The Egg Drop Post

 Okay, so I as you. I am getting myself in gear for my next IVF cycle. After talking to my doctor and reading everything I can get my hands on about IVF, I am pretty sure that I will have to take off two days after the egg retrieval and one day after the transfer.

Now I just started my new job on July 1. Should I tell my boss that I’m having a procedure done and that I’ll need to take some days off, even though I can’t predict when those will be? or should i just call in sick? I definately don’t feel comfortable telling her that I want to get pregnant and that I am going to do in-vitro.

What would you do?

Okay, I have been harboring a dirty little secret but I feel as if it’s time for me to come clean: I really like the show Army Wives on Lifetime. Any of my friends who know me in real life would be kinda surprised that I like a sappy, overly-sentimental show about the Army, but I have to admit I was hooked after the first episode.

So here is my somewhat-spoiler filled post. Read at your own risk.

Typically, I am weary of sentimental serial dramas that wrap up complex life and death stories in 50 minutes or less. I can’t say that I gravitate towards  ‘women’s programming’, though I have been known to watch a soap or two. I have to admit that  before this show, I never really spent too much time thinking about the army wives and how difficult it must be for them when their husbands are at war. Now,  believe it or not I find myself getting sentimental, almost teary-eyed when I watch the show and I think about the trials and tribulations that these women must go through.

This season the show is dealing with several themes that hit close to home: breast cancer, pregnancy, and mother-daughter relationships. Many of you know that I lost my mom to breast cancer about fifteen years ago and I’ve missed her every single day during the time she left me. Over the years, I have become hardened to mother-daughther themes in movies and TV serial dramas because they are often hooky and overly-simplified, but I have to admit that I like the way the’ve developed and dealt with the mother-daugther theme from the beginning. I think they show the complexities of the relationship from multiple points of view and, at times, I’ve found myself  moved to the brink of tears. 

When Claudia Joy lost her daughter this season, I really lost it. I have no idea why that hit me so hard but it reminded me of the time I lost my mom but also forced me to think about how I would feel if I lost my own 18 year old daughter. Her daughter was just about to go to college and I lost my mom just when I graduated from college. It was such an important transitional time in my life and her death really made the world close in on me. I don’t think that I ever recovered from that lost but I did the best I could; and tried to make my mom proud with my life choices after her death.  Somehow Claudia Joy’s pain seemed to mirror my own, and there was something cathartic about the experience for me.

Betty, the gruff and eccentric bar owner on the show  is dealing with breast cancer and I think that it is crucial that we continue to think about women who survive it and those that don’t. I can’t tell you how many people have expressed surprise that my mom died from breast cancer because we have made so many medical advancements and there are so many options for women.  Well, there have always been disparities between how women of color and white women approach medical treatment and the medical establishment. Women of color, particularly African American women die at higher rates then white women and that that fact has remained consistent throughout the years. One of the reasons for this is that women of color don’t go to doctors as regularly as their white counterparts and they are often diagnosed later, during the advanced stages of their disease, which makes treatment methods more challenging. Additionally, when they are prescribed medication, they often don’t follow their treatment plans. It was a combination of  these factors that lead to my mom’s demise and I think that breast cancer awareness is crucial despite the enormous medical strides we’ve made in the last 15 years, so it makes my heart swell to see it being dealt with over time on the show.

Last but not least, Joan, the one strong African American character is dealing with an unplanned pregnancy. At one point, she considered terminating it and it was heart-wrenching for me. I enjoy watching her deal with the changes in her body and seeing how it effects her performance at work. Despite my determination and desire to get pregnant, one of my fears is that I won’t be able to perform at work, and I imagine myself getting as frustrated as she does.

For the most part, I’ve become addicted to these characters and the drama in their lives, but there have been a few short story lines about lesbianism, that I have fallen a bit short in my book. Just last week, one Army wife made a pass at the other and it came off as a plot device merely to titilate the audience. I really didn’t appreciate that. I despise when lesbians are viewed merely as entertainment or a plot twist and that story-line wreeked of that; it had no depth. Additionally, a few weeks back there was a storyline about high school student who was accepted to West Point and how her lesbianism might affect her career. Even though I think they were attempting to show the failings of the Army’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy, I think that story was weak. 

 All in all, on a hard-boiled egg scale of 5 eggs, I would give them 2 eggs on the queer stuff, but overall 4 eggs on plot, chacter development and content. Not bad!

Sara at The Egg Dancenominatd me for this award and I’m thrilled. Thanks, Sara! Now I get to  hand some out. I have to admit it’s been tough just narrowing down all of the blogs that I love to a mere seven because I love the blogosphere so much and I adore all of you but here goes.

1. I Am the Smart One. I love Kymberli’s writing and content. She has a fascinating blog about her family, her love, and her life as a gestational surrogate.  Oh, yeah, and she is really smart.

2. OneofhisMoms. This is one of my old favorites. This is, believe it or not, one of the first queer TTC blogs I ever read and I’m completed addicted. I’m also delighted that she has her newborn, Trucker with her at long last.

3.L.i.b.e.r.a.t.i.o.n Theory. This is a smart, well-written inspirational blog about the TTC when your partner is already knocked up.

4. Specific Destiny. This is the partner site to L.i.b.e.r.a.t.i.o.n Theory. Yippee! Giggleblue is preggo and blogging all the way. You go girl!

5.Twin Cycles. This is Gia and Ki’s blog about the incredible adventures of two girls trying to get preggo at the same time.  Ki recently got her BFP and they have quite a story to tell.

6.Queerstork.North of the border, Queerstork is on the TTC hamster wheel with me. Her blog is witty and fun.

7. The Family O. Always fun, always witty, this is the story of their two mom family: Lo, Co and their son, Jo.

Okay, gals, now it’s your turn:

1. Put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
3. Nominate at least seven other blogs.
4. Add links to those blogs on your blog.
5. Leave a message for your nominee on their blog.

I always loved playing blackjack as a kid. I was pretty good at it but I what I liked the most was the thrill of the chase. Vingt et un is still one of my favorite games to this day. I love looking into my opponent’s eyes and trying to guess if he or she is at the breaking point but, most importantly, I love to win.

So I pretty much have 21 days left until I start my IVF cycle and I’m trying to figure out what it all means. I’ve gotten wrapped up in numbers before; specifically, cycle 7 and before that cycle 5. I’m a pseudo-numerologist in training. Right now with 21 days to go it’s too early to discern the meaning of this  cycle but I am starting to feel the exhilaration and thrill that only comes when you’re pacing on uncharted terrain waiting for something big to come along. 

 I’m nervous, excited, thrilled, and scared. I’m trying to keep my wits about me and remember my ability to stay cool under pressure. They say that winning at cards is less about luck and more about tenacity and skill. I feel like I’ve been through the TTC boot camp and I’ve paid my dues. Now I’m just waiting for 21.

Okay, so I said that I was grateful for the healthcare that I have (and I am) and that I wasn’t going to write anymore posts like this where I completely ravish the U.S. healthcare system, but I think I was a bit premature. And here’s why…

I got a call from a former colleague of mine who is doing some research on lesbians and health care. She says she wants to draw attention to the disparities of healthcare access between het and queer women, her ultimate goal is to provide community-based solutions to a documented problem, so she contacted me for advice (don’t ask me why). Ironically, her inquiry sent me into a tailspin. I think I’m dealing with some PTSD, not be confused with my oncoming PMS. Her inquiry triggered a lot of painful memories that I suppressed during the last year and a half.

It all started when I was speaking to the nurse practitioner at my doctor’s office. I told her that I was 36 and wanted to start seeing a reproductive endocrinologist. She asked me if I had been trying to get pregnant unsuccessfully for one full year—well, not exactly, I said, “I’m a lesbian and after speaking with my gyno, my partner and I decided that I need to get aggressive and meet with an RE as soon as possible”.  “Well”, she sighed it’s going to be a bit challenging because I can’t put lesbian down as a diagnosis”. So that is how I became an “infertile”. It  turns out that the diagnosis was somewhat accurate but  the exchange still stung at the time.  I understand that the nurse practitioner was a bit player in an very lucrative medical drama aka U.S. healthcare, but she definitely made me feel like there was something wrong with me and that I was trying to get away with something.  However, my gyno advised me to get that referral based on my age—not my sexual orientation.

Fast forward to  my 5^th IUI’s and my encounter with Dr. Killjoy—not my normal RE– who after seeing my ripe-sized follicles told me that I should “come in the next day for an IUI and have intercourse with my husband that night just in case”. I gasped. Naked from the pants down, I was feeling very vulnerable, and just incredulous that I had been going to that office for at least seven months and yet he knew nothing about my lesbian identity.  I felt completely invisible. You should read the entire post here to get the full effect of the maddness. He’s the kind of doctor that doesn’t want to answer any questions and makes a lot of cultural assumptions.  Eventually, we worked it out for that cycle—“Obviously I can’t have sex with my husband, Dr. Killjoy so do you want to take two aspirin, think about the proper case of treatment in this situation and call me in the morning?” Needless to say, that experience made me doubt myself and my place on the TTC hamster wheel. “Should I really be doing this,” I asked myself as I looked at the stirrups, feeling invisible. I mean, who do I think I am to be messing with nature? I’m generally very vocal, but not typically when I’m half naked.

And then there are just the countless times that the nurses forget and ask me if my husband has “deposited his specimen”; or the times that I’m called to the examining room, and Nadia and I both get up and everyone looks at us and hush falls over the room. It’s disappointing because I’ve been told that this practice has a 30% lesbian clientele yet they have 10% sensitivity to the issues and that’s based on personality not on any kind of formal training or mandate, at least not that I can see. So, it’s been hard. Crazy-making. Difficult. And it adds an extra dimension to the gut wrenching nature of the TTC experience.

I mean after a medicated IUI cycle, which for me goes something like this… ten visits to get my vjayjay wanded at 6am,  12 nights of  shots of menopur in the gut, one trigger shot, two IUI’s and then one  eviscerating visit from AF, it’s hard to think about getting up and going back to the RE the next day to get back on the TTC hamster wheel. That alone is hard enough. I shouldn’t have to worry about making folks cringe or ducking when they mess up and ask for my husband.  It’s uncomfortable and often painful.So I’ve suppressed a lot of this. And it wasn’t until I got that phone call that it  all came rushing to the surface. Ugh.

At the same time, I feel guilty for writing this. I’m spoiled because I have access to assisted reproductive technology and Dr. Killjoy and Dr. Feelgood are considered experts in the field. ART is a mind-blowing technology.  IVF  just gets better with age so I’m very lucky to have the chance to do it now and the fact that I have insurance to pay for it makes me one of a chosen few.

So the waiting, the hoping, the crying, and the raging is really hard.  I guess, in the face of so much uncertainty, the only thing I know for sure, is that this experience has altered me. And I will never be the same.

I’ve never been a huge Judy Garland fan, I’ve never been into her cult following, but I have to admit that she can sing. And it’s not just that she has an incredible voice, it’s the sadness and heartache she pours into her songs that make you weep, full with the knowledge that you’re not completely alone.

When I was redesigning the site, it was really important to me that I have some kind of rainbow in my header. And it’s not because it has become a symbol of the LGBT community, but because it represents the power of possibility. Sort of, I guess, like baby dust.

Sending someone baby dust is such a phenomenon in the TTC Community but I never mention it here nor have I ever seen it mentioned in a positive light by any of the folks on my blogroll. But I do have to admit that I was quite touched when on of the commentors from International Comment Leaving Week send me some baby dust. It had never happened to me before.  And as I continue to the countdown to my fall IVF cycle (1 month and 3 days), maybe the mention of it is a good sign.

I do feel as if something magical in the air because I’ve witnessed the pregnancies of some of my blogopshere sistren who’ve been at if for a while: Vee and Jay and Calli. And I’m so happy for them. Additionally, Oneofhismoms, welcomed home her bouncing baby joy, Trucker, a few weeks ago and what a blessing that is.  So even though I wrote this really bitchy post about my sister -in-law who tripped and got pregnant a few weeks ago, I’m overjoyed for folks with whom I’ve laughed and cried with over this entire TTC nightmare.

So let’s hear if for baby dust, let’s hear if for magic and let’s hear it for all of us in the trenches. Maybe we will all find ourselves, somewhere over the rainbow, with our screaming newborns and lack of sleep someday soon.

Nadia’s father died of a heart attach about a year ago. Truth be told, they were never really close, but they did share a similiar sense of humor. When she was going through his things after his death, she found this Dilbert comic strip and passed it on to me as a momento.

I wouldn’t say that he approved of our relationship, but it also wouldn’t be fair to say that he disapproved. Frankly, he never really said much about our union, and that–in many ways–says it all.

Anyway, I came across this cartoon in my ‘favorite’ notebook today. I put it there a few years ago and forgot about it. Nadia gave it to me to remember her dad because it was a perfect ’screencap’ of my job at the time. I like to think that this cartoon is a private joke made only for the three of us, but I know that’s not true.

 When my father-in-law died, I was working for a non-profit with a wonderful mission but it also had an insane and unhealthy work ethic. My boss wanted to meet with me an average of 20 hours a week, and then had the nerve to be indignant when I told her it was hard for me to get my work done. Needless to say I worked very long hours, got into a few tiffs with the boss and often felt that I didn’t have time for me or my relationship.

 I can’t help but think that my time there impacted my ability to get pregnant, though I will never know for sure. I now work in a much calmer family-friendly environment and, even though it’s only been a few weeks, I already feel like things will work out for me when I start my IVF in September.  I sure hope so.

But right now, I’m sporting a wry smile  thinking about my father-in-law and Catbert.

Okay, I’ve been like I’ve been around the world in the eight days that I’ve launched this new site. So I want to catch my breath and reflect on some things I’m grateful for.

 Let’s Here it for U.S. Healthcare

Okay, even though I wrote this really snarky post a few weeks ago about the state of healthcare in the country. I watched Birth of a Surgeon last week that inspired me to give thanks for what I have. Despite the fact that the healthcare system in this country is soooo very problematic, it’s a million times better than what is happening in sub-Saharan Africa where each year over a quarter of a million women die in childbirth each year. Last week, Nadia and I watch Birth of a Surgeon which is based in Mozambique where in 2004 the government introduced a new health care initiative to train midwives in emergency obstetric care. The episode focuses on Emilia Cumbane one of the first mid-wives to be trained in the program.

The mid-wives there are awesome, brave, intelligent and very dedicated and I don’t mean to criticize them or the fabulous work they are doing –under the circumstances. But when I watched that show–through my five fingers because some of the images made me cringe– I kept thinking about my blog and all of the posts that I’ve written complaining about all of medical specialists. I had to ask myself, “Eva, what would you do if you had to walk hundreds of miles to sleep in the dirt floor just to wait in line to  see midwife because there were no doctors for miles and miles and miles? I gotta admit, it made me appreciate the particulars of my situation, you know what I’m saying?

Obscurity

Also, last week was the week of the great, Bran.ga.lina debacle. Apparently, someone had sneaked on to their 1,235 acre rental property in the south of France just to snap a picture of the new IVF twins. Can you imagine trying to recover from a twin birth and having to deal with the fact that the whole world is dying to see a picture of your kids? I can’t exactly say that I feel sorry for Angie, I mean she’s gorgeous, rich, and married to Brad Pitt, but I’m grateful that I don’t have to deal with the post-partum privacy issues she faces, especially as it relates to my newborns. That would suck.

Group Hug

Thanks to my commentors. I want to thank all of you who commented on my blog last week. Last Monday was the unveiling of the new site and it’s been a blast. I was flattered that so many of you came from International Comment Leaving Week. I personally visited quite a few of your blogs and enjoyed the range of topics and tonality–some of you ladies are really snarky. I hope we can visit each other from time to time. A few of you are just new to the Egg Drop Universe, possibly from blogrolls or internet searches, but thanks for leaving a comment and letting me know you’re out there. Lastly, I have to thank my old faithfuls. My life would not be the same without you. You have been with me through thick and thin and I just can’t tell you how much you mean to me.

Anyhoo, thanks to the Universe and thanks to all of you. You rock!

As many of you know, Louise Brown, the first test-tub baby, turns 30 today. Even though I was only eight when she was born, I remember the controversy. My  mother, a deeply religious woman who had three children of her own the old-fashioned way, was a bit shocked. She thought it was unnatural and that it messed with the natural order of things. At the same time, she understood how heart breaking it would be for a woman who could not get pregnant naturally. She loved being a mom.

I also remember watching a Phil Donahue show on test tub babies, where many in the audience expressed their outrage about the use of such complex technology to aid conception. I didn’t know what to make of it because I was so young. I barely understood human anatomy and reproduction, let alone the contraversy around egg retrival and in-vitro, but nevertheless, Louise’s birth story it did leave an impression on me.

Today, as you know, many of the issues and ethical questions remain the same but I’m not going to go into all of that here. Personally, I’m still in shock about the fact that I’m close to starting my own IVF cycle (1 month, 1 week, and 5 days, but whose counting?). Even though, I’ve done medicated IUI cycles before, IVF strikes me as the final frontier.  The procedures are more invasive and there are more medications involved, not to mention needles and the price tag. I never imagined I would be here. I’m scared.

But I keep reminding myself that 3 million IVF babies have been born since Louise, 500,000 of which were born in the USA.   If I am not mistaken, at 38 I have a 40% chance of success per cycle. And I guess that’s something to celebrate.

Nina, one of the writers at Queer¢ents, a blog about finance tips for the LGBT community, asked me to do a guest post about the cost of trying to conceive.

Take a look: Paying the Price for My One and Only.

Thanks, Nina!