is about to start now. I'm so sorry I can't write more, but I will very soon. First of all, I can't believe I'm typing this, but I'm pregnant. It still hasn't hit me yet. I've gotten positives since Tuesday and today my beta results were 243. Next step is more betas and figuring out how many babies are in there. Yikes! Second, I'm on bedrest for the weekend and don't have a laptop (hence the brief recap). The hyperstimulation has gotten worse as a result of the pregnancy and so I'm on the couch for the weekend and hopefully to work on Monday and just taking it easy for the next few weeks. Last, I need prayers for a friend. My also infertile coteacher goes in for her beta on Monday and please pray for her positive. I can't even think about the idea of her having to deal with bad infertility days while stuck in a room with a pregnant woman. Please pray that she and I get to walk this journey together. Promise I'll write more soon.
xoxo
jackijaguar
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
I'm crazy....just like you
After my disappointing appointment with Beverly, I went through the piles on my desk and dug out the list of counselors covered by my insurance. So many of the names were from Beverly's practice. Hmm...what to do what to do. I decided to call Linda, the psychological gatekeeper who matched me up with Beverly in the first place.
Damn. Voicemail. "Hi, Linda. This is Jacki Jaguar, I met with you about two weeks ago to discuss finding a counselor to help me deal with my infertility. I met with Beverly and, well...it's just...I think...could you just call me back, please? I'd appreciate it. My number is 555-3333. Thanks."
What did I want to tell Linda exactly? My first idea was to ask her if she's sure she doesn't have any openings to meet with her since I felt so comfortable during my first meeting. My second thought was to ask her why she felt Beverly and I would be a good match. My third thought was to ask her if she could match me with someone else because Beverly and I weren't going to work out. My fourth thought was to tell Linda that Beverly is probably not the best person to refer infertile women to in the future because she makes douchey remarks.
I figured I'd ponder those choices while waiting for Linda to return my call. I studied the list further. There was another practice where I was covered to see several of the counselors. Let me call them. A woman's voice quickly greeted me.
"Hi, my name is Jacki. I'm wondering if you have anyone at your practice who deals with infertility?"
"Mmm....no. We don't have anyone who specializes in infertility. They all deal with general issues. Sorry, take care."
That was abrupt. Fine then. I didn't want to come to your dumb office anyway. I cross that practice off the list. With both of the large practices x'd out, the once very long list has dwindled significantly. I notice one name whose office is right nearby, close to work, close to home. In fact, it's in the middle of the two. I dial the number and am immediately kicked into voicemail.
"Hi, my name is Jacki. I'm trying to find a counselor who deals with infertility. If you could please call me back at 555-3333, I'd appreciate it. Thanks and have a good day."
I hung up the phone thinking that it probably wouldn't pan out but at least I did something today in my effort to find a counselor. Not much, but something. I spent much of the remainder of Wednesday thinking about this counseling thing. What am I looking for in a counselor? First, I want someone who "gets" it, meaning that they understand that it's a very stressful thing to deal with and that it's a medical condition. Someone who won't break the standard rules of speaking to an infertile. But as the day goes on, I realize there's more that I want. Not need, but want. I want someone who I don't have to explain the basics of infertility to. Like with both Linda and Beverly and with other randoms docs like my primary and the rheumatologist, as we discussed my infertility, I had to teach Infertility 101 as I explained how I'm doing with it. Simple stuff, like how Clomid works and the purpose of injectables and what PCOS is. Don't get me wrong, I love that they ask so that they can understand, but the truth is I do that all the time with regular people. And, generally, I like it. I like that people want to understand what I'm going through and I want to talk to others about it. The more it's talked about, the less the stigma that society places on it. But for just one hour every week or two, I would love to not have to explain it. To have that whole sixty minutes be devoted to me, how I'm dealing with my infertility rather than waste any of that precious time informing the doctor of how infertility works.
On Thursday afternoon, as I lie around in an effort to convince my ovaries to stop aching, the phone rings. It's Jennifer, the counselor I left a message for.
Her: Hi, this is Jennifer Longlastname. I'm calling for Jacki Jaguar.
Me: This is she.
Her: Hi. I got your message yesterday. So I understand you're dealing with infertility?
Me: Yeah.
Her: I'm so sorry.
Me: (thinking: I love you.) Thanks. I'm just hoping that I can find someone to help me deal with it. I saw someone yesterday, but she's not going to work out so I'm looking for someone else.
Her: Well, I don't specialize in infertility if that's what you're looking for.
Me: I don't necessarily need someone who specializes in it. I just need someone who "gets" it, who understands that it's a medical condition and won't say stupid stuff like, "If you adopt, you'll get pregnant".
Her: Is that what the other counselor said to you?!
Me: Yeah, along with comments about how I need to relax. I'm looking for someone who won't say that kind of stuff.
Her: I can't believe a counselor said all that. That's not helpful at all.
Me: Yeah. I agree.
...at this point, she starts to stumble along a bit, like she's unsure what to say.
Her: Well...I don't specialize in infertility, but...I could still talk with you... if you like...because...well...umm...
Me: (thinking: Is this woman okay? What the hell?)
Her: It's just that...well, I'm not really supposed to say this, but...I dealt with my own infertility before I had my first child.
Me: (thinking: SHUT UP!? No way!) Really?
Her: Yeah, so while I don't specialize in it, I may be able to understand what you're going through.
Our conversation continues on for a couple minutes before we schedule an appointment. There are two things that Jennifer wants me to be aware of before I commit to meeting with her in person. One, she can't see me until September 29th. Two, she is 24 weeks pregnant with her second child. She was very sensitive about her pregnancy, completely understanding that I may not want to see her because of the blatant bump that would be in the room as we'd discuss the lack of my own. I think about it for a moment and book the 29th. After we scheduled, she stayed on the phone with me for ten or fifteen minutes just talking about how I'm doing with everything and where Mr. Jaguar and I are in our treatment plan right now. It was awesome.
I got off the phone and immediately burst into tears of relief. God handed me exactly what I needed and even threw a hopeful, little bump into the mix.
"Thanks, God," I said aloud.
There's one thing I did differently this cycle. This cycle...where the meds have worked, where FertilityFriend gave me crosshairs, where I'll finally measure my luteal phase and where we got to do an IUI. I always wear my Common Thread bracelet but at the beginning of this cycle, I made myself a new one. Instead of the plain or beaded one I normally wear, this one has a small nameplate charm across the front of it. The charm is engraved with a single word.
Faith.
Damn. Voicemail. "Hi, Linda. This is Jacki Jaguar, I met with you about two weeks ago to discuss finding a counselor to help me deal with my infertility. I met with Beverly and, well...it's just...I think...could you just call me back, please? I'd appreciate it. My number is 555-3333. Thanks."
What did I want to tell Linda exactly? My first idea was to ask her if she's sure she doesn't have any openings to meet with her since I felt so comfortable during my first meeting. My second thought was to ask her why she felt Beverly and I would be a good match. My third thought was to ask her if she could match me with someone else because Beverly and I weren't going to work out. My fourth thought was to tell Linda that Beverly is probably not the best person to refer infertile women to in the future because she makes douchey remarks.
I figured I'd ponder those choices while waiting for Linda to return my call. I studied the list further. There was another practice where I was covered to see several of the counselors. Let me call them. A woman's voice quickly greeted me.
"Hi, my name is Jacki. I'm wondering if you have anyone at your practice who deals with infertility?"
"Mmm....no. We don't have anyone who specializes in infertility. They all deal with general issues. Sorry, take care."
That was abrupt. Fine then. I didn't want to come to your dumb office anyway. I cross that practice off the list. With both of the large practices x'd out, the once very long list has dwindled significantly. I notice one name whose office is right nearby, close to work, close to home. In fact, it's in the middle of the two. I dial the number and am immediately kicked into voicemail.
"Hi, my name is Jacki. I'm trying to find a counselor who deals with infertility. If you could please call me back at 555-3333, I'd appreciate it. Thanks and have a good day."
I hung up the phone thinking that it probably wouldn't pan out but at least I did something today in my effort to find a counselor. Not much, but something. I spent much of the remainder of Wednesday thinking about this counseling thing. What am I looking for in a counselor? First, I want someone who "gets" it, meaning that they understand that it's a very stressful thing to deal with and that it's a medical condition. Someone who won't break the standard rules of speaking to an infertile. But as the day goes on, I realize there's more that I want. Not need, but want. I want someone who I don't have to explain the basics of infertility to. Like with both Linda and Beverly and with other randoms docs like my primary and the rheumatologist, as we discussed my infertility, I had to teach Infertility 101 as I explained how I'm doing with it. Simple stuff, like how Clomid works and the purpose of injectables and what PCOS is. Don't get me wrong, I love that they ask so that they can understand, but the truth is I do that all the time with regular people. And, generally, I like it. I like that people want to understand what I'm going through and I want to talk to others about it. The more it's talked about, the less the stigma that society places on it. But for just one hour every week or two, I would love to not have to explain it. To have that whole sixty minutes be devoted to me, how I'm dealing with my infertility rather than waste any of that precious time informing the doctor of how infertility works.
On Thursday afternoon, as I lie around in an effort to convince my ovaries to stop aching, the phone rings. It's Jennifer, the counselor I left a message for.
Her: Hi, this is Jennifer Longlastname. I'm calling for Jacki Jaguar.
Me: This is she.
Her: Hi. I got your message yesterday. So I understand you're dealing with infertility?
Me: Yeah.
Her: I'm so sorry.
Me: (thinking: I love you.) Thanks. I'm just hoping that I can find someone to help me deal with it. I saw someone yesterday, but she's not going to work out so I'm looking for someone else.
Her: Well, I don't specialize in infertility if that's what you're looking for.
Me: I don't necessarily need someone who specializes in it. I just need someone who "gets" it, who understands that it's a medical condition and won't say stupid stuff like, "If you adopt, you'll get pregnant".
Her: Is that what the other counselor said to you?!
Me: Yeah, along with comments about how I need to relax. I'm looking for someone who won't say that kind of stuff.
Her: I can't believe a counselor said all that. That's not helpful at all.
Me: Yeah. I agree.
...at this point, she starts to stumble along a bit, like she's unsure what to say.
Her: Well...I don't specialize in infertility, but...I could still talk with you... if you like...because...well...umm...
Me: (thinking: Is this woman okay? What the hell?)
Her: It's just that...well, I'm not really supposed to say this, but...I dealt with my own infertility before I had my first child.
Me: (thinking: SHUT UP!? No way!) Really?
Her: Yeah, so while I don't specialize in it, I may be able to understand what you're going through.
Our conversation continues on for a couple minutes before we schedule an appointment. There are two things that Jennifer wants me to be aware of before I commit to meeting with her in person. One, she can't see me until September 29th. Two, she is 24 weeks pregnant with her second child. She was very sensitive about her pregnancy, completely understanding that I may not want to see her because of the blatant bump that would be in the room as we'd discuss the lack of my own. I think about it for a moment and book the 29th. After we scheduled, she stayed on the phone with me for ten or fifteen minutes just talking about how I'm doing with everything and where Mr. Jaguar and I are in our treatment plan right now. It was awesome.
I got off the phone and immediately burst into tears of relief. God handed me exactly what I needed and even threw a hopeful, little bump into the mix.
"Thanks, God," I said aloud.
There's one thing I did differently this cycle. This cycle...where the meds have worked, where FertilityFriend gave me crosshairs, where I'll finally measure my luteal phase and where we got to do an IUI. I always wear my Common Thread bracelet but at the beginning of this cycle, I made myself a new one. Instead of the plain or beaded one I normally wear, this one has a small nameplate charm across the front of it. The charm is engraved with a single word.
Faith.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Do these ovaries make me look fat?
I have Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome.
The good news is it's very, very mild.
The bad news is I continue to be on limited activity. I still have abdominal pain and bloating.
There's one main thing I have to prevent with OHSS: twisting an ovary. So I have to be careful not to twist my torso. Your ovaries flip back and forth regularly and it's no big deal. However, if your ovary is very enlarged as my right one in particular is, it can flip, flip again and then it cuts off its own blood supply.
At the RE today, when we confirmed all this, Dr. PacMan told me to call if I have severe abdominal pain. Being an overplanner, I ask, "What's considered severe?" Y'know, there's a wide spectrum for pain and I just want to make sure I don't screw this up.
The nurse responds, "The pain will make you drop to your knees."
"Well, that's pretty clear. I don't think I'll miss that," I answer.
Later, as the nurse and I are chatting, she says that the pain would be so bad, I would be on the ground and either unable to speak or screaming. What the f#ck?!
Allrighty then. Consider me on the lookout for severe pain.
Oh, and one more not so great aspect of OHSS. If you have it and get pregnant, the abdominal pain will get worse before it gets better. Right on.
The good news is it's very, very mild.
The bad news is I continue to be on limited activity. I still have abdominal pain and bloating.
There's one main thing I have to prevent with OHSS: twisting an ovary. So I have to be careful not to twist my torso. Your ovaries flip back and forth regularly and it's no big deal. However, if your ovary is very enlarged as my right one in particular is, it can flip, flip again and then it cuts off its own blood supply.
At the RE today, when we confirmed all this, Dr. PacMan told me to call if I have severe abdominal pain. Being an overplanner, I ask, "What's considered severe?" Y'know, there's a wide spectrum for pain and I just want to make sure I don't screw this up.
The nurse responds, "The pain will make you drop to your knees."
"Well, that's pretty clear. I don't think I'll miss that," I answer.
Later, as the nurse and I are chatting, she says that the pain would be so bad, I would be on the ground and either unable to speak or screaming. What the f#ck?!
Allrighty then. Consider me on the lookout for severe pain.
Oh, and one more not so great aspect of OHSS. If you have it and get pregnant, the abdominal pain will get worse before it gets better. Right on.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
I only like you as a friend
Yesterday, after summer school, I puttered around in my classroom for a while, unpacking bits and pieces of stuff. One of my grade partners moved a filing cabinet for me since I'm on restricted activity until my ovaries settle down (they still hurt). I had the very important job of opening the doors for him as he blindly made the trek, a giant metal cabinet obscuring his view. I had intentions of accomplishing a lot today but mostly I just walked around and socialized with friends that I haven't seen all summer. I'm really good at that. Procrastination, I mean. For the first time, I felt some enthusiasm for the school year to start. Having worked all summer, I haven't had much anticipation for September but today I realized how much I missed everybody. I hadn't realized how often I was alone this summer.
Shortly after noon, I left to grab a slice of pizza before my first appointment with my new therapist, Beverly. I left the pizza place with only twenty minutes to get there which was plenty of time. As I came around a curve, there was a dog further up the road but in my path. I slowed as did the truck in front of me. This dog was happily trotting down a road that has no shoulder and a forty mile per hour speed limit! Yikes. By the time, I pulled over and got out of my car, he was pretty far away, but turned his head toward me at my second shout. Then he happily trotted back to me. He reminded me of the dog in Annie. A mutt, kinda ratty, super cute and happy as can be. This sweet dog came right up to me, let me pick him up and I put him in the car.
Umm, now what? I have fifteen minutes to get to the appointment. What do I do with this dog? I can't wait around for animal control (nor do I want to because you're just so darn cute, aren't you, aren't you, yes you are!), I don't have time to drop him at my house and make it back to counseling on time, I have no idea where the police station is. Hmm....I ask the dog what we should do. He doesn't have any ideas.
I don't want to call Beverly and cancel on such short notice. That would be rude and I could still be charged. I decide that I will drive to therapy, explain the situation to Beverly and let her decide how to handle the therapy appointment. At least if I end up having to cancel, she'll know I wasn't lying about this random dog appearing in the road. I (we) arrive at the office. Do I just carry him in? Am I allowed? Will I be like those annoying people who carry their dumb little rat dogs around everywhere? I leave the air conditioner on, put on the emergency brake, give the dog a quick safety lecture and run inside. Beverly greets me and I explain the situation. Guess what? The dog gets to come to counseling! What a hoot!
Shortly after noon, I left to grab a slice of pizza before my first appointment with my new therapist, Beverly. I left the pizza place with only twenty minutes to get there which was plenty of time. As I came around a curve, there was a dog further up the road but in my path. I slowed as did the truck in front of me. This dog was happily trotting down a road that has no shoulder and a forty mile per hour speed limit! Yikes. By the time, I pulled over and got out of my car, he was pretty far away, but turned his head toward me at my second shout. Then he happily trotted back to me. He reminded me of the dog in Annie. A mutt, kinda ratty, super cute and happy as can be. This sweet dog came right up to me, let me pick him up and I put him in the car.
Umm, now what? I have fifteen minutes to get to the appointment. What do I do with this dog? I can't wait around for animal control (nor do I want to because you're just so darn cute, aren't you, aren't you, yes you are!), I don't have time to drop him at my house and make it back to counseling on time, I have no idea where the police station is. Hmm....I ask the dog what we should do. He doesn't have any ideas.
I don't want to call Beverly and cancel on such short notice. That would be rude and I could still be charged. I decide that I will drive to therapy, explain the situation to Beverly and let her decide how to handle the therapy appointment. At least if I end up having to cancel, she'll know I wasn't lying about this random dog appearing in the road. I (we) arrive at the office. Do I just carry him in? Am I allowed? Will I be like those annoying people who carry their dumb little rat dogs around everywhere? I leave the air conditioner on, put on the emergency brake, give the dog a quick safety lecture and run inside. Beverly greets me and I explain the situation. Guess what? The dog gets to come to counseling! What a hoot!
This is going to sound critical but I have concerns about Beverly within the first five minutes. For one, she's quite old. Now I'm not geriatric phobic but I'm not sure how well the elderly will relate to my infertility. Two, she strongly reminds me of my mom and that is not a good thing from a counseling standpoint. She just doesn't seem like my type. I chide myself. Be open, Jacki. Maybe she will understand more than you can possibly imagine. Linda selected her as your conselor for a reason. And, besides, she likes animals! You love animals!
About five minutes after I scold myself, Beverly says this about my infertility: "You really can't stress about getting pregnant. Stress can prevent pregnancy. I can't tell you how many couples adopt, they don't have that stress anymore, and then they get pregnant. I can't tell you how many times I've seen that happen."
Personal foul. Flag on the field. This woman just used forbidden phrase #2 of speaking to infertiles: Just adopt and you'll get pregnant.
I stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until I can throw $20 at this woman and run for the door with my little dog in tow. The conversation continues. Honestly, it was awful. The longest hour of my life. Thank God the dog was there. The chat was filled with painfully long, awkward pauses that I felt compelled to fill. By the end, I would just nod and smile and say, "So yeah....that's all" or "Yup...that's my answer." The whole thing could've been a Seinfeld episode.
Later, she refers to my infertility as "my problem" and I can't articulate why, but it irritated the sh!t out of me when I thought about it later. It felt as though she was making light of it the entire hour. Beverely definitely felt that I wasn't getting pregnant because I was too stressed about it and if I relaxed more, I'd be fine (forbidden phrase #1 of talking to infertiles: You really need to relax or any variation of said phrase). At one point, I informed her that relaxing will not cause me to ovulate. Medication will because I have a medical condition. Also, it seemed as though she hadn't read the notes that Linda had provided her with because she should've known that. As I've thought more about that appointment since then, she didn't seem comfortable talking about my infertility and would just move on to other topics. Real f#ckin' useful.
We left with me scheduling an appointment for a few weeks from now that I have every intention of canceling. I just didn't want to have to break up with her in person. It's not like we were serious. It was only one date. I can do that over the phone.
I'm making the dog split the co-pay with me.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Peeing in cups and things looking up
Finally....an excuse to pee on stuff!
Mr. Jaguar gave me my shot of Ovidrel on Wednesday night to trigger ovulation for the IUI. The Ovidrel also gives you a false positive on a pregnancy test until it is completely out of your system, so..........
I get to pee on sticks every day! You can "pee out" the trigger shot. I started this past Friday and have been peeing on sticks every day since. They've been clearly positive up until yesterday where it was barely positive. Today, I couldn't even really decide if it was there or not, so the Ovidrel is almost out of my system entirely. Once it's negative, any postive result after that is considered a true positive.
Seeing the positive is awesome even if I know it's fake. It makes me so excited to see a real one.
On another note, I've been taking my temperature again this cycle. After the ovulation debacle last cycle, I want to feel more in control and aware of what my body is doing. I use FertilityFriend.com which is a great site for organizing your charting information. I had been a bit stressed thinking that my chart looked all wonky even though I was medicated out the wazoo. But today, I put my temperature in and it gave me crosshairs!!! Crosshairs are these two beautiful, red lines that show up to confirm that you ovulated and let you know that you're in your luteal phase. I've never ever had crosshairs, I've never gotten to see how long my luteal phase is, I've never confirmed ovulation through charting. But now I have.
Here's my chart in case you have a burning desire to view the glorious crosshairs:
http://www.fertilityfriend.com/home/1eb7fa
I am in awe of those two red lines. I just can't believe they're actually there and real. I've probably looked at them ten times today. Even if I don't get pregnant this cycle, I hope I'm able to hold on to the fact that I had a lot of firsts this cycle.
Mr. Jaguar gave me my shot of Ovidrel on Wednesday night to trigger ovulation for the IUI. The Ovidrel also gives you a false positive on a pregnancy test until it is completely out of your system, so..........
I get to pee on sticks every day! You can "pee out" the trigger shot. I started this past Friday and have been peeing on sticks every day since. They've been clearly positive up until yesterday where it was barely positive. Today, I couldn't even really decide if it was there or not, so the Ovidrel is almost out of my system entirely. Once it's negative, any postive result after that is considered a true positive.
Seeing the positive is awesome even if I know it's fake. It makes me so excited to see a real one.
On another note, I've been taking my temperature again this cycle. After the ovulation debacle last cycle, I want to feel more in control and aware of what my body is doing. I use FertilityFriend.com which is a great site for organizing your charting information. I had been a bit stressed thinking that my chart looked all wonky even though I was medicated out the wazoo. But today, I put my temperature in and it gave me crosshairs!!! Crosshairs are these two beautiful, red lines that show up to confirm that you ovulated and let you know that you're in your luteal phase. I've never ever had crosshairs, I've never gotten to see how long my luteal phase is, I've never confirmed ovulation through charting. But now I have.
Here's my chart in case you have a burning desire to view the glorious crosshairs:
http://www.fertilityfriend.com/home/1eb7fa
I am in awe of those two red lines. I just can't believe they're actually there and real. I've probably looked at them ten times today. Even if I don't get pregnant this cycle, I hope I'm able to hold on to the fact that I had a lot of firsts this cycle.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Nerves make me dumber
The IUI is complete. It was this past Friday at 8:45 a.m. Our morning started off bright and early when I dropped off Mr. Jaguar's sample so that it could be prepped and pretty by 8:45. This is the part where I should tell you I have a ridiculously, immature sense of humor. I snort when people say sixty nine. I giggle if someone makes a reference to their "box". I died laughing a couple weeks ago when my dad was talking about his giant cucumber from the garden and how he measured it. I'm like a twelve year old boy. So there is pretty much nothing funnier to me than delivering the goods by walking into a waiting room with strangers in it. For those of you who don't know, you have to keep it at body temperature so the RE's office suggests tucking it between your breasts for its maiden voyage. I do this and giggle the whole time at the idea of getting pulled over on my way to the office and having to explain it to a police officer. When I get to the office, I take it out and carry it in both hands, as if trying to warm my hands on a hot coffee mug. And then you have to wait for the special sperm nurse to label it so you have to stand there for a few minutes with it. It's a hoot.
Later, we arrived at the RE's office together. I was...excited, nervous and quiet all at once. I was still afraid that it was too good to be true and the IUI would be cancelled at the last minute. Mr. Jaguar kept checking in on me, asking me if I was okay. It was sweet.
The nurse took us back to the exam room and started giving directions. Undress from the waist down, throw the sheet over you, sign this form. Three directions. That's it. Okie dokie. She leaves, I slip off my underoos (I wear a dress now to most of my RE appointments to save time and dignity) and grab the clipboard to start in on the forms. There are a lot of them. I read the top one over. It explains the procedure, the risks, blah blah blah, sign and date. Okay. I slide the form out and under the others in the pile to get started on the next one. Hmm..it's the same one. It must be a copy for me and a copy for the doctor. I sign and date. Slide the form out and under. Next one is the same. Hmm...maybe I just sign a few for my future IUIs so it's done? Whatever, sign and date, slide form out and under. I signed 4 forms before I realized that I was only supposed to fill out the top form and that the rest were for other patients. Man, I felt dumb. We laughed our heads off as I made Mr. Jaguar hide all of the extra forms I completed in my purse.
Dr. PacMan and the nurse came back in and the first words out of Dr. PacMan's mouth are, "Did we forget to leave you a sheet?" I never threw the sheet over me. Three directions to follow, I managed to be successful with one.
The IUI was the quickest procedure ever. The only real down side was it involved a speculum which is never fun, but it was so quick I can't complain. Honestly, the procedure probably lasted twenty seconds. Then they left us there so that I could lay still for ten minutes and let the swimmers get a head start. While we waited, we took pictures of each other to document the day. The camera was so loud and the doors are thin! We were so paranoid that the office staff could hear the camera that we were giggling like crazy.
I go in for a beta on September 8th if I don't get a period. It should be the 5th, but their office is closed that day. I can pee on a stick before that, so I guess that means we'll know sometime in the beginning of September.
Later, we arrived at the RE's office together. I was...excited, nervous and quiet all at once. I was still afraid that it was too good to be true and the IUI would be cancelled at the last minute. Mr. Jaguar kept checking in on me, asking me if I was okay. It was sweet.
The nurse took us back to the exam room and started giving directions. Undress from the waist down, throw the sheet over you, sign this form. Three directions. That's it. Okie dokie. She leaves, I slip off my underoos (I wear a dress now to most of my RE appointments to save time and dignity) and grab the clipboard to start in on the forms. There are a lot of them. I read the top one over. It explains the procedure, the risks, blah blah blah, sign and date. Okay. I slide the form out and under the others in the pile to get started on the next one. Hmm..it's the same one. It must be a copy for me and a copy for the doctor. I sign and date. Slide the form out and under. Next one is the same. Hmm...maybe I just sign a few for my future IUIs so it's done? Whatever, sign and date, slide form out and under. I signed 4 forms before I realized that I was only supposed to fill out the top form and that the rest were for other patients. Man, I felt dumb. We laughed our heads off as I made Mr. Jaguar hide all of the extra forms I completed in my purse.
Dr. PacMan and the nurse came back in and the first words out of Dr. PacMan's mouth are, "Did we forget to leave you a sheet?" I never threw the sheet over me. Three directions to follow, I managed to be successful with one.
The IUI was the quickest procedure ever. The only real down side was it involved a speculum which is never fun, but it was so quick I can't complain. Honestly, the procedure probably lasted twenty seconds. Then they left us there so that I could lay still for ten minutes and let the swimmers get a head start. While we waited, we took pictures of each other to document the day. The camera was so loud and the doors are thin! We were so paranoid that the office staff could hear the camera that we were giggling like crazy.
I go in for a beta on September 8th if I don't get a period. It should be the 5th, but their office is closed that day. I can pee on a stick before that, so I guess that means we'll know sometime in the beginning of September.
How do I feel about all of this? I'm scared, I'm hopeful, I'm scared of feeling hopeful. After the IUI, I ran some errands. I had a $10 coupon that I had to spend at Kohl's by Saturday, so I wandered the store trying to figure out what to buy. And guess where I ended up? The maternity section clearance racks. Because it's all summer stuff and if this works I'd need some maternity shirts for warmer weather, right? I seriously considered buying some. I'm out of my f*ckin' mind. I eventually made myself walk away.
Oh my God! I can't believe I almost forgot to post this! Mr. Jaguar has a friend who also dealt with infertility, but years ago. The two of them were talking earlier in the week and his friend is talking about when he and his wife went through their IUIs and he says that his wife had to kneel on all fours for the procedure!! What??!! That sent me into a giggling yet hysterical panic. Do I want that kids that bad? Would I subject a doctor, a nurse and my husband to that view? I was seriously freaking out. But don't worry, I got to lay on my back. Thank you, Jesus, for small favors.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
$20 copay, some sense of relief
So I had my first appointment with the counselor, Linda. I liked her immediately. Unfortunately, she's not who will see me regularly, she's more of a psychological gatekeeper of sorts. You meet with her for your initial appointment and she determines your level of craziness as well as who is best suited to deal with your craziness. I can't help but imagine her completing a checklist to help determine these things.
Patient: Jacki Jaguar
Reason for pursuing therapy: Infertile while everyone around her is very much not, feels broken, stress management
Level of Craziness (check one):
___ Mild...schedule again within next two weeks
___ Moderate...schedule again within 3-5 days
___ Severe...discourage her from leaving her home until she is more stable
___ Bat shit crazy...distract patient with retractable pen and magnetic paper clip dispenser until the men in white arrive.
Most suitable therapist would be: Beverly because she tolerates patient's pity parties and random crying jags.
Linda let me leave the office at the end of the hour, so y'know, that's promising. Even though the session's purpose was primarily information gathering, it still felt good to just talk about everything and get it out of my head. Plus, Linda gets paid to listen to me so there's no sense of guilt for dominating the conversation and time with talk of my issues. That was actually weird. I try to be very aware in conversation of not focusing only on myself and making sure a chat is balanced. But in therapy, it's about you, so you talk a lot. I had to keep reminding myself that it was okay and that I didn't have to ask the therapist how things are going with her.
A few days later, Beverly called. We have our first session on Wednesday. I hope I'm as comfortable with her as I was with Linda. And I hope she doesn't think I'm more crazy than Linda does. If she hands me anything retractable, I'm making a run for the door.
Patient: Jacki Jaguar
Reason for pursuing therapy: Infertile while everyone around her is very much not, feels broken, stress management
Level of Craziness (check one):
___ Mild...schedule again within next two weeks
___ Moderate...schedule again within 3-5 days
___ Severe...discourage her from leaving her home until she is more stable
___ Bat shit crazy...distract patient with retractable pen and magnetic paper clip dispenser until the men in white arrive.
Most suitable therapist would be: Beverly because she tolerates patient's pity parties and random crying jags.
Linda let me leave the office at the end of the hour, so y'know, that's promising. Even though the session's purpose was primarily information gathering, it still felt good to just talk about everything and get it out of my head. Plus, Linda gets paid to listen to me so there's no sense of guilt for dominating the conversation and time with talk of my issues. That was actually weird. I try to be very aware in conversation of not focusing only on myself and making sure a chat is balanced. But in therapy, it's about you, so you talk a lot. I had to keep reminding myself that it was okay and that I didn't have to ask the therapist how things are going with her.
A few days later, Beverly called. We have our first session on Wednesday. I hope I'm as comfortable with her as I was with Linda. And I hope she doesn't think I'm more crazy than Linda does. If she hands me anything retractable, I'm making a run for the door.
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