This study is extremely interesting: Should One or Two Embryos Be Transferred in IVF? It’s an assessment done in Denmark in 2005. Just interesting to read.

I’ve made my decision and I’m feeling at peace with it. Statistics can only take you so far – it lays the groundwork for an educated decision. But then it comes down to “what do I really want?” And for that I turned to a simple cost/benefit analysis. What would be the benefits of twins? What would be the benefit of a singleton? And what it really came down to is that I have a lot of concerns about twins, whereas the benefits (in my mind) are pretty small and mostly emotional (“oh wouldn’t it be cute?!” ). So while I would be PERFECTLY happy to end up with twins anyways, my choice is to aim for a single blast transfer and see where that takes us.

I feel decidedly calm about my surgery next week. I really expected to be more upset than this – maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet, I don’t know. But I feel very calm explaining everything to Den, letting people know why I won’t be around next week (in-person that is – I fully intend to have my laptop glued to me while I’m feeling crappy in bed), planning my work schedule to make up for my absense… and yet I maintain a sense of calm. When we started the journey I would NEVER have been okay with IVF or a surgery – or at the very least be freaking out about it. And I’m glad we’ve taken it one step at a time… first some bloodtests (that was hard to get used to), then some simple little pills, then a dye test (which was worse than expected), then an IUI. Now we’re looking at injectible meds, lots of lots of eggs, big needle to take out the eggs, sedation for that, surgery on my abdomen requiring general anesthesia… geez. How things change. And how, after failing so many times, you become desperate enough to WANT to do these things. I WANT this lap because I want to know what’s wrong with me. I want IVF because I want to have a GOOD chance of actually getting pregnant. When you start out you can’t imagine feeling that way… then here you are a year later, feeling frustrated and fed up and determined to find something that works.

And it’s a little bad sad when you think about it, but I’m kind of looking forward to the time off from work due to the lap. I haven’t had time off (other than a day or two changed for an appointment) since I started working in July/August. It’s hard when you’re the only one who does what you do and there isn’t really anyone to fill in. There is, in an emergency, but I feel so guilty for putting my jobs on someone else who is already busy enough. Hopefully everything will go smoothly here at work and I can moan in pain in bed guilt-free.

For fear you think I have a wonderfully perfect marriage and a husband who is always supportive and loving and helpful… it’s been one of those days.

You know, I may actually feel sorry for Den when I’m pregnant. I can only imagine the moodswings I’ll have when I’m hopped up on all those pregnancy hormones. I’m bad enough when I’m not. Plus I’m overtired today (fell asleep at 2am, was woken up at 5:30 by my sweet little girl who apparently can’t tell the time yet – or else she’s practicing for the time change) and that’s not helping. Oh yes. Pregnant, and then later always overtired due to newborn… I can only imagine the temper fits I’m going to have.

(Feeling extremely irritated tonight over some small yet very irritating things. I had a temper tantrum earlier and only barely restrained myself from yelling at Darling Hubby. Grrrrrr.)

Well for all that I’m feeling calm and collected about the surgery in my waking concious life, apparently my dreams tell a different story. I had a crappy one last night about the surgery. It was just horrible… I get there and the nurse arrives (and she was mean)… and then I realize I’d been eating, I’d forgotten not to eat. As is usual for my bad dreams there was a lot of crying on my part. I kept saying they couldn’t do the surgery, but they took me in back anyways and did something to me to “empty me out”. While held down. Much more crying.

That’s all I really remember from the dream. I hate my brain for giving me these crappy dreams like this sometimes.

(I’m still not concerned about the real surgery though, because I know it won’t be anything like the dream!)

I mentioned to Den today about breastfeeding and asked him when he thinks babies should stop breastfeeding. He was a little, “Well I don’t know,” until I started throwing out ages and he said, “Oh hell no! A one-year old shouldn’t be breastfeeding, that’s gross. 6 months or so.”

I also mentioned breastfeeding in stores and he just repeated, “That’s so gross! I don’t want to see that, people walking around in stores! We’re using bottles when in public.” I was only trying to find out what his opinions were so I knew what I was up against, but it’s pretty obvious I’m going to have a long road ahead of me. I don’t know when I or the baby will want to stop breastfeeding, but I don’t want to have to deal with pressure from Den. And the “in public” thing… I’m sorry but I have no intention of using bottles, ever, unless I have to. I mean if there is a need for bottles – like my milk not coming in or whatnot – then sure, I’ll do what needs to be done. But if I’m THERE and my boobs are working just fine, I’m going to nurse my baby! The interesting part is that I told Den I would even cover up with a blanket (not saying I will, but you know… trying to make him feel better) and even that wasn’t enough for him! He said, “People KNOW what you’re doing under there.” o.O WTF? Yes, they know I’m breastfeeding. I thought the whole objection was people don’t want to see my boob… but apparently that is not where Den’s mind is. Like I said, I have a long road.

This is not the first time, nor will it be the last time, that he has a totally irrational freak-out over something “gross”. :sigh: He has issues. He also really doesn’t like seeing people “make out” in public… he used to object to me even kissing him in public, period. (And I don’t mean a sloppy kiss… I mean a nice kiss on the lips.) He’s just very… reserved, very conservative.

I’ve also been thinking more about the pet situation. Talking a bit with Den about it too. Now honestly I’m not worried about my little dog – she’ll probably be terrified of the baby at first but grow to love her. She’s absolutely fabulous with the cats, she loves to play but can chill out at my feet for hours if need be. The cats are still a little young and spazzo so there’s always a potential for scratching by accident, but with nail clippings and supervision I don’t think that’ll be a huge issue.

But my husband’s dog however… Zeeke is an issue. A big one. You may or may not know much about the dog and our situation, but he’s 86lbs, a German Shepherd, and ill-mannered. (Most of his problems are just that he’s very very hyper and clutzy at the same time, I call him our bulldozer because he just tends to flatten anything in his way. But he also has some guarding issues where he does growl at me and has snapped at/bit me before.) We’ve had him for three years and he has made progress, but I still don’t trust him and half the time don’t even like him. (That’s why he’s my HUSBAND’s dog. If it were just me I would not have him.) When I picture him around a toddler I just get very very nervous. Now Denis refuses (and he’s very good at denial in this case) that Zeeke will ever be an issue with a child, but I know better. (And so do the behavioralists I’ve contacted, but Den refuses to listen to them either… he doesn’t want to make any decisions until the time is here.)

But regardless, I’ve made my decision/plans. Zeeke will simply not be around our baby. We can’t get rid of the dog (because of his issues his only other option is euthanasia), and he has a pretty decent life even though it’s not the best he could have had. Den will be able to play with his dog and do things with him and hang out, but when the baby’s around the dog goes away. It’s not fair to the dog, I know. But I cannot risk Zeeke snapping at the kid because his paw was grabbed.

The very unfortunate thing is that Zeeke is fabulous with OLDER children/teenagers… he loves them… but by the time our kids are that old Zeeke will be long gone. :(

Sorry for the depressing post.

In happier news Den said he’s considering putting carpet in the baby’s room (our whole house is hardwood) and that makes me thrilled!! I love carpet, and I miss it. It’ll be great to have at least one room with carpet on the floor for the kiddo to play on. And the baby’s room will be a pet-free zone, so hopefully we won’t have the mounds of fur being an issue in there!

I just took the god-aweful phospho-soda. Did I ever mention I have a really, really bad gag reflex? (So bad that I gag the entire time I’m at the dentist – which, coincidentally, is the reason I hate going to the dentist.) I am working really really hard to keep all of it down and not throw it right back up.

So this evening should be fun eh?

Of course in my twisted mind I’m thinking about the possibility that something could turn my minor surgery into a more major one, requiring a stay at the hospital. (She said there is always that possibility – doubt it’s a very large one though.) So I told Den that if that happens I want him to go home and get my laptop. He said there he is not driving all the way home just to get my laptop. So it’s coming with us… just in case. I mean, even if the hospital doesn’t have wireless, I’ll still have the actual laptop.

That was unpleasant. Though honestly the taste of the stuff was the worst! I know this sounds weird, but I almost feel better being all “emptied”. Who knew.

What is killing me, however, is not being able to eat or drink anything. I’m going to have to go to sleep soon just to avoid all mentions of food! I am a bit of a compulsive eater… I can go hours or days without eating without really thinking about it, but tell me not to eat? Eeeek, I want something so bad! I’m really looking forward to the jello I made tonight… I’m having it soon as I get home tomorrow! As a treat. :) I’m making Den stop to buy milk and whipped cream on the way home too. Mmmmm.

So I guess I’m all set to go. I have to remember to take off my wedding band tomorrow (it’s the only piece of jewelry I always wear, and I forget I’m wearing it!) – they said no jewelry, even wedding bands. I already took off my nailpolish (not like I was wearing much – a very very light see-through pinky beige tint). I made up my list of places Den needs to post if something happens and I’m stuck in the hospital for a while – would never want to leave my friends hanging. I didn’t look for my sweatpants though. I’ll have to find them tomorrow morning.

I’m trying just to stay focussed on what I have to do and the steps along the way, rather than thinking about how powerless I’ll be and all the scary things that will happen. I’m just going to take this one step at a time and get through it.

As apparently it’s taking a while to write the whole story, I wanted to at least post and let everyone know that I’m here and feeling okay. :) The incisions don’t hurt at all though I can sorta feel them there, I’m feeling bloated and sore from the air they pumped in, and my throat is as scratchy as all hell from the breathing tube and my severe dry mouth due to one of the meds. I really want to call my mom and let her know I’m fine, but I can barely speak! I am hoping my dad gets online so I can tell him, or I’ll have to get Den to call them or something.

As my post title implies, the surgery was a success and they did find Stage I Endometrios. The doctor said it’s very minimal, just some adhesions behind my uterus and a little to the right side… she said it “could be” the reason we haven’t conceived yet. But the point is that they’re THERE. I just felt a wash of relief – relief that the surgery wasn’t for nothing (it was elective, remember – I chose to do it), relief that we finally have some kind of answer.

But I’ll start from the beginning, because I want to remember everything. And maybe it’ll help someone else along the way. Please note this is going to be a long post!

More…

I took some photos this morning.

My actual IV hand has a little dot and a little bruise.

The blown IV from their first try is in much worse shape, however.

The next two I’m just going to link to in case people don’t want to see them.

This is a pic of my poor tummy, covered in disinfectant, with three bandaids, and lots of bloating going on. Lovely.

And this is the scan of the photos they took inside me. Please be warned it’s all gross inside organs. If they weren’t a picture of my organs I doubt I’d look at it! And don’t ask me to show you what’s what… I can’t tell nor remember what she pointed out.

Hopefully over the next few days/weeks I’ll be able to show a better picture of my healing tummy. ;)