Loser sperm: balls over brains

We decided to change sperm donors for our most recent attempt. This will be our 4th donor I think?? Lost count I guess. Well, let's go back, donor #1 was a chiropractor from California Cryobank, donor #2 was a rocket scientist (literally) also CC, donor #3 was the molecular biologist from Midwest Sperm Bank, and yes, donor #4 is also from Midwest.

One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is really not the same.

We'd been talking about changing donors for days. Finally, we were sitting on the couch watching TV at like 9:30 at night and she's like, 'hey, I thought we were going to change donors this time?'

'Yeah, get on the website and pick one.'

Literally two minutes later, 'okay buy this one.'

This was very quick for my partner, who is the one obsessed with the donor selection. When I asked what his deal was, she said, 'I think he's a loser. Maybe he has viable sperm.'

Donor #4 is officially our first non-advanced degree, science or math professional. I think he has a high school education and likes skateboarding. He might have red hair. Maybe he smokes a little weed. Not a lot of weed, that would be bad for sperm count. He's just relaxed and has no responsibilities! He sounds refreshing! Hopefully he's a little smart, somewhere, deep down inside. But hey, if I gave birth to the next Tony Hawk or Shawn White, that would be awesome too. I guess it's fine if the kid doesn't go to MIT on a scholarship.

'Okay, perfect.'

super sound...ultra un-sound

I am in love with March so far. I can't get over the weather. It is so freakin' nice! Today we were cruising around with the top down on the grape ape (she's our jeep wrangler, duh...we are a couple lesbians after all. You didn't think it was our camero did you?) soaking up the sun. We raked our yard, which is now currently the earliest we've ever been able to! I am feeling mentally well, emotionally fit, and physically happy. I am feeling sound for the first time in months.

Except for our ultrasound last Friday.

For the second time, we went in for an ultrasound to hunt down my little follicle eggies and see when I should trigger my ovulation with the Ovidrel injection. I wasn't really paying attention this time, sort of just chatting with the nurse while she quite literally 'probed' me with her probe. She mentioned some test, had I done it? I said no, I hadn't. The conversation continued.

Later that day when I got a voicemail from my doctor (not my nurse, red flag), I realized that the ultrasound lady saw something that morning (hence the reason she asked me about that test). The doctor said that there is a large cyst in my ovary that she was unsure of. Was it a follicle and not a cyst? Hard to tell. She sent me to get blood work to determine if it was in fact a huge ass egg. She also said there were two small polyps. All of this caught me off guard at the time. I don't really know much about either cysts or polyps. She said that we shouldn't hold off on our impending IUI, but that we should come in and discuss this with her. So, off I went to get stabbed again. Hard to believe I have any blood left at this point!

Blood work came back negative. Not an egg. The doctor had me wait until last night to do the Ovidrel. I am almost a pro now that I've injected myself twice. I joke and say that I could be a heroin addict now that I know how to do self-injections. My partner says I can't; we're too poor from all this non-baby-making to be doing heroin.

IUI #10 is tomorrow morning. As I sit here on the patio, enjoying the weather and catching a buzz off a single, fine, twisted tea, I think I'll be okay without the heroin.

Hard Days Night

Up until this point, I feel like I've been fairly optimistic about this whole process. Even though I get discouraged at times, I always jump back to being positive. The other day as I left work and headed to CVS to pick up my letrozole and ovidrel once again, something changed; my chest ached. I was disappointed, mad, frustrated. Why hasn't this worked? I was discouraged. Here we go again.

Wait, am I going to turn into that blogger? Crap.

We've been to 9 unsuccessful IUI's to date, but we've been officially at it for one year this month. We took two months off during the concussion phase, and then another month off when we switched doctors and did the HSG. I think it's really hitting home this month since it's been a year of it now.

My therapist says that I should embody the new spring season and be aware of all the reproduction and births happening around me in nature.  It's hard to do that when most of my outdoor time is spent speeding by nature on the highway; an hour and twenty minutes each way on a good day. I've been trying to look out my windshield and observe the trees...are they budding yet? But, it's getting dark by this point, and it seems to be distracting me from staying in my lane more than anything at this point.

As I pulled into the parking lot and went inside, I saw the same young guy behind the counter as always. He must always work the closing shift. He asked my name and got my prescriptions. As he put them down on the counter, he empathetically said 'still no luck?'

I paused, sort of questioning the fact that he was asking me such a personal question about the prescriptions I was picking up. Isn't that breaking some patient confidentiality law thingy?

'No, not yet.'

'My wife and I are trying to get pregnant too. She's taking Clomid, but I think we're going to do the trigger injections soon.' Now I understood.

'And how does she like the Clomid?'

'She hates it, horrible.'

'The letrozole is way better, no side effects at all. You guys should try it. How long have you been trying to get pregnant?'

'Six months. She just doesn't ovulate.' His face visibly sank. 'It's so hard.'

I agreed. He finished cashing me out (I was also picking up some very vogue nail polish I saw in some bridal magazine) and I said as cheerfully as possible, 'I hope I don't see you next month!' I wished him luck and went on my way.

He sort of changed my day with that short conversation. Here was this young man...I can only assume his wife is young as well...who saw me, a young woman, and just couldn't resist but to talk to somebody who would understand. I am so glad he broke whatever rules he broke. I don't even know his name, but I will be sure to stop in next month regardless and see how it's going.

Lesbians at the Ladies Luncheon

We tested on Saturday....not pregnant. Just before we tested, my partner was very tense. She would much rather that I don't tinkle on the stick and just wait for my period to either start or not. I was excited to test. How could I possibly wait any longer to know the outcome of our patience. One way or another I would be happy; either with baby in belly or with cocktail in hand.

It takes forever for that stupid flashing hour glass to change to words. We sat silently and waited. When 'not' showed up in front of 'pregnant', my heart sank and I went from optimistic to sad and frustrated pretty quick. My partner, on the other hand, switched from pessimistic to optimistic, lecturing me about how we'll get 'em next time, and it will happen when it happens. She even went as far as to say that if it never happened, it would be okay. The miniature martini that she made for me sat mostly full and was mostly dumped out at the end of the night. I did, however, enjoy the gin-soaked olives.

This emotional transition is typical. I am always smiling going into the bathroom, while my partner is freaking out. And then, we switch. I tried to explain to her that I would much rather she embrace her current emotion and be pissed off instead of going into 'we'll get 'em next time' mode. She thinks that she's protecting and supporting me by basically hiding her real emotions. When I finally get her to knock it off, she lets it rip. Frustration, anger, sadness. We agree on our emotions, finally.

Sunday we woke up to our typical routine of CBS news programing. Around noon, we finally decided that we should get ready to go to our neighborhood ladies gathering. After all, we were supposed to be bringing something, and that something had yet to be created.

As lesbians, being invited to a neighborhood ladies gathering is somewhat odd. Our neighbors across the street came over one day and handed us the invite. At that moment, I knew we had to go. We envisioned a group of red hat society women sitting around a lace-clad table with ornate china tea cups, and I had to know if this was the case.

Now it was about a quarter til the party was supposed to start. Still no snack to bring. Being the Betty Crocker lesbians we are, we decided to go to the store and get a block of cheese and a box of crackers.

I am so glad we went! It was not a group of ancient women. We met some really great people that live just a short walk away. One of them has a husband who is an adoption lawyer, which will come in handy since our original lawyer refuses to return my phone calls. I can see that this summer, we'll have fun hanging out with several of them.

Today, I'm back to being optimistic about our next round. But I haven't even started my period yet.