Category: two week wait

biological clock, IUI, outdoors, parenthood, pregnancy, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

vacation

thesolomamaproject

OK, that was a bit of a hiatus now that I’m on vacation–needed a break from the computer. At this moment, I am on the balcony of my parents’ place in northern MI and, even as we speak, I’m being summoned to paddleboard with my dad or take my niece to the beach, so much to do up here at the peak of summertime. But I’m taking a little time to write. I’m looking out at a placid Lake Michigan, one solo obnoxious boat breaking up the peaceful morning and buzzing around like a mosquito, a hazy sky and golden morning sunlight from behind me. A cool breeze. I dream of this balcony when I’m away.

Picking up where my last post left off. The evening of my IUI, I went over to the East Bay to have dinner with my friend C. Four years ago, we met on a Yosemite trip as part of a big hiking group, and I learned that this was her “last hurrah” before starting to try to get pregnant on her own. Although this was four years ago, I was already starting to have inklings that I may not find the right babydaddy in time, as I was then dating a guy not that seriously because I knew he didn’t want kids. At a party a month after the trip, I got a bigger download from C on the experience–she had gone through one round of trying and had just found out it didn’t work. She told me all about the national organization Single Mothers by Choice, the actual nitty-gritty process of getting oneself knocked up, and the onslaught of emotions following one failed attempt. I was fascinated and taking mental notes.

After that party, C’s journey suddenly went in a wildly different direction when she started dating the guy whose party it was, and after a few months they decided to get pregnant together. And they did get pregnant (on the first try), and had a baby girl. We fell out of touch after a little while.

About a month ago, I felt compelled to reach out to her to let her know what a big influence her experience had on me. Once I was ready to become an SMC last fall, I knew exactly where to go. She wrote back to tell me that my timing was coincidental as she and her baby’s father had just decided to separate (super amicably and gradually) and she was preparing to be a single mom after all. We started making plans to get together–lots to catch up.

Mere hours after my IUI last week, I headed over to the East Bay, and was greeted at the door by pretty little two-and-a-half-year-old S, who promptly looked up at me with wonder and said in two-year-old-speak, “You’re an angel!” I blinked and asked her to repeat that, and she said, “You’re an ANGEL!” Then she insisted that I take off my boots and join her on the couch for some jumping. According to her parents, this was not her usual drill with new friends, and I was honored.

Of course, I took this to be a cosmic sign. It was wonderful to catch up with C, to hear her whole story of pregnancy and birth and her overwhelming love for her girl. She offered to be a resource and support and I am excited to be back in touch.

The next two days I spent frantically preparing for the trip (mostly wrapping up work), got up at the crack of dawn on Sunday to fly 4.5 hours to Detroit then drive 5 hours up here. I’ve spent much of the past two days sleeping–sleeping in, naps, other naps. Decompressing. You just don’t know how much compression is in there until you let it out.

The big highlights here are my nieces, who are both nonstop cute and fun and fascinating: E is turning 4 and S is 9 months. E has taken to calling me “KK” (I’ve graduated from “Tata Hot,” which she called me as a baby), and her grandpa is now “Chatmo,” for reasons only she understands. S will look up at you and bestow a smile that is like the sun bursting out from behind the clouds. They are a blessing. Of course, it’s wonderful to be with my parents and sister and bro-in-law too. 🙂

Yesterday, I went running on the new Sleeping Bear Heritage Trail that recently opened up and is a big deal around here. It goes from Glen Arbor through the National Lakeshore land to Glen Haven and all the way to the Dune Climb. Chatmo was my SAG Team (Supplies and Gear) with water and snacks in his pack. I did 8 miles at a mellow pace, and we sailed along through the old-growth trees in the leafy shade and at one point a big deer bounded in front of us on the trail. She stopped and looked behind her and then took off again, followed by a dramatically prancing fawn.

I am 7dpo (days past ovulation) and calmly transitioning into the final week of the wait. I feel calm, surrounded by support (including my parents’ downstairs neighbors the W’s, my cheerleading squad), and that it’s just a matter of time.

Image

Happy 4th!

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

23 million

thesolomamaproject

Go, swimmers, go!

I got my smiley-face yesterday afternoon: sigh of relief. Called Olga. Fortunately, I don’t seem to have lingering angry feelings toward her. We’ve moved on. She cheerfully set up my appointment for 1:15 today, just 45 minutes after my IUI last month. I’ve duplicated every detail of last month to the best of my ability.

Today, I left work around 12:15. I thought about rushing home to get Mojo, but decided nah–Mojo is with me in my heart. I needed to grab lunch.

I had chicken pho and limonata Pelligrino at My Father’s Kitchen, a Vietnamese restaurant near UCSF. I wondered whether Dr. Tran goes there for lunch, and if so whether it reminds him of his father’s (or mother’s) kitchen back in Vietnam. As I was finishing, I thought I saw him walk in, in scrubs. My mind raced: what if it’s him? What if it’s not him? Am I thinking all Vietnamese doctors look alike? He was seated right behind me. After studying the back of his head as I got up to leave, I decided that my Dr. Tran didn’t have a bald spot and wasn’t that short and didn’t wear scrubs and wouldn’t slurp his soup like that. Still, it seemed like a good sign in a moment when I was looking for signs.

Then I sat in the waiting room enjoying my last moments of peace before the two week wait.

After being called into the exam room, I had some more time to think. This time, I thought, I’m going to focus on reducing stress in all respects, every day. Which is a good goal no matter what you’re trying to do in life, no?

Same drill on this fourth round IUI–the nurse practitioner was Dr. J and she was nice and ultra-efficient. We reviewed McPiercy’s donor number, total motile (rhymes!): 23 million, and overall motility “moving fast / hyperactivated.” I am not kidding you: from speculum to “great ovulation mucus, so bonus on the timing!” to “the sample is going in” to “take care!” was probably 3.5 minutes.

She left me in the room for 5-10 minutes to relax, and I thought, “I love you, baby.” I felt a symbolic lightning bolt strike down from the heavens.

And then, I went about my biz.

I’ve done a lot of thinking since my “heroine” post in which everyone was expecting details of my new drug addiction, ostensibly the latest method for handling the stress of trying to conceive. (Yes, the “e” in “heroine” is critical!) I was trying to put a positive spin on what was otherwise a somber post. First conclusion: when it came down to it, I really needed sleep. I slept 9 hours and the next morning felt like a million bucks.

Second, it’s OK to sometimes feel low. When I’m in that mode, I tend to focus on the things I’m missing in life, even while there is a huge abundance of wonderfulness staring me in the face. I read a good quote yesterday in someone’s email signature that said, “Pessimists see the difficulty in opportunity while optimists see the opportunity in difficulty.” Right on.

Third, the universe has sent me quite a flurry of evidence in the last 24 hours that I do, in fact, attract the attention of men. The universe also sent a PS that these men, while they do exist, are just wildly and hilariously inappropriate matches for me right now. These include the guy on the 38 Geary bus who introduced himself as a veteran in his 50s who finds me “very sweet,” the handyman in the line outside Kelly-Moore who started singing a song precisely as I walked by that began with “bonita,” and a guy who emailed me on OK Cupid to suggest that we meet for coffee followed by a “purely lighthearted best-of-five wrestle.” You know I’m not making this stuff up!

The fact is, there’s only one man in my life right now: McPiercy. He’s hot. He gives me my space. He provides me with millions of fast-moving sperm and lets me have my way 100% of the time. AND he’s helping me pursue my biggest life goal. I’ll tell you all about him once he knocks me up (again).

Meanwhile, I’ll be over here relaxing like crazy.

 

IUI, outdoors, pregnancy loss, privacy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait, writing

validation

thesolomamaproject

I saw Dr. Tran on Wednesday, and I love him. I’m definitely noticing a falling-in-love trend with every male doctor I encounter in this process (is it ethical to date the guy who draws your blood? who causes you pain during a procedure? who gets you pregnant?). But Dr. T. has my heart for real.

He invited me into his office and I said, “I’m seeing you at 4pm and last time I saw you at 7am–you must work long days,” and he said, “Yes, I typically work from 7 until about 6, but I love what I do, so I can’t complain.” Aw.

At first, he assumed that I was there to talk about interventions (i.e. meds) but I quickly realized that Olga had conveyed to him exactly nothing about my recent experience. Which didn’t surprise me, since she acted like it never happened. On the bright side, I got to tell him myself, including the part about how Olga let me know over the phone (“I just can’t figure out how you got two positive tests. Was the test expired?”).

He turned his monitor toward me and asked me to show him on the calendar the day of my IUI, followed by the days of the positive pregnancy tests. He said, “OK, yes. You were pregnant. It’s what we call a “biochemical pregnancy.” He compassionately acknowledged the emotional side of what I had just gone through, and said, “But from a medical point of view, I take this as very good news. You don’t have fertility issues. Everything works!”

He even said he would make a gentle suggestion to Olga about how to approach this type of situation. (i.e. in Me vs. Olga, I won.)

I realized that the whole reason I set up the appointment was to hear him say all of the above. And he said it! More than once! I said, “You can say it again, if you want!” (PS do you want to get coffee after this?)

In a nutshell, since everything is working, it’s probably just a matter of time. No need to introduce hormones or trigger shot or ultrasounds for now. He said that if he were in my shoes, he would give it a total of 6 unmedicated tries. I told him about Rio at the end of August, and how that seems to be a natural turning point, after 5 tries (so: 2 more). At that point, if nothing’s happening, I can Rio-valuate.

I practically skipped out of there. It makes me realize how important it is to feel validated. I couldn’t really get through this until I knew for sure that it happened.

Validation is so important in this process. I feel its importance both when I’m talking to women who are down about another BFN (big fat negative) or going crazy in the 2 week wait, and I try to say things to cheer them up–but sometimes I’m missing that they just need someone to listen, to hear them right where they are. I feel it when people say to me, “Can you just be more laid back–put it out of your mind, go about your biz, pretend it’s not happening? The stress can’t be helping…” and it’s like UM, SURE I’d love to do that. Can you tell me how? Because, as much as it really is a great idea, I am incapable right now of just Being Less Stressed. Where I’m at is: losing my mind to hope and fear and joy and disappointment. I know it’s uncomfortable, but…can you meet me there?

I’ve also been giving a lot of thought to the blog and the public play by play. Because it’s all about me, total self-absorption, and that’s not how I live my life–I would write about all of you if I thought I could get away with it! The way I see it, this would all be going on in my head, only in a more chaotic, messy format, so the fact of keeping a blog is not influencing how excited or sad or freaked out I get. The blog helps me get it out of my head (which is positive) and helps me rally support around me (which I need). So, it’s win-win for me. Sometimes, though, I feel sorry for you, dear readers, dragged along on all my ups and downs. But, I won’t apologize… It takes two to tango: I’m not forcing your eyeballs onto these words. 😉

Thanks for being here. It’s messy, huh?

Finishing up my work day and heading home to pack for Girl Weekend in Sebastopol. Could this be any better timed? On the agenda, we have a hot tub, canoeing, a rodeo, yummy food, margaritas, yoga, stars, and five amazing ladies. Thumbs up!

meditation, outdoors, pregnancy loss, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

moving through

thesolomamaproject

First, thanks to everyone who has called, emailed, texted, or come over to pull me off the couch. I realized today that I’ve been accepting calls but not initiating them, so if I haven’t called you back, it’s because I would probably cry anew each time and I feel like I’ve achieved some equilibrium. I really appreciate that you called. I heard from every single person I expected to hear from (even noticed a couple missing…hmm, what about C and the W’s…and then checked my work voicemail and there they were). I quite literally could not do this without you and have no idea how anyone does it with any less than an army of supporters!!! I am a very lucky girl.

For the last two meeting-filled work days, I kept up a minimum of productivity while working from home. At the end of the last meeting yesterday, I felt like I had just limped/crawled across the finish line of the work week and collapsed on the couch for a deep and disorienting two-hour nap.

I had dinner plans with my friend I. and her call came in when I was just emerging from deep, dark couch slumber–her idea was to go to the Cheesecake Factory followed by retail therapy at the mall. At first I was like, “Do you know who I am?” (i.e. a snob who hates shopping) but, somehow, the suggestion was kind of perfect. I tried to picture the polar opposite–the two of us sharing a bottle of wine in the dim corner of some neighborhood ethnic restaurant and somehow that was terrible. I just saw myself crying into the wine glass. Bring on the crowds, pumping music, uber-sized portions, and Union Square.

Of course, after two dinner-sized appetizers, we didn’t need dinner at all. That place is ridiculous. Two beers and I was soused. We then did some dress shopping for Rio (fun). My friend I. is a very matter-of-fact person–she’s a scientist, a commitment-phobe, and on the less emotional end of the spectrum–a good reflector of rationality. She empathized and remains greatly hopeful for my chances. She also has an older sister who just went through yet another failed round of IVF (several times, she has carried to 8 weeks, then miscarried).

Someone always has it worse, which is good perspective. But it doesn’t mean that whatever level of sadness you’re going through is any less real.

I feel the weight of it today because it’s Saturday and a lot of my plans have evaporated and I don’t have to keep my chin up for any reason. I have the usual boring shit to do: work I let slip last week, clean up, postpone jury duty, finally make a hair appointment as it has gotten out-of-control long with 3-inch roots. I absolutely need to get outside for a run. Then dinner with my sister (cue the waterworks).

I got Olga on the phone yesterday. She said something like, “there’s no way to know without having done the blood test earlier,” since, apparently, in her world, nothing really happens unless it is reflected in data from the lab. But she relented that it was likely a chemical pregnancy and I told her how important it is to me to know that my body is capable of getting pregnant, and she maybe got it, a little bit. I recognize that she was just the messenger, so we’ll leave it there.

More importantly, I am looking ahead. I have an appointment with my RE, Dr. Tran, on Wednesday to discuss my options for round 4. By then, I will be almost peeing on a stick.

And even more importantly than that, I just bought a ticket for two weeks on Lake Michigan with my family, best place on earth to endure the two week wait.

 

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.