though b/c when Dan first met...

THE FESTIVE MAST-UR-BA-TOR-I-UM (I know!):

This same professional was babysitting her 4 year old nephew at the clinic on a Saturday while men were to go off in the very next room jerking off to porn. Hmmm. We just found something about that scenario so OFF. So I'm going to go with: laziness. Not sure. I was satisfied with taking a picture of the picture.

For the sake of remaining consistently compulsive, in case anyone is actually following, I screwed up on our stats before. Here's the final count:

Follicles after stims: around 32
Egg Retrieved on 12/22, Monday: 23
Eggs NG right off the bat: 2
ICSI procedure performed on: 21
Day 3: 4 more NG - kicked it, = 17, they left the 4 strongest to grow for transfer, 13 were frozen.
Day 5: blast transfer: 3. Another didn't make it that far.

If he did tell us the quality of what was left, I was too distracted to digest. But based on the fact that they weren't all complete blasts, and my age, we decided to have all 3 transferred.

When I settled into the comfy operating room table, all scooted down and good to go, they were hitting the ground running, I asked if Dan was going to be able to come in. They both said plaintively and in unison, "No." Legs in stirrups, bladder topped off, hard-earned genetic specimens in their color-inside-the-lines hands, Forehead Dan outside, I quickly did the cost-benefit of posing an argument. I knew guilt would strike later, but did not want to compromise the procedure by throwing off their coloring project. "Oh, Okay." The procedure went super smoothly. When I saw the embryos actually injected into my womb, I involuntarily welled up, tears streamed out of my right eye and down my right cheek as I was watching the monitor to my right.

The emotions surprised me (yeah, dur). That eventual guilt I expected? Well... it hit me even sooner than expected. They checked that the catheter was emptied of all embryos and it wasn't. There was a rare hanger-on-er. I was excited I'd get to see it again. They did the procedure again - went just as smoothly. I was also surmising, based on my vast scientific background, that having it done a 2nd time would possibly give us a better implantation opportunity should it be in that much better of a sweet spot.

Here was our surprise: I was to be on STRICT bed rest for the next FOUR STRAIGHT HOURS.
(Where's the hidden camera? You're fucking with the gringos, right?!)
So strict, in fact, that I got to have a catheter poked into my bladder and they drained it for me, right there and then on the table. (Good thing I have shitty boundaries or else that would have qualified as potentially humiliating experience no. 112.) Then they g-e-n-t-l-y transferred me to the hospital bed they'd rolled in. It was a strange experience to be fully sans sedation and watch the ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights flow by as I rode the elevator down to the 6th floor to spend the next 4 hours pulling my hair out. OMFG. Think they could have told us to at least bring some reading material??!
(Dan played the snake game so long, his phone ran out of juice.)
Time has not crawled by that slowly since I was in detention with Emilio Estivez and that girl who made her hair into a snowflurry.
(4 hours + first time bed-pan pee experience later... we made it.)
Dan picked up a crap load (no pun intended) of Indian food to last us for days. LOVE Indian food. Indian food, risotto, mac-n-cheese... they all have a beloved common theme: comfort food you don't need to chew.

Now I'm back to bed rest to calm my ovaries down and we're waiting the 2 weeks just like a normal couple whose sperm may have properly traveled up and thrust itself into the egg. Hoping we get an implantation right about... NOW. This is about when it should happen. Then the HCG levels would start to build and my OHSS will get more exacerbated. So if I start to feel WORSE, it could be a good sign it worked. But then it will mean more time to get over the OHSS. At least, and thankfully, I have the luxury of having the time to deal with it while here.