Tag Archives: sperm donor

Perfect moment Thursday…

I stumbled upon this idea in a blog called http://writemindopenheart.com, and really liked it so thought on a day like today it would be good to focus on the positive. I love that it’s about “engaging in mindfulness” and so, in the spirit of this, my perfect moment today was catching up for lunch today with a guy I used to work with. He’s such a nice guy, though he was pretty much just “a guy I used to work with”. Anyway, he saw from my facebook page that “something” was going on, so I told him about the whole IVF / sperm donor saga.

And he wasn’t phased. In fact he said, Good for you. You know, I thought about donating myself because I’d heard there was a shortage and women shouldn’t miss out on having kids just because they haven’t found a man.

I thought that was just a great thing to hear, that someone would think about other people – total strangers – and think about helping them out. Because it’s not an easy thing, to donate and know that you could have little mini-mes running around all over town some day.

In the end he didn’t donate, but still, it was nice to hear a story of someone who had put some thought into doing it and their reasons. And he bought me lunch. Thanks Stevo!

Apart from that, I just found out the frozen cycle will cost me nearly $3,000. Kind of had in my head that it would cost barely anything. So that wasn’t a perfect moment.

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The bitch is back

I really thought I was pregnant.

When my period* didn’t come as scheduled on Thursday, I couldn’t quite believe it. I’ve never been late in my life. Through the day I checked. No sign!

Friday – still no sign! Oh my God, I’m pregnant!

I had a blood test first thing Friday morning.

All through the day my excitement mounted. No sign of bleeding. I won’t believe it till I get the call from the clinic, I thought. But I did believe it. I believed it so much that I bought a dress and a loose flowing cardigan that I thought could take me from now to at least the end of the year and hide any bump. But I was sensible – they are normal clothes that look great now anyway, just in case I was being overly optimistic.

I had a hair appointment, followed by an osteo appointment to try and sort out my still-stuffed digestive system.

I was feeling so happy that I nearly blurted out my news to the hairdresser, who I barely know. I only go there because it’s cheap and I can’t afford my good hairdresser right now.

So when the clinic called, I was confused by the nurse’s tone of voice. I knew it wasn’t good news, but I there was no sign of my period, so – I must be pregnant right?

No. I’m not.

There was a level of hcG in my blood that indicated that the embryos had tried to implant. But they hadn’t. And I guess that level was still there, which was why there was no sign of my period.

What could I do, I was sitting in the hairdresser’s chair with hair colour slapped over my scalp. I couldn’t run to the loo and howl. I just had to sit there, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t even speak when the hairdresser asked if everything was ok. I wanted to say, “I’ve just had some bad news, that’s all” but I couldn’t even get that out. I had to sit there for another 45 minutes getting my hair washed and blow dried before I could get the fuck out of there.

Thank god I had the osteo appointment afterwards –  Jamie is the loveliest man and a great osteo, and really smart and he’s into yoga and alternative healing, as well as being clever enough to be applying to med school. He gave me a big, big hug and then treated me. Face down on the table and with my eyes closed I really felt like the table was moving back and forth. I had to keep opening my eyes and looking down to the floor to make sure I was stationary. Jamie said I was in shock and after the treatment gave me some Bach remedy for shock and put me in a separate room so I could do what I needed to do.

I really thought it would work. I was so confident and positive. I meditated, visualised. Did yoga and ate well. I felt – or thought I felt – calm about the whole thing. Not stressed or clinging or desperate. I really thought it would work.

And I’m sure this is nothing like what a miscarriage feels like, but I feel a bit that way nonetheless, because really thought it would work, and I really thought I was pregnant.

What next?

Right now I’m really sad and disappointed. I think I’ll try again, I feel I owe it to myself. When I first put this plan in motion I thought I’d give it three goes, but that was when I thought I would get enough embryos to freeze for three goes. I certainly didn’t plan on paying for three attempts. But once is not enough, as they say in the classics (James Bond anyway. I was in a Bond film once – true story). I’ll go and see the doctor sometime this week, and work out what Plan B, Take 2 is.

I went for a swim this morning (at Bronte, that’s the pic), then to yoga. I was reminded  again how powerful yoga is to work emotions out of your body, because if you don’t work them out, they get stuck, and so does your body and so does your mind. Sometimes they get so stuck they make you sick. And I was reminded again that the discipline – of whatever it is – getting up early to go for a swim when I would have rather stayed in bed – makes you do things that ultimately make you feel better than short term pleasures.

PS. I’m also really sad I may not have the chance to choose the same donor again. I was a bit in love with the idea of that donor’s baby. A lot in love.

PPS. My period came yesterday morning. At least it seems to have sorted out my digestive issues. The bitch.

* Note that I just can’t use the abbreviations and euphemisms so common on blogs and forums such as these. It’s not Auntie Flow, or AF, I’ve never called it such a school girl thing in my life (mind you, I’m quite happy to call it “the bitch” on this occasion). And this is not a BFN – big fat negative – I’m just not pregnant. I’m an editor and writer, and as an editor I’m a bit anal about plain English, saying what you mean, not obscuring, spelling things out. Euphemisms give me the shits anyway. Rant over.

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Plan B is under way…

So, I had my appointment at Fertility First on Tuesday. As I walked down to my car, I thought, If I have left the bloody lights on and the battery’s flat… but all was fine.

The clinic is a really beautiful Federation house with lovely gardens, art and objets, and a fish tank filled with amazing tropical fish in the room where they take blood – you feel tranquil and relaxed and that everything will be just fine. Just as well, because I just parted with $3,850 of my hard-earned. That’s just the deposit.

The nurse took blood to see if I had ovulated, as you need to have ovulated before the next step. She showed me how to inject myself with the Lucrin – yes, you do have to stick the whole length of that needle in – gave me a little showbag full of needles, a sharps container, alcohol wipes and the Lucrin itself, along with a freezer pack to keep it cold till I got it home and put it in the fridge.

The next afternoon, the nurse called – it’s all systems go – start the injections tonight!

I had a momentary wave of OH MY GOD, do I really want to do this?? But that passed quickly and was replaced by excitement. You’re supposed to give yourself the injection at exactly the same time every evening, so I have chosen 5pm, which I hope is not too early but since I get up at 4.30am every day for work, I figure it’s “evening” in Michelle hours.

5pm arrives and I prepare for the first injection of 10 units of Lucrin. God I hope I’m doing this right. I place the needle tip on my belly and in it goes. I barely felt a prick! In fact since then I keep thinking – am I doing this right? Because it’s so easy and I can’t feel a thing. So far so good

So, now the Lucrin is pulling all the strings. I am its puppet. As far as I understand, it is partially blocking naturally occurring hormones (Follicle Stimulating Hormone (FSH) and Luteinizing Hormone (LH)) so that they don’t interfere with my egg development – they don’t want the eggs releasing any earlier than they are ready to collect them.

I have to say, I get quite excited every day at 5pm! I’ve set the alarm on my phone so I don’t forget, and I’ve just got to make sure I’m home. The nurse said (under sufferance) that they give you an hour’s leeway in doing the injection, but really, it has to be done at the same time every day.

The next (clinical) step is to go back next Friday for some “down regulation”, when I think I start FSH injections. I know I’m a bit fuzzy on the medical specifics, but the doctor has worked all that out so I don’t have to!

There were a few surprises/minor shocks at the appointment. Apparently if some part of the process isn’t working the way it should, other drugs need to be taken – at about $160 a pop! Literally, $160 PER INJECTION. Crap. And the half day in hospital on the day of egg collection costs about $2,000. My private health insurance won’t cover this as there’s a 12 month waiting period for any kind of ART or pregnancy related services, and Medicare will only rebate a small amount. BUT, as I said, i for a penny… in for (the amount keeps increasing) $10,000.

My mantra is … everything is working perfectly and I am pregnant on the first try. I just heard that the sister of a friend of mine is pregnant after her first attempt, which is heartening, especially as she was having lots of actual sex  before that with no luck. Having fun probably but no cigar. For me – no fun = no proof that I have trouble getting pregnant = up the duff first time!

And god knows, I can only afford one round!

My next step? CHOOSE THE BABY DADDY!! The clinic gives you a basic list, which gives you details of height, weight, build, race, eye colour, hair colour and a general idea of his occupation. There is only one Aussie donor on the list (where are they??), the rest are from a sperm bank in the US.  I can go onto the American website and get more details about each donor – family medical history, blood type, other information about his relatives, hobbies, skin tone. For a fee, I can access a baby photo and an adult photo of the donor.

And I’m going to pay that fee, because I want a pretty baby! I want to breed out this Celtic skin of mine, which is so not suited to the Australian climate, or any climate for that matter. And I want smart. And tall. And kind. All the attributes I would be looking in an actual man. Of course I will love whatever I am given, but really, who would go for a  huge nose, weak chin, crooked teeth and bad skin if they had a choice?

And off I go, to choose the donor! Whoa.

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I got a subscriber!

I have readers! Well, reader, singular. Thank you Rachel.

Everyone, please feel free to subscribe. In fact, please subscribe! Knowing I have readers will ensure I am diligent and post. As you can see from the inception of this blog, diligence is not one of my strong points. I plan to post twice a week, so your inbox won’t be crammed with me.

And if I have readers, then maybe this blog will become something else, like a book. Or a film, like Julie and Julia/The Julie/Julia Project. Who knows, though the film bit I’m not really bothered about. Though I wouldn’t say no, who am I kidding!

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