Author: thesolomamaproject

pregnancy loss, single mom by choice, SMC

my chemical pregnancy

thesolomamaproject

A little googling reveals the following definition on about.com:

‘A chemical pregnancy is like a cruel joke. You take an early pregnancy test around the time your period is due that shows a faint positive. Naturally, you get excited and start spreading the joyful news that you’re expecting. Then, a few days later you get your period and the doctor says, “It was just a chemical pregnancy.” Meanwhile, you’re left confused and possibly devastated. The term chemical pregnancy sounds like a false positive pregnancy test, as if you were not really pregnant at all. But the truth is that a chemical pregnancy was indeed a conception and is actually a very early miscarriage.’

In nutshell, the egg is fertilized and begins implantation but, for probably good reasons like genetic abnormalities, didn’t hang on. It’s called “chemical” because the hormone yields a positive on the test, but that’s about where it ends.

This sounds right to me, especially after reading account after account in online discussion boards of exactly what I just went through. In my case, however, the nurse did *not* say it was a chemical pregnancy; she said she just couldn’t figure out how I ever got two positive tests as I must never have been pregnant given my low beta. Still, it’s outrageous that she wouldn’t have even mentioned the possibility of a chemical pregnancy when it sounds like they’re extremely common (online research says that up to 70% of conceptions end in miscarriage). Most of the time, the woman isn’t necessarily monitoring her cycle with military precision, so a chemical pregnancy can appear to be merely a late period.

To humor nurse Olga, I did pull the test box out of the recycling bin and it lists the expiration as February 2014. I just don’t believe that two tests independently malfunctioned to produce two positive results. Especially when my now heavier-than-ever period arrived 3 days later than my longest-ever cycle (Day 31). I’m hanging on for dear life to the conclusion that I was pregnant. So, I’m basically done with what Olga thinks and have requested an appointment with the doctor.

Meanwhile, this blog isn’t about Olga. (I just feel so mad at her!) How am I doing?

As you know from this blog, if not from experience, it’s hard enough when it simply doesn’t work in any given month. Well, I just spent 5 days thinking, believing, sensing that I was building a human, from scratch. Feeling bewildered, ecstatic, anxious, thrilled, and all the emotions that go along with the magnitude of that. I felt calm. I looked like I swallowed a canary. Every day, I felt a little more certain that this was it–how could it not be? I’m healthy, tests are good. I even had smug moments–I figured it out! I got ‘er done! I joined the club! I looked at online pregnancy calendars, planning out my life. I moved another phase of problem-solving–OB referrals, ultrasounds, where will I store my leftover vial… Shit, I need to move out of this studio!

And in quiet moments, I sat with the poppy seed, and that was enough.

I am so grateful to my friend A who reminded me to enjoy every day of being pregnant. Even if it ends early (as it did once for her), no one can take away that experience of sharing the news with people you love–and how much more fun to say, “I am,” instead of “I was.”

I’ll never forget everyone’s reactions. I know next time they’ll be a little more hesitant (as will my own). It was really the best 5 days that reflected to me all the love in my life and in the life of my child to be. That little poppy seed brought me all that! What a powerful albeit tiny bundle of cells moving emotional mountains over here!!

I’m really sad. My head knows nothing super bad really happened, but my heart is grieving.

Thanks especially to my friend J who was staying with me this week and went from a joyful uncle to protective big brother in the space between Sunday and Wednesday. He did my expense report for me last night because it was due today and I couldn’t manage it…somehow one of the more poignant expressions of love in the past 24 hours.

And there have been so many expressions of love, all perfect, all welcome, even when people call or email or text to say that they don’t know what to say.

I’ve seen women grieve, cry, rest, gather themselves up, and try again, and that’ll be me.

My poppy seed will be remembered for teaching me all of the above.

pregnancy loss, single mom by choice, SMC

the cruel truth

thesolomamaproject

I did the blood test this morning. At lunch, I started spotting. Got the call this afternoon with the result: negative. Very negative.

No, it doesn’t make sense. You saw: I had a positive pregnancy test. I had another positive one the next day to make sure. The nurse says that if I were ever pregnant, the result would have been higher. (“Did you use an expired test?”) No! I bought it that day and used the Cadillac of pregnancy tests. I seriously thought it was practically impossible to get a positive if you weren’t pregnant. And I got two in a row!

My brain wants to quibble with the medical mystery side of this story but it doesn’t change the result. For whatever reason, I am just not.

And now I’ve dragged you all along with me. It was a lot more fun to share the good news. Fun to believe it for 5 days. Fun to feel all the love and good wishes, to think about the poppy seed. Why did Clear Blue play this trick on me? I will never know… but it just seems so bizarre and unfair and…cruel.

This feels like a bad dream the way the positive felt like a good dream.

The spotting is most likely my period as this would be Day 31. Unless the blood test is wrong and then I’m just firing everybody.

pregnancy, privacy, single mom by choice, SMC

shhhh

thesolomamaproject

Dear friends! In my haste to post my news, I didn’t specify that I’m not actually going public for 8 more weeks, which may have been unclear given that this is a public blog! But, for now, let’s keep it off of facebook and any other public forum. I posted a baby-related post today and was trying to speak in code but I see how it looked like a green light. I’m out of town on a business trip and don’t always have access to delete posts. It’s really important to me that my work colleagues not find out until I’m ready to tell them. I’m typing this out on my phone because it feels that urgent! Thanks so much for your messages and more soon from me after I’m home from this super-packed meeting tomorrow night! All is well here. Blood test Wednesday, follow-up test Friday. xo

pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

!!!!!!

thesolomamaproject

Last night, arriving home after work and then a nice dinner out with a friend, I sat down on the couch for my first undistracted moment in days. My nurse Olga at UCSF had emailed me at the end of the day, “Hi Katie,
I am about to leave the office but wanted to see if you checked a urine pregnancy test? Please let me know. Thanks! Olga”

In this whole trying to conceive process, I had not yet taken a pregnancy test, preferring to be informed instead by the arrival of AF. But as of last night, I was on the brink of the end of the two week wait, and still hemming and hawing about doing the actual test. Total resistance and paralysis. I talked to my friend C on the phone, spinning in circles about how my Walgreen’s burned down and therefore I just couldn’t figure out what to do next. She said, “OK, I’m just going to throw this out there and you can take it or leave it, but the practical side of me says: you’re going to go to bed, wake up, get a pregnancy test, and then do the test. Then you’ll know and can go on with your weekend!” Wide-eyed, I said, “OK! Yes. That’s sounds like a good plan. I’ll do that.”

I texted Ms. R: “Q: is it supposed to be first morning pee for preg test? If so, should I get it tonight?” She texted back, “I really think it doesn’t matter at all–you either are or you aren’t.” Right. I went to bed.

Woke up, put on my gym clothes, drove to Safeway for bandages for my poor knees, butter for a cookie mix for the SMC meeting (that didn’t happen), hand soap, and… a pregnancy test. The Safeway lady who opened the locked Family Planning glass case for me tittered as I reached for the Clear Blue Pregnancy.

I drove to the Y, arrived late, ran upstairs to tell my trainer R, “Give me five minutes!” ran back down to the locker room bathroom stall, peed on the stick, and, wouldn’t you know, it said “PREGNANT”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Blink! Blink!

You guys! I’m pregnant! OMG!

I ran upstairs with the stick, barely hiding it under my arm, interrupted R’s conversation saying, “Can we speak privately?” We went to an office and I held up my shaking hand to show him the stick that said, simply, unequivocally, “Pregnant.” We hugged and jumped up and down and I cried and hyperventilated and realized I had left my phone at home (of all days!) and he took a photo of the positive test (so I could make sure I didn’t dream it later):

Image

I used his phone to call my parents who were out to lunch with friends, and upon hearing the news my dad characteristically burst into tears and handed the phone to my mom. My mom basically did the same and I don’t even know what else I said but ended the call saying I’d better head back in to my training session. They shared a nice moment with their friends and everyone was teary and excited (some who don’t even know me, including neighboring tables)…so sweet!!!

I worked out while feeling like I was having an out of body experience on the moon and then rushed home to tell my sisters, who are together on the east coast. I said, “I got a positive test!” and they were excited and minutes later one of them pointed out I had not stated the words, “I am pregnant” but I’ve since worked up to that and after some phone calls it’s old hat. (ha ha, totally kidding, I can’t even believe these words are coming out of me and it might be a dream!!)

Then, of all times, there was a monthly meeting of SMCs, including some of the best friends I’ve made in this process (JJ, B, Ms. R., we missed you Cr!). Ms. R ran outside to greet me so I got to tell her first, which is fitting since she has been with me from day 1 and a HUGE support and we are pulling for her to stay on my schedule! I went in and got many hugs and happy gazes and felt sensitive about those who have tried so hard for so long and yet it mostly always seems like it’s happy news when a fellow SMC gets a BFP (big fat positive) because it means that it’s possible and real and can happen to any and all of us.

There were two little ones present, a 2-year-old and a 4-month-old present, both adorable, and I have to say I looked at them quite differently all of a sudden, as if I’d never seen little people before. One of the moms teared up with happiness for me, someone I barely know. It’s just too wonderful all these reactions!

This afternoon, I’ve been on the phone and have heard of tears and goosebumps and happy friends and family…I am SO GRATEFUL I CAN’T EVEN STAND IT! Please forgive me for the public blast–I wanted to tell everyone individually but I couldn’t wait another minute, and I know I’ll talk to everyone over time, I NEED you all over time. You all have been so supportive and views are spiking today so I know you’re impatient to find out this happy news! So there it is! Holy shit!!!

A few caveats for the record: it’s early. Let’s be really excited but keep it mellow. I appreciate all your good thoughts for the little poppy seed, who, if all goes well, will arrive in February 2013.

Love and gratitude and more love and happiness and shocked elation from me to you and on behalf of me and the little poppy seed. More soon xo

breakup, dating, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

scrapes

thesolomamaproject

I’m so appreciative that when I don’t write for a few days, I get nudges. “Hi! Time for blogging!” or “HOW ARE YOU?” or even “Well?????” Thanks for these implicit compliments (are you guys addicted yet?!) and for your support. It’s never a publicity stunt, just me trying to keep all the ducks in a row over here.

Today I went for a lunchtime run with lovely A along the Embarcadero. Every Thursday, we meet up in a total funk, change at the gym, burst outside into what always seems to be a gorgeous sunny day, and congratulate ourselves throughout the run for having the foresight and brilliance to schedule this recurring meeting in Outlook. We feel like a million bucks afterward. You wonder why people run? That’s why. Instantly, everything (and I do mean everything) is better.

Well, today we ran down past the ballpark, a grittier, emptier side of town, all the way to The Ramp, as far as I know the only non-touristy bayside outdoor restaurant in the city. We turned around to run back, and a little way up the road, I was talking, mistook a tree-root sized bump in the asphalt for a shadow, and totally bit it. The ground and I became one. I fell so fast that I didn’t have time to get my hands out and simply crashed and slid, for what seemed like a really long time.

When you finally stop and come to your senses, there’s always that scary moment of taking inventory. Let’s see… Two bloody knees, skinned elbows and left shoulder, cut and bruised left hand. Check, check. No broken bones. Phew! But now the blood is dripping, so… back to The Ramp to get cleaned up.

The really astonishing thing is that just about exactly a year ago, I took my first major tumble while trail running in the Oakland Hills, and I injured those exact parts of my body in the same places! I reenacted the same fall, only this time on asphalt (I don’t recommend this).

Last year’s fall was indicative of my new case of insomnia and brewing anxiety about my then-relationship that I didn’t yet understand. Today’s fall I blame entirely on the two week wait.

It just knocks me off balance, much as I try to keep everything rolling, happy, and healthy. I mentally added up all my waits to total 6 weeks out of the last 3 months, and even executing the math problem was powered by resentment. Quite apart from “I’ve only been trying for three months,” this process just takes a heavy emotional toll. Today is Day 25, the beginning of the end, and to answer your question, I’ve been doing OK (no crying) but I’m feeling a little sick of this mode, the repetitiveness of it, hard to shake that it could be just like this every time, that I’m leading you all on a wild goose chase. I’ve been feeling like AF is coming, and also like I’m a million miles from pregnant.

But, at the end of the day, I’m pursuing my dream. So that does go a long way.

I’m also feeling extra grateful to be on my own and not shackled to some lame dude. I went out again with unexciting guy. Guess what? He was unexciting. Some dear readers weighed in that they liked the sounds of him but I think there were two forces at play encouraging a misinterpretation: for one thing I oversold him as “cuter and taller than I remembered,” but notice I didn’t say “cute” or “tall.” Secondly, he was presented as a counterpoint to RV guy, whom I obviously should not have been pursuing, so it was easy for readers to root for his polar opposite.

I’ll tell you why I wont be seeing unexciting guy again: after two dates, he wouldn’t pass even the most basic pop quiz about me. Where am I from? Who’s in my family? Where’d I go to school? Where have I traveled? What’s my job? Do I play music? What are my hopes and dreams while on this blue marble? These, my friends, are questions that were not asked, because essentially no questions were asked. I compulsively filled the space that would otherwise have been silence (yes, I let a couple of silences go to see what would happen, and the answer is that it only brought more silence). Pair this with the texts I received afterwards: “Had another wonderful evening with you. Can’t wait to see you again!” Huh?!?! Who is this woman he’s interested in? Because he doesn’t know shit about me!

And so, we find ourselves back with a clean slate, bloodied and bruised, hopeful that all this holding out for a healthy, reciprocal, exciting, durable love will facilitate its arrival, in whatever form the universe decides to send it.

Meanwhile, I’m doing all my own stunts.

dating, depression, meditation, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

upward spiral

thesolomamaproject

I got a text the other night from an SMC friend who is also in the two-week-wait and had just run into her most recent ex-boyfriend, the one with whom she thought she’d be having a baby. He was out with another woman.

Reading her text took the wind out of me… I felt a visceral compassion because I’ve been there and there’s nothing like that particular encounter. The next morning, I checked in with her to see how she was feeling, and she was sad, heavyhearted, spiraling down.

We all know the downward spiral, right? One thing happens, and then another thing happens, or maybe one really big and terrible thing (like this) happens, and you’re set on a trajectory of feeling worse and worse (see my “meltdown” post of a few days ago). Sometimes it’s a relatively tiny thing that tips the balance (someone’s facebook post or an offhanded comment) and, next thing you know, you don’t know which way is up.

When you get into this mode, it’s like the terrorists have already won. They have convinced you, by launching a constant campaign of neg bombs in your brain, that your life sucks, that you made bad choices, that it’s too late, that you’re not good enough, that you don’t want what you have and don’t have what you want. They are relentless sometimes. But as soon as you start to believe them, it’s curtains. It snowballs. And then it spirals.

Here’s the beauty part: the terrorists do not speak the truth!!!! Hilariously, they are technically working “for” you and their objective (ironically) is to protect you–but their strategies are archaic! They are the army of our vestigial three-part brain with all of its conflicting survival strategies playing out at once! First, we have our snake-like and simple reptilian brain, known for its fight or flight response. Around that, the puppy-dog limbic brain, seeking love and nurturing and recording all episodes of emotional pain to avoid its recurrence at all costs. And, finally, the professor: the nonstop talker, the neocortex. Our intellectualization of everything, the “telling of the story,” the planner, the worrier, the omniscient narrator who is a bit of a wackjob.

On one hand, it’s a wonder that we can function with all of this going on, surviving in a modern society with caveman impulses running in the background. On the other hand, it’s a miracle that we’re here at all, and we wouldn’t be without these crazy, complicated, wonderful brains. We just have to learn how to keep them in check. It is my belief that this is a lifelong practice that we all bought into the minute we left our mother’s bodies (and notably we do so earlier than many mammals, in order to keep growing our big-ass brains outside the womb).

One of my favorite books, A General Theory of Love, offers three main strategies for getting on a more positive track and overcoming major obstacles to a happier life: medication, meditation, and cognitive therapy. All three have been greatly effective for me at various stages: medication to correct the chemistry that at times gets stuck on the unhappiness channel, meditation to find the inner peace and tranquility that is blissfully separate from all the commotion upstairs, and cognitive therapy to actually correct some of the automatic thinking that can send you off on negative spirals.

So, in gchatting with my friend yesterday morning, I said: what would send you on an upward spiral? Seriously: even just posing the question cheered us both up. In posing the question, you take charge in that moment: wait up! I’m actually running this show! I can choose to push myself in a happier direction! What are those things that consistently make me happy? Make a list: walking, sunshine, tea, coffee, slippers, running, watching the waves, napping, writing, volunteering, baking, friends, solitude. Do those things. And practice gratitude. Gratitude is like water on the wicked witch. Let me know if the terrorists don’t at least order a temporary cease-fire.

You can even be grateful for the wicked witches and the terrorists. Give them a big smile and a thumbs up.

Then, once you’re movin’ on up, just keep going!

biological clock, dating, parenthood, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

connection

thesolomamaproject

Well, I’m stuck tapping this out on my iPad as I didn’t feel like carrying my laptop to the bar but feel compelled to share how the evening went.

I got too late of a start leaving the office to meet RV guy, and ended up bursting into the bar 17 minutes late, out of breath and apologizing. He was all smiles and and already set up with his beer and chatting with people at the bar. I ordered soda with lime (thinking “I’ll explain this later”) and pretty instantly felt right at home catching up with him. Within the first 10 minutes or so, he referenced his live-in girlfriend (news to me)–the same one who traveled around with him for a year and a half in the RV before I met him. I had put her down in history as proof that he couldn’t be made to settle down no matter how much the woman literally and figuratively “got on board.” Now she’s in school and 40 and, in his words, “resigned” about their future (as in resigned to the uncertainty of their future), and they’re living in a 325 square foot apartment while he sorts out challenging tenant issues in the other units of this building he owns that have spoiled his time back in the city and make him crave the Sierras again.

Then he said he wants to sail around the world for 2-3 years, and I belly-laughed and told him I just love him and he will always be That Guy to me. Confirmation that he hasn’t, and probably will never, change, and it’s really a beautiful thing (and I don’t need to worry about where the girlfriend fits in even though that was my next question).

When the conversation turned to me, I laid the Solo Mama Project on him. His reaction was unexpectedly and hugely and vehemently supportive. I instantly saw the connection–here I am acting like him: empowered, independent, chasing my dream, going against the grain. He acted like I solved the mystery of how to acceptably procreate. We talked about it for a long time. Eventually we got to the meaning of life and he thinks it is to have fun and I think it is to experience love. Next thing we knew we’d worked through 4 plates of tapas, I’d had 5 soda waters to his 4 Racer 5’s, and it was after 9.

He gave me a ride home in his WAY-too-big-for-the-city pickup truck (looks like a pickup truck that ate a pickup truck), got out to give me a hug and a kiss and I have to say it was the most lovely night, warm breezes and a bright moon, and he is still not right for me but I felt loved anyway. For all my frustration with him three years ago, I admire the adventurous spirit of that boy and it was nice to feel that he also admires it in me.

anxiety, dating, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

meltdown

thesolomamaproject

I need to make this brief because I must get in bed with Newsweek and read about Queen Elizabeth’s coronation 50 years ago. But first…

Total meltdown at band practice tonight! Out of the blue. I had such a peaceful and productive day that included meditation, a run of 70% energy (read: 11.5/min miles), nice homemade food, and I got a bunch of work done. But sometimes when I show up at band practice, I feel vulnerable, kind of like being around immediate family where your feelings are transparent. These ladies know me pretty darn well, and if something’s going to come up and out, it probably will.

We started out with strawberry shortcake and stories of all the kids…which is normally fine–not just fine, but welcome and fun and sweet to hear about, but for whatever reason it felt a little alienating tonight (maybe because my equivalent story was about hives). Then, our leader and songwriter EJ played a song ‘loosely inspired’ by ME of all people, and it was beautiful and poignant and by the end the tears were spilling over. I was touched and honored. I’ll post the lyrics here if she’ll let me. I loved the song. Then we rehearsed a song I hadn’t practiced, a suggestion was made about the violin part, and my confidence plummeted. I tried to hang in there but pretty soon the tears erupted like a volcano and there was nothing to be done but interrupt rehearsal with my big old crying spell.

My fellow banders read this blog, so I can keep talking about them like they’re here. I am certainly not the first bandita to erupt in a sea of tears–this is a family of six women and there have been many minor and major things to cry about over the years (4 years for me, longer for them). Also, of course, many things to laugh about and be silly about. Still, I felt embarrassed (despite the group hug and admonishments that “If we can’t cry here, where can we cry?”) and bewildered since I thought I was fine. But that’s why they call this a roller coaster. Or maybe more like Demon Drop.

Just when you think you’re OK, right?! But, thank heavens, the band is a safe space. So that’s where a lot of shit happens. I’m truly grateful for that.

A note on the date (I knew I wouldn’t get away with that total lack of summary): it was fun but unexciting. He was cuter and taller than I remembered–he’s athletic, smart, employed. He’s a divorced dad, which I didn’t know. He texted me beforehand and afterward with enthusiasm. He took a brief call during dinner. I asked him a lot more questions than he asked me. All of this to say: we’re having lunch on Monday. Is there anything less romantic than lunch on Monday?

Meanwhile, I’m scheduled to “have a beer” (without actually having a beer) with someone my friends will know as RV Guy tomorrow night. For those who have not heard of him, he can be summarized as Mr. Unavailable–but, newsflash, he no longer lives in an RV in the Sierras but actually bought property in SF. Has he changed his adventurous, rambling ways? Stay tuned to find out!

single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

rest

thesolomamaproject

Since my last post, I have taken it easy, resting my poor body from whatever assault it suffered last week and helping it quickly shift gears to be prepared to welcome a moon landing.

It’s not easy for me to rest, ultimately. When I’m running around with back-to-back activities, nothing sounds better than laying on the couch with a book. But, when I’m laying on the couch with a book, I feel like I’m supposed to be doing something else.

On Sunday night, after a mellow trip down to San Jose to visit L and her munchkins, I took an afternoon nap and settled in for the evening, with a nagging feeling that I really shouldn’t miss the festivities for the 75th birthday of the Golden Gate Bridge. When the thundering fireworks started up, I went up to the roof but couldn’t see over Alamo Square beyond muted bursts of color on the horizon. Well, here’s what I missed:

http://youtu.be/pbaDQJqwj6s

SIGH! Suffice to say, everyone is saying it was the most awesome fireworks show EVAR. Tonight I was waiting for a friend outside a restaurant and overheard a group of guys walking in–one said, “You’re saying we missed an important cultural event?” and the other said, “Yes. I don’t even like fireworks, and it was the most awesome fireworks evar.”

On the bright side, I did get over my hives and have an SMC brunch and a fun dinner date and eventually got my laundry folded. My temp went up this morning (and, with that, I am done taking my temp for this month).

Today was a maximum mental health day that included therapy, pre-implantation acpuncture, meditation, and a dharma talk. Howie, our teacher, was sleepy from being up early on the east coast and traveling all day, so he focused on rest as a topic; mostly in the sense of giving your brain a rest (i.e. meditation). He returned again and again to this poem throughout his talk:

Rest in natural great peace this exhausted mind,
Beaten helpless by karma and neurotic thoughts
Like the relentless fury of the pounding waves
In the infinite ocean of samsara.
Rest in natural great peace.

~Nyoshul Khen Rinpoche

good night

donor sperm, IUI, ovulation, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

8 million

thesolomamaproject

On Friday afternoon, in the midst of a hive breakout barely held at bay by Benadryl, I got a positive OPK after being super-religious about not peeing for 4 hours! I even had the coveted EWCM that day AND the next day, something I was never able to detect previously. Although the positive kit did take me somewhat by surprise a few days early, I was thrilled to prove the genuine falsehood of the earlier false positive and put the wheels in motion for IUI #3.

I called in my positive result to Nurse Olga, who congratulated me 🙂 and scheduled my IUI for 12:30 on Saturday. She also said that her hunch about the hives was that I was having an allergic reaction to the dye of the HSG test. After our call, I got an email containing my instructions:

Hi Katie,
Your IUI is tomorrow at 12:30pm with Dr. Rinaudo. Please call the thaw hotline tomorrow morning. Have a great weekend Katie!

§ SPERM THAW: The MORNING OF YOUR INSEMINATION please call the thaw hotline BEFORE 8:30am at 353-3039. The sperm will not be thawed unless you call. Please leave:
1) Full Name
2) DOB
3) Donor Name and Number
4) IUI Appointment Time

That’s right: if you do not call the “thaw hotline” the morning-of, your sperm will NOT be thawed for your IUI–way to hold the patients accountable! This actually struck me as kind of absurd, but I’m sure the policy was developed after expensive (?) thawing and no-show ladies. I did get stuck on the “Donor Name”–what’s his name again? Oh right, I never knew it. I suppose they’re referring to known donors in that case, but mine is anonymous. I’ve been calling him McPiercy but I do know his number by heart.

On Saturday morning, the hives were back in full force! I took 2 Benadryl and called the thaw hotline at around 7am. Then I spent part of the morning assembling all my baby project paperwork, creating a spreadsheet of all my cycle charting data, and adding up my expenses thus far. For the record, my average cycle lasts around 26 days, my average LH surge is on Day 13/14, my average (estimated) ovulation day is Day 14/15, my temp spike happens on Day 16, and my luteal phase is about 12/13 days. Crunching the numbers helps me feel a teensy bit in control.

I also tallied the amount I’ve spent at PRS: $3,860 for: 1 intro consultation, 4 vials, 2 IUIs, 2 ultrasounds, plus accoutrements (and a partridge in a pear tree). I could send these expenses in to be reimbursed now through my insurance but I’m holding off since I just transferred over to UCSF where all I’ve paid thus far for an RE consult, ultrasound, psychiatric evaluation, sperm transfer, and HSG test is one little $40 copay–they seamlessly bill my insurance directly. So I’m loathe to file a bunch of individual claims for PRS until I get pregnant; then I’ll cash in my chips.

While this is an expensive process, I know all too well that what I’m really paying for is the right to be a full-on solo parent with no one swooping in at the 11th hour to cause complications. I’m really paying for the right to have no man legally connected to this child (until I’m ready to connect one).

At 12:30, I entered the quiet Saturday halls of UCSF for the IUI, which was pretty much exactly the same drill as at PRS. It wasn’t Dr. Rinaudo after all, but a woman named Dr. P–nice to keep the continuity of possibly getting knocked up by a woman as long as it couldn’t be Ingrid. Dr. P. was very sympathetic about the hives and said it sounds very likely an allergy to the dye, considering that if they were stress hives they would have come and gone long ago. She also said I should stop taking Benadryl now since it could possibly interfere with implantation. Darn.

At the moment of truth, when Ingrid would have said, “I’m sending you blessings and love,” Dr. P. said, “OK, the specimen is going in.” 8 million of McPiercy’s swimmers with “excellent motility” were deployed in my uterus. I just smiled, and Mojo winked at me from where his head was poking out of my purse.

On the way home, I picked up the healthiest lunch I could think of: kale salad, rice and beans, and a carrot/ginger/lime juice from Herbivore. Then I took a long nap on the couch. I took a nap on my couch today too (and hopefully tomorrow!). The weekend has been so restful and I am grateful for one more day, which will include a SMC brunch and a date with a real-life guy (i.e. not from the internet) who asked me out for dinner.

Tonight, I accomplished one item on the weekend to-do list which was to begin looking at new places to live. I really do like my apartment (of 6 years!) and it’s fine for me right now…it’s a studio, probably 600 square feet, with south-facing bay windows, pretty views, old-school charm (read: nothing has ever been updated. I have an icebox), nice hardwood floors, great neighborhood, centrally located in the Lower Haight. But when I consider bringing a tiny roommate in here, I worry that it’s also a fourth-floor walkup with shared coin-op laundry. To me, the laundry is the dealbreaker, even if I was able to convert the walk-in closet to a baby room.

After searching around on Craig’s List for an hour or so, I started feeling my hives get itchier (I still have a few!)… The rental market is at its peak. The real estate market is ridiculous. The share situations are sketchy. Anything vaguely affordable is in a bad area. I went in circles until I remembered that I don’t have to do anything yet.

All I have to do now is get pregnant. I have faith that the rest will work itself out, whether that’s leaving the Bay Area to become a park ranger or joining a single mom co-op or getting someone to buy me a condo with no strings attached or falling into some other unlikely-but-perfect scenario I couldn’t have dreamed up ahead of time. I just try to remember how many women have done it with less.