BFP-fingers crossed

Well some people know at least those who read this blog that I have been trying to have a baby. I am forty-four (cue to cringe) I know it seems old to try unless you are a celebrity but try I must.

I started a couple months ago, tracking dates, getting lab work done, having a physical, working out, taking vitamins etc. Then I went to an infertility doctor (serious stuff, desperate waiting room) who did something called a clomid challenge test. My initial labs were good and my CCT labs were good and we are almost sure I ovulated just missed it by a day. To quote my very serious doctor "Good Response for an old chick".

This month I had two IUI's, that's when they put the sperm (all spun washed and tidy) into your uterus so that your chances improve. I did this after another round of clomid an LH surge, a couple scans and a trigger shot, the shot helps to make sure you ovulate in a predictable little window of time. This was not fun or comfortable but I was very sure it was going to work...why wouldn't it?

I have never had a difficult time getting pregnant, I have a healthy body, my lab tests were impressive for "my advanced maternal age" and I timed this cycle perfectly, All my I's dotted all my T's crossed.

In this new age of reproductive technology I am officially DPO 10 that means ten days past ovulation. My little fertilized egg should have found a nice cozy spot in my uterus by now (implanting happens between DPO 6 and 12) and Hcg should begin to enter my system (the pregnancy hormone that makes you barf and have boobs like Selma Hyak). Symptoms may appear this early but not all the time which is good because none have except the hunger but I am always a hungry girl, and I already own a version of Selma's boobs.

I did what most women who are in this two week holding pattern do and obsess. We start peeing on sticks before the sperm has even found it's way to the egg. I am no exception I have pee'd on a whole lotta sticks in the last two days but today I was sure I would get a BFP (Big Fat Positive) instead it was BFN (Big Fat Negative.

This could mean that the egg never fertilized and instead of a baby I will get the dreaded days of bleeding and binging. It could mean that the egg has not seated itself yet and I am not producing enough Hcg to be detected on a pregnancy test. It could be that my stubborn little egg is waiting until the last possible minute to enter its 38 week home.

I am Being emotional because of the hormones that occupy a woman this time of the month, the hormones injected, inserted and swallowed. The rational non-hormonal person might take this all in stride and say "well we will just have to wait and see won't we and if not this month next month" Oh no, the hormonal woman can only count days over and over, and worry every moment. She needs this, she must have this, and how can she possibly wait. It is sweet torture, it is almost like climbing a mountain. The summit is there and you can see it but after hours of hiking it doesn't feel much closer.

This was my big shot at being a mommy, I have three days to produce a little Hcg or I will have to go off the prometrium (a progesterone they give you to help you build a happy nest for your baby) my cycle will start all over again...a cycle I refuse to acknowledge.

There is no trying again, this is it. We can't adopt our combined age is too old. I have no interest in foster care, I could never give a child back, too hard. So it has to work.

Where are you Stevie, My Sweetness?

I found this poem today after typing in "Where are you Stevie, My Sweetness" into the google box of my computer. Not sure why I typed it in, maybe if we are all just energy it would be a good way to communicate, maybe I just needed to type it in...

I opened this link not sure what I would find and there was this beautiful treasure waiting for me. It is perfect in everyway and speaks to the depths of my being. This poem could have been written by my own heart.

Stevie tell Khalil Gibran thank you for his beautiful poem and thank you my sweet girl for helping me find it this morning. I love you, I love you, I love you...

Mom




Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?


Or are you in your chamber where the shrine of
Virtue has been placed in your honor, and upon
Which you offer my heart and soul as sacrifice?


Or amongst the books, seeking human knowledge,
While you are replete with heavenly wisdom?


Oh companion of my soul, where are you? Are you
Praying in the temple? Or calling Nature in the
Field, haven of your dreams?


Are you in the huts of the poor, consoling the
Broken-hearted with the sweetness of your soul, and
Filling their hands with your bounty?


You are God's spirit everywhere;
You are stronger than the ages.


Do you have memory of the day we met, when the halo of
You spirit surrounded us, and the Angels of Love
Floated about, singing the praise of the soul's deed?


Do you recollect our sitting in the shade of the
Branches, sheltering ourselves from Humanity, as the ribs
Protect the divine secret of the heart from injury?


Remember you the trails and forest we walked, with hands
Joined, and our heads leaning against each other, as if
We were hiding ourselves within ourselves?


Recall you the hour I bade you farewell,
And the Maritime kiss you placed on my lips?
That kiss taught me that joining of lips in Love
Reveals heavenly secrets which the tongue cannot utter!


That kiss was introduction to a great sigh,
Like the Almighty's breath that turned earth into man.


That sigh led my way into the spiritual world,
Announcing the glory of my soul; and there
It shall perpetuate until again we meet.


I remember when you kissed me and kissed me,
With tears coursing your cheeks, and you said,
"Earthly bodies must often separate for earthly purpose,
And must live apart impelled by worldly intent.


"But the spirit remains joined safely in the hands of
Love, until death arrives and takes joined souls to God.


"Go, my beloved; Love has chosen you her delegate;
Over her, for she is Beauty who offers to her follower
The cup of the sweetness of life.
As for my own empty arms, your love shall remain my
Comforting groom; your memory, my Eternal wedding."


Where are you now, my other self? Are you awake in
The silence of the night? Let the clean breeze convey
To you my heart's every beat and affection.


Are you fondling my face in your memory? That image
Is no longer my own, for Sorrow has dropped his
Shadow on my happy countenance of the past.


Sobs have withered my eyes which reflected your beauty
And dried my lips which you sweetened with kisses.


Where are you, my beloved? Do you hear my weeping
From beyond the ocean? Do you understand my need?
Do you know the greatness of my patience?


Is there any spirit in the air capable of conveying
To you the breath of this dying youth? Is there any
Secret communication between angels that will carry to
You my complaint?


Where are you, my beautiful star? The obscurity of life
Has cast me upon its bosom; sorrow has conquered me.


Sail your smile into the air; it will reach and enliven me!
Breathe your fragrance into the air; it will sustain me!


Where are you, me beloved?
Oh, how great is Love!
And how little am I!