Fertility treatments, Love, Wonderboy

Carrot Soap

Another one of those possibly pregnant weeks of my life has just ended. What a relief. My period was over a week late today, so I called the clinic. They don’t know yet, if they can still treat us before the summer holidays or not. We’ll have to wait and see when my next period will start. I hate that everything is decided by my body. You’ve all heard about the dichotomy between body and soul, mind and matter? Well, this so makes it official. How can I grow better follicles or bleed more quickly? I can’t. I can’t change the body I got and I can’t really help the hormones either.

They gave me this youth hormone, DHEA. It’s not even considered a real drug, if you live outside Europe, but here it’s a prescribed drug that I was fortunate enough to be given. Our doctor is trying to get better follicles out of me, if she can. I hope and then I despair. It’s hard to believe that it could happen, and still I mostly do.

It’s really hard to see my coworker’s rounding belly. Almost even harder, because I know they were in treatment too. It worked for them. So, we’re in a smaller and smaller minority. Will we soon be in the minority that gives up, childless? I hope not.

My little sister will be donating her follicles to my big sister in the Fall. It’s arranged and everything. There’s a small chance that she’d donate to us at the same time. That’s why I want to do this now. I don’t want to wait forever. I can’t.

It’s devastating to think the child wouldn’t be mine biologically. But when I dreamed about having children, when I made the plans, I was working under the mass illusion we have in our civilization that children pop up wanted or not and it’s almost impossible to stop that. So, obviously after a lifetime of laboring under that sort of illusion it’s hard to steer my mind in to a new kind of tomorrow. One were social parenting becomes as meaningful as biological. One where love isn’t only romantic, but also between siblings.

True love conquers all. Yeah, I’m beginning to see what they meant by that. If my sister and my husband can give us a child, I am forever in debt. To love.

I am crying again. But isn’t it beautiful? Can you imagine a better way to express your love? I know I can’t. I am so loved, and now I finally feel that I deserve it. And I will shine it all back to everyone. That’s the way love works.

This childless life is so hard, Wonderboy said yesterday. He was in the dark of the bedroom, alone, just lying in bed looking at the window with closed curtains. Everything is all sad. Nothing makes us happy. 

A lot makes us happy! Look, I made a funny face. Look, look here, I am caressing you, hugging you, tangling into you and kissing you and – oh sorry – crying in your ear.

When we don’t have any little babies just toddling around here, I answered and he looked even sadder, if possible.

He wants to have children with me. He is sad that we don’t have them. He’s scared that we won’t have them. It broke my heart a little bit. I want to give him babies. My body and soul are agreed on that. He even fantasized one day, out loud:

I could be a stay at home dad. I could take the babies into the park and play to them.

He has never talked like that before. He has never made plans or even been at all interested about the babies, just the trying. I can see it, now, in my mind and I can’t shake it off. My Wonderboy sitting near the sandbox with all the other mommies and with our Wonderchild. How lovingly he would take care of our child. He will be a great dad. And he will let me be who i am: very attached to my work, so worry passionate about it.

Doesn’t it break your heart too?

That’s why… I bought handmade soup today. Two different hues: avocado&olives and carrot. How could anyone stay unhappy, when they wash themselves with carrot soap? Obviously they can’t. I have the answer to everything. I am the master of this body. Which will soon, very soon, smell like a carrot.

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Fertility treatments, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Survival of the Fittest to Adapt

We have been trying to keep doing a small token thing, a ritual if you like. I think it was Lily’s wonderful book that gave us the idea. When we haven’t been able to do much else, and even when we have, Wonderboy has always commanded me to prepare the tea for us. I haven’t been able to do even that with the procedures and my body being so sick.

When I got out of the transfer, I was so proud of myself for doing it all by myself. I was so happy to finally get there that I needed to reward myself, so I bought these hand made chocolates. They were for us both, but Wonderboy’s been on a strict diet so it has mostly been me to consume the chocolates. Somehow Wonderboy still figured a new ritual could take place in this: it is my job to bring the golden chocolate box to him, if I want them. He will pick and choose one for me. Only one. And then I get to eat it. If I ask and he thinks it fits, he can grant me another. This… makes me oddly happy.

We tried to have sex yesterday. It was tentative, I admit, but I was actually turning a little horny. It has been almost three weeks since last time and I do feel a little alienated from my body. From him.

I’m glad that we tried. I’m glad about everything we did. About the nakedness, the warm skin, his scent, his lips. We caressed ear other from head to toes like I’ve never imagined Sex going. It was very loving and we were pretty scared. That’s probably why it didn’t hurt our feelings that we couldn’t do it. The progesterone capsules I have to use go straight into the vagina. They stay there to give me progesterone through the day. (3 times a day, so at work too. That’s been a treat, I’m telling you.) Turns out they also burn like hell, if you go on meddling in the orifices. No amount of lubrication helped, we were both burning. So we stopped. We kept hugging and kissing little, sweet and innocent kisses.

Do you want to do something else? To play? I asked.

Not really, Wonderboy said.

Me neither. It’s because of the burning, it kind of took the desire away.

Yeah, he admitted.

Then we caressed each other for a while.

It’s kind of miraculous that we can have a conversation like this – a situation like this – and both feel pretty happy and serene. We weren’t really even that disappointed. It was about something else entirely. It would’ve been nice to be able to have an orgasm together, but… it wasn’t as important as I once imagined. Huh. We exchanged our love yous there and then went on to read and play games by ourselves. It isn’t such a big deal considering the stuff we are going through.

I woke up tonight with soul shattering cramps. They almost made me throw up and wouldn’t subside in an hour before I took some pain medicine. I had to go sleep on the coach because the pain would stay away in only a certain position. At night I still thought that these could be the pains associated with the implantation. But today… when the cramps kept on rolling and kept shaping into a more familiar shape. I’ve nee here before. All the other times I thought I was pregnant I suffered for these same kinds of cramps and pains and stabs. They remind menstrual cramps a lot but aren’t exactly the same.

Now I feel I know. I know already. It didn’t work. There isn’t going to be a baby, not this time either.

The next time we have a chance will be in another hospital, with another doctor, after some waiting because of our move. It will probably be before next Christmas. Probably. But they might want to treat us differently. We might end up losing time again, doing treatment cycles that don’t result in any embryos. It’s not like it’s self-evident anyway – I got 10 follicles and only one was developed enough that they could transfer it (and only 3 fertilized at all).

Same all fears began to rise. Same all thoughts. Will we ever? Will we have to use someone else’s sperm or follicles in the end, anyway? Will our money run out? Will our will run out?

It’s not for certain yet. Wonderboy still believes I might be pregnant. I don’t anymore. I feel my body too well. Damnit. I was so happy for a while, even to be given a chance.

I don’t really know how I feel yet. But not devastated. Disappointed. Expectant. Sad, a little hopeless even. If it didn’t work, we still don’t know, if we can get pregnant. We still don’t know, if it will ever work for us. We still just have to wait. It’s quite a big thing to ask of someone, this waiting,  without a promise for the hopes to be fulfilled.

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Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Time Is On Our Side

I’ll freely admit, to anyone, that I’ve had almost two glasses of red wine by now. So, you know, if this will be a somewhat flow kind of piece, please check the first sentence again.

I got news today. They’ll take the blood tests whenever we are ready. Wonderboy’s trying to get Wednesday off, so we can go, because he just doesn’t want to tell. I understand, but I think he should. He’d get paid leave, if he did. We still have to go tot he doctor in the other city where we used to live, so it’s kind of a hassle. And I sold the car, too. They’ll check caeliac condition (again), chromosomes and then something I didn’t quite understand but it seemed serious. And they’ll check Wondeboy for chromosome problems. Then they’ll send him to get his sperm checked, again, so that they can check the DNA of the sperm.

Anything could turn up. Anything could be wrong with us. Or not. Our doctor said that they’ll put us to another IVF cycle as soon as they get the results… maybe even THIS YEAR. I’m shocked. In a happy way. But because this is so fast and because they weren’t in such a hurry before…

I need to tell you something.

Remember my big sister, Faith? Remember how I told you that they haven’t been conceiving either?

I got some quite stomach turning news Friday night. In the preliminary testing they found out that my sister is suffering from early menopause. This is a serious, serious illness. She’s only 1,5 years my senior, so only a bit over 30. Menopause? At thirty?

We’re all in a shock. I spent my weekend crying, trying to write here, and crying and not typing it. Because it’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve this.

I am so worried for her. It’s not even the trying to have kids thing anymore. Now I’m worried for her life. Because they’re not sure yet, if it actually is early menopause or something worse. They sent her straight into IVF and to the same  private clinic as us to get everything checked. Early menopause is also quite dangerous. Cancer for example is a serious threat to women with (early) menopause. And you know… sexuality and everything. Feeling a Woman, not a grandmom.

We cried together when I called Faith straight away. We talked for two hours and I tried to console her and hear her fears out. The doctor had said to her that “it’s not a matter of weeks”. So, it’s a matter of months that she’ll be out of follicles and go straight into menopause.

What it made me realize is that we are incredibly fortunate. We have time on our side. Years and years…

BUT.

The doctor had asked my sister “isn’t your sister also a patient here? Interesting.” And te next day I get the message that we’re being pushed forward quicker than I thought. I don’t think that’s a coinsidence. I think the doctor’s afraid that I’ll have the same faith as faith. A year and a half from now.

And I want two children. One for each arm. One for each breast. One for each parent.

I don’t know what to think. Not really. I feel hopeful for sure, for us both. I feel a crushing fear and sadness and a need to help and support my sister. And then I have my own sadness to deal with. But somehow. It seems much smaller now, in comparison.

They’ll change the injected hormones, and I’ll start with the antagonist treatment again as soon as we have the results and my period start. I’m not afraid of the needles or the procedure anymore. I’m not quite afraid of anything anymore. Except for my sister.

I’ve challenged my alcoholic dad and said I’ll only visit them on Christmast, if they’re sober enough. I might go now, but only because he promised (!) and mostly because I need to see my sister and be there for her.

I’ve also openly told people about my kink. I’ve attended a party that was openly kinky.

I’ve been open about what I want and where I want it. I’ve been beginning to have squirting orgasms again with Wonderboy. I’ve been falling into subspace with force and surfacing more. I’ve even been able to communicate without sacrificing my sub experience.

I’ve been strangled again and hit a lot, again. I’ve been tied and held a lot. I’ve been kissed and missed a lot. I’ve been made dinner and cleaned for and I’ve done the same, a lot.

I’ve been loved a lot.

And I’m not afraid anymore. I just hope Faith will be okay. I’ll do whatever I can. But maybe it’s not what I can do. It’s what our little sister can give. Her follicles.

❤ Is there any way that you can show your love more? No. No there isn’t.

I could keep going on with these ramblings, I guess, but I don’t have anything to say anymore.

Next I’ll write about my wicked ways. About flirting. I promise.
Edit. Oh yeah. I read a study that said that even two glasses of wine per week during the IVF treatments can result in a 10 to 15% less likeliness to become pregnant. So, that’s why I’m drinking wine on a Monday night. That and maybe the fact that I’m in a shock. These could be the last couple of glasses I can take, because I’m seriously going to do everything just right the next time. I swear!

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Love, Pregnancy, Wonderboy

Finally they set a date!

It’s crazy, isn’t it? To feel so excited that I want to rush to the doctor on Monday. I want to tell Wonderboy that we’re going to have a baby! I just want to be happy, and it’s so close I can almost feel it.

And nothing’s for certain.

The new doctor did an ultrasound on me on Friday. Yesterday. It feels as if it was months ago. There had been some miscommunication between the doctors in our old city and now in the new, so she thought I was just beginning to take the second hormone. She was almost shocked about the size of the follicles already and scheduled the procedure for Monday. Only one more day to go!

I know how much can go wrong. I already know that I have a low follicle account, and now I found out that my right ovary is only producing one follicle – even with the hormone injections. It’s the one that always hurts too. But the other one was playing ball with 5 follies, and although only two of them were the right size, I can’t really concentrate on the negative now. I need to believe even if just for a moment. A week from now I could be pregnant. And that’s what I choose to think.

They were concerned about choosing between the normal IVF and ICSI (which is micro injecting the sperm into the follicle and is done, if the sperm isn’t moving well). I don’t understand why they can’t just ICSI the whole lot, but for some reason they won’t. Because I have so few eggs to choose from, they don’t know how to decide and divide the ones being treated normally in a petri dish and the ones being micro injected. Oh well. We don’t even know, how many of the follicles will be ripe, will make it out whole – and we don’t know, if they’ll be good cells.

The doctor asked me, out of the blue, if this was my first time (damn right it is!) and if I know about the cell information. Well, duh. No! That’s what I’m worried about! Maybe she was reacting to the fact that I told her about the miscarriages. I also told her that my first doctor doesn’t believe in them at all, because I never had the positive pregnancy test. But maybe this new doctor did think it could be about poor cell development and not about the progesterone. I guess we’ll see, if the capsules help this time.

Oh, I almost forgot the most important part: the implantation is done on Thursday. I’m on sick leave until then. Although I’m very afraid about the news, about my cells, my poor follie babies, I still can’t wait! We’re finally here. Somewhere. Finally something’s being done.

We also just had the best sex ever. Twice. Maybe the second time was ecouraged by me saying that this might be the last time before I’m pregnant. Since Wonderboy has to be abstinent from now on until Monday to get good amounts of sperm for the procedure and I won’t be able to fool around after the evasive procedure. Pretty damn scary! And so, so exciting and miraculous!

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Love, Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Volatile bodies

Learning to be a nurse

My period started early. It never does, but of course it did, when I was supposed to wait for the results of this one test that determined what the dosage should be for the injected hormones. I sent my doctor an email the day before my period started, because I could feel they were coming. I asked about the tests and about the dosage. I was worried. If my period had started on Saturday, I couldn’t have called my doctor and I wouldn’t have found out the right dose… That would have meant one more month of waiting. Nothing but waiting.

But my period did start on Friday. And my doctor did have the results. So now I’m injecting 200 IU of hormones into my stomach every morning. And starting from tomorrow there will be two whole injections of different hormones. One is to grow those little buggers up (my follicles) and one to stop them from growing too much.

I am not exactly giving injections to myself, because I wanted us to do this together. Wonderboy does that. Starting from Saturday we have been getting up at 6 am ever morning. He gets the injection needle out (it’s really called a pen and looks like one, which has actually given me a sense of calm). He also puts in the right dose and injects it in to my stomach skin. My job is to desinfect the area and then hold on for dear life while he pierces my skin with the needle.

I confess that there were tears and a lot of talk the first two days. Every feeling that Wonderboy had been suppressing finally bubbled to the surface, when he had to take part, be scared for me and really see what I have to go through.

This has brought us together more than anything that has happened to us. I even feel that there’s this sort of happy waiting. We are actually trying for a baby, and even if it doesn’t sound romantic, and it’s certainly not as much fun as sex is, this is the way we do it. This is the way we make a baby with love.

It doesn’t feel alien. I’ve grown past those feelings. It doesn’t feel unfair anymore that some people get to just have sex and conceive. I am so happy we have this choice. I am so happy that we have grown to be here together. This is the first time I really feel that Wonderboy wants this baby too. This is the first time I feel that he’s serious, that he puts as much into this as I do.

He has been sending me text messages during the day asking how I’m feeling. In one of them he said that he is really worried about me. He has been kind and gentle with me – and he has understood that I haven’t been able to do all the allocated excercises. We have made deals about them. But I haven’t slipped on eating right. I’m a whole size, maybe even two and a half smaller than I was some months ago.

According to this chart I used to be size 8 US 12 UK 42 EU, and now I’m on the tipping point between 6 and 4 depending on the clothes. This is the size I used to be. I even tried a size 2 skirt today and it fit perfectly, but I suspect that it was a label for bigger women, because if I was size 2, I think I would know!

Wonderboy has expressed some worry for me getting pregnant and then gaining the obvious pregnancy weight. I see where he is coming from since my sister blew up like a balloon and is still a bit overweight even though her youngest is over 1 years old. (Which I, by the way, feel is perfectly normal.) It’s just that she’s been overweight over 3 years now, since she had her fist child. I know that it’s important for Wonderboy that I look sexy. I want to look sexy for him. Being thinner makes me feel better in many ways that I didn’t suspect, but the main appeal for me is to see how turned on he gets over my body. There really is no bigger motivation to keep working out a lot and eating well. Well… Maybe the contract and getting spanked, if I don’t do my share, have something to do with it too.

It does feel like a pretty trivial and unfair thing to be worried about, when I’m worrying, if we’re ever going to get pregnant or how I’m going to get through these treatments… But I still talked with Wonderboy about it. I said that we can tweak the contract to consider that I’m pregnant. That I am not interested in letting go of our arrangement, and that I would like it too, if I didn’t gain a lot of excess weight whils pregnant (not the baby weight, the other kind) because that would probably make me feel a lot less desirable and be hard ot get rid of once the baby is born. I think I put his mind at ease about it.

I’m going to get an ultra sound on Friday. Then the doctor, now an IVF conducting doctor from a private clinic, will determine how big are my follicles and which day next week will be the plucking day. It’ll probably be Monday or Tuesday, according to the leaflets they gave us anyway. And that would meaan they would plant the little sprout no later than on Friday next week. Three weeks from now we’ll know, if I’m pregnant or not.

It’s crazy! It’s all here, and I can scarcely believe it!

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Pregnancy, Volatile bodies

The end of an era – beginning the IVF treatments

As the fall progressed, leaves started to get colour and then wither, nights started growing over the days, I started getting anxious. It was a creeping feeling of unease first. I tried to call the hospital that does our infertility treatments. No answer. I waited a week, two. I waited for the envelope with the date of our first visit. It didn’t come.

I tried to call again during their daily half hour calling time. I didn’t get through. I sent them an email detailing our situation. I sent another email asking when we would start our treatments. I even called the hospital’s helpdesk to ask, if they were still there. Funny things start to happen, when you are all alone with a thing like this. I started to despair. I thought they had forsaken us, because we moved. (It did turn out to be a problem.)

Finally I got a call. First, in the morning, when no one would wake me up, to say that they have me in line for the appointment. And then I got a call to work. they had a cancellation. Could we come tomorrow? I said yes. It’s over 100 kilometres away. We both would lose a work day. We made it happen. We went there. Worried. Scared. Hopeful.

And now I have three different kinds of needles. Pens, they call them, but don’t be fooled – there’s a needle at the end. I have a schedule with milligrams and dates and numbers I don’t yet understand. I need to inject myself with hormones now, to the fat of my belly. Every morning. I got some time to deal with this, because nothing starts before my period do. And like always, there’s the waiting, the bureucracy of it all. We have to wait for a hormonal test result, so we’ll know how much of an egg farm I’ve got there altogether. How much I have in total. That will determine how much I’ll be injecting in my first dose. The daily one that will grow all teh follicles to maturity, if we’re lucky. Then I’ll start the second one to slow the process down, so they don’t all burst before it’s time. And the last one…

It’s the one I inject 36 hours before the procedure.  The induction I’ve been dreading since day one. But now it’s so close…

I can almost hope again. Because after three days of the induction they will hopefully put one little fellow inside me. And that little egg will hopefully grow up to look like Wonderboy, maybe even me.

It’s scary to be this far. It’s scary that it comes so fast after taking so long. Everything about it is scary. The needles, the induction, the new doctors in the clinic that does the IVF, the hormones and the emotions, the waiting, the hope…

I could be pregnant in a month. It just feels absurd. I’ve come so far that even to think about it as a possibility seems ludicrous.

We had to sign three forms stating that they can tamper with our DNA. The document also stated that we are only in relations to each other. Well, since it’s on paper now… They took HIV and hepatitis blood tests to make sure we are allowed in the IVF treatments and won’t contaminate the clinic. Adn they made us sign the form for ICSI right away. The doctor commented on it to the nurse, and the nurse just said she did it to be on the safe side. I am so happy I have her on my side. Otherwise, I guess, we would’ve been dragged back to sign more forms, if they would’ve needed to do the ICSI – that’s the micro injection techique – the only thing that will help, if the sperm isn’t moving enough, which is one of our major concerns.

I did get some rather bad news of my own. We are going to do this as a short cycle, so we’ll use my own hormones and cycle in our advantage. That means they already could count how many aspiring follicles I have. It was 5. I’ve read about doctors who wouldn’t even do the procedure, because there were only 5 or less than 5 follicles. I asked the doctor and she agreed that there could’ve been more. But what can I do? Nothing. I just have to hope that those 5 will all survive and get fertilized so we have something to put inside me. Otherwise I just have to wait some more… The doctor also mused that I might still have insufficient progesterone levels during the last phases of my cycle, because my ovulation is always on the 17 th day of the cycle no matter how long the cycle is. Now I get the progesterone supplement I’ve been asking for over a year.

The last couple of days I’ve been thinking about what having a child would feel like. What would I do? Where would we change the diapers in our tiny new apartment? I let go of thoughts like this so long ago and now they’re here again. It feels strange, but not in a bad way, to be this hopeful again.

That’s all, I guess, for now. Now we just have to wait for my period. And the test results. If they don’t get the results in time, we have to wait until my next period – and a month more. It’s no time at all when you think about it. And you know I will.

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