My Story

The chronicle of the journey from infertility, to miscarriage, to finally raising twin girls born in June 2012.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Medical update

The nurse called and my last prolactin level is 18.something.  So fully back into the normal range.  Therefore, while I still think they should have tested this just before transfer, my failure to get pregnant from the FET can not be "blamed" on them not running that test, but rather I have to just go with "oh well, it didn't work this time".

I did tell her that I wanted it noted that my prolactin levels need to be checked shortly before we transfer in future attempts.  It may not make a difference, but knowing that it will be looked at takes that source of concern out of my hands.  Hopefully that will make it less of a concern overall.

And we have learned that my body really does chemically react to whatever emotional stress I'm experiencing.  From now on, the week of and after a transfer for me will require a bit of luxury in order to keep me as calm as possible.  So those weeks will be full of some guilt free indulgences.  Chocolate administered as I feel necessary, massages, chilling out in general.  And we're probably going to do acupuncture during the next attempt.  I dunno what that actually does, but studies show that it does improve your chances, and lying down on a table a chilling out for an hour or so during those appointments can't be a bad thing, even if the actual acupuncture itself does nothing.

And some other good news, the clinic is still figuring out how to treat a fat person, but it's looking more and more like they will indeed decide to go ahead and treat us.  So it's very likely that we can proceed in August whether I succeed in losing any weight or not.  Yay.

While I had her on the phone, I asked her to talk to the Dr. about that little joke he made.  Just a recap of what I'm referring to, during one of my ultrasounds, we briefly discussed how the clinic is currently debating the BMI cutoff point on which they'll do egg retrievals.  And the doctor ended that discussion by throwing out the little comment "Well, telling someone we won't help them to get pregnant is sure motivation to lose weight!"

Dear Doctor Douchebag,

I'm not fat because I lack motivation.  I'm fat because I have failed every single day of my life to be thin.  It's not a state of being that I enjoy and I have tried several times to change it.  I have a permanent scar on my hand from opening a can of diet food when I was doing one of those crash diet programs in high school.

I absolutely despise my body.  I always have.  I hate it for being fat.  I hate it for being infertile.  I hate it for failing to protect my girls from the infection that took them.  I hate it, hate it, hate it.  And I'm forced to live in it every minute of my life. If I could chop it off and no longer be associated with it, I would do it in a heartbeat.

While I was on your table, naked, with my legs up in stirrups, you took the two most painful truths that I live with every day and made a joke of them.  And in the process, you revealed your general disdain for fat people, ie - me.  I know that it didn't even occur to you that such a comment would cut to quick like it did because having a problem with fat people is still completely socially acceptable.  What you said to me is akin to calling an African American adult man "boy". 

And you said it while you were in a position of power over me.  I had to have that ultrasound done at that very minute.  Therefore, I could not sit up, call you out for the prick that you are, and leave as I wanted to.  You held the power, and as a result, I had to suck up your little comment and take it.  You not only said something that hurt me, but you took away my ability to at least regain some dignity and pride by telling you where to stick it.

And you made me cry.  That evening, I could hear that stupid comment in my head repeated over and over and over again, and I cried.  For hours.  I still cry when I think about it.  I suspect that your little comment will revisit my brain for years to come.

And now, while you are debating whether or not you will continue to accept me as a patient, I have to go into your office, look at your face and beg you to please consider me worthy of assisting.  Do you have any clue how deeply it hurts to have to beg someone to allow you to become a mother?  It's one of the main reasons I didn't go the adoption route.  Being judged hurts like hell. 

Whenever I come in for my follow-up appointment, I expect and demand an apology.  Now that your nurse is informing you of what you said and the effect that it had, I expect and demand that you display horror in yourself for causing that kind of pain.  If I get an off the cuff, placating apology, I will call you out on it and it will speak volumes about your character.

You have the opportunity to prove yourself to be a better man than I currently believe you to be.  I suggest that you take it.

Your big, fat, pissed off patient

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

At least someone around here has babies

No, we don't feed them on purpose - they eat the leftover cat food that we feed the kitties on our deck.

I just think they're adorable!  Of course, I'll hate them in a few months when they are full grown and stealing even more of the cat food, but for now, awwwwww!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The devil you know....

I said before that I have an appointment to consult with a different clinic on July 6th.

Well, I have canceled that appointment.  I heard back from my OB and while he doesn't know anything about that clinic personally, his colleagues told him that they go out of their way to NOT refer patients there.  Hrmmmmmm.

So hearing that, and then relooking at what I see of that clinic myself, well, here's the run down -

  • He’s a one doctor practice in a medical field where schedules have to change on a dime.  What happens if he gets sick or becomes otherwise indisposed?
  • His fees are about 2/3 of all of the other clinics I’ve spoken to.
  • He advertises that he will perform services for those that others might turn away due to age, BMI, etc.
  • He offers gender selection.  An ethically questionable practice.

Add it all together and I’m seeing a man who is thriving on peoples desperation.
And I made a consultation appointment with another clinic in the area, but they can't even get me in the door until July 26th.  And even while on the phone with me, the woman was talking to other people.  It sounds like that place has a million clients and that makes me nervous.  I mean if my problem with my original clinic is that I'm starting to feel like cattle rather than a patient, will this new place be out of the frying pan and into the fire.  Not to mention they are more expensive.  And they have a hard BMI cut off point for egg retrievals so I would have to lose 15-20lbs before they would treat me anyway.

We've already prepaid at my current clinic for another IVF attempt plus a frozen round if that doesn't work.  And they are still debating what their BMI cut off will be so I might only have to lose 5lbs to get under the number with them.So can I forgive the doctor for making a joke about how not helping someone get pregnant is a great motivation for them to lose weight?  Can I forgive that they did not test my prolactin levels shortly before transfer as I feel they should have?  If I talk to the doctor about what has me hating him and his clinic right now, will he make an effort to make sure those same issues aren't repeated?

I'm totally lost as to how to move forward.  Either way, I'm probably looking at living on lettuce and the treadmill for a while.  And at never having that trust that I don't have to fight to advocate for my own care.

Ok guys, I need your thoughts on this.  Without currently having more information, should I just stick with the devil I know?  I mean, they did get me pregnant once already.  Or should I potentially jump into the fire, spend additional money, and try someone new who might have the same, if not worse problems?

Prolactin Levels

Today's post is odds and ends.  First, a new definition:

Maybe / Maybies - All potential children in various stages of pre-birth development from egg to just prior to birth.  Uses = "They will be thawing one of my maybies for the next frozen transfer" and "I really hope this maybe sticks" as well as "me and my maybe are craving ice cream".

News of the day:

My prolactin levels finally came back.  47.  Normal range is 4-23ish.  For some perspective, when I reported prolactin at 56 to my GP, he kind of freaked the hell out and we went into "I probably have a brain tumor" territory.  Elevated prolactin levels are what halted our March FET cycle.

So I'll be back at the doctors office in the morning after a fast, and a technician will strive to locate a vein that isn't burying itself in terror of being poked yet again, so we can see if that number was a fluke, or a pattern.

Now, the night before I tested, I spent about 12 hours crying hysterically.  And prolactin levels will spike in a time of stress so it's possible that my elevated numbers are a fluke.  That's why we are all supposed to remain as relaxed as possible while trying to conceive, prolactin prevents conception and stress raises prolactin.  So when the doctors tell you to relax, it's not a platitude, there is a chemical reason for that advice.

Now, when I did my estrodial shortly before we transferred, I asked what my prolactin levels were.  Considering my recent medical history, I just assumed that those would be tested from whatever blood was taken shortly before transfer.  But it wasn't.  They DIDN'T test my prolactin levels.  At all. 

I'm still open minded to my current number being a fluke caused by my stress.  But if my testing tomorrow reveals that the number is elevated even when I'm relaxed, I'm going to have some REAL issues with what they did.  If my numbers are normal, we'll never know if the lack of that test might have been an issue.  If they come back elevated, than my doctors were really fucking negligent.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Infertility feels like Miscarriage

Over a year ago, our first attempt at IVF was halted just before egg retrieval.  My body broke through the lupron suppression and ejected the eggs about 24 hours early.  Things had been going so well, and I had emotionally turned the corner into thinking that it was actually going to happen.  I was actually going to get pregnant and have a baby.  I was devastated.

In my devastation, I turned to a friend who had experienced 2 first trimester miscarriages.  And while I didn't want to minimize her experience, I chose my words very carefully and said "emotionally, this is hitting me as if it were a miscarriage."  And she said very sternly "Alex, you did not have a miscarriage" as if to say how dare you compare your pain to mine.

I've now experienced a second trimester miscarriage.  And I stand by my original assessment of that halted IVF experience.  Was it exactly the same?  No.  2 days of believing you're going to have a baby is obviously not as severe as a few months of believing you're going to have a baby.  Just like I know I can't compare my second trimester loss to someone who has lost their child in the third trimester, or after birth.  The longer you believe you have something, the more severe the feeling of loss when it's taken away from you.

But it hits you as devastating all the same.

I went into my most recent FET almost hoping it would fail so I could move on to a fresh IVF cycle.  Playing the odds, I have a better chance of having 2 children in the long run if I harvest and bank more embryos now while I'm as young as I'm ever going to be.

And yet when it did fail, I went into grieving and tears just like when I first lost the girls.  It seriously felt like I was right back to that time period shortly after I lost them.  I not only felt the loss of this failed attempt, but I emotionally rehashed the pain from the miscarriage.

Being the analytical person that I am, I came up with a reason why this might be the case.  When doing IVF, we are pumped full of those same hormones that are created naturally during pregnancy.  Those hormones are what create an emotional attachment, a bond with your potential child.  And to have that bond broken again, it feels like the child died.  Logically, we know that it's not really that a child died, it's the potential that was never realized, but chemically and emotionally, that's what we are being programmed to feel.

Miscarriage is horrible.  Obviously.  But when you are going through infertility, every single month feels like another miscarriage.  Loss after loss after loss.

So my infertile friends, I hereby give you my permission to mourn as you need to.  It is similar, it is comparable.  When we miscarry, we hit the pain scale at a 95.  When we lose another month of potential, we hit that scale around 70.  But when you're hit with a brand new 70 every thirty days, over and over and over again, that's a whole lotta pain going on.

And to friends and family of someone experiencing infertility, that's what they are dealing with.  So don't poo-poo their pain away.  Don't dismiss it.  It's real.  It's long lasting.  And it's exhausting.

God damned holding pattern

Grrrrr.  It's the stage where day to day, there's not a damned thing I can do to move towards our goal.  Just waiting for my period to start which will punctuate the pointlessness of the last 2 months of my life.  Not a friggin thing to do.  No finances to arrange, no medications to take, not a damned thing.

We meet with a new clinic on July 6th.  I'm going to try to set up an interview with another clinic (which is right next door) on that day as well.  Nothing to discuss, consider, think about until then.

And I can't believe I'm starting to think of things in terms of years instead of months.  I'm now looking at possibly doing IVF exactly one year later, to the day, that we did IVF to conceive our girls.  A whole fucking year later and I currently have no baby, no pregnancy.  Right back in the same fucking place I was in one year ago.

If you'll excuse me, I have some crying and screaming to take care of.  Too bad it's coming out of my face and not an itty bitty cutey patooty face.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

It's official

And it sucks.  Hcg = 0.

I've been aware of that for a few days now but it was made official today. 

I pretty much reacted last night.  The moment that hope officially flew out the window, I started bawling.  And for hours on end, I just got hit with wave after wave of tears.  The crying started in early evening, and was off and on until the wee hours.  Around 2am it became constant and every time I thought it was finally subsiding, I got whacked again. 

It's like losing the girls all over again.  I know what I said before about almost wanting this attempt to fail so I could go on to a fresh round, but when you're all hormoned up, the logic of what you convinced yourself you wanted goes completely out the window and you just react hysterically.

Finally around 4am I woke up K and made him sit with me while I cried.  I don't like to wake him up, especially when he has to work in the morning, but I just couldn't see any end in sight and clearly trying to make it stop on my own wasn't working.

I'm still waiting to get the results of my prolactin and TSH levels.  I thought they were going to be tested prior to transfer but to my surprise they weren't.  So I insisted they be tested today.  I really feel like I wasn't treated as a patient, but rather a protocol.  And if those levels are elevated, and give us a known reason why this didn't work, my fury is going to be difficult to contain.  That will pretty much prove to me that no one was minding the store.  We know that I'm having issues with those two numbers and I find it horribly irresponsible that they thawed 2 out of my 3 healthy embryos without checking to make sure that my body was prepared to host them.

I know that there's no certainty that a procedure will work.  And if it really was just a random "it didn't work this time", I can accept that.  But I still can't believe that no one looked over my paperwork and said "Hey wait a minute, before we do this, maybe we should double check that we aren't just killing them off for no reason!"

I really hate this clinic.  I have an appointment with another clinic on the 6th.  Since I'll probably start a period a day or two after I stop taking the progesterone, by the time I meet with the new doctor, even if I like him and decide to go with him, it will be too late to try during the July cycle.  And then we move into August.  The question becomes - do we wait another month, or do we do a brand new cycle exactly one year following the cycle that gave us our girls?  If that were to succeed, the pregnancy would have the exact same schedule and due dates, just one year later.

It's silly and arbitrary, but yet it would feel so wrong to do that.

Friday, June 24, 2011

In the mean time...

We do blood testing tomorrow morning.  According to every brand of HPT on the market, I'm in for disappointment tomorrow.

Peter Falk (of Columbo fame) died this morning.  Doesn't mean much to me, but the hubby posted one of his commercials online to honor him.  So everybody, this is my hubby.  And no, I'm NOT the gorgeous blond in the commercials.

And I'm posting this other one apropos of nothing because it always makes me laugh.  That's right ladies, this is what I'm working with in this baby making endeavor.  Hands off!  That hunk of ginger man meat is all mine!

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Hope is rapidly disappearing

I know I'm not supposed to be freaking out yet.  But I am.  Not even the slightest hint of a second line to give me hope.

Less the 48 hours before we confirm with the blood test.  But if it's not even faintly showing up on the most sensitive of urine tests today, I can't imagine it being above 50 in less than 2 days.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Squint really, really hard

See anything?  Any hint of a second line?  It's day 6 after the transfer, the day that my girls showed up as really faint lines on a HPT.

Yeah.......I don't see anything either.

Blood test in 3 more days.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Last nights meltdown

I don't know what caused it, but I spent a good portion of last night crying.

I think it was sparked by being in the bathroom, inserting my medication, and having the thought "I'm doing various kind of fucking medicating 5-6 times a day to help along a pregnancy that I don't even know exists."  I have to keep up this fucking regimen and I don't even know if there's a reason to be doing it.  Before this week it was in preparation, but now it's "just in case."

Why do other people get to do things half assed and it works out for them?  Why am I the person who has to do everything 100% perfect to maybe get results?  Other women don't even know they're pregnant until several weeks have gone by and yet they do just fine.  Whereas I have to take the prenatals before getting pregnant.  I have to shove myself full of hormone supplements both before and during the first days of pregnancy to make it as strong as possible. 

And what do I get for my efforts if I succeed?  I get to spend the next 5 months completely and totally paranoid.  Up until the kid is big enough for me to feel it move every day and I can kind of monitor its progress myself, I have to be terrified that every little twinge is the beginning of the end, that every feeling of moisture in my panties is going to turn out to be blood, that every little cough is going to squirt the contents of my uterus into my pants.

I don't get to do the happy pregnancy stuff.  I don't get to buy cute little outfits the first day we get that positive test.  No.  I get to spend every moment of every day bracing myself for disaster.

I want the end result.  That's never in question.  But I'm completely dreading the process it's going to take to get there.  So if I report good news in a few days, understand that I am looking at months of misery and not the lifetime of joy MIGHT follow.  So, in the big picture, yes, it would be wonderful news.  But in the here and now, it's news that will make me miserable for a time.

All of this - it's not fucking fair.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Implant Day

Today was the big day.  The day we implant the embryos.  And things are going about as well as they could possibly go.

I start my morning by waking up about 5 minutes before my alarm goes off.  I hit the bathroom and empty my bladder and insert my morning medication.  Then I hit the shower so that those who are about to have their noses in my naughty bits are as least offended as possible.  Then I start refilling my bladder because I'm supposed to be really uncomfortable for this.

I've got my big water cup, an extra bottle of water in my purse, and we get some Starbucks and then Mcdonalds on the way.  I had to.  I'm never out and about early enough for hashbrowns so on the rare occasion that I am, I always hit McDonalds for hashbrowns!

We get there about a half hour early.  You never know what traffic and parking are going to be like in Seattle but we got really lucky and got there faster than expected.  We check in, I get my hospital style bracelet which states that a doctor I've never met will be performing the procedure, and then we hang out in the waiting room, sucking down water with other awkward couples.  We all know why we're all there, but not a word is being spoken by anyone.  I'm trying to chat with K to pass the time as we look over news stories on our phones, but no matter how quiet I talk, there's a silent audience and I feel like I'm shouting.

So they call me in to the transfer room and I get the general breakdown of what's going to happen and I'm told to strip down and get on the table, they'll be back in a moment.  So I get my bottom half all naked and the technician (nurse?) comes back in all apologetic, they aren't ready for me yet.  They thought I was the 11am appointment but I'm the 11:30 appointment and they need me to head back to the waiting room.

Ok, you guys will be oh so proud of this moment.  I literally stood up, bent over showing her my bare butt and said "I moon you in disapproval!"  Fortunately, she had a good sense of humor and I got dressed and headed back to the waiting room.  Of course people kind of have that question on their faces so I just politely announce to the room "They were just kidding" and we take our seats again.

Now the front desk receptionist tells me that they are running about 20 minutes behind, is that going to be a problem for my full bladder?  Well, at that moment, it wasn't a problem.  But about 15 minutes later, I get up and ask how long it's going to be because things are getting a little more dire and I'm quite a bit more ready to do this than I was earlier. 

They are able to get me back into the room a few minutes later and I talk with another technician (nurse?  seriously, I don't know their titles) about the quality of our embryos.

We thawed our 2 grade three embryos and our last embryo (grade four) is still frozen for future use.  Both embryos survived the thaw perfectly so we didn't have to make any last minute decisions about whether or not to thaw the last one.

And she is going on and on about how they are just beautiful, couldn't have asked them to look any better.  Simply stellar.  If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn they were fresh and never went through the freezing process.  You can see in the picture that there are lots of cells and the cells are trying to push out of the primary wall.  Apparently, that's the hatching process.  You can literally see the cells hatching out of the eggs and breaking that wall so they can grow even more.

They do an ultrasound to check my bladder and I've been a little TOO good at making sure it was full.  I'm asked to go to the bathroom with a paper cup and fill it up to the logo, then dispose of the urine down the toilet as usual.  So I go and do this, really afraid that once the flow starts, I won't be able to stop it.  But despite my fears, I excel at emptying just the proper amount.  Oh yeah, I'm awesome.  Can't wait to see that skill on a resume.

To my surprise, my doctor actually comes in and I'm very confused.  Apparently he's working with the other doctor today and they just decided to have him do the procedure.

And up in the stirrups I go.  K is in a chair about 5 feet behind me so I ask him to scoot up and hold my hand.  Call me crazy, but I'd just really like to be in physical contact with my husband at the moment our kids are conceived.

We watch stuff on the monitor while the doctor preps my bits.  You think a cold speculum is annoying?  Too hot is more uncomfortable.  They show us the embryos being sucked up into the catheter so we're able to see them squirming around under the microscope on the big screen.  And they are wiggly.  I don't remember my last embryos being wiggly, but these are just wiggling up a storm like they are desperate to get big enough to run around.

Is there some reason why I can't ever feel a catheter?  Are they just inserted somewhere that doesn't have any nerve endings or something?

Anyway, we see them drop off the embryos into my uterus on the big screen, but it's a standard ultrasound view so it's basically a big ball of fuzzy with a fuzzy line entering and exiting the picture.

And that's it!  They set a timer for 15 minutes and I have to lie on that bed until the timer goes off.  As soon as it does, I can head to the bathroom and we are homeward bound.  I'm told that I'm not on bedrest, but I should just be generally lazy or a day or two.

At home, I'm on the couch watching TV, and my big orange kitty, the kitty that became obsessed with me when I was pregnant before, he decides that he's going to watch tv with me.  Correction, ON me.  He rarely sits next to one of us when we're on the couch, but today he climbed right onto my belly, kneaded a bit, and snuggled in.  And even after I had to get up and get the phone, when I got back to the couch, he jumped right back on me.  A good sign perhaps?

What is this I'm experiencing?  Could it be....oh I dunno, hope perhaps?  Hmmmm, I don't want to declare anything quite so definitive, but hmmmmm.

Vivelle Dots

Quick tip of the day - If anyone else has to use Vivelle Dots, the medicated patches, that scrapbooking stuff called Goo Gone (and other generic adhesive removers) works just as well on skin as it does on other surfaces.  That sticky crap stayed on my skin no matter how much I hit it with soap in the shower but the adhesive remover took it off really quick.

This is the stuff I've been using.
UN-DU Adhesive Remover - 4oz Bottle

Tuesday, June 14, 2011


Just a short post to lighten the mood.  Here are the three songs I have assigned as ringtones on my phone -

Hubby - Ain't No Other Man by Christina Aguilara
My parents - Mamma Mia by Abba
Fertility Clinic - Bad Romance by Lady Gaga

Monday, June 13, 2011

Closing in

Only 3 more days until we transfer embryos.

In the bank we have 1 grade four embryo and 2 grade threes.  We intend to thaw the 2 grade threes and as long as one of them looks good, we'll leave grade four in the bank so we can try for a second child a few years later.  So it's possible we'll only be transferring one embryo (depending on what survives the thaw).

K wanted to continue thawing until we had 2 strong embryos, even if it meant thawing all of them so we have our best shot at getting pregnant on this round.  But I disagreed.  This FET is a mediocre hand, a pair of sevens and I'd rather go all in on a full house.  If we fail this attempt, we can move on to a fresh round in September.  That will probably get us pregnant, AND it will bank some more young embryos for a second child when I'm about 40.  To me, that's our best chance of growing old with two children.  If I get pregnant on this round, it's quite possible that the one child is the only one we'll get.

After discussion, we've decided to go with my plan.  We only thaw the last embryo if the other two don't survive and we need that third one in order to implant anything. 

Of course, with K, sometimes it's hard to tell if he's actually come to agree with me, or if he's simply decided to let me have my way. 

I'm hoping the whole argument will be completely moot because the both the grade threes will thaw perfectly and be really strong.  In a truly perfect world, both embryos will take, we'll get a set of boy/girl twins and still have a roll of the dice in the bank if we decide to try for a third later.  But how often do things work out perfectly?

*TMI Time* 

We're done with the lupron, so I'm hoping to slowly climb back to a better mood.  But now I've got these vaginal pills that I have to take 3 times a day.  I don't like them!  It seems like the second one I take every day dissolves and it seems to gurgle right back out of me and I feel like I've wet my pants.  I can't figure out what the liquid is but it's thin like water so I'm wearing pads every day.  And if this works, I'll be taking those until my 10th week of pregnancy.  And at night, I have to include a 4th pill up the yin yang.  That one is blue and when it dissolves, well, when you're bleary eyed and doing your morning pee, it's a little startling to wipe blue.

Just a warning, if I have really really good news in 2 weeks, odds are I'm going to be more upset than happy about it.  It's probably not going to be "oh boy, I'm pregnant!" but rather "Oh boy, let's see if this sticks."  And that will likely last until I can feel movement every day.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Another thing that makes me go hmmmmmm

There's a lot of right wing ferver lately about shutting down funding to Planned Parenthood and instituting laws that continually tighten up the ability for a woman to terminate a pregnancy. 

All of these right wingers are thumping their bibles and screaming about protecting these helpless little babies.  Protect those who cannot protect themselves!  Abortion is wrong!  Roarrrrrrr!

So some questions for all of the miscarriage mama's out there.  How many of your babies had to die before your doctors would agree to run various tests?  How hard did you have to fight to simply have the reason for your last miscarriage investigated and/or explained?  How many of you were told that you had to go through miscarriage three times before a doctor would run tests and really assist you in carrying a pregnancy to term?

That's three dead babies per household who desperately wants to have a baby before the rich guys in their white coats and those who own the insurance companies will try to prevent it from happening again.  Three babies that could be alive and well, in homes that want them.

But all of the anti-abortion protesters are focusing their efforts on saving individual babies who would be born into homes of those who don't want them and don't have the means to properly care for them.

Now I'm not going to get into a diatribe about the rightness or wrongness of a woman's access to abortion.  I know how I feel about that and those who feel differently than I do are going to feel how they feel about it.

But before focusing on saving the individual babies who are not wanted, wouldn't that same effort be better spent lobbying to force doctors to run the tests needed to prevent a miscarriage mama from experiencing another dead baby?  I mean really, if the goal is to protect the unborn and allow them to come into the world, wouldn't it be do more good to save the next two miscarriage babies rather than protect the one from a woman seeking abortion?  That's 2 lives saved if you focus on that rather than the 1 you think you are saving from protesting abortion.

It seems that no matter what you want to do reproductively, you have to fight tooth and nail and experience massive amounts of heartache to do it.  You want to end a pregnancy?  Tons of red tape, emotional blackmail, and threats from the antiabortionists.  You want to prevent a miscarriage?  You have to fight tooth and nail to get an explanation on how to prevent what has already happened to you once before.

Feel how you want to feel about abortion and fight for what you believe in.  But can we please fight for the one thing we all agree on (we don't want any more miscarriages!) before you spend all of this effort on fighting for something that only a portion of the population wants?

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Entry points

We're 10 days before implant, and I have medications entering my body in almost every which way available.

I'm taking medication orally
I'm taking medication vaginally
I have hormone patches on my skin
I'm getting injections

Let's play a game.  How many medication delivery methods can you think of that aren't being utilized?  So far, I can identify three -

Ear drops

If you can identify a fourth (or beyond), I'll send you a coupon code for 15% off your purchase at my pottery store.

** Update **

We have our first two entries!

Alyssa has won a 15% coupon with "Eye Drops"!  Email me from the Contact Alex page and I'll send you the coupon code.

Becki - hmmmmmm, is an IV different enough from Injection to count as a whole new delivery method?  I think I'm going to have to call in the judge on this one.  K, your thoughts?

K here - Technically an IV is injecting the medication through a needle the same way a regular injection is.  So technically, it is not much different than the syringes we're using.  But I like your thinking so I'm making Alex give you a 10% off discount.

Alex again - Becki, look for my message on Artfire with your coupon code.

Anyone else have any ideas?

**Update 2**

Hmmm after consulting with our judge, we're gonna say that no, inhalers and nebulizers fall into the "Nasal" category and lotions actually enter the body the same way as the patches - absorbed through the skin.