February 2006


Beta number three is officially 1,962, a doubling time of 1.62 days. For those not familiar with reproductive technology, my number is great! I have a real live ultrasound on March 16th. They want my husband to be there, because we’ll hear the heartbeat and see how many there are.

I’m excited to tell the boys and my mother-in-law, but we’ve decided to hold off until until after the ultrasound, which will be at 7 1/2 weeks.

Some of the best news is that April 4th will be my LAST progesterone shot! Finally.

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14 dop – beta level was 160

16 dop (today) beta level is 376.

 My level more than doubled! This is good. This means my pregnancy has still decided to stick around. Monday I have one more beta. We want the level to be above 1000. Then no more blood tests! My poor veins are worn out from all the bloodletting. They want some peace.

I can’t believe I’m pregnant. I can’t believe that there is a life growing in me. I wish this first trimester would hurry up and move the pace up. I don’t work outside the home, and the days can drag. I thought the two week wait was bad. Knowing that I’m pregnant and wondering if it is still alive is horrible. I’m going to rent one of those fetal heart monitors. My poor dh is sick of me worrying about my baby: “I think it’s gone, dh. I don’t feel sick. I feel sick”. Arg. How he puts up with me I can’t comprehend. But I love him for it.

You’d think that I would accept that I’m pregnant now – at least as pregnant as someone at almost 4 weeks can be. I’ve had four postive hpts. I have one more for tomorrow, the day of my beta test. Just in case, you know.

I also took a picture of my tests. Just in case I didn’t get another one ever again. Perhaps it’s not so much obsessive as pathetic. On Saturday dh and I went to the mall. I brought my beautiful, urine soaked test with me, just to gaze at on the drive there. I wonder how long those things keep without getting moldy?

Oh s&*(! I did an hpt and got a faint line last night. Then I did another one today and got another faint line. Could it be that I’m actually pregnant? It could be leftover hcg from my shot, but that was almost two weeks ago. Or it could end up as a chemical pregnancy. Or it could be etopic. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but they are! I want to think about names and nursery themes and such. I want to believe that the one thing I want most in the word is starting to come true. I know that the higher I get, the more it will hurt if I fall, but I need this! I need to know that my body is capable of supporting a life. I love my stepsons but I want to be a mom, a real mom.

Infertility is hard. Dh and I haven’t had the rough road that many have. We didn’t struggle for years not knowing what was wrong. We knew the problem was dh’s sperm, from his vasectomy reversal. We didn’t do IUIs. We went straight to IVF. This is my first round, and I’ve struggled to keep my expectations low. There is less than a 50% chance I will have a child at the end of this. But I have a second line! I faint beautiful pink second line. I also  bought three more tests because I’ll be testing every day now. All I want is a child, a healthy child to love and hold and teach and guide. I want to be a mommy.

For the first time, I did my progesterone shot by myself. It’s an im shot, in the butt, so usually hubby does it. But I was mad at him and didn’t want to give him opportunity to get back at me with a 1 1/2 inch needle. I’m the kind of gal who needs emotional support during this IVF thing, and for the most part, hubby has missed the boat. Oh, he’ll do the vacuuming when doc says I’m not supposed to. But what I really yearn for is for him to ask me how things are, what I’m feeling. I want him to be like a girlfriend. I know it doesn’t seem fair, but it’s a temporary thing, just for one more week. I’ve even suggested key phrases to say to suggest warmth and caring. It’s just not in him, and that hurts me dearly. If I can watch European Auto Racing with him, can’t he say something sort of warm? Sort of caring? Perhaps I should print him out a phrase book.

It’s a delicate balance between being helpful and bossy and domineering, a balance I’m normally ok with. This IVF stuff has fucked with my emotions, my body, my finances, and my marriage. I like to be in control and this is one situation where I just can’t be. But now that I’ve discovered that I can do my own PIO (progesterone in oil) shot I feel better. Hubby feels worse, I think, because he likes to be needed. I do need him, but emotionally. Not to give me the shot.

Eldest child is still hacking up a lung with that cold. Younger is becoming a talker. He’s six, but up until a few days ago he was pretty quiet. Now I can’t seem to get him to close his trap. I’m not used to it, and it’s sort of unnerving having him follow me around talking constantly. DH asked if I had told him to be quiet. That sounds mean. He’s just six! Eldest was always the talker, always demanding attention. Now Younger is getting into it. I’m not thrilled. I liked my mornings of reading the paper, cleaning the house, cooking, in relative silence. I always make time with Younger to play a game or two before Kindergarden, but now there is so much constant chatter that any game takes forever. We played Candyland today. I hate that game because it is so long, but with Younger talking and not moving his piece, I almost resorted to cheating just to get the game to end. Almost. I’d never hear the end of it if I did, and then no more chance of stepmother of the year award I’ve been eyeing.

Bunny is the name I have christened my dear husband’s ex wife. It’s fitting because her house stinks to high heavens like rabbits. The resemblance stops there. Bunny is neither cute nor cuddly. She is a pain in the ass. 

Hubby’s eldest child is mildly sick with a cold. Now, this child has the immune system of the gods. He never, ever gets sick. But now his nose is a little runny. He has a cough. No fever, no strong desire to sleep, no decrease in energy. A cold. Bunny told him tonight he wasn’t allowed to run for two weeks, or else he would get pneumonia and have to have tubes down his throat. What the (*&^! The boy likes to gallop around for a few minutes in the evening to take off some energy. It was 50 degrees today and so I let him ‘gallop’ before Bunny came to pick him up for her two hours with him (dh is custodial parent, and Bunny gets the kids one evening a week and part of the weekend). The poor kid is scared to death that he’s going to have tubes down his throat and catch pneumonia.  

Why did she do that? I am way more pissed off than I should be. But I love these kids. I take care of them, and hell would freeze over before I’d let Eldest get pneumonia. Bunny doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and she’s needlessly scaring my stepson. Oh, but she’ll let the six year old watch rated R movies that give him nightmares for months. But that’s another post. 

One of the best things about having a child of my own with dh is that there will be no Bunny involved. We can take them to those places on Saturday. There will be no R movies until they’re quite a bit older. It’s so hard to be a stepparent, to have to share parenting. I know I’m not his mother. I don’t call myself that. But I’m an adult who cares, who loves him, and would never harm him. Dh and I have a very stable home. We have rules but they’re not excessive. We have structure. We have love. The kids have learned manners, respect, how to clean, and how to ride bikes with us. Bunny is the fun mom. She doesn’t have to discipline because we do. I know the boys need us to be their foundation because Bunny doesn’t give them one. No, she tells them they’re getting pneumonia if they run. Idiot. That’s all I can say. He probably got sick from smelling all that rabbit urine anyway. 

I’m not even half way through my 2ww and I’m bored to tears. I’m a stay at home stepmom, but I’m not supposed to do housework. I’m not to lift anything heavy or exert myself. Then what the hell am I supposed to do? Agh! I’m bored. And our dishwasher has a funny, burning smell. Just what we need. A burning dishwasher. I need to find some ways to kill the time. I don’t watch a lot of TV, especially when the kids are around. I can’t clean. I can’t do laundry. Hell, I was going to be looking forward to this “lazy time” and instead I’m going crazy. I’ll call DH and bug him at work. Then I’ll call my mother, three hours earlier in time zones than us, and  bug her. Then I’ll sit and google anything else I can about IVF and babies to make me depressed hopeful.

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