The phone call

On our way to Gothenburg my phone rings. I stop breathing. I know before I answer that it's bad news.
Dr. Jaws voice greets me on the other end of the line: "Circus Princess, I'm so very sorry to have to tell you this but our embryologists have been studying your thawed blast for the past hour and unfortunately it's not looking good. We have to cancel the transfer."
I feel like I've been kicked in the nuts. Or that's what I envision it feels like. Chock and pain and disbelief. I think I stayed on the phone and asked a few questions but cannot for the life of me remember any of it. As soon as I pressed the off button on my phone I started sobbing. I barely noticed Pappa turning the car around and Mamma stroking my head.

It's over before it even started. I'm lost. I'm scared. And struggle to see some light ahead.

I called Diver Dude as soon as I got home and all he said was "I'm so sorry, please come home".

Thank you for all your heartfelt support. It seems like this circus performance is over.

I'm asking

for a big favor by a small gesture of compassion.
Wherever you are, whatever you're doing tomorrow, I'm asking you to take a minute of your busy day and cross your fingers and hearts for this little life to have a chance.
I'm desperate.
I really need this to work.

I love all of you beautiful, strong, amazing women. Thank you for being who you are.

Wandypalooza

When your left ovary is of the shy, seclusive kind, and said ovary is the one in charge this month, trying to find it can be very interesting. And not in a good way. It took Dr. Boss Lady and her partner Mr. Wand a good 10 minutes with the old crappy u/s machine and another 15 minutes with the high tech machine before she was able to confirm ovulation.

I feel slightly molested.

But lining looks good and ovulation was confirmed so the transfer is on for Tuesday afternoon. So it's all good. Even the fact that I'm walking around looking like I've got a ball stuck between my legs.

I should be excited but honestly I'm just tired and wish I was with my Diver Dude.

On top of what's going on with Little Man Chevy, there's been a major misunderstanding between Diver Dude and Party Girl (his oldest daughter). I don't want to go into any details but so many hurtful words have been spoken by his daughter that I have to bite my tounge and sit on my hands not to get involved. Behind her words I hear her mothers voice. We just need to figure out how to turn the situation around before it gets any more out of hand.

Right now I just need some sleep. And a whole lot of positive vibes.

We have lift-off

This morning I was greeted by a smiley face signaling that we're good to get started with this FET au natural. I called the Swedish Clinic to tell them the good news and got scheduled for u/s and progesterone check on Friday 26 and transfer Tuesday 30th if all goes well. So I'm throwing a weeks worth of clothes in a bag and getting on a plane to Sweden tonight. Up in the stirrups and back in the saddle it is :)

I leave you with this little picture of happiness:

Going Rogue

No, it has nothing to do with Sarah Palin. I'm talking about going rogue during our FET au natural. Feel free to yell at me at any point.

You see, I spoke to Dr. Boss Lady last week. I asked a million questions. Questions like: What went wrong? Should we try something different? Why have 3 out of 4 beautiful blasts not made it? She had one answer: "We simply haven't gotten to the right embryo".
Sigh.

Swedes in general are a trusting people. Especially when it comes to medical care. But I've lived in the land of "question everything" too long to just accept a simple "leave it to chance" answer. Even if I should. Even when Dr. Boss Lady started getting slightly annoyed.
I asked her about doing immunology testing and she said they simply don't do that unless you've had three miscarriages. I asked if she thought my period being two days late and the "invisaline" on HPT 10dp5dt could be an indication of a chemical pregnancy. She said there's no way to find out and she doesn't recommend an HCG-test, "just wait and see if you ovulate this month". I asked what she thought about my BBT not going down as much as expected when I started bleeding. She asked why I was charting and told me to stop it. I asked about putting me on a low dose of aspirin, she said it would be "like shooting in the dark".
Insert me banging my head against the wall.

In spite of everything else that's going on in our life Diver Dude convinced me that we should just go ahead with embaby #3 this month. So I'm getting right back up in the saddle again. And I plan to hang on for dear life. I'm hoping to get a positive OPK sometime tomorrow or Wednesday, leave for Sweden Wednesday night, u/s to confirm ovulation on Friday and ET end of this month. Crazy. I know.

And after some consideration I might just go rogue and take baby aspirin in spite of what Dr. Boss Lady says. 'Cause I don't mind shooting in the dark if it gives me a better chance of actually hitting the target. Am I being crazy?

Little Man Chevy

My littlest bonus grandson is not doing so good. He's been having trouble eating and keeping down food since the day he was born and have been in and out of the hospital every week. Last week he finally met with a neurosurgeon and was diagnosed with craniosynostosis. He will be going through surgery some time early next month and will most likely spend a good part of his first months wearing a helmet. More surgeries are likely to follow to reshape his cranium and eye sockets. We don't know yet when and for how long we'll be able to go over and lend a helping hand but Diver Dude is worried sick and just wants to leave today and stay however long it takes. Being this far from J-girl and her family is really rough in times like this. If you're the praying kind please include him in your prayers and if you're not some good vibes and happy thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

I've been tentatively cleared to go ahead with our FET this month. We will hopefully get the final approval from Dr. Boss Lady on Thursday. But that's all up in the air while we wait to hear about J-girl's little guy.


One day at the time. One foot in front of the other.

Ink therapy

collage, crayon, acrylic, ink, photoshop

Four letter words

There, I said it. Now that that's out of the way I'll try to regroup and think of something nicer to say.

I had a long talk with Diver Dude last night over beef Wellington, red wine and tears. I love that man to pieces. He may be a hairy biker hard-ass military man, but boy does he have a big heart. When faced with my blubbering mess of fear, disappointment and what-if's he simply asked me to take one day at the time and to just get back in the saddle (or stirrups) as soon as possible. I was surprised at how calm it made me to think about our next attempt and at the amount of hope I still have. Because I do still think this will work. I have to. And I will get back on that stupid horse again as soon as my RE will let me.

I'll have my WTF conversation with Dr. Boss Lady sometime early next week and I've prepared a few questions for her:
• Delayed period and a very faint line on HPT at 10dp5dt - could it mean chemical pregnancy?
• If so, do I need to check HCG?
• When can we give it another shot?
• 3 out of 4 blasts have failed, 1 m/c, 1 chemical/failure to implant and 1 didn't survive the thaw. Any thoughts?
• What, if anything can we do differently?
• Would you consider putting me on a low dose of aspirin?

Can you ladies think of anything else?

Now I intend to inhale a few cleaning products, drag the vacuum cleaner around the dust bunnies, walk the pooch and start packing my bags for our road trip tomorrow. First stop is Tattershall Castle.

There it was

a speck of blood in my white panties. In combination with this morning's small drop in temperature and another lonely single line on the hpt, I knew what it meant. It's over.
Diver Dude heard my loud sniffle and came in to see what was wrong and found me crying like a baby hunched over on the toilet seat. He got down on his knees and held me while stroking my hair. Told me he loved me and that he was sorry.
As I'm searching for words to describe how I feel, every single one I can think of consist of four letters so I better not write anything else right now.

White spaces and high temperatures

Shouldn't go together, right? I'm starting to think Dr. Jaws (new doc at ET this time) had a good point when he adviced me not to test until the 14th. Because this is torture. I got up this morning thinking that today I'd get a nice second line on my cheapo test or a drop in temp to signal the arrival of the Bloody Monster. Instead I get a white space (with something of a shadow or an illusion of a line) and a slightly elevated temp...
Trying to be patient, but this "no beta business" is driving me bonkers!

Since I don't have a good enough scanner or camera to capture the "invisa-line" I'll just post my chart this month for you to help me analyze...

9dp5dt

No symptoms.
No Bloody Monster.
No second line.
Unless I stare at it for a very long time.
Then maybe there's something very faint there.
Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

A coffin in Paradise

With a colorful backdrop of plants, animals and naked men my Farmor's coffin stood adorned with her favorite flowers, red and pink roses. A long line of men and women dressed in black approached the coffin to say their final goodbyes to their mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. Most of them with tears in their eyes, some with the hint of a smile, but all with a somewhat confused look on their face.

Farmor's funeral service was held in a small church in Ljungby. It's adorned with wall paintings by a famous local artist depicting Paradise in a vey playful way. You might even mistake it for the work of a child. Vibrant colors, monkeys the same size as elephants and polar bears next to kangaroos. At the very center is a semi-nude man (who I assume to be Jesus) in an oval shape (very much resembling the female gender) perched in an apple tree. There is also an anatomically correct stark naked man next to this tree who I assumed to be Adam (I kept looking around for Eve, but she was nowhere to be found). In front of all this stood the priest dressed in black, with a solemn look on his face, among bouquets of condoleances and a coffin made of oak.

This ambiguous atmosphere set the tone for the ceremony and the reception. It was a beautiful ceremony with a comical twist. A sad day with moments of laughter. A day of mourning Farmor but also to cherish the reunion of our family. It was good. And if Farmor looked down at us she would have had a great big smile on her face.