Category: fertility

anxiety, dating, donor sperm, fertility, IUI, ovulation, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

the reports

thesolomamaproject

It’s so good to be home. I was in NYC for a week of work meetings, friends, shopping, parties, dinners…  A packed schedule–barely enough time for sleep, meeting prep, one solitary morning run on the Highline, and no blogging. I dearly love my friends there. Especially J, whose fourth Chelsea apartment in five years is an adorable one-bedroom and therefore the height of luxury compared to previous studios in which we had to choreograph our every movement. On this visit he was snoring so loudly and consistently that I was happy to shut the bedroom door and go down the hall to the couch. Deluxe!

I started taking Clomid on Day 2 and didn’t notice much of anything except higher anxiety levels. Then my Thanksgiving rash came back in force and I couldn’t sleep. Then I bought an expensive pair of black boots, had buyer’s remorse, and returned them the next day. This all may be run of the mill stuff and nothing to do with the Clomid. Sometimes I felt my ovaries getting riper.

When I finally made it to the holiday party it was like a finish line, and I was thrilled to land the next morning at SFO, even in the chilly rain. Upon landing, I learned the awful news from Connecticut and spent the rest of the day tearing up and taking deep breaths and avoiding the news. It’s a good time to hug our people and tell them how much we love them.

The Yoda Report: My friend M called me with the Yoda Report on what to do about Dr. Hawaii’s invitation to Hawaii–I could have sworn I heard her shuffling papers as she announced, “I have the Yoda Report.” I pictured her with glasses on her nose and a pencil behind her ear. Yoda suggested telling Dr. Hawaii that my Hawaii trip is postponed indefinitely, and since he’ll be in Portland for 10 days over the holidays, why not propose meeting up halfway between Portland and SF instead? I loved this solution: can you meet me halfway?

So I proposed it. And, because he’ll still have family in town and won’t have a car, he responded, “How about a weekend in Portland?”

Coincidentally, I am totally overdue a trip to Portland–I used to visit my friends L and A there every spring and now it’s suddenly been like 3 years without a visit. I still haven’t met A’s 2-year-old. With dear friends to see (and stay with), I have multiple reasons to go. Yoda basically said yes: one or both of you are going to have to travel to make this work, so go and see how it is.

I’d love to see him again. I’d love to spend the weekend in Portland. That’s why this is tricky: I STILL feel like he’s not driving the bus. Sure, maybe he sucks at email and text communication but he also hasn’t picked up the phone. And “How about a weekend in Portland,” feels like a halfhearted invitation. I can’t shake this sense that I’d be conspicuously hanging around on the sidelines of his family vacation waiting for him to be free. And, let’s be honest: the best case scenario is that we have a long distance relationship, is this my goal?

No. My goal is to get pregnant. And to spend time with someone who’s excited about me, who shows up for me, who gives me full-hearted invitations. I’ll give this one more email round to try to get a read on how this would theoretically go. I’m leaning toward not going (L and A: I will totally come soon though). After that, I must insist that if he can’t meet me halfway, the only thing left is for him to come all the way. Here. With his free ticket.

Meanwhile, I’m heading back online for another batch. Of locals!

The Follie Report: This morning, I had my Day 10 ultrasound and the news is GOOD: I have 2 dominant follicles on the left and “things are quiet” on the right. The two follies measure 15mm and 16mm and my lining is at 6 something: right on target. We wanted two and got two! No more, no less. I’ll trigger on Monday night and go for IUI on Wednesday. I’ll test just after the New Year. Baby project is giving me a strong sense of purpose again.

Meanwhile, I’ll stock up on more McPiercy vials. I recently got an email from PRS with the subject line “Notification,” and my heart almost stopped because I assumed they were going to tell me McPiercy was out of stock! Thankfully, they were just warning me that their prices are going up in the New Year.

 

dating, fertility, IUI, outdoors, ovulation, pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

game on

thesolomamaproject

Last night, AF arrived and I said “thank you” and greeted her warmly. Her timing was perfect: I’ll have my Day 10 ultrasound the day after I get back from NYC, and I’ll do my IUI a few days before the UCSF office shuts down for three days over Christmas. I made it into the magic window. I’ve been doing calendar math for weeks now, and I’m super relieved that all the timing has worked out. This month is a go.

I’ve read through all the medical documentation and consulted Dr. Google and it looks like I can actually drink while taking Clomid–which means I don’t have to be a teetotaler at work functions, which takes a lot of pressure off. I will sip on an ever-present single glass of wine.

It feels good to be back in the game. Last night I had Indian pizza with 3 SMC friends: one contemplating IVF, one 8.5 weeks pregnant after 1.5 years of trying, and one 10.5 weeks pregnant on the first try. Grateful for these friends and the sharing of the journeys we couldn’t have predicted when we started. Oh, and the dating stories–this is where I’d link to their blogs if they had them, because you really can’t make this stuff up.

Here is my dating story. I sent the incredibly studiously-written birthday email and it had its desired effect: he wrote back and invited me to Hawaii in the new year and promised to do his best to make it an amazing experience.

Which conjures quite the colorful showreel of fantasies as we visit picturesque beaches, hike lava-spewing volcanoes, lay around in spa sarongs, and…other stuff–of course I want these things. Eventually. I would really like these things eventually.

Even with this headlining development, which of course is flattering and indicates some level of interest, I really haven’t seen him bring it. He’s still not driving the bus. In fact, he’s proposing that I drive the bus to him. So I’m not paying for a 3,000 mile booty call when he has a free ticket. Not yet!

I haven’t responded. I’m waiting to hear from my friend M’s friend who she calls the Heterosexual Yoda–a lesbian whose  dating advice about men is spot on. Every time. It’s like she’s so disconnected she can be objective. Usually her advice is, “Don’t respond,” and this non-action usually brings to light the true nature of the relationship: are you in or are you out?

Right now he’s out. I make this way too easy when they should be working for it. My impulses are always to be available and nice and complimentary and write in skywriting just how interested I am just in case they missed all the other cues. These impulses are great for friendships, not so great for dating.

If he inquires later about my trip, I’ll tell him my friend canceled so it’s postponed indefinitely, and he can do the calculations on what it would take to see me again. At least that’s my pre-Yoda plan. Thanks for keeping me posted, M!

I’d like to give a shout out to my friend A who is live-blogging her labor today (no joke) from Colombia and she’s doing an incredible job–she’s got salsa playing, her lipstick on, her mom by her side, and probably 20 friends following her updates online around the world. So inspired by this powerful woman and thrilled to virtually meet her baby boy. ❤

breakup, dating, fertility, ovulation, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

new cycle

thesolomamaproject

Monday night, under a blanket on the couch, post-sushi with I (“get in there and write a blog post so I can read it!”), drinking my new favorite tea ever: Mighty Leaf Mint Melange.

We have reached the end of a news cycle. Everything is winding down just in time for Day 1. According to my spreadsheet of averages, Day 1 will be tomorrow (or soon after), and then I will start on the Clomid on Day 2 and then I will get cranky while my estrogen is suppressed and my ovaries go on overdrive producing follicles.

The synchronicity of events recently has been intriguing: the peak of my mystery illness coincided with ovulation on what turned out to be an eventful “month off.” Morocco left town just as Hawaii arrived. I will take my last antibiotic tonight and my first Clomid within a few days. I am finally, finally better and rounding the corner in more ways than one.

Morocco came back a few days after my last post, after I had filed him and moved on. But he came back strong, just a couple of arm’s lengths away: hey I’m at a bar in your neighborhood, stop by. Hey, come see live music, I’m at a club. Unsure whether I actually wanted to see him, I suggested we plan ahead and he said then you plan it–I’m not a good planner. (Is it Maya Angelou who said, “When someone tells you who they are, believe them.”?)

I texted him that I sense he’s not available for a relationship and so our timing is off and he should focus on getting his life in order right now. He texted back, “Sounds good :)” Which I take to mean he concurs and/or didn’t understand and/or is a texting robot. (Texting is seriously the worst thing to happen to dating.) Either way, he’s back in the file. 5% of me believes that once he gets settled he’d be a good boyfriend but the other 95% knows that guy never gets settled.

Dr. Hawaii is another story. A brief story that also also involves the texts always ending in a smiley-face. Which is fine. But when I feel a connection like that I want to throw open the doors and windows, fire up the skype and the gchat and the (gasp) telephone and start fanning the flames of passion across the distance!

Not so with this one. When I said “he disappeared into the moonlit night,” he actually did. We’ve exchanged a few texts. He liked something I put on facebook. I went through an initial phase of dying a slow and tortured death with the waiting and the hating of my phone until I realized that the distance and the circumstances have taken us off the usual dating script and now I don’t know what to expect, if anything–maybe we’re on Hawaii Time or maybe when he said he wanted to come back to visit me he was speaking poetically and not literally.  Who the F knows what’s going on over there! Maybe he’ll reappear, maybe he won’t, maybe by the time he does my emotional window will be closed. Maybe (just maybe!) I’m a bit of a complicated case to take on right now. Our second date would be more than dinner and a movie–it would be a weekend requiring strategic logistical and emotional planning with a maybe-pregnant lady who lives 3,000 miles away.

For the record, he sent the last text and he will drive the motherfucking bus or else we’re not going anywhere. (Except on his birthday, which is Wednesday, for which I will compose him an Email, which will rock his world after all the texting.)

Meanwhile, I go on with my fabulous life, which is always the right answer no matter what the question.

dating, donor sperm, fertility, IUI, meditation, outdoors, ovulation, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

going with the flow

thesolomamaproject

Second dates are a huge tossup. They are the swing states. Remember when my most recent second date was a big No from the moment I saw him? Last night, I was texting the Moroccan from outside Jupiter to say I had arrived and asking where he was (it’s a big place) and I got his response “sur la terrasse” and was finishing an email to KC about hiking the Lost Coast when he walked up. And he was a big Yes.

I noticed after my last post that I described him as a “mysterious man of mystery,” so something in my unconscious and sleepy mind’s description of him revealed a perceived double mystery and wanted to know more. I said that I was feeling “go with the flow” on this one, not wildly excited but with a pleasant feeling. Last night, my heart skipped when I saw him. He gave me a big smile and a hug and walked me back to the table where he’d been waiting.

On the whole BART ride over, and really the whole previous two days, I was feeling AF was imminent, and I was starting to wish she’d just show up already so I could at least have a beer with my pizza. But she was still MIA, so I settled on hot tea given that we were technically outside and under a not very hot heat lamp.

To describe him: he’s tall, maybe 6’2″, dark, and…handsome. He has a gentle voice and a big smile. Speaks English flawlessly with only the tiniest errors in pronunciation and many Americanisms like “taking one for the team” (to explain his drinking beer when I wasn’t–I told him I was detoxing), and telling me about a friend from Idaho who was always teased with, “Who da ho?” and she’d have to answer, “I da ho.” He came to the US on an internship for Hilton and has worked seasonal jobs all over the country (including Mackinac Island, twice), was married to an American for a while in Salt Lake City (thus the green card), and when they split he was ready to move to SF, which he has always bookmarked as where he wanted to end up. He got here eight months ago, waits tables and works on his computer science degree, saying that all his previous jobs/cities were fun in the moment, and now he’s ready to stop being seasonal and build a future.

He’s solicitous, kind of mini-waiting on me as he confirms I’m happy with the table choice, the menu, the heat lamp, serving me my salad. He congratulated me on Obama (I congratulated him back even though he couldn’t vote). He wants to go running but doesn’t know where to go. He’s been researching meditation groups and exploring places around the Bay Area. He drives a ’97 Honda Civic. He plays guitar and jams with friends at his favorite bar in North Beach.

I felt myself leaning further and further forward in my chair as if I were eventually going to pounce on him. He paid the bill while I was in the ladies room (no AF still). We stepped outside and I assumed I would take BART home but he offered to drive me, claiming to be meeting up with friends later in the city. Whether or not this was true, I accepted. On the way to his car it was really freezing and he put his arm around me. In the car, he put on nice acoustic guitar music, blasted the heat, and then kissed me. It was the kiss I have dreamed of. We made out for a while, parked under a streetlamp on the Berkeley campus. He said he enjoys every minute with me.

I did not expect my going with the flow to take me to such a sweet and unexpected place! He drove me home. He tried, gently, jokingly, all possible angles, as guys will, to get me to invite him in, knowing that I wouldn’t but that I wanted to. I left him there and walked in to my building, feeling powerful, and where anxiety might rush in (what happens next? what if…? etc.), I instead remembered that, for now, I’m just looking for a guy to hang out with, and found one, and felt glad and grateful. I’ll see him again over the weekend.

Went to bed and woke up at 7 to use the bathroom, feeling AF had landed. And there she was. Going with the flow ends in flow.

Quoting from a poster photographed next to Obama at the Chicago campaign office, “The definition of hope is you still believe even when it’s hard.”

And it IS hard, made harder by the fact that I now have to skip a month while I’m out of town. Yes, I can make a case for it being a good idea–I haven’t taken a month off yet in 6 tries including 1 chemical pregnancy and 1 miscarriage. Yes, I’m about to start a medicated cycle and need to take a class first on how to give myself a shot (a class that isn’t offered in time for this cycle anyway). Yes, the next 6 weeks are stressful with work deadlines and holiday travel. I just can’t believe it will be Christmas before I can try again. It’s getting old. I’m coming up on the anniversary of my trip to the Grand Canyon where I shook hands with the universe. Even my dear readers seem tired. This isn’t how any of it was supposed to turn out.

But this is my story, this is my flow, this is my lazy river. This is it, this is where I am today. What can I do but keep floating along and trying and hoping and believing and enjoying my precious time on this earth, greeting all of its surprises with equanimity, all the disappointments and all the loveliness…

I will be Buddha in a kayak, breathing it all in.

acupuncture, dating, fertility, IUI, ovulation, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

I heart Dr. Tran

thesolomamaproject

Today I saw the doc to discuss next steps, in the event that IUI#6 doesn’t pan out. He was handsome as usual in a wool sweater today, no doctor coat. He has such a warm and understated personality and always manages to work into the conversation how hard he’s working, but that he can’t complain because loves his job. (How often does your doctor tell you that??)

He mentioned at least every three minutes that I can get pregnant, and that I did get pregnant, 2 out of 4 tries (he doesn’t count the first 2 tries at PRS since he didn’t oversee them). I’m “batting 500.” Nothing is wrong, nothing is worth testing now. He also said at least 4 times how much he wishes that his patients didn’t have to go through miscarriages, but they don’t know how to prevent that yet, and it’s really nature’s way of selecting. He looked concerned and paused on the topic of miscarriage and I thought I might cry but then we moved on. I hadn’t thought about the lentil in a little while.

So, what does he recommend? He thinks we’re ready to move on to Clomid, which is a pill I’ll start taking on Day 2 to grow more, fatter follicles, like 2-3 would be great. 4-5 and we might wait until the next month to be sure I don’t have millions of babies. On Day 10: ultrasound to check the follies. Day 12: trigger shot to trigger ovulation (I’ll need to learn about how to give myself the shot), then IUI the next day.

The idea is that we’d have multiple embryos and hopefully end up with one normal one. Of course, I could end up with two, in which case you are all hired. I’m sure I would go ahead with twins and it would ruin my life in the best way possible. How many cycles does he recommend with Clomid? Only 3. Then IVF, but he feels strongly that we won’t get there (and if we do, I have high ovarian reserve, so it would be a slam dunk (my words)). I said that I liked this plan, and he smiled and said, OH, I have a plan for you and I always did!

It looks like I should be able to wrap this up one way or another by my 40th birthday in July, which is a nice goal. Dr. Tran walked me out and touched my arm as he said good bye and to hang in there. I wonder if there’s any ethical way for me to date him? (This crosses my mind every time we meet.)

Meanwhile, I could be pregnant now. But I’m only 5 days in, thought I was feeling mild cramping last night but it turned out to be gas (doesn’t it always?). Today, my digestive system is not happy with me and I’m on the couch feeling achey and cold under a blanket while the cleaning lady cleans and the city erupts outside in celebration over the Giants winning the World Series exponentially intensified due to the fact that it’s Halloween (supposedly there are a million people out there–my acupuncturist called to cancel because he can’t even get to his office).

I realize that ending yesterday’s post with a potential guy-atus was a bit incongruous after listing all that I have “going on,” even it’s a lot of dating busy work and no real results. I think a guy-atus is my way of pretending I have control (now I’m on! now I’m off!) even though I don’t, and of course I would be open to meeting someone great whenever. The question is how much energy do I invest. Maybe dating Dr. Hawaii long-distance with romantic visits here and there throughout the coming year would be the perfect mix?

As MMcL emailed me yesterday, perhaps it’s about accepting the pace of where things are at. If I think Baseball Guy should have called sooner than five days after a first date, maybe that’s arbitrary. Maybe now that I’m not seeking a babydaddy it’s time to slow my roll and just see who shows up–we’re not under the gun anymore!!

Two shouts out: The Solo Mana Project got two recent mentions:

  • On the SMC site it is the featured blog post this week! It’s from the summer, when I was prego, which is a blast from the past now but what an honor to be featured there, thank you, Jane.
  • On a virtual friend’s blog, Return to Go, I was nominated for a Liebster Award, which, from what I gather, means that I answer her 11 questions and then nominate 11 other bloggers to do the same. Cool! I’ll do this soon.
biological clock, dating, donor sperm, fertility, IUI, ovulation, pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

potential

thesolomamaproject

I’m in the hours between a promising first date and an IUI.

Fascinating, isn’t this? Here is a window into my thoughts, “But when he finally came around, would he be able to love the child as his own?”

Even I know I’m getting ahead of myself. But I did pause in the bathroom thinking, “Should I tell him tonight?” (When I got back to the table, he had outed us for being on a match.com date to the girls at the next table over. They giggled and wished us luck.)

Then I remembered there’s nothing he could do to talk me out of it. I got to this point, age 39 with waning fertility, because of waiting. Waiting and bad matches. And: chances are actually pretty high that things won’t work out with him AND I won’t get pregnant. Not to be pessimistic, just helpfully realistic. I don’t have to start juggling a baby and a boyfriend tomorrow. Unless I get really, really lucky.

I was talking to L on the phone just moments before walking into the bar. She said, “Are you excited?” and I said, “My mouth just went dry. I think so.”

He walked in, instant rapport. He lives up the hill, plays baseball, works in tech, and considers himself a lapsed Buddhist. Somehow, he pulled off a royal blue sweater vest. I didn’t realize he was ambiguously ethnic until he mentioned his dad is Sri Lankan. He has three older sisters. When I asked about his career aspirations, he said he just wants to make enough money to be able to hang out with his kids. (follow-up question: do you have to be the bio dad?)

Intriguing how they all want to be babydaddies now that I have McPiercy.

He paid for my beer at The Page and my dinner and beer at Fly Bar (yes, I bent the no-alcohol rule since it’s IUI eve). He fired many thoughtful questions and listened intently as I answered. I noticed early on that he brought out one of the best versions of me. He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a hug and…it was nice. (Dad, was that too much?)

Then I drove up to Marin to visit D and J and borrow one of J’s zillion Halloween costumes. I landed on Cinderella. It would be too easy (and nauseating!) to make this a sign that I’m headed for a fairy tale ending, and plus I don’t think I believe the fairy tale anymore, which makes my costume choice a bit problematic. I just want a nice guy to hang out with. If he turns out to be a Prince Charming who loves to hang out with my kid, so be it.

Finally: He asked me to think it over and let him know if I want to see him again. I said, “Ask me out again!” (Was I supposed to play it cool? I’m thinking yes. Sigh.)

Tomorrow is big. I *will* call the sperm thaw hotline before 8:30. I will put forward my best effort to begin a new life. Then I will party till the clock strikes midnight.

fertility, IUI, outdoors, pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, writing

sun salutations

thesolomamaproject

Blog! I’ve missed you. I went a little while without writing, like 9 days. It was a very packed 9 days and had almost nothing to do with fertility and everything to do with work: deadlines, stress, travel, presentations. And there were moments of joy: roadtripping with J, running 8 miles along the coastal cliffs of Southern California, sitting around the fire drinking cucumber vodkas, flirting with nerdy finance guys at the hotel bar, and stopping to see my insemination sister A in Santa Barbara on the way home. Let’s pick it up there.

When I went for my first IUI in March, I was put in touch with her by dear mutual friend J because A, single, living abroad, went for her first IUI the same weekend as me. A frenetic gchat relationship ensued, wherein many questions were asked and answered, acronyms flew, and we were pretty much always freaking out. Two weeks later, A had taken four negative home pregnancy tests followed by a very positive blood test. She got pregnant on the first try.

Yes: she freaked out. I was the first person she told, on gchat, because I was hanging out there waiting for the verdict. She spiraled into a whole other hemisphere of intensely mixed emotions as I tried to understand how she’d be anything but blissfully happy–and this was a good lesson for me: you never know how you’re going to feel.

Fast forward two months and A came through San Francisco: we met for coffee. We squeezed in 1.5 hours, and for me the final puzzle piece clicked into place. You definitely don’t quite know who you’re dealing with until you meet in person. Next, we gchatted, blogged, facebooked, and never quite skyped (working on that) our way through all of these months. I pretty much know what’s going on with her every day.

Fast forward to Sunday, and she’s 31 weeks pregnant, in town for her baby shower. Of course it was impossible not to look at her and think, “That would be me.” But I’m not in a place of feeling sad about it–I’m at where I’m at, and so is she, and MAN this is a wild journey. You just never know. I am so happy for her, and her baby boy on his way. A great example and huge support from South America, especially when I need it most.

We did yoga on the beach in the morning, an idyllic scene of sunrise, calm waves, and birds with very long beaks running along the water’s edge, digging deep in the sand for their breakfast treats. Here we were, two women in our late 30’s, greeting the sun with all our beauty and imperfection, our experience and adventure, our independence and insecurities, our passion to be moms. One with a belly, one without.

For the record! She started with meds on the first try and has been somewhat bewildered about why I wouldn’t do the same. I am getting there. This cycle will be my last unmedicated one: #6. I have an appointment next week with Dr. Tran to discuss #7 and what my protocol will entail. For now, I am peeing on a stick and #6 will happen sometime around this weekend.

After the work travel (which entails dessert after every meal), I am also trying to reset the health button by going off gluten, sugar, caffeine, and alcohol.  My sister gave me a Vitamix (THANK YOU!) which means I can pack a mountain of fruits and vegetables into one smoothie. I kid you not, I feel the difference after one day. (I think gluten might be the devil.) It’s that time of month where we switch over from bourbon, Newman-O’s, boy-crazy mode, and coffee back over to broccoli, fish oil, quinoa, light runs, and fizzy water. Quiet, and sleep.

Just to throw a wrench into the works, I have jury duty tomorrow. How much blogging will I do from court?

Stay tuned! The jury’s out 🙂

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

my team of millions

thesolomamaproject

Consistent with my stated mode of “not having my head in the game,” I forgot to call the sperm thaw hotline this morning. Fifteen minutes after the deadline, at 8:45am, they called me. My ringer was off. They left a message saying to call as soon as possible.

When I got the message several minutes later, I flew into a panic, of course. Where is the number? Why didn’t Olga resend it? Where’s my computer? Where’s my iPad? I called the general UCSF line and asked for the sperm thaw hotline. “The what?” Thinking I was speaking too quickly, I slowed down, “Sperm Thaw. Hotline.” She said, “I’m not sure what that is.” I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. This is the UCSF Center for Reproductive Health and you don’t know what the sperm thaw hotline is?” I was not patient. She asked me who my doctor was and unhelpfully transferred me to Olga’s voicemail. Finally, after precious minutes, I found the sperm thaw hotline and asked them to call me back and confirm that I could still get in for today. A few minutes later, a nice embryologist named Will called to confirm they got the message and we’d go on as planned and I basically am in love with Will now.

I drove over at around 11 and checked in, reading Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott on my iPad in the waiting room, occasionally tearing up because her writing is so raw and honest and sweet. Encouraging texts flowed in. Thank you for all your good thoughts for my good egg!

Next thing I knew, 45 minutes had gone by. When I asked for an update, the same receptionist who greeted me 45 minutes before didn’t recognize me. (PS it is not a big waiting room and I was in her line of sight.) When she realized I hadn’t been seen in 45 mins, her eyes got big and she flew out of the room. Coming back, she apologized profusely, said it would be 15 more mins, and gave me a Starbucks gift card which 110% placated me.

Finally, I was called in. The same nurse Stephanie who has done all my IUIs and ultrasounds did the IUI today. I thanked her for doing an awesome job with me last time around. I told her I was in a good space now, kind of ‘whatever,’ not so high and low. She told me that sounds great–stay in the good space.

McPiercy had a nice showing of 11.3 million sperm after the wash. Stephanie said, “Now let’s get this team up there where they can do their thing.” I told her “my team of millions” would definitely be the title of my next blog post.

After they left me to my 5-10 mins of purely psychological laying-there time, the feeling was not ‘I love you’ or tearful longing or lightning bolts but instead a letting go. A release of trying to control. A whistle-blowing: “Listen up, Team McPiercy! You’ve got this! You’re on your own! Do your best! I’m rooting for you!” And to the good egg, “OK, pretty girl, be patient–they’re on their way.” And then I threw my arms up to the heavens, handing the reins over to the universe, to God, to Mother Nature, and the Buddha.

And then I got on with my day.

biological clock, dating, fertility, IUI, ovulation, parenthood, pregnancy, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

on the eve

thesolomamaproject

It’s that one night a year in San Francisco when I wish I had a fan. The whole city is officially Way Too Hot, and we don’t deal at all well with this. Our tolerable temperature range is anything between 60 and 70 degrees, and that’s about it. On the street outside, people are stumbling around in confusion–it’s simply shocking to not need a sweater. I’m sweating and eating ice cream up in my stuffy apartment, hoping for a breeze through the open window.

Can I just say how grateful I am that my cycle has kicked back in like motherfucking clockwork on Day 15? Smiley-face today. I called Olga, and I go in tomorrow for IUI #5. At 11:15am PST, in case you want to say a little prayer for my good egg.

I had the perfect evening to mark the end of my TTC hiatus, including sushi and beer and catching up with a dear old friend with whom I hadn’t caught up in many months, so I didn’t even know she was having fertility dilemmas of her own. I knew I’d be telling her my story, and my story was that much more relevant since it resonated. Her story made me remember my own long and difficult road to the big decision, what a process it was; whereas now it’s such a solid fact that I could hang my hat on it. I savored her questions and hoped she’d read the blog.

It got me reconnected a little to retell it. Mostly, I’ve felt like “my head’s not in the game.” I had to set my alarm in Outlook to remember not to pee, and again to remember to pee four hours later, on the stick.

It was kind of a rough weekend. The Moroccan chose a weekend in Santa Cruz over our coffee date–touché. I decided to “quickly” sign up on match.com, forgetting the existential process of creating an online dating profile (an hour later, I had a screen name). Also: I discovered that I had forgotten my car in a downtown lot for 4 days ($160), tripped on a curb and fell on the sidewalk in front of an uncaring crowd, and worked alllll day on a Saturday. Wah.

Predictably, when I finally got myself to run from the Beach Chalet up past the Cliff House to Lands End, all the way up that staircase, all the way down the other side to Sea Cliff and all the way back, I felt fine again. Can I please remember from now on that I always always always feel better after a run?

Today is Monday but I’m drunk on two beers and contemplating my remaining hours of peace.before the two week wait. I don’t know how I feel really… still a little disconnected, and I hope that turns out to be a good thing when the crazy train pulls up a week from now. I keep finding myself listing out my trifecta of goals: to be promoted, to find a guy I like, and to get (and stay) pregnant. I’m trying my best in all three categories, and my new mantra is: SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN.

Stopping in the corner store tonight for ice cream, I came upon a dad and his 4-year-old picking out ice cream flavors. The dad was reading them out and the kid bursts out with, “VANILLA!” like it’s absolutely the most exciting flavor ever created. His dad handed him a pint, which he carefully put into the basket of his bicycle with training wheels while his dad went to pick out a bottle of wine. Then, the little boy walked up to the cat sitting on the check-out counter and said to him quietly and meaningfully, “So, how’s your night going?”

My heart swelled as I remembered why I’m doing this.

acupuncture, anxiety, fertility, IUI, ovulation, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, Uncategorized

hives

thesolomamaproject

What a crazy few days. The HSG test kicked it off. I could give you the play by play, but I don’t really want to put you through it, and I don’t want to scare the daylights out of anyone who still has to get that test in the future. But OMG!  It hurt so bad!! I don’t know why it was so painful for me, but let’s say that my innards were most displeased with the experience.

The next day, I worked from home and screwed up my Day 10 ovulation test. I had planned to test at 2pm after not-peeing since 10 (the test requires that you not pee for 4 hours beforehand, inhumane as it may be for a well-hydrated and active young woman). But I forgot and peed at noon. Realized it, and recalculated for a 4pm test, made it to 3pm and couldn’t hold it any longer. Did the test. Left on the sink and totally forgot about it until I returned 2 hours later to discover the screen blank. I pulled out the stick, clicked it back in and poof: a smiley face. WTF!

I tested again on the spot, negative. Tested again 4 hours later: negative. Tested first thing this morning: negative. Then I broke out in hives.

At first, I thought a mosquito must have gotten into my bed during the night because I itched all over. Then I got a look at myself in the sunlight: raised, welt-like bumps on my knees, elbows, thighs, my belly-button, neck, and a sprinkle everywhere else as well. Once I identified it as hives, I felt OK. I got some Benadryl, which took care of it quickly. But whenever the Benadryl wears off, they come back. Watching them come and go is kind of mesmerizing, like watching the sun set. You take your eye off of it and next time it’s in a different formation.

I managed to hold it from 9am until 1pm today (including a noon run with a pooched-out bladder) and tested: negative. Got a call back from the UCSF nurse responding to my email: we’re going to consider that a negative. You can’t leave the test for that long and trust the result. OK. Phew. Ovulation is still to come. (probably in about 4 days)

I had another well-timed acupuncture appointment at 5pm. This is the kind of medical mystery where I much prefer my acupuncturist over any other type of doctor. He said there is no question that my body is reacting to the trauma of the HSG test by cranking up its immune response. Those muscles and tissues are very sensitive and it just isn’t normal to have your plumbing tinkered with in that way. My body clearly was on the hating-it end of the continuum and needed and deserved some de-stressing. Time to relax and take it easy.

I facetiously posted on FB today, “I’ve been using ‘That makes me break out in hives” figuratively too often and now I’m actually breaking out in hives.” I’m reminded of a story my sister told me about a woman who said for weeks, “I need a break, I need a break” and ended up breaking her ankle. The words we choose can influence our reality.

So here are some carefully-chosen words:

As I sit here on my big yellow couch under a grandma-knit blanket with my fizzy water listening to an intermittent foghorn out on the bay, I think to myself: “This makes me break out in love, wellness, peace, contentment, gratitude, and a healing little hug for my lady parts.”