To Scan or Not To Scan

That is the question.

Me and the built in baby carriage went in for our follow up beta check this morning and came back with an astonishing 7018 (which is ironic because that's the year a psychic named Xena predicted I would die...) Everything seems to be going grand, great and wonderful. The Wonder Twins are doing what they're supposed to be doing and all is good.

"WONDER TWINS POWER ACTIVATE! FORM OF.....FETUS!"

Oh, speaking of my womb, we have a question for all you IVF bloggerinos....

Next week we are scheduled for The Big Show: The Heartbeat Ultrasound! So, here is our delicious dilemma.....first, a little anecdote.....

When I was in college, I planted some bonsai seeds. I wanted to grow bonsai plants and trim them and prune them and have people believe me zen. They would ask me questions regarding life and love and morality. I would snip-snip-snip, pause, breathe and answer in very few words and usually in the form of another question.

This never happened.

Five days after planting the seeds I grew impatient that the seedlings had not yet sprouted. On the sixth day I told myself I would give them until noon and if they hadn't shown up I was going in after them. Short story shorter, I ended up waiting two more hours before digging in with a chopstick , delicately scooping away clumps of soil until I found...........the plant, about ready to break through the surface. Perhaps another day, perhaps two and I would have had my patience rewarded. I smiled devilishly and dumped the dirt back on the sprouting sapling.

My zen dream was going to come true....

Only it never did. I killed it. I killed my baby plant. I was no wise yogi. I was Yogi Bear.

Now I stand about five days away from hearing our babies heartbeats. Thump-thump-thump (or, as the hitch hiker's heartbeat goes, thumb-thumb-thumb) and we're excited about it. In fact, we're REALLY excited about it. It's an experience all of our friends have said, "...really just brings it home". That said, I feel a little like Yogi Bear again, standing above the developing seed, holding an ultrasound wand in my hand instead of a chopstick and getting ready to start digging around in some soil that would be better off undisturbed.

I'm not worried about killing our "seeds" but what I AM just a weeee bit concerned about is autism or other neurological disorders. BUT WAIT!!! Don't write me off as a cooky hippie just yet. Let me run my case. I promise I'll make it short....

First off, here's a link to an article about an experiment a Yale laboratory did on mice. They exposed pregnant mice to an ultrasound and studied the mini-meeces brains once they were born. The study concluded that neurological disorders were present in them.

http://opa.yale.edu/news/article.aspx?id=1755

If you don't want to read the article, that's fine. It pretty much says what I just did but they sound REALLY smart. It's quite impressive, all the big words they use.

Secondly, I KNOW that everyone says "There is no conclusive evidence that suggests ultrasounds and autism are linked" and I understand that BUT......is it just because there isn't proper research? "Not conclusive" means incomplete. It doesn't mean "Completed and results are negative".

Remember, "There is no conclusive evidence that links tobacco use to lung cancer".

Did you know that 30 years ago autism affected 1 / 10,000 children and today it affects 1 / 100? SOMETHING is going on. Is it ultrasounds? Is it vaccines? Is it microwaves? Plastics? Is it the internet? Did Al Gore invent autism?

I realize that the article specifies that this should not discourage pregnant women from having medically necessary ultrasounds, but the crucial wording there is "medically necessary". John and I have decided not to find out the sex of the baby/ies or undergo any genetic abnormalities testing (as it would not change the outcome of the pregnancy for us). So, is this a medical necessity ultrasound or just something of convenience and/or parental entertainment? What did they do back in the day before this new technology? (Besides smoke cigarettes and knock back a few celebratory drinks).

We've discussed our concerns with our doctor and she has assured us that there is no risk whatsoever to prenatal ultrasounds. I LOVE our doctor and trust her hugely but I can't help but think that most doctors also said bloodletting, mercury, lobotomies, radium water, Bendectin and bacon were totally harmless too - and look how well those all turned out.

ps. Bendectin is an anti-morning sickness pill that was pulled from the shelves in '83 after they discovered it was causing birth defects.

pps. Bacon is delicious.

ppss. Damn you, bacon.

Point is, science seems to change it's mind a LOT. What's great for us one minute turns out to be terrible for us 50 years later.

There's no disputing that there is a huge rise happening in autism now and I can't help but wonder if some of the neurological problems are partly cropping up because of the rise in ultrasounds. I'm NOT saying that it's ALL because of ultrasounds.........but is it a potentially contributing factor????????

So...........what are your thoughts? Does any of this make you a nervous-pervous?

Finally.....and not that I think any of you lovelies would do this......but please........play nice and no e-fighting. This is just a friendly exchange of thoughts. There is no condemnation here no matter what your stupid, personal opinion is.

Murse Brookbank

Lupron injection #1 is complete.

And despite my being a complete nervous nelly, the whole procedure went off without a hitch and John handled the shot giving like an old junkie.

One down, thirteen to go.

We're off to see the Wizard

Today was the HSG - our final step before we can start the real meat and potatoes part of the IVF cycle.

For weeks now I have been dreading this appointment. I have heard horror story after horror story and have been bracing myself for pain the likes of which I have never experienced before.

We show up at the radiology office at 8:00am sharp because the HSG Nazi lady that scheduled the appointment was very insistent that we HAD to be prompt. So prompt we were. After filling out the usual paperwork and paying for the test we had a seat in the waiting room and began twiddling our thumbs. As also instructed by above mentioned Nazi, I took my Motrin and Valium at 7:00am - exactly one hour prior to my appointment so I would feel as little pain as possible. So there we sat waiting.......and waiting........and waiting. Finally at 9:00am the man-child decided to go up to the front desk to start storming the gates. The "scheduler" lady informed us that an error had been made and the tech and doctor were NOT there. She then suggested that we could come back at 2:30pm. Not really possible as John had to go back to work and I needed a driver since I was hopped up on happy pills.

Finally after quite a bit of apologizing for their incompetence the HSG Nazi lady said that the tech and doctor were on their way and that they would be able to fit us in in half an hour.

GREAT!

However, at this point my happy pills were starting to wear off and I had no reinforcements! The horrible HSG Nazi lady said we were pretty much up Sh!ts Creek and I would just have to tough it out or reschedule. There was NO WAY that I was going to reschedule this. So I asked John to fetch me a large shot of whiskey and the biggest biting stick he could find on short notice. We were going to kick this old school.

30 minutes later I found myself in an ass less robe with my legs up in some sort of weirdo knee stirrup things (this is fun and new) while staring at the ceiling. The sweet little radiologist-side-kick lady asks me if I'm nervous. I just smile and say no and then resume hyperventilating as quietly as possible.

The doctor finally gets in the room and immediately gets right down to "business". She's one of these chatty types that likes to narrate her every move. I'm sure she finds it less surprising for patients, however, I prefer to operate on a strict "need to know only" basis. So as she continues to narrate while navigating God only knows what through my goods she says the dreaded words of ALL doctors, "you might feel some discomfort now". At this point I start muttering some sort of prayer and brace myself for the excruciating pain.

But........it doesn't come.

She then mutters something about inserting the dye and that some patients complain of discomfort from this. I again start praying to my maker and bracing for THE excruciating pain.

But.........it doesn't come.

What. The. Hell.

Dr. Narration then whips the monitor around to show me two very "beautiful" and OPEN fallopian tubes spilling hazardous radioactive waste into my stomach cavity.

AWESOME!

She then went on to compliment me on my nice pelvis (that's a first) and my belly button ring. :)

So..........................long story short. This HSG business was easy peesy mac and cheesy and literally took 5 minutes from start to finish. Why was it pain free you ask?????? Maybe it was because I decided to wear my lucky socks this morning.

I don't know. Whatever the reasons, I'll take it!

And to prove it, here's a photo of me minutes after the procedure giving the classic sign for "it's all good in the hood". Would this face lie?

Tomorrow we start Lupron!

Cold Feet???

I am a worrier.

THERE, I said it. Intellectually, I am fully aware that this is a useless and completely self-feeding affliction. Doesn't help - I can't stop! I am THAT girl. I worry and analyze everything to death and in between bouts of anxiety I have strategically mapped out plans A, B, C, D........all the way to F - just in case the S really hits the F. Does admitting this flaw mean I am now on the road to recovery? 11 more steps? Where am I going with this you might ask.............permit me to tell you.

I'm worried that I have cold feet - infertility cold feet. You know...the kind you're not really supposed to admit to because it somehow jinxes the process (and not the "We said the same word at the same time" kind of jinxing that leads to a free coke). This kind leads to tears, anger and a perpetually empty uterus. Is it possible to have infertility cold feet? Is this normal? Part of the process? Hello....hello....is anyone there?

While John and I were going through his/our battle with cancer I always felt confident that everything would be okay. I NEVER doubted - even through all the major setbacks (and there were a few doozies ie fainting spells, anxiety spells, emergency blood transfusions, grand mal seizure, discovering it had spread to his lymph nodes, discovering it had spread to his heart, discovering it had spread to his lungs, just to name a few). Through all this though, I still maintained a calm sense of peace about his inevitable success and recovery.

I don't feel that way about IVF. I'm scared. Can I say that? So many times I feel like I can't speak it's name. It seems that saying it out loud somehow gives life to the fear; very similar to the way Harry Potter is hushed for speaking the name of Voldemort. It is a taboo topic.

Truthfully, I'm terrified to so much as let this process begin, terrified of the embarrassment/pain of all the procedures, but mostly terrified of the "What If It Doesn't Work?" scenario and what it will mean for our lives if it doesn't. Is it better to live with the hope that "someday" (if we choose) in the far distant future we might have kids or to KNOW that it'll never happen and get on with coping? I'm afraid I might not have the courage to find out the answers to those question.

I went to my first appointment with Dr. Friend (OBGYN) last week. I LOVE that her name is Dr. FRIEND. All I can think about whenever I hear her name is "Dr. Friend. Dr. Friend getting friendly with the girlie-goods". I know, I'm a child. I can't help it. This was the first time I've met the good doctor and my 4th gyno appointment. EVER. So obviously I'm not horribly familiar with these types of appointments but it seems like we maybe should have shared dinner or at least some wine before we moved on to third base. But, alas, no - Dr. Friend is ALL business. She tells me to lie back, scoot my "bum" to the edge of the table and "just relax". I don't know about you.....but whenever a total stranger comes at my goods with what looks like a a plastic toy gun and a miniature chimney sweep brush the last thing that comes to mind is RELAXED. I did my best though and tried to pretend like I wasn't actually blushing. On the ceiling above my head is a poster with a cat hiding a dog's eyes with it's paw and saying something about being scared. Seems like a weird choice of poster for this scenario but.....to each their own.

After what seemed like a very thorough groping she finally said we were done and I could sit up. Then came the bad part. She started rambling off some doctor mumbo-jumbo that I don't even pretend to understand - but I DID manage to catch the "send you down to the lab to have some blood drawn" part.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

Not needles. Anything but needles. My greatest weakness......the proverbial Achilles heel. I. HATE. NEEDLES. It's not about the pain, because there's really not much( IV's excluded. Those hurt like a mother). More the idea of the disgusting little steel straw being shoved into the delicate pink skin of my elbow (near bone and tendons!) to suck out my precious life juice. Gross. I quickly got dressed before any other bad news could ensue and reluctantly trudged down to the evil-doers lair. Thankfully the next few minutes went blessedly fast and before I knew it I was seated in a chair with my arm strapped down while a monster posing as a nurse took 12 vials out of my arm. TWELVE. It was literally enough to feed an infant vampire for the better part of a week. Afterwards I got a Sponge Bob band-aid, some juice and a cookie. It's the small things in life.

Good news is that my goods look good. Step 1 complete.

It appears that the next step in this new and exciting adventure is something horrible called an HSG test AND, I must admit that after reading the pamphlet it seems I have a new object to direct my worry at. BUT, until then, I will sit in my living room, trying not to think about it while I just keep mumbling the words, "Voldemort.........Voldemort.........Voldemort" over and over again, refusing to give the process power.