Fertility Monitoring: So There I Was, Pants Around My Ankles

Whoever thought to use
oven mitts on stirrups
is a freaking genius.

View from the
ultrasound table.

Today I went in for the start of my fertility
monitoring and blood work.  Or as I like to call it "Poke and Prod"day.  The first part was the ultrasound.  My nurse greeting me with "Drop trou and take a seat on the throne!" The ultrasound went great- they check out the lining of your uterus- I was at 7.8mm- they are looking for something in between 7-10mm.  She also checked out my follicles, which also sounds like a pick-up line (follicles are responsible for releasing the egg).  She had a good count on both ovaries.  They also take blood to check estrogen levels.  Normally I'm an easy stick (heyo), but it took 4 tries and on the third try I felt a jolt through my body and radiating soreness run through my arm.  I'm not sure what happened, but I'm pretty positive I screamed something that rivaled the F-word count from "Wolf of Wall Street".

Although I was diagnosed with PCOS, I am very lucky to not have major fertility issues such as a blocked tube.  We decided to do the extra monitoring this cycle to make the most out of the try. We are investing a lot into this, financially and emotionally, so I wanted to make sure we are doing the most we can do to get it right. We are hopeful that my insurance will cover most of the monitoring, but we can't seem to get a clear answer from anyone, despite many hours sitting on hold with the insurance company. If insurance ends up not paying for me, you'll find me crying in the corner over our credit card bill. We'll keep you updated!

Another thing that happened is my grandmother passed away this morning.  I had the chance to be with her last weekend and, although she feared technology, she was up-to-date on this blog because each time I posted I would print it out and mail the latest entry to her.  She was the most southern of southern women, but was so accepting of me, Meg and the path we were taking to start a family.  She was fading last night so I called my mother who was by her side to the end.  My mom said, "I think you should tell her you're pregnant." And, while it's not the truth, I had also thought the same thing.  It would make her happy and it wasn't going to hurt anyone.  It wasn't until my mother held the phone to her ear and I struggled to say the words that this whole process, all the work, money, and blood (literally) and tears that have
that has gone into this hit me as hard as it would ever hit.  Even through the unspeakable pain that my grandmother was experiencing, my father said she raised her arms off the bed in celebration.

So.  Next steps.  My hormone levels were good- no surge detected (typically a surge of LH will happen between days 12-16).  And I'll go back in for another ultrasound and more blood work on Thursday morning.  Our  trigger shot will be arriving in the mail tomorrow so we will be ready to inject as soon as they give us the ok- this is the shot that Meg will have to inject in my behind.  I'm already preparing an arsenal of gifs for this experience.  Heh. ARSenal.

So This Uterus Walks Into a Bar...

Well, today we got up and went in for my hysteroscopy (the doctor thought he saw something on my HSG scans and wanted to rule out anything that needed to be surgically removed before we try).  I don't do well with waiting.  Particularly with some of the bad news we have encountered on our journey so far.  The night before the test I had crazy nightmares (mostly of the zombie nature- I blame that on Walking Dead's season premiere) and then I got "nervous tummy" which sounds cuter than it is- I still want anyone reading this to be able to look me in the eye.  I also got tense.

This test was one of the last hoops we have to jump through to ensure the "pipes are working", the "foundation is strong", the "recipe includes nutella".

What I imagine a uterus looks like.

After the doctor  Jacques Cousteau-ed my uterus (they take a camera up there and play paparazzi) he says, "Everything looks great.  You've got a beautiful uterus.
Perfect for hosting a baby."  Guys.  I really needed to hear that.  So.  We will now start clomid on my next cycle in a couple weeks and try our first insemination attempt. #wut




In the meantime we have two goals.
1. I need to lose the last few pounds that put me in the safe BMI zone.  More are welcome to relocate- but no relocating from my thighs to my ass.  Thunder is for the skies, not the thighs.  <rim shot>




2. Narrow down our donor options and order sperm.  We are really looking for someone who is tall and thin- let's fight genetics together. And has a healthy family history.  From there we'll decide what other factors are important.  Does the expanded profile say whether or not he's a Chenoweth fan?  #requirement

Guys.  Things are happening! #holler

Yeah, But... I'm Gay

What I imagine a uterus looks like. 

I have my hysteroscopy a week from tomorrow which will hopefully (cross fingers, toes, etc) be the last step before we start trying.  Because this procedure involves putting a tiny camera into my uterus, the reproductive center requires that I have a blood pregnancy test beforehand.  To test to see if I'm pregnant.  Hi. Lesbian here. If I'm pregnant, somebody better make space at the Inn because I'm the second Mary Mother of Jesus.

TOP 5 THINGS MORE LIKELY TO HAPPEN THAN THIS TEST BEING A POSITIVE

5. Miley Cyrus entering a convent.

4. Orange juice tasting good after brushing your teeth.

3. The MBTA functioning without a delay for 5 minutes.

2. Nutella becoming fat free.

1. Anyone ever finishing a game of Monopoly.

11 things you shouldn't ask a lesbian mom (or a lesbian who very much hopes to be a mom)

Posted by Meg (with Kate's feelings/responses in gifs)

Parents.com offers a witty list of 10 things you shouldn't ask a lesbian mom, which I'd like to share here as a friendly PSA to our loved ones about what you really should not ask us about our baby-making journey and our (hopeful/someday/pleasepleaseplease) baby.

1. Which one of you is the mother?

2. Who's the biological mother?

3. Where did you get the sperm?

4. Is the dad in your child's life?

5. What do you know about the sperm donor?

6. Isn't your child confused about what to call you?

7. Doesn't your child miss out on doing "dad" things, like playing ball and using tools?

8. What did you write under "Father" on your child's birth certificate?

9. Where is your child from?

10. Are you worried your child will get teased because you're gay?

I've added an 11th question, which unfortunately we've already been asked:

"What if you have a boy?" -Unidentified family member

I'm not sure if my jaw dropping to the table made it clear that this was a completely insane and inappropriate thing to ask us, and honestly I can't even remember how we answered. It was the first time someone we love asked us a truly offensive question, and unfortunately I'm sure it won't be the last time. But hopefully parents.com's "10 things you shouldn't ask a lesbian mom" can help.

Who's Yo Daddy? No, But Really.

My 6th grade Geography project.
We were asked to create our own
country and show rivers, towns, hills.
I made Streisland with the
Bay of Prince of Tides. #gay

Posted by Kate

As some of you know, I came out later than most of my homo friends (to be fair, most of my homo friends are Emerson College kids who were born from their mother's womb riding a unicorn with glitter flying out of their butt accompanied by a medley of Cher songs).  If you're new to this blog or are stuck on the MBTA red line I'll just point you to a post on my other blog titled There's Are ALWAYS Signs: How to Tell If Your Child is Gayer Than a Clutch Purse on Tony Night.  So.  I dated men for some time.  I am not a Gold Star Lesbian (click here if this isn't in your everyday vernacular).  Add to it that we are in the final stages of searching for a sperm.  Having to look at men, understand their family history, and imagine what our combined genetics might look like is bringing back dusty old memories of dates where my flirting was utter proof that I would have been a horrible actress.  Imagine me, in a dress, flirting with a frat boy.  Not. Pretty.  Hil. Arious.  We touched briefly on the path we were taking toward choosing a donor in a previous post (I Like My Men Like I Like My Beer: Chilled and in a Six Pack), but as we get closer to the place where we will have to narrow down "Mr. Tubular" we get their hair color, eye color, ethnicity, education, family history, hobbies... So Meg and I decided to tell this story like a game of "Guess Who?".

Kid, in our world it's ALWAYS a Mary.

We had several sperm banks to choose from, based on a list provided to us by our fertility clinic. One of the options (that we did not choose) is the California Cryobank which offers the option of searching for sperm by celebrity look-a-like. Want your sperm donor to look like Brad Pitt? No problem. Welcome to the vortex of time suckage as you hit up that site for hours.  Some of the celebrity look-a-like options are fantastic, handsome, talented men I would LOVE for my kid to look like (Taye Diggs- we all dig you).  Then there are some "celeb" donors that give you the same awkward feeling you get when you watch a drunk girl try to dance at a wedding.

Examples:
Ryan Lochte.  This is all I can imagine:



                   









Or Owen Wilson:











Or maybe on the positive side, dream of dreams, an NPH baby:




So, to give props to our town of Boston, let's say we chose to look at donor 132 *(number changed for privacy) who is described to look like Mark Wahlberg.  His mini-bio reads: "With a list of hobbies that includes beat boxing..." We're just gonna stop right there.  And for an additional $250 you can get a childhood photo and a voice recording.  The last thing I want to know is if voice box matches the beat box.

In all honesty, we didn't go with California Cryobank because the celebrity look-a-like feature felt so cheesy. On top of that, they charge you for each and every little thing. Want a childhood photo? $50 please. Want to hear the man's voice (PS, no thanks)? That's $100. Personally, that didn't feel good to us.

Now back on the lighter side, let's take look at some of the donors that exist out there:

Blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'5", fair skin.
Message to recipient: DON’T WAIT FOR OPPORTUNITIES TO HAPPEN, MAKE OPPORTUNITIES HAPPEN!! OR, “LIFE’S A GARDEN, DIG IT!”

Caucasian.  175lbs.  BU student in the Grad School of Fine Arts.

I am a healthy person whose only bad habit is eating too much candy.

Kate: Ok, he's actually pretty cool.  Except for the pornstache.

Brown Hair, O+, loves golfing.
Why did you decide to donate? Because I heard it was good money.  And I want to spread my superior genes.

Kate and Meg:  Our yeah, we can't wait to tell our future child this.

So picking our donor kinda feels like being set up on a blind date.  But the best part is I don't have to make small talk with him, I don't have to pretend he's cute and more importantly I get the girl in the end.

After a Challenging Day of Cat Care, Meg Had 2 Drinks & Decided to Go to CVS Without a Bra On

Post by Meg (with gif interpretation by Kate)

What are you usually doing at 8:45pm on a rainy Thursday night?



If you’re anything like me, you‘d be walking to CVS in your pajamas after a stressful day (and a gin and tonic) to buy ovulation predictor kits (OPKs) for your wife. Wait…that’s not what most people do on Thursday nights?

So anyway, I walk into CVS and scan the aisle signs until I see “family planning.” That seems to be a natural place for OPKs to live, right? I walk by baby formula, baby thermometers, baby bottles and baby powder. Hmm…if you already have the baby, aren’t you kind of done with family planning?

It's a stretch to make this apply to scouring the aisles of CVS, but I (Kate) felt it needed to be on our site.

I come to the end of the aisle where I assume they must hide away the OPKs and right under the

“family planning” sign is, drum roll please…condoms. Now, I know I’m hardly an expert on condoms, but I at least understand that people use condoms when they’re planning NOT to have a family. The sign should actually read “Family Prevention.”

Kate's interpretation of what she thought Meg wanted to do to whomever designed the CVS layout.

In the end, I found the OPKs (which, by the way, are outrageously expensive), in the “Feminine care” aisle next to pregnancy tests, basal body thermometers and prenatal vitamins. Not that any of those things would be useful for family planning….