Google is not my friend.

I’ve been a bit quiet since the good news as I have been very busy reeling from shock and euphoria before slipping into a Google induced paranoia over the last few days.

Everything is fine so far just a little queasiness, slightly sore boobs and a little afternoon tiredness. All the normal stuff.

But… I’ve had a few sharp stitch like cramps over the past couple of days and then yesterday I sneezed whilst laying down and the cramp was INTENSE. The pain only lasted a minute or so but it was extreme. Of course, being the paranoid beast that I am, I quickly referred to Google and of course was immediately convinced I had an ectopic pregnancy (more common for some bizarre reason in IVF where the fallopian tubes are skipped in the process… but there you go)

This morning I decided to swap the information of Google for that of The Stabber at Casa Conception. I called her for some reassurance and she said to not worry so much and has banned me from the use of Google for the duration of the pregnancy (as if).

She said that it’s probably just things jiggling about even at this early stage and unless the pain is very frequent, only ever on one side (it’s been mostly the right but a couple of twinges on the left) and the pain stays for a long time rather just a minute or so and/or I suffer from spotting or other symptoms it should be fine.

Only about 12 days until the first scan. Though until I am three months gone I will be cautious about sharing the news with other folks… after the scan I will be less nervous about things as it was the first scan last time that was our downfall.

Regardless of my evil Google habits we are staying confident that the truffle will prevail.

re: The lease

Dear Mum,

Thanks for the letter.

I really like the room and have decided that I WILL sign the lease but as I’m still not much more than a bunch of expanding cells I can’t really leave a security bond. Hope that is OK.

Love,

Truffle.

Two more sleeps

Dear Truffle,

It’s just two more sleeps until we know if you are going to stay awhile.

I hope in the last week or so you’ve managed to make yourself comfortable in your new accommodation. You see… your dad and I really want you to stay with us and are hoping you’ll sign on for a full nine month lease.

We had some longish term tenants last year, two in fact. They were sharing… but broke the lease early after only 10 weeks. Do you remember that nice Scottish Doctor guy that lobbed you into the squishy pink room? Well you can think of him as a kind of uterine real estate agent. He did a pre inspection in there and said it looks like a great place for a hip and cool embryo like you to live… he declared it in an excellent location and that it has all the mod cons you could possibly need. Keep in mind that we are completely happy for you to do any renos you need to make yourself at home…just so long as you stay.

If you do decide to hang around until the end of the lease you’ll outgrow the room so we’ll let you come and share our place and you’ll finally get to meet us.

You’ll like your dad… I do and I’m very, very picky. In fact, he is my favourite person in the whole world.  He’s loads of fun and he’ll make you laugh until it hurts. Plus he’s got great hair which I just know you’ll love pulling really hard (don’t tell him that I told you to try it though). He’ll love you completely and thinks you’re pretty darned cool already.

You’ll get to meet me as well… and then you’ll not only discover what it’s like to be loved to pieces but you’ll get to see first hand exactly what a besotted fool looks like.

We promise it will be worth your while to hang around and short of boarding up the exit all we can do is ask you really nicely… please sign the lease?

Red Hot Poker

Given the solitary nature of my job, I have been very alone with my topsy-turvy thoughts since transfer and am finding it hard to keep myself occupied with happy non truffle infused thoughts.

This is a typical day;

• Make 3,420 cups of tea
• Attempt to focus on work
• Over eat
• Google to find out if my reaction to 2WW is normal.
• Cruise other IVF blogs (which mostly upsets me more as IVF seems to only work for stupid people who cannot spell)
• Resent people who have children
• Feel guilty for resenting people who have children
• Start crying because I feel so mean for resenting people who have children
• Resent people who have children for making me feel guilty and making me cry when they are the ones that have children after all (even though said parents haven’t said a word or done anything wrong and I am making this all up in my head)
• Consider psychiatric evaluation of myself as I am clearly insane and a bitch.
• Google to see if I am normal – am somewhat reassured.
• Make mental peace with people who have children and call pregnant friend to say hi.
• Watch American daytime talk shows whilst trying not to poke out my own eyes as said American daytime talk shows are unbearably revolting.
• Consider flying to America and abducting the children of people on daytime talk shows as they are illiterate and unfit to parent.
• Google cheap airfares to America
• Call friends to be amused by their witty and fabulous lives.
• Have friends call so they can vent about their not so witty and fabulous lives.
• Attempt to meditate (note: I think that repeating to myself over and over again hysterically “I think my period is coming” is not that conducive to the goals of meditation.
• Google to see if feeling like my period is coming is normal
• Lurk
• Study International adoption sites for the several hundredth time in case they have changed the rules and I am immediately eligible for a baby.
• Seethe when discovering that I am not and that I must wait at least another two years to even apply.
• Resent adoption authorities who are clearly fuckwitted and should give me a child because I want one. Right Now.
• Consider moving to the UK as they have a better adoption programme.
• Google cheap airfares to the UK
• Google British real estate and job websites
• Try to find a Foxtel channel not playing a movie/sitcom/documentary about infertility/pregnancy/adoption/Spot.
• Fail miserably
• Clean the house twice because I may have missed a spot the first time.
• Visit the Icons and chat to them about why they should be protecting the truffle.
• Google fertility icons in case I am missing an important one that could be vital to success of IVF cycle. Make note to urgently find Venus of Willendorf figurine and obscure Haitian Erzulie Voodoo figurine. Should be simple in Sydney.
• Vacuum the ceiling
• Go to the bathroom every thirty seconds to check that there is no spotting.
• Google to find out if not spotting is a good thing.
• Stare into space
• Go to chemist to get pregnancy test kit. Leave chemist empty handed as I am not allowed. Buy Chocolate instead.
• Realise I have done very little work and will probably be fired.

Once M gets home, I am reborn as I have a playmate and therefore new and exciting things to do to keep myself occupied

• Follow him around like a smell
• Nag M to come and play with me
• Nag M some more
• Have M declare he will shove a red hot poker up my arse if I don’t stop annoying him.
• Decide that it would be a good idea to learn to play poker, right now.
• Learn to play poker.
• Discover that I like poker as it is most fun
• Discover that folding your cards when you have a straight flush is quite stupid
• Lose loads of money playing poker until the early hours of the morning.

See Spot Sob

The waiting really is the hardest part! I would give anything for a needle to inject or a blood test to take just to feel like I am participating in this process still rather than it being in the lap of the Gods (mind you, I’ve been sucking up to them all so I should be covered there)

Speaking of Gods, I got a lovely Aztec ‘thing’ yesterday which is yet another alleged fertility icon, as one can never have quite enough. Ixchel, as she is named, is a quite charming lump of deformed clay with large saggy breasts who is hanging on with both hands to her fabulously flabby gut. On her head is coiled a fairly phallic snake. She is wonderfully obscure and has happily moved in next to the other icons that, like me, love her for her grotesque uniqueness.

I have to say that since the truffle shuffle I have been erratic, moody, emotional and my head is on a constant rotating cycle of contradictory thoughts… positive, negative, hope, despair until I’m dizzy from it.

I am mean and moody. I yelled at our local pizza dude so badly that we had to find a new pizza place (he WAS being a twat but I admit to overreacting just a tad) and then I screamed at a random Foxtel guy (mind you they had stuffed us around and we were Foxless for nearly a month and this during the time when I actually craved inane television.) Thus far I haven’t actually physically attacked anyone and M has escaped unscathed from my abuse… but he is sensibly wary and knows it’s probably in the post.

I keep getting period like pains and twinges (that I am told to read nothing into by the staff at Casa Conception as it is probably just my drug addicted uterus having withdrawal symptoms from all the drugs I’ve been pumping into it)

Of course, being a human female, I am reading whole epic novels into the pains. The two most popular themes being “it’s the truffle happily implanting… joy!” and “It’s my period coming… it’s all over… Misery!”

I have been unsuccessfully trying to distract myself with anything at all… walks, chats with friends, movies, old favourite books, tidying, pretty shiny objects and even our newly restored foxtel in all it’s utter crapulousness and the cathode ray brain degenerator has proven to be my downfall.

Yesterday, somehow, I ended up engrossed in the tail end of the Channel 9 Midday Movie, the truly awful ‘See Spot Run’, starring a random Arquette. I have never desired to watch this movie and ordinarily such a movie would inspire me to shoot my television Elvis style… but ordinarily I am not a hyper hormonal, vague and moody idiot.

Only coming in, as I mentioned, at the tail end of the film, I was immediately engrossed in the exciting story of a clichéd bratty kid, a clichéd dickhead adult, a clichéd and clutzy Mafioso crime lord and a clichéd large unspotted dog called spot who is also an undercover FBI agent. Clearly this was essential viewing for a woman who has watched… and enjoyed… over the last few weeks the movies Syriana, Little Miss Sunshine, Eat Drink Man Woman and Babel.

I would like to share with you some real reviews of this tour de force of a film.

“It is possible, in fact highly probable, that the writers of this movie are as idiotic as the fat-headed lead character on screen.” Michael Thomsen, BBC

“What’s amazing about See Spot Run is that, granting how wretched it looks from the trailers and TV ads, it’s actually so very much worse even than that.” M.V Morrehard, New Times

“See Spot Run is one of those movies that make you put your head in your hands and mourn the death of popular culture.” Gene Seymour, Newsday

Sadly in this tale, the spoilt brat child has to give the dog he has had for all of 24 hours back to the FBI when it’s real identity has been revealed. My reaction to this was to sob… and sob… and sob… and sob.

Luckily, five minutes later the boy is given the dog back when the FBI trainer, who has loved the dog for years and invested his entire life into training said dog, that Spot loves the boy he has known for 24 hours much more than him and gives the boy the dog back. My reaction to this was to sob… and sob… and sob… and sob.

My reaction is telling me something. Firstly, hormones are very dangerous things. Secondly, IVF turns educated and relatively sane people into blubbering certifiable morons.

And then there was one.

On Saturday we had the embryo transfer. They chose the healthiest and most advanced blastocyst. It was a Grade 2.

Dr. Sickboy and the Scientist were exceptionally pleased with it. (Apparently they rarely give a Grade 1). The other embryos hadn’t quite developed to that stage yet. One was a borderline Grade 2, three were Grade 3’s and then there was the runt of the litter who hadn’t got far enough to be graded.

Had we selected to have two implanted the borderline sea monkey would have been also suitable but unfortunately, even after an extra twenty four hours of development time none were quite high enough quality to freeze. The freezing and unfreezing process takes so much out of them that they have very high standards to attain to make it to the fridge.

A delightful young lady Scientist (Not Steven-Hawking) called yesterday to let me know and I was surprised by how much it affected me, I was a blubbering idiot for most of the day. Somehow knowing we had a backup embsicle would have taken the pressure off but now it is up to our single gorgeous little truffle to hang in there.

I spoke to the Not-Steven-Hawking again after I had stopped blubbing as the result made me worried about the quality of my eggs etc but she said it was ok and was very reassuring. Not-Steven-Hawking had actually warned us, when they first retrieved the seven, that we should expect only one to two good embryos (which is what we got) and explained that that only about half of all egg collections result in a frozen embryo as they are so strict at Casa Conception.

Not-Steven-Hawking also explained that the reason it seems like so many women have zillions frozen is because many IVF centres do the transfer on day 3 before the emby makes it to blastocyst stage and if I had done mine on that day then all six would have been good enough to freeze. The problem is that the same result would have occurred after the unfreezing as there is a huge dropout rate from that day onwards as the cells burn themselves out doubling and tripling and compacting. It is very hard work indeed to become a blastocyst and they don’t even get weekends off.

Right now with one quality embryo and a two week wait ahead of us that already feels like two years… I am feeling lucky. The day of the transfer whilst we were in recovery discussing how utterly gorgeous and smart our truffle looked and willing it to like his or her new home… we overheard the science projectette in the cubicle next to us being gently told that none of her embryos had made it.

M & I left Casa Conception with mixed emotions of tentative optimism for ourselves and tears for our Casa Conception sister.