Here's to peeing on sticks!

I am mid cycle number two since my surgery.  The good news is a few of my symptoms seem better.  The bad news is that one of those symptoms was the bloated painful ovulation.  So now I have no way of knowing if/when I ovulate.  I have joined the ranks of the scores of normal women who have no freakin clue when to get freaky.  So back I go to the pleasure of temperature charts, mucus and pee sticks.  Post op this filled me with dread, but right now, having gone through two physically uneventful ovulation cycles, I am feeling the urge to map out my mysterious new me. Maybe I can even justify getting a new shirt by calling it a "lab coat".  Dorky, yes, but I realize I may have to approach this like an adult version of "making potty training fun by having little boys pee on cheerios for target practice".   I will keep the discharge checking completely professional.  That's the kind of business that should never be mixed with fun.  

Perception vs. Reality

I gotta be fair:

A large part of why this blog is currently private is because I am aware that I don't always see things the way they really are, and I need to be able to vent my crazy, and then read it later to compare reality to perception.  I want to be able to execute this process and not hurt any well meaning people in the process. 

Truth:  I did go ape$&^!#! crazy over my perception that my sweet mom was not wishing for me what I was wishing for myself (see prior posts).  However, in retrospect I am thinking my mothers "disconnect"  may have actually been my own disconnect  - with reality.   

Victory:  I recently had a candid phone melt-down with my mom about my desire to adopt older kids, and how I perceived that some people thought I was crazy for this.  Boy did she ever rally! I feel so free and liberated now.   My mom loves me more than anyone on Earth does, and I forget, or don't tolerate the fact that she probably hurts for me worse and more often than I hurt for myself.  

Reality is I am a girl with a very wonderful mother.     

Humsters

Hubby had a semen analysis recently.  His original testing was over three years old, so we were required to be re-tested with our new doc.  Three years ago we had a bad morphology issue (AKA funky shaped swimmers.)  Unlike sperm count, or volume, morphology isn't really something that can be changed.  What little research has been done on indicates that it is genetic.  Both RE's I had review Hubby's stats determined that pregnancy was not impossible, just tougher, and given how long we had already been trying, we were officially deemed "unexplained", not "Male Factor". 

My new clinic uses the World Health Organization standards for semen analysis, which are different from the criteria used on the old test, (Krueger Strict for morph) so straight comparisons were going to be tough anyway, but here is the verdict:  We are now the proud parents of a penetrated hamster egg!  

My new RE uses the ultra techno savvy method of checking your swimmers by taking a hamster egg, dumping semen on top of it, and letting nature take its course.  Yes, it is disturbing to refer to "nature" regarding the mixing of Human and Hamster, but apparently hamster eggs are very similar to human eggs, and of course there is no X-man way that it is genetically viable for a man to impregate a hamster.  However that said, if all crazy were to break lose, and I were to be the proud mother of a Humster, i vow that I would love and care for it, and hide it from the government the way every good mother of a freak should.  

I thought this hamster egg thing was the most bizarre thing I had ever heard, and told everyone I ran into about it, so let's cross our fingers my first biological child does not have a big ears or a semi mouse face.   Poor kid will never live it down.  

The other verdict:  Hubby had stellar results across the board.  I have to say how disconcerting this is.  Was the original test wrong, is this one wrong, or should I be celebrating this mini miracle?  During the week long wait between the test and the results, I had gone through a lot of self therapy and had revved myself up for the bad results and the reality that IVF is our next step, so when Hubby told me the good news I congratulated him and burst in to tears.  It had been a really hard, transformational week  - for nuttin.   My psyche just couldn't take it.   Thank heavens I don't really have a humster baby to take care of at home.  I need some me time.  

Post-Op Update

It has been about a month since my laparoscopy. I haven't started working out yet, but other than that I am back to normal, and I am even having my first period since the lap. Actually, the not working out means I am REALLY back to normal. Four weeks to normal isn't bad. However two weeks post op I honestly thought I would never walk normally again. I still couldn't walk without having to bend over to catch my breath. Flights of stairs were so hard. I was still in so much pain. I was convinced the surgen had accidentally sewn me together erroneously because when I tried to stand up straight it felt like my right innards were ripping apart. Two weeks out I went for my post op check-up and had a MELT-DOWN. I was still so sad about the endo, I was in so much pain, I had severely underestimated how long it would take to recover, and I had so many questions about what my course of action should be in light of the endo. I came to the appointment armed with a list of questions, and as I was reading them I rapidly descended from quivering lip, to full on ugly cry, to full on mental break-down laying in reclined front seat of car in fetal position. Good thing Lowell insisted on coming. Someone had to drive.
I just need to document the bad, because now that I am feeling better I worry I will forget how truly awful this was. I am worried I might sugar coat the lap for some poor girl. Really I think my procedure was not abnormal, I just had completely unrealistic ideas about it. I went to work after 2 days off plus the weekend. STUPID. I strongly recommend taking two weeks off work, and if you don't end up needing that much time - great.

I guess I am not so thrilled anymore

Ok, so my triumphant last post was a bit premature. Now I am sad. Now I have actually educated myself about endometriosis, and basically, it sucks. Now I have realized that endo doesn't just explain why I have been infertile, it IS why I am infertile.

I had a scream/cry/swear(& sound like an idiot)-fest on the drive home from a weekend get together with my family:

My well meaning mother was obnoxiously hopeful that I would get pregnant very soon, because 28 year ago my infertility stricken aunt had a laparoscopy and then had a baby shortly thereafter. -So now I would too!

This was said in response to sharing some information with my mom about our progress on our adoption homestudy.

I get absolutely no feedback regarding my adoption pursuits. None. I actually get negative responses from some people, which sends me through the roof, but NONE? Typical. That's all I can say.

The most painful part of it was this: Her fixation on the fact that having a baby will magically "heal me". I absolutely feel that I could get pregnant now. I absolutely feel that I will be a parent. I absolutely know that having a baby will be very exciting and will heal some wounds. But it won't heal them all because baby or no baby I will still be an infertile woman. In what I guess was 25 years of married life + menstruation my dear aunt had two children. TWO. And as wonderful as her life is for her, or would be for many others, hers is not the vision I have for my own. For me, her life would be an abismal defeat.

My dream is to have CHILDREN. They will come into my family at various ages, they may or may not look like me, they may have issues (who doesn't), and they may not meet the criteria of being another person's dream children. But they are the what I dream of every day.

Validation!

I had my laparoscopy yesterday. The verdict: Endometriosis. Everywhere. Completely covering my bladder, my bowels, in and around my intestines, ovaries, fallopian tubes and so much in my pelvic cavity that it had pushed every item above to where it had no business being.
I am so relieved that I am not crazy. I feel so bad for giving my Uti such a bad wrap. I guess my woman parts aren't traitors after all, they just had an impossibly poor work environment.

Is Disneyland really the happiest place on earth?

Ugh. My inlaws have declared that in lieu of regular Christmas we are going on a family trip. This is good news. We have never attempted anything like a family trip, so I support this bold new step toward Utah style togetherness. The Ugh is for the Disneyland thing. There are 16 adults and five children that will be going on this adventure. The oldest child is in Kindergarten. and two of the children are actually babies. So is this really the best place for us to go? I have mixed emotions.
I haven't been since I was 12. And it was decent then.
Husband has seething hatred for Disneyland which is founded by nothing legitimate, unless "hating kids called Hunter and Trekker, and all their fat parents and grandparents" counts. I don't think this counts, but hearing Husband cite this repeatedly is so annoying that it is indeed beginning to count. Points for consistency.
I am open to the possibility that it may actually be fun for us. Who knows.
However, the pro Disney movement suffered a setback when my brother in law tried to persuade husband on the basis that Disneyland is so fun for his kids, and "don't we like seeing how much fun his kids are having?" Ummm -No.
I love my cute little nieces and nephews so much. But voyeuristic parenting does not bring satisfaction. Sorry. And who are you trying to kid? I know you also love your nieces and nephews but would you really want to spend the day on its a small world or dumbo strictly to see the joy on their little faces? I doubt it. I submit the hypothesis that parental love is a lot different than Auntie love. As it should be.
And truthfully, I know some wierd grown ups who go to Disneyland pre children. But husband and I are not that kind of people. We are the kind of people who probably, eventually, will suck it up so we can see a big smile light up our little Hunter/Trekker's face as he bobs up and down on Dumbo. But eventually is a long way away and it makes me so sad.