Cooch and other fun vagina-related terms (click to broaden your vocab.!)

I've been mentally stuck. In a holding pattern much like our embryos in the petri dish. Well, they're not holding, they can't help but multiply, but they're not IN ME so in my mind they're in a holding pattern too.

Dan and I are petri parents!

It's a really weird feeling knowing that after many years, shots, and tears, we actually managed to coax our genetic material into dating. But we wanted them to be sluts. We wanted them to do it on the first date. Do it and get knocked up. And apparently they have.

Here are our stats thus far:

23 eggs were extracted out of my vag. on Monday. Think I covered that one in a previous post. (BTW, very thankful we were able to even do the retrieval b/c upon further research I found out many OHSS patients are cancelled before retrieval and all those shots (expense, pain, and expectations) were for not. Jeeez.)

So... 2 kicked it. They saw the world was a scary place and said F you and jumped off the bridge holding hands. RIP you little boogers.

21 were game to give this world a whirl. They were injected w/ Dan's material (oh LORD why is the TV so bad here?)* and my eggs were all, shut up, No. Way. Why the hell were we being SO coy before *titter, titter*? You guys are hot. Weeeelcome.

3 days pass. They pick 4 of the strongest ones and send the other 17 to Antarctica with a label clearly marked: "Whitey Couple's. Repeat: Whitey Couple's. Don't pull any Abby Normal shit here or we'll be sued—They're Mei-guo-ren (A-mer-i-can)."

And that leaves us with 4 little pookies splitting and multiplying in our (from what I've been reading "souvenir") petri dish.

As of Wednesday night (12/24):

• Blast #1: THREE cells.
• Blast #2: FOUR cells.
• Blast #3: looks up to older sib #2: FOUR cells. (#2 says get a life, stop copying me.)
• Blast #4: bossy, YOU BETTER SIT YOUR ASS DOWN AT MY TEA PARTY AND MIME DRINKING OUT OF AN EMPTY MINI CUP WITH A DELIGHTED SMILE WITH ME: FIVE cells.

Fluid in uterus: kinda minimal. Good.
Ovaries: 7 something? Is it centimeters? Millimeters? Shit. The only numbers that have ever been my strong point is my idiot savant-like predilection for remembering everyfuckingbody's birth date (it's a curse, really). So 7... whatever size they are, 7 being TOO large still. 7 being still pretty darned close to still looking like grapefruits making out. Not so good.

Me: What do you think? Think we can do the fresh transfer on this cycle?

RE: No you crazy bitch get out of my office.

Me: Ok. But before I do, think you can write me an Rx for cough syrup meant for someone over 2 years of age? I swear, I hate the crap. I'm not addicted. Just kind of a touch tired of coughing 24/7 *patiently, gently smiling with molars clamped*.

RE: You went through that WHOLE bottle the ER doc gave you just yesterday. That was supposed to last 3 days.

Me: Yeah, maybe for a 2 year old. And... I. I. Spilled some. Need more. Give it!!!!!!

RE: How about this half sized bottle that's weaker than the shit you're complaining about?

ME: Um. No. TWO please.

RE: Fine.

So he leaves the one bottle on his desk - right in front of me, so I put it in my purse and after receiving my IV albumin drip
(quality pouty-faced self-portrait.)
and my long-needled progesterone shot in my ass, I go up to pay for the visit and to pick up the 2nd bottle the nurses prepared. Guess what? They prepared TWO (insert happy jig). Count 'em, I got THREE altogether! That was Wed. night.

It is now Friday afternoon and I'm down to half of my third itty bitty baby bottle and still coughing. Granted, I shared a little with Dan, but still. Why the fuck didn't he just give me shit that would knock it out BEFORE I possibly have one of my hard-earned embryos implanted? Maybe b/c I'm petite he cannot fathom the kind of coughing I can conjure up. I told him I actually vomited from coughing so hard for God's sake. I mean when I belch, it's so freaking guttural, Dan is always nice enough to apologize as if it came from him. I do things big.

*(It's the Demi Moore-shaving-her-head-to-prove-she's-a-serious-actress movie that actually kicked her off the map. Backfired Demi. But wait, you did do Charlie's Angels. Hmmm. Ok. Wait, you DID marry Ashton. Ok. Now you're golden.)

When DH gets home, we're off to the RE's to find out if my OHSS symptoms are under control enough to warrant going for the transfer. Tomorrow? Sunday? Crap, again, not sure. I'm on a ride I'm not steering here - go easy.

*(Ooh. She just said, "SUCK MY DICK." What am I saying? This movie is brilliant!!!)

On a Christmas note, went to Japanese BBQ w/ Naomi and Drew which is right off ZhongXiao near Fuxing - one of the main drags here. They have one of their major department stores across the street from the restaurant - SOGOS (much like our Macys or Bloomingdales). The Christmas decor in front of that Sogos was DONE UP. At least in comparison to anything else we saw around here. Taxi drops us off around 9:00 PM. People are taking pictures in front of the display, holding up their ubiquitous peace sign, looking snuggly in their winter wear, smiles abound... Cut to 11:15 PM as we're the last guests closing out the restaurant. We look across the street before hailing the cab... THEY WERE ALREADY DISMANTLING THE DISPLAY. It wasn't even boxing day yet! We thought it was nice and telling about what their true perception of Christmas is here: marketing ploy. Annnd that's it. Oh you, America. You and your influence.

Egg retrieval went like "cluckwork."*

(Couldn't pass up using this photo a second time!)

I not only feel like a science experiment, but in actuality, I am. Let's face it, that IS what this whole IVF thing is - an imperfect crap shoot - tapping our hopes that we are in the statistical SUCCESS category. So far so good: Dr Li harvested 23 eggs this morning and I was informed I didn't cough once. Whuhoo!

See, I was extra worried about ruining it all by coughing during the procedure b/c upon going to bed last night (after 12:00 AM... I wanted to milk my cough syrup/fluid consumption up until the last minute) in what I am now acknowledging is a mattress heavily laden with years of sloughed dead skin cells by strangers (what did I expect, renting a furnished apartment?!), the coughing spasms commenced so heavily, so gut-wrenchingly hard, I staggered my way to the bathroom sink, as I braced myself over it, I felt like my eye-balls were gonna pop out. Seriously.

Suddenly, I found myself vomiting. It was crazy. Then I did it another two times as the next waves of racking coughs overcame me - which was 2 seconds later due to its relentless-iosity. Who knew that happens? Well, apparently Dan did. Awakened, he wasn't surprised by the lovely noises I was generating as he's had a similar experience from coughing. While it was convenient I was already hovering over the sink, it was the bathroom sink that barely drains. Oh, and we had beef stew for dinner. Seriously. So I almost vomited again while I cleaned up my own vomit. But that wasn't even the really fucked up part. The really fucked up part was that I wasn't supposed to have anything to eat or drink since I had waited to go to bed after 12:00!!!

Aw, damn it to hell. I rebelled: Brushed by teeth, and took a dinky sip of water (it was only 12:30 by this point) and migrated to the living room to sleep on the leather sofa. Upon waking up all throughout the night, I'd check the time and see it was only, 2, 3, 4, etc. and instead of thinking what should be a normal thought: Great, I still have X hours of sleep - I can catch up! No, my thought was: DAMN, I need to drag my ass back to the couch and try to get more sleep - a failing proposition. Finally at around 5:00 AM, after my tactic of barely sucking, then spitting out practically fresh lozenges weren't doing the trick anymore, I took a steaming hot shower hoping to loosen up the crap in my lungs. Seemed to be the key. I went back to the couch and fell asleep sitting totally upright a la the elephant man. Woke up to the alarm (while in the midst of the best slumber I've experienced in weeks - figures) slumped over at the waist.

We scuttled off to have me harvested. While laying there on the stirrup table, playing my usual game o' testing my Chinese knowledge by "eavesdropping" on the nurses, the thing that caused me anxiety wasn't the actual procedure; I was anxious to get my anesthesia so I could finally get some good rest!

Woke up nicely without that crappy groggy feeling. So nicely, in fact, I was able to utilize some of my Chinese to speak with the nurses. Minimal brain damage: √. Dan performed his part swimmingly (ugh, pun intended) and we were good to go.

As we rode home in the taxi, Dan and I looked into each others' eyes and said, "I love you." Sooo we weren't able to conceive a baby in glowing candle light, staring connectedly into each others' eyes while Barry White was crooning in the background as the rose pedals stuck to our backs. We covered that base in the taxi ride home today. 8 years of marriage... same dif.

*Thanks for checking in on us and the line, Drew.

HCG shot tonight - egg retrieval Monday morning!

Had a bunch of follicles ready tonight and many more that should grow a bit more so they're good to go come Monday morning. All in all I should have a total of about 30 ready to be injected w/Dan's genetic material via ICSI - a harsh introduction, but they'll finally get to meet each other after all!

So, done w/ Lupron - took last shot this morning.

Done w/ Gonal-F - took last shot last night.

Taking HCG trigger shot tonight at 10:00.


(Can you believe the size of this gut? This is one of my 3 bad bruises after several days passed. Was v. proud of myself for only having 3 during the span of all the injectibles. I gave myself mostly all of my own shots s-l-o-w-l-y, but on this one freaked b/c the needle became dull w/ the mixing, etc. so Dan did the honors - symbollic, being the "trigger" shot and all.)

Then tomorrow I get a day of reprieve from the shots - only need to remember to take the PNV + baby aspirin - just need to lay around like a poor beached mammal.

Gotta stop eating or drinking by 12:00 a.m. to prep for the anesthesia. I think my biggest paranoia here is that this OHSS makes me super thirsty and I tend to need water after one of my crazy bronchial coughing fits (which have escalated to ceaseless at this point - stomach muscles have literally become sore), so abstaining from drinking will be a huge challenge.

So aside from the fear of being utterly parched, I'm actually ready and excited for Monday's procedure. Excited despite having accepted the probability of the transfer/cycle being canceled due to these excitable and hard-working swollen ovaries of mine.

Speaking of the hyper gals, yesterday's ultrasound showed my ovaries "kissing." This evening's ultrasound showed them hot and heavy. Listen ovaries, you two should be NO WHERE NEAR EACH OTHER. YOU'RE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE OTHER ONE EXISTS. No exaggeration, when he got them both within the same frame, they looked like a fucked up rendition of how it feels my lungs are looking right about now. Yeah, seriously - they formed that kind of butterfly shape, but with all the vacant pockets where the follicles have formed... where the eggs inside will start to hop to after I inject this HCG.

Under different circumstances I'd be wise to be scared by what I saw tonight, but I can't go there. I know this is a common side effect and I'll get through it. But I think it's safe to say the next week or so is pretty much going to be lost to all but me going through the surgery and recuperating from the escalated OSHH. Apparently, what I've experienced thus far is nothing compared to how bad it's going to get; should the various symptoms present themselves, we have been instructed we'll need to go to the hospital no matter the time. These are the moments during IVFing where we keep the end result in mind - you know, changing explosive diapers and having a child who grows up to despise you in their adolescence. No wait, the nurturing, cuddly, helping raise a good person part; hopefully someone who adds something to society. Yeah, that.

So in my mind, I will have gone through the hardest part of IVF - the stimming and retrieval.

We're prepared to do the FET for the next cycle and feel optimistic that doing FET could work fine. We've reset our thinking to: if we CAN do the transfer on the 27th, it'll just icing at this point.