Today One and I had an appointment with the gyno. She told us that there was no point in continuing to try to conceive naturally; we have a 3 - 5% chance every cycle of getting pregnant naturally.
Onward to IUI it is then. IUI, for those of you playing along at home, stands for Intra-Uterine Insemination. They will take some of One's sperm (which he will prepare earlier), spin it down, wash it and extract the "normal" (as far as anything of his is normal) percentage, and insert it into my uterus, through my cervix, at the appropriate time of month.
I thought that we'd be able to try an unstimulated IUI cycle (that is, one without the use of drugs to ensure I ovulate), given that I was told last time that I was ovulating and everything was A-OK with me, but apparently not - the referral to the IVF clinic that the gyno gave us indicated that I was to be put on drugs - not Clomid, I didn't recognise the name - to make sure I"m ovulating.
She didn't say why.
I also got in trouble because I hadn't lost any weight since the last time I saw her. I saw her a month ago - not even, it was the last week of March, so three and a bit weeks ish. I've been stuck at my current weight since a little before then, but in total, since May 4th last year, I have lost 18 kilograms. I think that's a pretty fair effort - and I've managed to keep it off. It made me a little grumpy, as he implication was that I was just going to give up and sit around and put all the weight back on deliberately. Excuse me? I haven't gone to all this effort for nothing, you know!
So we headed down to the IVF clinic and made the initial three appointments we need - the clinical appointment, the accounts appointment and the counselling appointment. We have to pay a $265 administration fee up front, of which we will get nothing back, and also get both police and Department of Family and Children's Services checks to make sure neither of us have ever done anything bad to kids.
Then we can venture onto the rollercoaster.
(IUI will boost our chances from 3-5% to 18-20% per cycle. The gyno said if I'm not pregnant after 2 to 3 IUI attempts, we will probably need to move on to IVF. This is not something I am thrilled about).
Monday, April 23, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Sure, I swear
One and I threw a surprise party for a friend last night. It was amazing - he suspected nothing. He didn't realise we'd manage to wrangle his family there, and the look on his face when he realised we'd gone to all of this effort for him was the best thing ever.
I baked him a rainbow cake as his birthday cake, and took the remnants to work today, to make sure that One and I didn't eat all the leftovers ourselves. Of course my workmates fell on it like a flock of starving gannets - although we have the annual Anzac Day Anzac biscuit bakeoff next Thursday, so I may not be the undisputed queen of baking for very long after that competition (Is it strange that I'm a bit scared of competing, given how competitive I am? I guess it comes back to my old fear of failing...).
--
I've started playing netball again, one night a week in a mixed social competition. I'm playing on a team with the same friend we had the surprise party for. There's no pretty way t o say it - our team is abysmal. We lost our latest game with a score of 45 to 2. Yes. 2. I fluked one of our 2 goals - there was a reason that I was always stuck in defence in high school and it wasn't just because I was one of the taller girls on the team.
But. I am having fun, and definitely, definitely working out, and that's what it's all about, right?
I'm just not looking forward to the 9:40pm games, because usually I'm thinking about toddling off to bed right around then.
--
I had a phone call yesterday from the gyno's office. One's tests came back with exactly the same results as last time.
We have an appointment on Monday to discuss our options and what we actually want to do now. We have to check exactly what our health insurance covers and doesn't - I don't really want any nasty surprises in relation to costs, especially when we're saving for a house as well.
I just - I'm finding it hard today. One of my workmates told me that she needed to leave early because she had to go for her 12 week scan - "oh yes, I forgot to tell you, I'm pregnant" - oh, she didn't want to tell me earlier (when she told my boss and the other girl who works in our section) because she was worried about how I'd react.
I'm a pretty open person, I think, and so I've been honest at work about what One and I are going through (partly, I admit, for selfish reasons, because I get sick of the "oh, why haven't you had kids yet? You'd both make such great parents!" and telling people the truth is a great way to get them to stop and think about what they're saying), but I was, I suppose, disappointed that I'd made her think that she couldn't tell me such beautiful news.
Yes, I'm upset, because I can't help but wonder what if would feel like, I can't help trying to put myself in that position, but I am able to put that aside and be present for her, share in her excitement - but it was killed a little for me today when I realised she'd made the decision of how I was supposed to feel for me.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Baking funtimes
I love to bake. If you know nothing else about me (I bite my nails, I have a degree in botany, I listen to ridiculous music), please know that I love to bake. I like cooking too, but my true love is baking.
The problem is, now that I'm trying not to eat all the things ever and actually, you know, not eat so many carbs and possibly drop some weight, I cannot bake all the time.
(Exhibit A: There is nothing I would love more this Easter weekend than to spend the whole four days baking. Oh my goodness. I bought a new piping nozzle set and some gel food colours off www.bakingpleasures.com.au last week, and I secretly want nothing more than to spend the entire weekend trying them out. But I cannot, because there is no one who will take the baked goods off my hands afterwards).
So here is a recipe. A recipe, that every time I make it when we have One's mates over, there is never any left.
Jam Roly-poly
Preheat the oven to 180C.
Then, make a scone dough. You will need:
500g plain flour
4 teaspoons cream of tartar
2 teaspoons bicarbonate of soda
pinch of salt
Sift into a mixing bowl.
75g cold butter, cubed.
Rub butter into flour mixture with your fingertips until it resembles wet sand.
300ml milk.
Pour in, mix together with wooden spoon until a dough begins to form. Tip out of bowl onto a lightly floured surface, knead.
Roll out to ~1cm thickness in an approximate rectangle. Spread liberally with whatever type of jam takes your fancy (I have used cherry, with canned cherries and slivered almonds sprinkled generously on top, or peach, with walnuts and choc chips - but feel free to try out whatever combinations you like!), and add nuts or sultanas or fruit - I think grated apple and sultanas and a marmalade might be a really nice combination?
Roll up, just like a swiss roll, place in a baking pan, and pour over a quick caramel sauce - oops, sorry, forgot that bit. Melt a knob of butter in a saucepan, add a couple of tablespoons of brown sugar and let simmer until butter and sugar dissolve. Dilute by about half with warm water, stir in until you get a sauce, then pour over the roly-poly in the baking dish. (No exact quantities for that bit, sorry, I usually do it by eye).
Bake for 35-40 minutes at 180C, serve warm with custard or ice cream or on it's own.
The problem is, now that I'm trying not to eat all the things ever and actually, you know, not eat so many carbs and possibly drop some weight, I cannot bake all the time.
(Exhibit A: There is nothing I would love more this Easter weekend than to spend the whole four days baking. Oh my goodness. I bought a new piping nozzle set and some gel food colours off www.bakingpleasures.com.au last week, and I secretly want nothing more than to spend the entire weekend trying them out. But I cannot, because there is no one who will take the baked goods off my hands afterwards).
So here is a recipe. A recipe, that every time I make it when we have One's mates over, there is never any left.
Jam Roly-poly
Preheat the oven to 180C.
Then, make a scone dough. You will need:
500g plain flour
4 teaspoons cream of tartar
2 teaspoons bicarbonate of soda
pinch of salt
Sift into a mixing bowl.
75g cold butter, cubed.
Rub butter into flour mixture with your fingertips until it resembles wet sand.
300ml milk.
Pour in, mix together with wooden spoon until a dough begins to form. Tip out of bowl onto a lightly floured surface, knead.
Roll out to ~1cm thickness in an approximate rectangle. Spread liberally with whatever type of jam takes your fancy (I have used cherry, with canned cherries and slivered almonds sprinkled generously on top, or peach, with walnuts and choc chips - but feel free to try out whatever combinations you like!), and add nuts or sultanas or fruit - I think grated apple and sultanas and a marmalade might be a really nice combination?
Roll up, just like a swiss roll, place in a baking pan, and pour over a quick caramel sauce - oops, sorry, forgot that bit. Melt a knob of butter in a saucepan, add a couple of tablespoons of brown sugar and let simmer until butter and sugar dissolve. Dilute by about half with warm water, stir in until you get a sauce, then pour over the roly-poly in the baking dish. (No exact quantities for that bit, sorry, I usually do it by eye).
Bake for 35-40 minutes at 180C, serve warm with custard or ice cream or on it's own.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Muffled voices
I have been procrastinating a while on posting. I'm not sure why, it's not like things go away if you just ignore them.
I did that a lot growing up as a kid, pretended the uncomfortable things, the lying in bed with hot wet eyes, wishing I was dead, the lack of any friends and the bruises on my legs from the boys in my class just didn't exist. I don't tend to be real good at dealing with confrontation, you see.
So. The gyno told me that I was perfectly normal, I was ovulating as expected and she was really impressed by my weight loss (18 kilos to date, wooo - aiming for a total of 20 in the year since I started this diet-and-exercise thing). Just as I was getting ready to be told that we should go forth and procreate, she mentioned that there had been some irregularities in One's semen analysis and she'd like to repeat the test.
Apparently he has good total sperm numbers, but not very many normal sperm. Where a "normal" (for a given definition of normal, a couple with no fertility problems) have a 20% chance per cycle to conceive, with One's current "normal" sperm numbers being what they are, we have a 3 - 5% chance.
He's repeating the test in the next few weeks.
I did have to stifle a few giggles over the list she ran through - "Does he smoke?"
"No."
"Drink?"
"Not frequently. Maybe - a beer or two a week and an occasional glass of wine?" (You would think for someone who loves to homebrew as much as he does, he'd drink more beer, but anyway).
"Uh - you should make him start wearing boxers."
"He already does. Plus, he's lost about ten kilos recently too."
"Well, that's definitely good. Does he take hot showers or baths?"
"Actually, no. He hates the heat - that was part of the reason we moved here from Perth."
We didn't end up reaching any successful conclusions. We'll see what the results indicate from the next tests, and then I guess we'll decide what to do from there. She did say we could leave it to chance, but as a scientist, I am not so fond of that idea. I know that 95% is generally considered a pretty statistically significant number, and, well, that's the chance of NOT getting pregnant every month that we have...
That means that the first thing we get to try is IUI. I - am not actually sure about this. I was all ready to deal with using ART if it was because I was infertile somehow. I was expecting a little more time to get used to it, I guess - kind of a "okay, well, we'll put you on Clomid and see if that helps and then we can start looking at other options," kind of thing. Instead, it feels a little like we're leaping into this, and because I am a planner and a worrier (and am already worrying about ridiculous things, like what if our baby is bullied at primary school? Will I know? Will I handle it better for them than my parents did?), I can't help but fret about it.
I suppose I also feel a little resentful. It was supposed to be my fault that we couldn't have children, and now apparently it's not. Mentally, I'm not prepared to cope with this. I was all ready for it to be my fault, and I'd researched the most likely pathways we'd take to try and fix it, and I was all prepared for that journey - and now we're embarking on something that is superficially the same journey but is in reality completely different. If that makes any sense at all. Sometimes I feel like I'm just babbling on randomly.
--
In other news. To change the subject. One and I realised on Monday that we have exactly the same amount of weight - 23 kilos - to lose to reach our goal weights, so we decided to challenge each other. The person who reaches their goal weight first (we're not setting a time limit on this, we'd rather be healthy about losing the weight; all bets are off if I get pregnant before either one of us reaches our goal weight) will take the other person away on an all-expenses paid, surprise long weekend!
It seemed like a great idea and then I realised that we have joint finances anyway... Regardless, I am determined to win - given, I have a slight advantage for the next four weeks or so as One has stuffed his knee and has been advised not to do any cardio or weight bearing exercise, so he can swim and do some upper body weight work, but that's it.
I may or may not be slightly competitive.
And then my sister moved out last weekend. I've lived with her for most of my life - I think in total, we've lived together for 23 years? It was time, although I was hoping we could put it off for another six months or so, but I think she's made the right decision (but I am still horribly jealous of the friend she's moved in with and I miss her like crazy).
I did that a lot growing up as a kid, pretended the uncomfortable things, the lying in bed with hot wet eyes, wishing I was dead, the lack of any friends and the bruises on my legs from the boys in my class just didn't exist. I don't tend to be real good at dealing with confrontation, you see.
So. The gyno told me that I was perfectly normal, I was ovulating as expected and she was really impressed by my weight loss (18 kilos to date, wooo - aiming for a total of 20 in the year since I started this diet-and-exercise thing). Just as I was getting ready to be told that we should go forth and procreate, she mentioned that there had been some irregularities in One's semen analysis and she'd like to repeat the test.
Apparently he has good total sperm numbers, but not very many normal sperm. Where a "normal" (for a given definition of normal, a couple with no fertility problems) have a 20% chance per cycle to conceive, with One's current "normal" sperm numbers being what they are, we have a 3 - 5% chance.
He's repeating the test in the next few weeks.
I did have to stifle a few giggles over the list she ran through - "Does he smoke?"
"No."
"Drink?"
"Not frequently. Maybe - a beer or two a week and an occasional glass of wine?" (You would think for someone who loves to homebrew as much as he does, he'd drink more beer, but anyway).
"Uh - you should make him start wearing boxers."
"He already does. Plus, he's lost about ten kilos recently too."
"Well, that's definitely good. Does he take hot showers or baths?"
"Actually, no. He hates the heat - that was part of the reason we moved here from Perth."
We didn't end up reaching any successful conclusions. We'll see what the results indicate from the next tests, and then I guess we'll decide what to do from there. She did say we could leave it to chance, but as a scientist, I am not so fond of that idea. I know that 95% is generally considered a pretty statistically significant number, and, well, that's the chance of NOT getting pregnant every month that we have...
That means that the first thing we get to try is IUI. I - am not actually sure about this. I was all ready to deal with using ART if it was because I was infertile somehow. I was expecting a little more time to get used to it, I guess - kind of a "okay, well, we'll put you on Clomid and see if that helps and then we can start looking at other options," kind of thing. Instead, it feels a little like we're leaping into this, and because I am a planner and a worrier (and am already worrying about ridiculous things, like what if our baby is bullied at primary school? Will I know? Will I handle it better for them than my parents did?), I can't help but fret about it.
I suppose I also feel a little resentful. It was supposed to be my fault that we couldn't have children, and now apparently it's not. Mentally, I'm not prepared to cope with this. I was all ready for it to be my fault, and I'd researched the most likely pathways we'd take to try and fix it, and I was all prepared for that journey - and now we're embarking on something that is superficially the same journey but is in reality completely different. If that makes any sense at all. Sometimes I feel like I'm just babbling on randomly.
--
In other news. To change the subject. One and I realised on Monday that we have exactly the same amount of weight - 23 kilos - to lose to reach our goal weights, so we decided to challenge each other. The person who reaches their goal weight first (we're not setting a time limit on this, we'd rather be healthy about losing the weight; all bets are off if I get pregnant before either one of us reaches our goal weight) will take the other person away on an all-expenses paid, surprise long weekend!
It seemed like a great idea and then I realised that we have joint finances anyway... Regardless, I am determined to win - given, I have a slight advantage for the next four weeks or so as One has stuffed his knee and has been advised not to do any cardio or weight bearing exercise, so he can swim and do some upper body weight work, but that's it.
I may or may not be slightly competitive.
And then my sister moved out last weekend. I've lived with her for most of my life - I think in total, we've lived together for 23 years? It was time, although I was hoping we could put it off for another six months or so, but I think she's made the right decision (but I am still horribly jealous of the friend she's moved in with and I miss her like crazy).
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