Everydaystranger

26 December 2006
We’re Off
We’re off tomorrow to go skiing in Canada for a long while, and we cashed in a load of Aidan’s air miles so we’ll be flying business out there, and first on the way back (which is possibly more exciting to me than you can imagine. I’m immature, I’m ok with it.)
Christmas passed and Santa was good to me. All of Aidan’s family (including the monsters) came for a long day yesterday. I had good fun, and only had to endure one uncomfortable conversation. It was between Aidan’s brother-in-law (whose Mrs. is giving birth this Friday to their son) and Aidan’s Mum. Aidan’s brother was bemoaning the fact that his son wouldn’t have any relatives born close to it, in similar age. His Mum nodded and said sadly that she hoped one of his friends could get knocked up soon, since she doesn’t know anyone else who could/would be having babies.
They didn’t even look at me.
And the fact that I should be 5 months pregnant right now didn’t escape me.
But I know it wasn’t done in malice-they have absolutely no idea that we’ve been trying, that we had a loss, or that we even think about having babies. So it comes as no surprise-if we don’t tell people, we can’t expect them to be aware of the sensitivities (and we don’t tell anyone about what’s going on, it’s what Aidan wants).
So…yeah. There you have it.
We’ll be back the 8th, by which time I’ll have been down-regulating for 3 days, and no doubt crying at Tampax commercials.
See you soon, and Happy New Year.
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20 December 2006
Here Comes Protocol Here Comes Protocol Right Down Protocol Lane
So we trooped up to the clinic and got our protocol.
We also got sidelined into re-doing most of our bloodwork, which I can tell you, Needle-Phobe (aka Aidan) was seriously unhappy about. They can’t do HIV tests via swabs here, so it was needle central as the boy implored her to not take a single drop out more than necessary. She didn’t, and I’m happy to say he is currently walking around amongst the living just fine.
The protocol, then:
Kick off the party with the Buserelin injections-also known as the Even the Hallmark Commercials and Bad 80’s Movies Makes Me Cry drug-5 Jan.
Stims start 23 Jan.
Egg retrieval planned for 5 Feb.
It’s a go then.
We also did ask them about the other woman from our previous cycle-believe it or not, I felt secure enough to handle it. It turns out the other woman did not get pregnant with my donor eggs, and I do honestly feel guilty about that. I wouldn’t have been at all upset had she gotten pregnant (in fact, I can hand on heart say I would’ve been happy for her) but I feel bad that she was assigned me by circumstance, and now it’s back of the line for her if she wants to try again, which means a 2 year wait again.
So.
Not sure how to finish up a post with that hanging there, so consider this tied up with a big red ribbon.
Posted at 05:57 PM in IVF #3 (5) | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack (0)

18 December 2006
At Least I Get to Start a New Category
We went to Yorkshire this weekend, and part of our ambition was to jump start our sex life, which lately has been struggling.
And on the first morning we were there, after the Friday night with earth-rocking sex, what to our wonderous eyes should appear, but a period 2 days early.
Gee…thanks Santa.
So the sex weekend has been a bit postponed but we’re on the way up again, and the period is here. I rang my clinic this morning and I troop up there on Wednesday to pick up various drug paraphernalia and a schedule, all of which kicks off on the 5th of January.
So we have a start date. The 5th of January. We leave the 27th of December for a few days in Seattle with my dad, and then up to Whistler for a long ski break. We will start the shots while we are away, as we return the 7th.
Game on.
Posted at 10:14 AM in IVF #3 (5) | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBack (0)

14 December 2006
Getting There
We’re narrowing down to kick-off for counting. You know, the kick-off for counting? Day 1 of the period should be Monday, which then gives us starting day for meds. The clinic called me two days ago to check on my cycle, and thus armed on when the Armageddon Blood Flow will arrive, the donee is starting her protocol now (I have no idea what the protocol is for egg donees, I know only that it takes a long damn time.)
Which is much like my cycles do. I read about IVF treatments in the States, and I swear you guys cycle as fast as it takes me to eat an Egg McMuffin. We may start treatment on the same day, but by the time I’ve put my first used Buserelin syringe in the orange box you have already had an embryo transfer (and are, invariably, knocked up). Cycles here rock the schedule for 6 weeks, leading to many appointments with the frozen Mr. Bump patch and my fluid-retaining ass to desperately try to feel normal.
Good times, my friends. Good times.
Truthfully, I’m ready to start again. The miscarriage has stopped affecting me so fucking badly, and although I do feel sad about it from time to time, I think I’ve moved on (and my nice therapist agrees).
I’ve also started to feel differently about IVF. The sincere and vivid desperation I had is fading-while I want it to work more than anything, I do also see there will be an end of the road to the fertility treatment. We’ve got this cycle and its corresponding FET. I want to do one more fresh cycle that we will pay for and any FETs that result, and then honestly? If it doesn’t work by then it’s not going to. That will be the end of my road. At that point, I get to work on figuring out what I want from life, and how to make my life as complete as possible without feeling such depression and envy that I want to ram a strollered- Gorby at people.
So we’ll see. We get our drugs next week. Poor Aidan has to update his HIV test and the boy does not do needles well. The drugs will (depending on when Day 1 of my period is) either come with us over the holiday to Canada or will stay here and wait for our return. Either way, at least we have a plan.
And if I’m honest, I feel really positive about trying again (note: this does not mean I am stupid enough to be super positive about the outcome. I am an old-timer at this game, I’m not that daft. I am “optimistic” about my outcome, but in a “seriously, I have pinot noir as a fallback” kind of way).
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11 December 2006
When TV is Stressful
The BBC has been running a series recently called A Child Against All Odds. Aidan and I started watching it when it premiered-it consists of 6 episodes all presented by Professor Lord Robert Winston, a world-renowned fertility expert and the Professor of Fertility Studies at Imperial College School of Medicine, London University. He wasn’t part of the Louise Brown IVF success, but he was one of the PGD pioneers, and he also is a sterilization reversal expert, gynae microbiologist, and all round cool chap, really. When he presents the shows you get it, you don’t feel like he talks down to you, and he gives you his opinion, which is something I whole-heartedly respect.
Anyway, it’s difficult watching in our house. IVF is a fraught topic, one that more often than not ends into a heated discussion/argument/depression/heavy drinking bout/days of ignoring each other/me crying quietly in the front seat of the car. So when we watch these episodes, it’s with the knowledge that we may or may not agree with each other.
The episodes themselves are pretty fraught for me. I watch them and generally seem to get pretty emotionally invested in them. This is likely because I am an IVF chick myself, and especially as an IVF chick going through IVF treatment in Britain, I can relate to a lot of the stories.
The first episode is the one I had the hardest time with. Episode 1 was called Choosing Children, and was about PGD. Now, I really objected to the title of the episode-you don’t “choose” children in PGD, it’s a strict genetic screening designed to help parents-for example, two of the couples going through IVF with PGD were doing so because they both had chromosomal abnormalities in their genes, which spellt bad news for their progeny-1 couple had a severely disabled daughter as a result of the abnormalities, the other couple lost one of their children before he turned 1 due to problems. It was absolutely heart-breaking and I wished for those couples.
Then it was about choosing children-one couple, who had four healthy, happy boys (all conceived naturally as she explained that she’s “incredibly fertile”) but decided they wanted a girl. They wanted PGD to get a girl, too, which in the UK is illegal (and I’m sorry, but I agree that it should be.) So off they flew to Crete, where she produces only two eggs. Only one is fertilized and-guess what?-that embryo is female. So they transfer it back in, the husband gleefully exclaims that “the battle is all over, the hard part is done”, which leads to me jumping up and down screaming: You TOSSER! Don’t you know anything? You’re up against implantation now, in your over 40 wife with a single grade 2 egg! The truth is, I was bouncing up and down with indignation-all they kept saying is that their life was incomplete without a girl….and they kept saying it in front of their sons. I was horrified on their behalves.
Suffice to say, it didn’t work for them, but apparently they plan on continuing to try. I don’t know if I wish them success or not, and that makes me a real fucking whore, but seriously-I am one of those bitches that thinks: You have four incredible, beautiful boys. Go with it. Love your boys. Turn your back on the difficulty that is IVF and love your gorgeous children, regardless of what sex they are.
I am a preachy bitch today.
Anyway, Episode 2 was called Ice Babies, and was particularly hard for me. It was about FETs and, specifically in this program, about cancer survivors using their frozen embryos once they had the all-clear (although one part of the program was about the cancer survivor and her partner who broke up after her cancer treatment, and how she’s appealing to the EU as he won’t let her use their embryos now). There was some tear-choking back from me as I watched these women and their frozen dreams.
Episode 3 was called Make Me a Dad, about male factor infertility. One of the guys was a cancer survivor and a paraplegic, the other simply had no live boys. So the one without the live boys had the most gruesome surgery I have ever seen-he was AWAKE-to remove tubes within his testes that might have sperm. Believe it or not, they found one live sperm. They fertilized one of his partner’s eggs, transferred back the badly graded cell…and presto, she does get knocked up. In fact, in this program both of the couples succeeded.
Episode 4 last week was called Cheating Time, and was about older mothers. They even interviewed the Romanian woman who gave birth at 66. I have to say, while I’m pro older women trying, the 66 year-old made me feel uncomfortable-she had no family. No one. Should she pass away-and she was tiny and frail-her daughter would be in an orphanage.
Episode 5 – The Gift of Life – This one is on tomorrow and is the most worrisome. It’s about egg donees and egg donors. One of the stories is similar to my own-a woman donates half of her own eggs, because not only does it help defray the cost of our own cycles, but we can get a woman off the waiting list anyway. Between this episode and the PMS I am experiencing (can you say crying jag?) I suspect I’ll be a bit of a mess.
I usually am, anyway.
What gets me is that so far, none of the women who wound up pregnant have miscarried. It thus makes me feel like the unluckiest person in the world-I did the same drugs as they did. I have had the same kind of clinic they did.
Fuck.
Of course, the most painful episode is still to come. That last episode next week, Episode 6, is called Whatever It Takes. It’s about women reaching the end of their tries. It’s about couples figuring out when enough is enough. That’s the episode I fear the most-not only could it potentially cause a bust up at home, but the topic is pretty painful in and of itself.
Maybe that will be one I record and wait to watch it. I’ll sandwich it in between Terms of Endearment and Old Yeller, it’ll be a real party.
Posted at 01:36 PM in In-Between Times | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack (0)

05 December 2006
The Most Poignant Search Ever
Someone came to my blog via this search.
What do you say?
You say: I love you.
You say: I’m sorry.
You say: If you want to talk, I’m here. If you don’t, that’s cool too.
You say (again): I love you.
Then you say nothing more.
I hope that helps.
Posted at 07:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack (0)

04 December 2006
I Broke My Daisy Chain
As infertile women, we have to be some kind of midway point, some chorus for mothers. I often feel like we should be dressed in white robes, practicing penitence and crying a lot while weaving daisy chains for our heads. We should be willing to sacrifice anything and everything to get where we’re going, to the extent that people paint us with the “She’s so insane for children she’s nearly selfish”. We’re like the women in the Bible fighting over the baby, but when the king announces he’ll cut the kid in half to give us a piece, I sometimes feel we’re supposed to critically look at the kid and say “Is he an 8-cell grade 1 or just a 5-cell? Because that will affect my decision.”
I know as an infertile I should be all: Children are great! I love children! I love all children! Part of life’s rich tapestry! Aren’t they all so precious? Let’s make fudge! But seriously-just because I’m infertile does not mean I am brain damaged. I may not be a parent but I have no problem whatsoever in judging other parents around me who may not be (in my opinion) doing that stellar a job of it. I don’t think you have to have a kid to judge. I will judge your white skinny jeans and I don’t have a pair of them. I will judge Britney’s eyeball-bleach-worthy shaved snatch and mine isn’t as pristine as a baby’s butt.
We just spent the weekend with Aidan’s two brothers, their wives, and his many nieces (there’s one nephew, but he’s still cooking in the oven.) One of Aidan’s nieces is the poster child for why children are indeed a sweet and precious part of our lives. Another niece is a reason for why safe and effective birth control really is a modern miracle.
Aidan’s brother and sister-in-law have a 9 and a 4 year-old, and they practice that “the child is always right” kind of thing. His sister-in-law, no less, worked at a nursery school but is now pursuing a child education degree. They are of the “how do you think this makes me feel?” perspective in discipline. This is usually engaged after various events, such as being hit in the head with one of their daughters’ Game Boys, getting pushed, getting told “I hate you!” or breaking something valuable. The 4 year-old regularly walks into rooms and screams at the top of her lungs, and the parents don’t ask her to stop. You’d think the 4 year-old would get bored of the screaming but really? She never does. Their little terror 4 year-old is a real offender-after coming in and terrorizing our cat, smacking our dog, and breaking some of our decorations, she then proceeded to jump up and down on a 150 year-old chair we have. When I asked her to stop (very nicely) I got a “NO! I WON’T!” I would subscribe this to just being a naughty 4 year-old but really-she just isn’t disciplined (How do you think this makes me feel? Seriously? Look, I’m 32 and half the time it wouldn’t work on ME, let alone a kid.) At one point this weekend the 9 year-old pushed her Mum. The Mum turned to her and said “Say you’re sorry, please.” The 9 year-old retorted “No, Mummy, I’m NOT sorry at all!” The Mum simply shrugged.
But the one area that they do get in trouble about is table manners. They actually get in trouble for bad table manners, to the extent where time-outs are doled out. I know the parents look at Aidan’s kids and wince when they come round-Aidan’s son often smacks his lips. His daughter sometimes has her elbows on the table. I watch the parents physically bite back comments about it. But Aidan’s kids don’t chase the animals, break antiques, and scream at the top of their voices. We’ll accept that table manners are something to be worked on, but in the meantime, there’s getting along with people to do.
I know I’m supposed to be all hand-wringy, tearful, and saying that children are like a little care package from Papa Smurf, but the truth is, getting pregnant is only the first step. Raising the children I accept is another hard part. I saw my other sister-in-law, the one who’s 36-weeks pregnant and very uncomfortable, and felt envy and sympathy (she’s also likely to give birth this week due to high blood pressure, so we may have a tiny infant at our house for Christmas. I’m going to pretend-in my atheistic way, of course-that he’s the Baby Jesus. That’ll help keep the jealousy monster at bay). I see the two naughty children and I think: Here’s my fucking daisy chain. Give me a chance to raise one of my own and I’ll be honest-I think I can do a better job.
I know. It’s a bitchy thing to say, but who hasn’t thought it amongst the infertile community?
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