I have lost my wisdom. Teeth, that is. All four… gone.

I didn’t sleep very well last night. I attribute that in part to the massive sleep catch-up I did the night before. But yes, nervousness. Dentists in my mouth and an IV. They had better knock me out.

Oh one little glitch before we left – I was at work and Den’s truck wouldn’t start. He did meet me there and manage to get it working, but now my car is left there overnight. That may turn out to be a good thing…

The appointment itself was simple. I had gone in that morning to sign consent forms (since I had taken an anti-anxiety wheeee pill before my actual appoinment, which apparently renders you unable to legally agree to anything) and pay my co-pay, so we walked in and they shortly called me back. Yeah, that fun little pill was just kicking in then… but not nearly enough in my opinion! I got situated in The Chair, all kinds of dentisty-things around me. Oxygen tube thing under my nose, grumble grumble. Why wasn’t the pill making this seem more fun? I was still feelign anxious. Not cool. They’d better put me to sleep soon.

The main nurse asked me if I had any previous surgeries or negative reactions to the medication – no. (What I wanted to say was No, it went beautifully, so please give me a lot of that shit.) Then she asked if I had good veins. Hahah. No. I don’t. Small ones. And they give people trouble. Then we got down to the rough part: the IV. She had me squeeze my hands into fists and she checked them out. “Oh yeah,” she said, confirming my small-stupid-veins assertation. She told me to hold my left fist clenched as she felt around my upper elbow, where I would usually get a blood draw. I clenched. She pushed. There was a pinch, like for a blood draw. “Ah-ha,” she said, “got it.” I lifted my head to peer down in shock. Yes… she really had. Some clear tape around it, a small tug as she removed the needle part and attached a hose to the tiny tube that was now in my vein, and that was it. Worst part over. Seriously. I felt my body relaxing tenfold.

The nurses were all chatting around me about this and that and their day. I tried tuning it out. Please focus on the task at hand, ladies – namely, the task of putting me to sleep. Do not screw this one up, I thought. A cuff went around my right arm and inflated. Some stickies went on my left ankle and right arm. I could hear the beep beep beep of what I assumed was my heartrate. Still awake though. Not really fond of hearing beep beep beeps of heartrates, for several reasons. The doctor came in to say hello. “Any last questions?” I shook my head no. Unspoken question would be of course, “When are they putting me to sleep now?” They placed a big foam/rubber/plastic wedge in my teeth to hold my mouth wide open. That was unpleasant. Didn’t like that at all. I saw the nurse grab some needle and stick it in what I assume was the IVF (since I didn’t feel anything but the slightest tug from the tubing being manipulated).

Woozy. Finally. I was a little giddy as it hit me. And I was gone.

::

I awoke groggily sitting up in a small room, my husband standing in front of me cajoling me. This felt familiar – we do this every time I have an egg retrieval. Except after an egg retrieval I’m in a comfortable bed with warm blankets over me. And my face isn’t completely numb. I blinked blearily, eyes creeping open before closing again. The room spun a little. I think I may have drifted into unconcousness a few times before I was able to open my eyes and focus on him.

Finally I was able to stand, though with assistance. I don’t remember much more than shuffling along with him out the front door, down the steps, and into the truck’s passenger seat. I think I blanked out again several more times on the road, since I have no clue which way he went home. We stopped at the pharmacy, he went inside to fill my prescriptions, and the grocery store where I managed to remember to tell him to buy me some chocolate Ensure. (A volunteer at work who recently got their wisdom teeth removed swore he lived on Ensure for a few days.)

Then we were home, where Denis directed me to bed. There may have been a stop at the bathroom and other things, I’m not really sure at this point. I’m pretty sure Den made me swallow some pills, as directed by the doctor, and remove the gauze from my mouth. Yes, I think I do remember that it was difficult and gross. I couldn’t even feel there was gauze in my mouth, and when I removed them there was a little bit of blood. Ick. My face was all frozen and it was pretty hard to get water actually into my mouth (instead of dribbling down my front) and get my tongue to even half help out in swallowing). Finally I accomplished all that and I went to bed and slept some more.

I woke up several hours later feeling a lot better. “Better,” in this case, meaning my face is no longer numb and I’m no longer drifting off every 2 seconds. I’m still having problems concentrating, but I’m not all that upset about that. I’d love to get a full night’s sleep tonight! And pain? I don’t really feel any. I’m going to for sure keep up on the pain management protocol, but this isn’t too bad at all.

Tomorrow I do plan on working… my co-worker is going to pick me up here to take me to the cat sanctuary. I got all the *necessary* stuff done today so tomorrow is just me catching up on paperwork. And I’m perfectly willing and able to lay down on a couch moaning if needed. :) I like that job sometimes.

Getting dozy… time for another nap, I think.

In the middle of the night I woke up struggling to remember what I had done last night. Had I taken that last antibiotic pill? Did I take my pain meds? Was there anything else I was supposed to do? After floundering around in the recesses of my brain for a little while I came to the conclusion that, yes, Den had made me take my pills before setting me to bed and that everything was taken care of. I fell back asleep.

This morning I awoke before my alarm. Becuase of the truck not starting for a while yesterday we ended up leaving a vehicle at my work, so a coworker was going to pick me up today on her way in. I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to start with, since there was a good chance I wasn’t going to be feeling up to driving today.

But there I was, wide awake at 8am, forgetting briefly why it was that I was supposed to be cautious today. Oh yes! The teeth. Right. I felt around with my tongue. Yep, they were definitely missing. I took inventory of my body. Nope, no pain.

I took some Ibprofren today before heading in, just in case, but all in all it appears to have been a moot point. I have no pain. I have no discomfort. Oh a little bit of bloody tastes sometimes, but that’s the extent of it. I did go a full 24 hours on only liquids, as I was instructed… but then I got bored of that and had some real food. Chips. Carefully. Then I came home and ate a wrap for dinner.

As far as things go, I think I’d prefer to do this again rather than have some more cavaties filled. Dental work is a LOT less stressful when I’m knocked out cold.

Mostly I feel relieved that it’s done with… one more thing down that I wanted to do before getting pregnant again. One step closer.

I stared at the blood with confusion, before it dawned on me. I suppressed a squeal of relief and excitement – I didn’t figure that would sound quite right in the bathroom at work. I nearly teared up.

My period! It has arrived a couple days before I expected it, which puts me perfectly on-course. The impact of it hit me shortly: this is the unofficial start of IVF. This is the start of my suppression cycle. I start birth control pills tonight, and lupron in three weeks. The time draws near.

I spoke with my new boss today about the upcoming cycle, our plans. I told her how the son we lost was an IVF baby and that in order to get pregnant again we need to go through it again. I wanted to let her know that there may be some days I’ll come in an hour late, and I may have to miss a day for retrieval. I don’t really know exactly what days, just that it’s coming. She waved her hand and told me not to worry at all, to take whatever time I needed and just let her know when I find out what days.

I am very grateful. I have done my utmost best to be the best employee I possibly could under the circumstances – to not miss a day, to never be late, to always help when something needs doing. I schedule all my appointments for the days I work at my other job (which is far less time-structured). It has been a juggling act, what with the teeth and the car and the chiropractor and the allergy appointments. (There have been a lot of appointments in the last month.) But I wanted my new employer to know that this is the kind of person I am.

I have been getting positive feedback, and I am feeling more at ease there. The women are nice. The job isn’t too hard or too easy. When I’m busy the days go quickly, and I apprecate that. (When it’s not busy they go slow – I have been reading books.) I am even able to make some phone calls and plan out my week when I have downtime – a luxury I’ve never really had at a job before.

The pregnant coworker is still pregnant and it is wearing thin on me, I think. Not her, she is perfectly nice and understanding. It is all the damn comments. All the customers comment about her, talk about baby things. All the coworkers too (though that is a little easier to handle because I can jump in, as they know my background.) And it’s not like I’m being pushed to tears. It’s just that after 3 hours of customers exclaiming to her that it’ll be “any day now” I start to get a little worn down and frustrated and tired.

But I am glad I got to know her before she leaves on maternity leave, because she is a nice girl. She seems to get it in some ways more than the others. She said I will be the next pregnant one at the bank. I think everyone there has been very understanding, really. Oh a few comments that you know were coming from the right place but come out all wrong, but not too many.

I find myself wanting to take the pregnant one aside. I want to hold her hands and say, Ignore all the comments. Try not to think about the time. He will come when he is ready. Cherish this time you have, waiting. He will come soon, and when he does you will wonder if you are ready yet. It’s okay to be scared, but don’t let it overwhelm you. Take a deep breath. You are woman. Many women have done this before, and you will too. You are strong. You will never be the same again – you will be stronger. Rest. You will need it. Hold my hand, I am here with you. I wish I could infuse her with strength. I wish I could lighten her burden. I wish I could tell her of the joy and wonder of childbirth. I wish I could help her.

Is this what a calling feels like?

Mostly I spend my time picturing me there, working, pregnant. I can see it.

I still have hope. Real hope, now. I knew I probably wasn’t going to get pregnant on my own – some people call that pessimism, I call it realism. I have come to terms with that and moved forward. And now we finally come to our real chance. It may still come up negative, but this December we stand a 50-50 chance of actually being pregnant. And right now that’s the only thing that really brings the spark back into my eyes. Real hope.

You know what is somewhat depressing in a weird way? When you get a bug up your butt to finally go through your medical records. So you pull out the envelope you’ve been saving for a rainy day and you finally get to see all the lab reports and IVF history they had in your file. And you realize… I already have all this written down. I flipped through pages looking for some lab report I didn’t yet have notes on… nothing. E2? Progesterone? Prolactin?? Have all the results, already written down, organized and filed by date. In fact… I think my IVF file contains more info than theirs. And mine is neater.

So much for seeing something life-altering in those files.

Even more irritating when you consider I took an hour to find this stupid envelope with my file copies in it. I did the thing where you start where you think it’s going to be, spiral outward with increasing frustration, start trashing your vehicles pulling everything out because maybe it’s lost in there, go back through the house with a flashlight looking under the damn couches and behind cabinets, and then… find it right where you thought it was going to be in the first place. On your desk. But it was a different color than you remember, so your eyes slid right past it the five times you looked on the desk. Yeah, that thing.

But one thing is missing from this file: the fertilization report. The one thing that I really wanted to see. Why wasn’t that in my file? Do they even have a fertilization report? This requires more research.

Today is the one-year anniversary of the silent birth of Callum, C’s son. She wrote a post about that day. You don’t need to say anything…. but you need to read it.

So far everything still seems on track. A couple of calls from the nurses today, the first one saying that they want me to start Lupron on the 16th, and take my last BCP on the 19th. And I said wait no no, insurance doesn’t start until November 18th or thereabouts! So they’re having me stay on the pill an extra week (or so). It’s a very tight line we’re walking. We have to start stims by November 29 in order to get on the clinic’s calendar before they close for the year. My insurance starts November 18. We may be paying for Lupron out of pocket, but I hope we can get the rest of it squared away before starting stims.

I am excited, but nervous. I think this pretty much lays out my year to come… I suspect I really am going to have to take it one step at a time. Right now my concern is getting the insurance approval. Then, when that is sorted, I’ll start worrying about my eggs and getting a good embryo. Then I’ll worry about it sticking. Then, if/when I do get pregnant I’ll worry if there’s a heartbeat… worry that something is wrong during the diagnostic ultrasounds… and then, of course, the big worry that at some point the baby’s heartbeat will simply stop for no reason. There’s just too much to worry about, there really is. So I set my sights on the first thing in line, and focus solely on that. Right now: insurance.

I am scared. I am scared that this won’t work. I know that this will not be the end of the road – far from it, we’ll just do it again – but I really need this to work the first time. For me. And I am just terrified that this time we’ll get no embryos.

Oh, I got my sonohysterogram scheduled for next friday morning. Not ideal in terms of work, but it’s what they can get me so obviously I’m going to take it. Thankfully my boss is totally fine with me taking time off for this stuff, she said I can come in early to make up the time lost or just take the time off, that’s totally up to me. She seems very supportive and I am enormously appreciative.