In Vitro Fertility Goddess
In Vitro Fertility Goddess is "a fantastic book", "a page-turner", "a great read!"... All Reviews Here » …….
One way of certainly taking your mind off the 2 week wait (and the importance of de-stressing here are paramount according to all the latest medical and annecdotal evidence) is to read something that makes you relax and laugh in the process.
So why not have a look at my best-selling and critically acclaimed eBook 'In Vitro Fertility Goddess' - free excerpt below - which has been described as the "Bridget Jones of Infertility" by the ABC, "hilarious" by Ch. 9, "laugh out loud funny" by the respected books reviews section in the Sydney Morning Herald and the list goes on…
Enjoy! XXX Jodi FREE EXCERPT OF IN VITRO FERTILITY GODDESS 'The 2 Week Wait' Hooray! Have passed my first IVF exams - ‘Hormones I' and ‘Follicles II'! Dr T is happy with results of both and can now proceed to next subject - ‘Egg Extraction'. Apparently it is the most painful, described as causing ‘Some Discomfort' as opposed to ‘Very Slight Discomfort' of the ultrasounds. Still, is all preparation for ‘Excruciating Mind-Numbing Pain' of childbirth. The procedure is scheduled for 10am Friday so M and I have no choice but to drive non-stop to the city, a journey of twelve hours. We arrive in the evening to stay in our house with the friend who is renting it. L greets us with a candlelit reception and beautiful dinner. She is so welcoming I totally forget the presence of the awful neighbours. Besides, something which could have far more impact on our lives is happening in the morning. Friday - day of First Procedure - before anything happened had to go and pay yet another enormous fee up front to maniacally smiling receptionist (does she get a commission?). Then M and I were separated. I was led to a secret destination and sat behind curtain drinking tea and eating biscuit while talking to nurse about procedure. No one else was in sight -they always make you feel like you're the entire reason for the whole multi-storey multi-staffed building and jobs of the people. M had been whisked away to do his embarrassing bit before my gory bit began and dutifully reappeared in time to put on gown and shower cap like the rest of us. Inside the ‘operating room' Dr T almost immediately inserted the painkiller, a derivative of pethadene and within seconds I sensed I was making mad comments directed at the gay Mardi Gras side of him, such as, ‘Thank God I'm not on the dance floor now! I need to get to the bar!' This surely was an unusual comment to make even for a drug-addled patient, but I couldn't think of anything else to say and besides I kept imagining that under his white coat was a purple feather boa and sequinned shorts. And I had an overwhelming urge to assure him that I was OK and enjoying myself as if it was indeed a dance party we were attending. These thoughts faded abruptly when, after saying ‘This may be a bit uncomfortable', he inserted the shoe-horn type metal things that double as pre-pap smear torture instruments and stuck up an ultrasound device with which he gave me an internal anaesthetic, then started his quest. God knows what it would be like without the internal anaesthetic because with it, it felt like he was felling an old growth forest in there.. Aauugghh! ‘MORE DRUGS PLEASE!' They allegedly topped me up and Dr T said the problem lay with a floppy ovary, moving all around. Now it was as if the woodchip industry had been relocated there too, causing even more pain and causing me to ask for even more drugs and in background nurse was yelling numbers of woodchips? eggs? from TV screen that couldn't see as I'd had no idea the procedure would require glasses. This time Dr T said no, I'd used my quota already. ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' I demanded but he said we were only half way through. Christ! This was agony! If Dr T wasn't giving me more drugs, I wasn't going to protect him any more so yelled out ‘OOF!' and ‘OW!' for the next four hours or however long it took (M later said about three minutes, but surely that was just pain-free male interpretation). Then shuffled into recovery, where eventually lab technician came in and said I had four grade one eggs and two grade twos and one grade three. This was apparently good news but spent rest of day in so much ovarian pain and still stupid from painkillers that didn't really register except so far so good. In the brochure it suggests that it may be a good idea to take the rest of the day off work after the procedure. Now the only job that I could imagine where it may be remotely possible to spend the rest of the day at work would be someone whose job entailed watching hours of TV without moving from a large comfortable chair. The job would also require two ex-Bulgarian weight lifters as PA's to assist the excruciating rise from the chair to go to the toilet and wait by the toilet in case you fainted in agony. At my disposal I had M and L our house sitter, who both put their backs out on my behalf. Sitting popping painkillers in the beanbag, kept getting flashes of the procedure. Am now convinced Dr T and possibly numerous other gynaecologists are driven to homosexuality due to their jobs. If M is enjoying celibacy so much after having to perform sexual duties on demand over prolonged period, it's entirely possible that sticking objects/your head/ hand in female nether regions hour after hour, day after day could result in total sexuality change.
Rang up this morning (day after procedure) to find excellent news that six out of seven eggs had fertilised! Joked all day about becoming ‘Eight is Enough' or ‘Brady Bunch' family, alternating with giving childless friends first choice of litter etc. In general on absolute high, especially now that yesterday's pain has subsided.
News next day a bit depressing, apparently have only one Grade 1 embryo, of four cells, others are similar number of cells but three Grade 2 and two Grade 3. Why? Why? Why do they so suddenly get worse and not better?
Day 3 - still one Grade 1 embryo thank God, but today only two Grade 2's which are all of eight cells, which is OK for today. This afternoon walked around village grading babies, ‘That must have been a grade three embryo. Ha,ha.'
Day 4 - Have been crying almost all day! No Grade 1's left and only one Grade 2 that looks dodgy!!! Apparently they're all slowing down dramatically, confirming my worst and latest fear that it appears to be my egg energy supply that is stuffed and there is NOTHING that can be done about it!!! Once again am in terrible minority category and this time no solution to it. Spent the day talking about getting egg donation from impoverished Bulgarian or similar. Walked through village again, full of over-35 fertility goddesses pushing babies in prams. Today had very strong urge to tip the prams over, scattering babies willy- nilly in the street. Am overcome with such overwhelming injustice that tonight have bought a bottle of wine and cut myself off from world. Cannot possibly speak to ANYONE. Have nothing in common with anyone out there - particularly idiotic neighbours who are fussing about how many centimetres a wall is from their property.
Day 5 - D-DAY and already know what answer is. Even dreamt last night about ringing nurse this morning and her saying ‘sorry they're all Grade 3'. Feel as if I am trapped under entire rubble of World Trade Centre, cannot find way out as there is none and this won't go away. Fell asleep crying and woke up crying. A large part of me has ceased to exist, is now a phantom like when have limbs amputated. Have relegated my reproductive system to non-utero-grata status.
Cannot BELIEVE what happened today! Am still in shock…
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Once you start desperately trying to conceive, you'll find that time becomes very warped. The month becomes partitioned into three distinct parts, which pass at discernibly varying speeds:
1. The Period - depending on whether you are an endometriosis sufferer, this varies in how quickly it passes by, but generally at moderate pace.
2. The Pre-Ovulatory Phase - Has a tendency to creep up and take you and your partner by surprise, yet for those whose hormones are out of whack and therefore periods irregular, can drag on considerably.
3. The Luteal Phase, otherwise known as The Two Week Wait - feels like the time lapse between Prince albums or lunar eclipses. Britney Spears got pregnant and gave birth to two children during one of my luteal phases.
As you can see the last part of the cycle, that part after ovulatory sex or IVF embryo implantation and the pregnancy test will inevitably seem like the longest two weeks of your life. And there is no known way to shorten it, either.
Pharmaceutical companies have tried and given us false hope with the Early Pregnancy Test but these can be quite inaccurate and even if you get a Positive, the dedicated Trying To Conceiver will not trust it but wait obsessively until the recommended time has passed for the conventional test. Even then they won't trust the result until they've peed on at least three sticks.
And of course if you're in an IVF cycle you have to wait for the blood test result, which can add a whole weekend to the waiting time and this was the case for me. You can still see the scratch marks on the walls.
As it happens there are many quirks of nature to keep us entertained and maintain our anxiety levels during this phase. The ovulatory twinges, the abdominal pains, the sore breasts, the skin outbreaks, the gas are all things that passed the time when Cable was doing the Zsa Zsa Gabor marathon. (For those not in the know, Zsa Zsa was the Paris Hilton of her time).
I have read on various sites some odd ‘pregnancy signs' like itchy backs and feet, runny noses etc., although these may well have been signs of boredom rather than conception.
This is perfectly understandable as few things could be more tedious than waiting for that test result.
