Friday, October 11, 2013


I can't even...

I mean...


My words are not going to be very writerly today, but I'm going to write it all out because I want it here for when someone is searching.

First of all, let me say I was running LOW on hope.  I mean, as close to empty as I could possibly go and still be able to put clothes on in the morning and impersonate a functioning human being.  I've been like that for about a year.  Don't get me wrong - in the 4 years we've been trying to conceive, I got low on hope fairly early in the game.  (Well, definitely not early it was probably a year after torture, but now it just seems that way by comparison). In the last year, I have reached this whooooole other level that I didn't know existed where you're just.. as close to being empty as you can be without being a pod person.

I was a centimeter - a centimeter - away from just thinking that nothing good will happen for me.  I'm not religious in any way shape or form, I'm one of those liberal spiritual types though. I have always liked to think that there's some universal force, or good, or something, that even when it has to do bad shit to you doesn't enjoy it, and will eventually throw in some good. And that part of me just went dead.

I am a goofy funny person (funny people tend to be very dark) and I was still awake enough to realize I would seriously start to infect the people that love me if I didn't make an effort to stay goofy and positive, so I have.  And don't get me wrong - moments of sheer optimism!  But for the most part, it was something I was doing to impersonate an earlier version of myself so as not to alarm anybody, and because everyone should have hope in their life as long as they can possibly have it and I didn't want to beat anybody over the head with my discovery that hope was a myth.

And I've always been so grateful for other areas of my life - my husband is kickass, I have some fantastic friends and family, and a bunch of little things that all add up to me having it a lot sweeter than a lot of people. It's just this one area of my life where I felt like whatever universal force there was was chasing me around, whispering "If I just make this one thing go completely dark and punch you at every turn, I can make even the lightest things in your life go dim".

When they called Sunday to say ZERO had fertilized and that the remaining six eggs that were less mature had a less than 5% chance (mind you, this was IVF WITH the special chemical that was the only help of solving this) I felt that last little bit start to go dead.  Funeral was to be held Monday. Begged and pleaded with the universe and asked you to do the same for me (and you did, you did!).  Didn't think anything would come of it, and that's why Monday morning when they said two DID fertilize, I wept from happiness for the first time in my life.

Even less likely that they would keep growing, that they would make it to blast, I have basically been in a panic attack for the last five days trying to remain hopeful (and starting to tilt my head and squint at the power of good juju) while trying to prepare myself for when they told me none of them made it.

By this morning, I was a complete wreck.  I conked myself out last night (yay drugs!) but my stomach was apparently creating it's own superpower adrenaline and nauseousness, and I was worried when they said 'zero' despite my best efforts I would crumble and throw things. Everything on me was shaking.

When they called me back, there's Nurse Angelface standing right behind the door patients go in (across the office from where she usually is) smiling.  She says "I have good news for you". (She later told me she raaaaan down the hallway when she got the lab report).

I went into shock and kind of said "YOU DO!?!?!" and then she quickly shoved me into Dr. Kickass' office and handed him a paper.  Bub and I are now plopped down in chairs.

Dr. Kickass fumbles with glasses a second, looks at paper, and says "Oh my God". Then nurse Angel says they are both blastocysts, and not only that but they're Grade A.

Ummmm.. WHAT?!?!?!

So glad I had already gone to the bathroom because I probably would have peed my pants.

I started crying, Bub started laughing, I declared my crying gross which thankfully stopped the crying.

Of the late-late-late (two days!) bloomers, one of them has pooped out, the other is still mysteriously chugging around.  (Are you kidding me?)

I do not remember undressing, getting an ultrasound to check on my post-ER progress (apparently they just had to push hard on my stomach to get to my tricky hidden ovary for it's eggs - which I'm so glad they did! - so that's probably why I'm still sore).  I do remember thanking the Doctor and giggling at Marc and unable to decide who to text first.

Afterwards we went into the little nurses' nook where Angelface works and ended up laughing and having lemoncake with them for a half hour. (Icing is now on my leggings). Nurse said honestly, a miracle - and they were so excited when the report came in they whooped and she went running.

I know I'm not pregnant (YET!) and this is just getting a couple of blasts.. But holy shit me, are you KIDDING ME?  I get a CHANCE? WHO has heard of one cycle going from ZERO fertilizing to having two, perfect blasts?

My point is whatever little but very crucial part of me started to completely and utterly die this last weekend was slowly, tentatively reviving all week and now it's awake.  And I'm smiling. And there's no part of me that thinks bad HAS to happen and that miracles DON'T.  If you knew what kind of hardcore cynic I am you would know that that in itself is a miracle - you all had so much to do with that I'm going to be forever, and ever, and ever grateful. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have so many people thinking happy thoughts and lighting candles and cheering me on.  Some weird kind of magic happened that I wasn't expecting and I didn't think I deserved, and now I have a really good shot because of it.

The proper words to you fail me.

I have nothing but love right now.

And what a couple of unbelievable ASSKICKERS these two are!  BOOM!  Heisenberg and La Bamba kicking ass, taking names and making history!!!

Off for a big celebratory lunch with Mr. T!

Love, love, love you people.  Oh so much.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Embryogate Day 4

It. Is. Thursday.

Last night was a lovely distraction... It was a comfort to be around the gay husband Mr. T (who I have spoken to on the phone but haven't seen in person since the debacle because I'm a freaking maniac who can never remember if she's even showered). There were a gaggle of hilarious gays, guacamole and pizza, a viewing of Hocus Pocus and American Horror Story... Oh it's so good.  Completely twisted. And Bub got a couple of drinks in him and had a good time (I'm sure he's beyond stressed and I'm such a mess I'm no help to anyone, so it was nice to see).

Additionally, Mr. T got me two pairs of socks for my hopeful FET, a colorful pair with individual toes and a pair that just cleverly says 'fuck' over and over again.  Here's hoping I get the opportunity to make a splash.

So my plan for anticipating the morning-updates and retaining some level of sanity is to stay up as late as humanly possible, then pop an Ambien, and then stay unconscious as long as humanly possible in the morning (hooray for being a writer and making my own schedule!).  

So this morning Dr. Kickass' call woke me up.

So the two that fertilized late are now 'multi-cellular'.  Meaning they have so many cells that they're no longer counting them.  He stressed repeatedly that they won't know if they divided up properly until tomorrow - but as of right now, as far as they can tell, they look how they're supposed to look for day 4.

The second two that fertilized late-late-late - are still dividing.  Found out from nurse angelface this afternoon that one is 8 cell and the other is 5 (it's technically their day 3, so apart from the late blooming working against them, the 8 cell is still about right). There's not a whole lot of hope for them, but they are still dividing.

Fun fact: also found out that what they did for me isn't considered 'rescue icsi' it's considered 'delayed icsi' which is apparently a whole different and rarer beast (which doesn't have that great of success rates, hence the rarity). 

So they are telling me to be hopeful, and as of this morning everything looks like it should be good, but man alive they are stressing the unlikelihood of this situation. Obviously given the circumstances ( and just them being smart) no one can say 'yeah!  this is kickass!' but basically.. everyone will be surprised if this goes well (including me).

(Quite nicely, Dr. Kickass did say that this is going to keep him up tonight waiting, so he can't imagine how I would be feeling.. and nurse angelface assured me upon request she will be lighting candles and sacrificing the metaphorical chickens.)

Tomorrow morning I go in for an u/s at 8 AM because my stomach is still bothering me from Saturday (not in OHSS territory just in weird, feel like I pulled a muscle territory).  That should be right around when they get the report from the lab so I will probably be in the office when it comes.  I have mixed feelings about this because I have no idea how I'll react.

I'm losing a little bit of steam, here... Things are certainly less grim then they were earlier this week, and holy shit me over the last few days there's a lot to be thankful for.. but man, I'm reaching coocoo nervous territory.  

I just keep reminding myself we've slaughtered the odds thus far.  So far, that we've done.  The likelihood of any fertilizing a day late are SO small, and  it definitely looks like they've made it thus far. It's just requiring more effort to keep thinking YES these are fucking BADASS embryos that are punching statistics right in the face and they're going to continue to do so.

And this is just getting them to freeze.  Please, please, please God, mother nature, universe, just let me have the damn shot.

So the two front runners - they have to decide to be blastocysts by tomorrow morning. I am beyond hoping for that, but at the very least they have to get to the pre-blastocyst phase so they're still showing signs of life and then maybe can be frozen Saturday.  So the next 24 hours is the big finish, the big pre-freeze finale.  I need them to be blastocysts.

These have to be my kids, have to be.  I've been through enough, I've been on the wrong side of statistics for long enough - Universe, I will be taking my kids home with me now and retiring to being a bombass cheerleader for others, thankyouverymuch.

Please, pretty pretty please, keep hoping and praying and crossing fingers and lighting candles and sacrificing goats and petitioning to the powers that be on our behalf. We're so close to being able to let them freeze - they just have to surprise everybody one more time, and then they can rest before the big show next month.

I am SO humbled and thankful by all the support and happy dances... please keep them coming.  One more day of working our collective magic and then I'll have a SHOT.  Kick it into overdrive today/tonight, if you would. Hopefully I'm going to get on first thing in the morning and have a happy update for everybody.  Let's DO THIS.

Sidenote:  I think Heisenberg has won out for the second embryo's name.  Again, I feel my embryo should be a badass with a say-something hat that doesn't take shit from anyone.

I've gotten amazing stories in my inbox so far... I mean, amazing.  I'm gonna wait a few days to hopefully have more trickle in and then I'll put them up. If you have an amazing story, send it! (I'm thinking of making it a tab on here instead of a post, so that I can continually add to it when anyone comes across the request and wants to).

Thank you thank you thank you thank you for all the kindness and thoughts and well wishes... Please keep them coming, pretty pretty please.  So far it's done amazing things. I'm just a bug eyed infertile in Los Angeles that you will probably never meet, but you have/will be helping me beyond anything I'll ever be able to communicate, and so help me I will pay you back with wild dances and encouragement of unfathomable proportions.

If I can get embryos/pregnant with these kinds of numbers and odds, then a real, honest miracle will have happened.

Pray/hope/wish/petition that tomorrow morning there's word of a miracle.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Embryogate: Day 3, Shots, Magic and A Positive Idea.

Happy Wednesday, Womb Warriors!

Or to rephrase:  halfway through the longest. week. of. my. life.

PS - someone left a comment yesterday that said this is like watching Breaking Bad and that made me die laughing.  (Which made me think Heisenberg is another option for an embryo name as he is clearly a badass and involved in chemistry.  Plus clearly my embryos would be rocking some sort of say-something hat).

Okay so.

No official update from the lab - no lid lifting today. Yesterday I thought having no update today would make me feel more sane but we have gone in the other direction.  This morning angel RN worded it in a way that gave me pause - that the day-late fertilizers are more likely to poop out.

Trying trying trying to stay positive - they weren't supposed to fertilize in the first place.  And there are two of them.  Trying to hold onto the gleeful feeling of Monday morning being shocked that anybody did anything. They are pissed off and feisty and demanding life.  I need them pissed off and feisty and demanding life.

Plus - these are made of Bub and me.  And Bub and me would NEVER do anything daunting on a weekend so it would make sense they would just hold off until Monday.. right?

So I may possibly get an update tomorrow, or it may be Friday... and more than likely Friday will be the freeze day although apparently it could also be Saturday.  Asked about freezing more thoroughly today, and apparently they have some latest-freezing technique where if an embryo is viable, it will absolutely survive freezing and thaw. So there's that.

Anyways.  I know I sound like a broken record but please keep the candle lighting, the prayers, the good juju and the chicken sacrificing going. It's fucking doing something.  Miracle part 1 was completely against the odds, so miracle to completion is possible.  I have stated before that we are all clearly witches but man.... Please keep it up with the international happy juju for them.  You will be internet aunts and with a wee bit of hope restored in my life after all these years I can use all my badassery and pissed off feistiness and focus is it entirely on WILLING everyone's babies into existence through sheer will and mind scolding.

And speaking of witches - Mr. T and a gaggle of gays are having an American Horror Story: Coven viewing party tonight.  So that will be nice and distracting.  I will be the only ute present, Jessica Lange, Kathy Bates and Angela Bassett are clearly good for the soul, and so help me I will make them wave all their fairy godfather hands around and say prayers.  As Mr. T put it, they can be my Goven.

(Source.  And clearly just a promo for IVF).

So today as I'm taking a surprise hour long car ride because Bub left his insulin pen at home today (I mean.. the man's been shooting me up with needles for two weeks and dealing with side effects - least I could do is bring him his needle) I started thinking-thinking in car, and plotting things to google when I got home.

Mainly I wanted to come home, and for the millionth time in my TTC career, look up shot-in-hell-turned-pregnancy stories.  They're all over the place, but there's not a whole lot in terms of a wide variety of stories in one spot.

So I'm thinking we could do a collective post on here about shot-in-hell turned happy stories, like most of us have needed at one point or another, for people to find all in one spot.

Stories about low betas, poor fertilization, concerning bleeding, weird placenta problems, 'you're definitely not getting pregnant', small number of follicles, expected miscarriage, etc., turned successful pregnancies.

So if you have had one yourself or know someone who has, email it to me (Stupid Stork 4 at gmail).  However long you want it to be, just the crisis and how it turned happy part, and let me know how you want to be credited (name/link if you have one).

I just think it'd be cool to have a variety of stories like that from real infertiles (not fertiles talking about their sisters aunts cousins hairdressers) all in one spot.  For the lady a few months from now googling for some hope when it's almost lost.  I'm sure it'll be a virtual hug for someone at some point, and some good karma for us to boot.

Whatdya think?

In the meantime I started a thread about it on Fertile Thoughts...

And honestly, I can't fucking mention this enough.. Thank you for all the prayers and wishes and good vibes and juju - we're at the end of the fertility road here, and if I have to be this frightened I'm glad I have such awesome and understanding people with me.  If anyone can make a miracle happen with good vibes and juju and prayers it's you people - you're like the Seal Team 6 of Magic.

Thank you thank you thank you and please oh pretty please keep them coming... These have to be my kids.  Have to be. I'm out of shots, here. This is them, I've waited long enough.  I'll be collecting my kids now, universe, and then retire to channeling my energy to others. Please please please please thank you thank you thank you thank you.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Embryogate: Day 2

It's only Tuesday?!  Are you SHITTING me?!

I am getting more and more proof that you people have ACTUAL MAGICAL POWERS.

So today was my Grandpa's 89th birthday.  Got up, got in the Batmobile.

By accident ran into my  husband at Starbucks.  Also, Arsenio Hall was there (the beginning of a day which required me to repeatedly ask myself if I was dreaming). I like to think that Arsenio Hall manifesting in a random non-Hollywood Starbucks is a good sign.  I think I read that in Aesops Fables.

Driving through LA to start the hour and a half to get to Gram & Gramps house (over the river and through the woods and all that) I drive past Beverly Hills where La Bamba and friend are.  If anything maybe they'll stick around because right now they should be under the impression that we're really, really fancy.

Thinking happy thoughts, playing songs that will keep me optimistic (and I am!  I'm optimistic!).  Halfway there my phone starts ringing and I see it's Dr. Kickass so I put it on speaker.

It's the Angel RN (whom I love - she and I would totally be friends, I think, had we met elsewhere).

In case you're just tuning in - on Saturday I had my egg retrieval and they got 20 eggs.  On Sunday morning, Dr. Kickass called to break it to us that out of the 11 eggs that were mature that day, 0 fertilized.  ZERO.  They had six more eggs that didn't mature until Sunday, and they were going to try to fertilize them although it was a 'less than 5% chance' that even one would fertilize.

I called my Mom and told Mr. T - who in turn got my family, friends, and people I don't know praying and lighting candles.  I got on here and on twitter, and every person went into 'best freaking people ever' mode lighting candles, making facebook posts, blog posts, etc.  I was not feeling hopeful but I was feeling very loved.

Then yesterday morning he called and said that two of the six had fertilized.  TWO. TWO!!!!!!!

Cue choir of angels and weeping and overall meltdown of orgasmic glee.

 Anyhoo, RN calls this morning...

She says that they checked on embryos.  Both are still growing - one is 4 cell and one is 3 cell, which is right around where they need to be today.  (Miracle I haven't googled this yet...)

She also said that when they lifted the lid off the crockpot this morning to check on those two, that there are two others they're 'going to keep their eye on' because they seem to be doing something.  So not to get my hopes up, but I may have 'a couple more' on Friday.

I begin to, yet again, well up from happiness.  And to tell her I know I'm being silly for being that happy about it but holy shit what an increase from 0!  She also said they may call with an update tomorrow, but if not it'll be Friday (when they freeze).

I had no idea any of this was even POSSIBLE.  When I think about the likelihood of any of this having gone my way I start to LEAK.

Sunday it felt like the END, and somehow, someway, Bubs sperm and my eggs decided to punch statistics right in the throat.

Please, pretty please, keep the prayers and candles and happy thoughts and goat sacrifices coming.   I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that I'm getting them in the first place but holy crap if our collective magic can get them to Friday and beyond.

I can't believe I actually get hope. To be an anomaly within IVF... I mean, I have felt hope for mostly everyone but honestly I was starting to feel (and on Sunday, wholeheartedly feel) that hope was just not something worth having for me. I know the smart thing would be to not get my hopes up high, but holy shit me I GET SOME.. I mean, I'm going to be upset if things get wonky anyway, why not have optimism for as long as possible?

Sidenote: name ideas for embryos to accompany La Bamba:

*El Jefe
*Lil Asskicker
*The Space Cowboy

I love you people.  Please keep tapdancing and sacrificing chickens and talking to the powers that be for us... I will GLADLY be that girl where when someone is feeling hopeless, they get pointed in my direction like "dude, look what happened over HERE.  Crazy wonderful shit can happen even when it seems like all is lost".

Please please please please please.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Holiest of Holy Shits.

Umm, I love you people.

I fucking love you people.

Yesterday morning when the Doctor called and said "none", I immediately went dead inside.  Just dead.  Lights out in Storktown. Here we are at IVF, here we are at super snazzy challenging IVF, here we are still screwed. I know people have it worse, I do.  There are some women who I marvel at on a DAILY basis all the shit they've gone through (you are probably reading this).  But four years, ninety gajillion dollars, heartbreak and the exhausting attempt to keep my optimism later, and not an embryo (or really, a hope of future embryos) was too much.  I went dead.

Every couple of hours I'd look at my phone, and there would be a new comment on my post from yesterday, a tweet, a picture of a candle lit for me (which slayed me), a text, a message on Facebook, and I would WEEP.  I know weeping is normally considered bad, but it was the ONE release I had yesterday (better than Vicodin or a cigarette). I have never felt so embraced by the IF community and I've always felt pretty awesomely embraced. I am just so very, very, very thankful for you and for being allowed to be a weird little corner in this community.  It's fucking awesome, humbling, comforting - a big comfy bosom at the ready.

I asked for prayers, happy thoughts, good vibes, candle lightings, a stern mental petition to science and nature, and I got them.  The dead part of me didn't think it would do anything, but it made me feel better, and loved, and not alone.

Then some crazy shit happened, one after the other.

Last night I'm sitting on the couch with Bub trying to convince myself to sleep.  I don't use my phone for music - at all, NEVER (I like my tiny Ipod).  Also, a few weeks ago Bub finally convinced me to put one of those passcode thingamajigs on it to get into it in the first place.  The phone is sitting several feet away from me and I haven't been on it in hours, and it starts playing music.  At first I thought it was the TV with a really weird choice in song - then when we muted the TV, it was clearly coming from my phone.  Took us a few minutes to figure out how to turn it off.

It was playing "I can tell that we are gonna be friends" by the White Stripes.

I don't have any songs on my phone - just ringtones. I DO, however, love that song.  On my Ipod it's on my IVF playlist.  Yeah, I have an IVF playlist.  Just songs that make me happy, make me think of babymaking, make me optimistic.  The White Stripes song is one of my favorites.  Eons ago a spiritual/cooky family member of mine told me 'you're going to have twins one day'.  The last couple of months when I tried to force my mind to be optimistic, I'd listen to that song and think "they're going to get embryos, they're going to stick in two". Again - rare attempts to be optimistic, here, and that song just makes me think of two friendly peas in a pod.

It was absurd - like, really?  My technology has to go all haunted and wonky JUST to torture me? So once we figured out how to turn it off I went to bed.  Done. D-O-N-E.

I barely slept, kept waking up crying or just angry.  You know like when you had a bad break up in high school?  You'd wake up in the middle of the night and for a hot second things would be fine, and then you'd remember life sucked and your stomach would drop through the floor. Like that.  Mixed in with getting lovely messages, and saying out loud to the universe I KNOW my eggs are feistier than this. I was also beyond moved by the hope friends, family, IF people were showing me and was plotting exactly how I would kindly and non-dramatically say "thanks for trying, but..." in the morning.

8 AM Doctor calls - he asks me how I'm doing physically post egg retrieval (since they got twice as many this time, I'm super duper sore but that's the least of my problems).  Two minutes in he says "Well, out of the six we talked about yesterday -" I literally brace myself wanting the zero to be over with - "two of them fertilized normally".

At this point I start screaming and crying.  I say "SHUT UP!  ARE YOU LYING?" at which point Bub hears me from the other room and comes sprinting in, and Luna the lovable moron begins circling and howling. (Thankfully my Doctor thinks I'm funny).

He's a Doctor so apparently he's not supposed to lie.

Yesterday, 11 out of my immediately mature eggs didn't fertilize.  Not one.  He told me the embryologist was going to try with the leftover 6 eggs that had matured since Saturday, but that the chances of even one fertilizing was less than 5%.

Fucking miracle. Miracle, miracle, miracle.

I have never - NEVER - cried from happiness before in my life.  EVER. Seen it in the movies, didn't know it was an actual thing, and I WEPT.  Wept.

Since they're a day behind, my uterine lining is going to be a little too fluffy for them right now.  So they think the best chance is if they survive until Friday, they're going to freeze them, we'll get my lining all synced up with them and do a FET next month.

Stopped crying long enough to tell Bub what was going on who was enormously relieved.  Immediately texted my Mom who had my entire family (all 90 million of them) lighting candles last night (she said miracle: part 1).  Texted Mr. T who was rallying the troops last night and cried with me on the phone today (whose text response is priceless)


I am so happy.

I realize that that may seem ludicrous - I've seen women upset that they only got 8 embryos and I have 2. And my 2 are behind where they should be...

But holy shit!  2!  2 is SO MUCH better than 0!  And those two had less than a 5% chance of existing in the first place! Yes they have to survive until Friday (please please please) and then to freeze/thaw, etc... but OMG, for the chance, just for the chance...  And if we have to do this again (I'm hoping not) at least I can say "well, last time out of one batch there was a 33% fertilization rate" which is much more optimistic than 0. If I have to have a round 3, it'll be easier to go into it with some hope now.

I am so happy to have hurdles and hope.  So happy.  

... And this could be them.  This could be them. This could be them, feisty and pissed off and demanding life.  This could be those two I've dreamed about and was told I was going to have.  This could be them. They could right now be deciding if they are going to have my bug eyes.. Last night they could have showed some of Bub's technical genius by somehow communicating via my phone (could they not send a text?).  This could be them.  This could be two little feisty ass kickers who insisted on getting here come hell or high water.  They just have to stay feisty and strong - and I'm feisty and strong, so they have to have that in them, right?

I am overwhelmed with all the love I felt yesterday.  Overwhelmed.  Everyone was so unfuckingbelievably amazing.  I'm so honored and humbled to have you in my life.  (And though there's been countless awesome people, COUNTLESS who have gone above and beyond, a special shout out to my darling Fox who has been sending me silly videos and rallying troops on my behalf for two weeks. Honored to call her a friend).

Please keep thinking, praying, lighting candles, etc.  I'm totally fucking humbled that so many people did this in the first place so it feels weird asking for even more (I want MORE free candy, damnit!) but my gawd, you all have some kind of magic.  

And I would love - LOVE - to be that blog that people accidentally stumble across via google one day.. when they've been given terrible, awful 'it's never going to happen' news, and they want to find someone who's prospects were even bleaker and came out the other side.  I will rock the SHIT out of being that girl - I have had enough with being the horror story that scares people. I was MADE to be the girl that can take someone by the shoulders and say 'oh no, honey, this is GOING to happen for you, I KNOW it will'.

If I do manage to come out the other side (please please this time would be great) I will be sensitive, and wonderful, and without complaint.  I will write (as I do, anyway) mostly about unrelated shenanigans and light the whole fucking street on fire when you need someone to burn a candle.  If I loved you times a million yesterday, I love you times a gajillion today.

I am just... okay this is rambly, but I am just so grateful for you.  So grateful.  And grateful for whatever the hell miracle happened in the last 24 hours that gave me at least a shot. A shot is a SHOT damnit.

I'll end this with my peas in a pod song... For you and for my two.

My darling embryos, please, please, please stick around and give me the chance to be your silly Mom who will inevitably be blasting that song into my uterus for the entire 40 weeks. (Sidenote - I have not named you in your embryo state yet, but I am thinking one of you will possibly and inexplicably be La Bamba.  Just trying to think of another name that is also ass kicking).

Thank you for all the love - please keep praying and thinking happy thoughts and sacrificing goats and lighting candles and whatever else you got.  I will be one happy, happy and appreciative Stork.

Sunday, October 6, 2013


0 fertilized.

They retrieved 20 eggs yesterday and 11 were mature. 

They did ICSI on all 11, plus special chemical, and as of this morning 0 fertilized. 

Since yesterday, 6 more eggs matured. Today the head embryologist is going to try to fertilize them but the chances are 'less than 5%'. 

A miracle is required. 

The next 24 hours will probably be my swift quick from spiritual agnostic to atheist. From always finds the silly to total nervous breakdown. 

I know we do a lot of praying and hoping and good vibing for each other. I honestly at this point have a hard time believing it does anything but if it does... 

Please please please pray for us. Pray for those last 6.

We're good people. I don't need a baby army, I will be as kind and silly a mom as possible and Bub is just about the greatest guy you'll ever meet. 

After 4 years and every kind of fertility treatment imaginable this is the last stop on the train for us before we have no choice but to get off the train & take residence in All Hope Lost. 

I will not be able to live through this and keep my sanity. 

Please light a candle, say a prayer, do a dance, something. Anything. It would be great if something could happen that would make me believe in God or miracles or that good things happen. 

I try my absolute damnedest to laugh through the shittiest things. It's my gift it's my Jennyism it's the one bit of sunshine I contribute to the world and that is going to be murdered. 

My plan for today is to smoke a cigarette, take some Vicodin because I'm still so sore from yesterday and try not to become an empty shell.

Thanks to everyone on twitter for kind and/or pissed off words. Greatly appreciated. 

Please get pushy with God on my behalf it would appear he can't hear me. I would love to be the happy story people can tell in their dark hours - 'listen to what happened to this girl, if she can get pregnant anyone can' - and not the horror story people are afraid of becoming. 

It's a shot in the dark and I may not deserve it but I need a miracle.  

Prayers, candles, retweets, a stern mental request, a happy thought... Anything. Help me I'm quickly approaching helpless (and if I'm already there I can have one more day before I have to accept it). 

Friday, October 4, 2013


Stork and Bub are married.

Stork and Bub are wildly compatible people, the only shocking difference is volume level.  He is very introverted, and I am.... Not.

At last years IVF we discovered our eggs & sperm basically have the same dynamic.

I don't really ovulate, but with good drugs my eggs come out ginormous.  Bub's sperm have no problem getting to the egg, but get overwhelmed and decide not to tell the egg it's there in the first place.

So to recap, my eggs come out all sassy, shimmying and jazzhanding their way through our Petrie Dish in a parade of glitter and feathers.  Bub's supermodel sperm gets invited to the party, but upon arrival decides eggs are weird. Decides that eggs are too horrifying to even alert of his arrival, freezes, and then lays still and quiet so the egg won't even know he's there.

Still don't get it?  Okay here's a reenactment of what happened, with the role of my eccentric egg being played by Dave Chappelle as Prince, and the role of sperm being played by cats.

You're welcome.

So here we are, 15 months later, and in 13 hours I'm gonna be sedated and have my eggs retrieved.  

I'm super excited about that part, seeing as how it's the one day where the IVF drugs are going to be FUN.  

Useless IVF (or any fertility treatment involving injections) tip:  DO NOT READ THE HELPFUL INSERT FOR ANY INJECTABLE.

No seriously, don't even glance at it.  If your eye so much as passes over it in a half ass manner, horrible words will pop out.  Just horrible, horrible ne'er to be explained properly words about what the fuck is in that shit to begin with. Two second glance over and this is what it looks like:

Again, you're welcome. And screw you my handwriting is wonderful enjoy the free art.  I'm explaining some very scientific shit left, right and center today.

I shit you not, Bub informed me that the trigger I shot up last night contained something called CHO - as in Chinese Hamster Ovary. You just let that sink in.


So tomorrow is the egg retrieval.  They're going to add the secret spice to make Marc's cats talk to my Prince, hopefully, and then we will know how many fertilized on Sunday.  Considering last time it was 1 out of 10, I'm very nervous about Sunday more so than anything.  

We have to leave here at 5:30 in the morning tomorrow (weeee!) so the plan for tonight is to bulk up on Fajitas (that's protein, right?) and watch "The End".  

By sheer convenient coincidence, this movie does contain one scene which is relevant to the House of Stork climate.  I give you, Jonah Hill's interpretation of any given infertile woman once she starts progesterone suppositories, as I will be doing soon:

I am feeling lucky (I get to do IVF when I need it, after all).  I am feeling unlucky (I need IVF, after all).  I am feeling nervous, I am feeling excited, I am feeling the need for fajitas.

If I have ever made you laugh or think or pause or smirk or you have any warm and fuzzies towards me whatsoever, please think a happy thought for me during the next couple of days.  Pretty pretty please.