Mrs Negative

Mrs Negative embraces her tardy Positive. Life after IVF and loving the son I never thought I'd have.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

My Ovaries look like Ovaries! Hurrah!

Blogging. Oh bittersweet hobby.
Being a huge fan of many, many blogsites, I check in daily with my crew. I soak up all the new entries like a sponge. Eager to be informed of the comings & goings. I silently cuss if one of my homies has failed to update her blog in recent days & long for a new entry. I marvel at the dedication of some, in awe of their constant & reliable daily updates. And yet, I let days & days pass in between my own entries. In short, I do not practice what I preach. I want to post words of substance but sometimes, alas, there is nothing new to tell. I wanted to thank you for sticking by me, even though my entries are sparce & sometimes kinda crappy. Thank you for not abandoning me & my mundane moments. Things will get more exciting in the coming weeks. I am counting on it.

I had an ultrasound this week. My IVF doctor wanted to know in advance that my ovaries were not scarred with endo or fiberoids. Add to the equation that I have a Didelphys Uterus. I have a single cervix but my womb is split into 2 seperate cavites. It is quite uncommon. A Didelphys Uterus will often go hand in hand with other organ abnormalities. Commonly, the kidneys may be affected & the ovaries may sit unusually high in the abdomen. This would make stimulated egg retrieval rather difficult. Not exactly textbook stuff. I was a little nervous prior, hoping that my latest ultrasound would not uncover yet another hurdle to clear. I presented myself at the Ultrasound Clinic, clutching my IVF folder, sporting clean underwear & an open mind.
I was pleasantly surprised to find the waiting room empty. I admired the modern decor, made small talk with the efficient receptionist & settled into a giant sofa chair. I then began to notice a huge range of reading material on offer filed all over the walls. Brouchures with titles like "Congratulations on your new Pregnancy!" "Collect your Mummy-to-Be-Bag" & "Your 12 week Scan. Common Q & A"
Suddenly, I was reminded that I was an Infertile in a shiny, fast paced, Fertile world. But of course, this was a clinic for Women's Ultrasounds. The very place that expectant mothers came in gangs to evaluate their pregnancies. At that moment, a lady entered the waiting room. She was pregnant. She had her blonde toddler & mother in tow. Blessed was she. Already the proud parent of one bitty child & now expecting another. Grandma came for support & no doubt to entertain the toddler while the new pregnancy progress was monitored. She was closley followed by another young woman. She was alone but looking radiant with her vast pregnant belly in the lead. The onslaught continued. Mere moments later a hip couple tumbled through the doors. They were young & clearly new at this gig. She was very slight. He was broad shouldered & sporting an earring & white joggers. While they waited at the counter she turned to him & placed her hands on her almost flat stomach. "I am wearing my leggings to work tomorrow & Friday" she moaned loudly "I don't care who notices on Monday! I can't hide this stomach any longer & my normal jeans are getting sooo tight! I just can't wear them anymore " Her eyes scanned the room for an audience and she stuck out her belly animatedly. I hugged my IVF folder tighter to my chest & flashed her a clenched grin before lowering my gaze. I fiercely concentrated on my scuffed shoes & the patterned carpet. Half her luck, I thought. On Monday she can tell her work friends that she is indeed pregnant & not just getting fatter.
Mercifully, my name was called & I weaved my way through the sea of fertility. The lady doing my ultrasound was an angel. She ushered me in & introduced the trans-vaginal wand. It was waiting. Condomed & lubricated. She began to explain how this internal ultrasound would work & suggested I undress & relax. I ripped my pants down like a seasoned pro & climbed aboard the paper-towelled bed. I assured her that I'd been in the presence of more trans-vaginal wands than she could ever dream of & positioned my socked feet expertly. Easy access was in both our best interests. We chitted & chatted. She asked tactful questions about my infertilty journey while sighing & shaking her head sympathetically. A real shame, she agreed.
She found my ovaries easily. "How do they look?" I asked with my arms folded up behind my head. "They are positioned normally & they look like, well...... ovaries" she said. "Yep, just like ovaries"
"Ripper" I whispered in relief. There were lots of nice follicles present, too. Measurements were taken from both left & right.
At last! I had a part of my reproductive system that looked normal! The ultrasound finished with a pat on the leg by the technician and a comforting declaration of "That's about it, my dear"
"Thanks for your sensitivity" I told her & grabbed a handful of tissues before getting dressed. Back in the waiting room, I paid my bill while standing next to the moaning soon-to-be-legging-wearing-woman & her sneakered partner.
I cast an eye over her slim tummy & perfectly fitting jeans.
Skinny Girl, I thought to myself..... you may be with child, but my ovaries are prettier than yours.
It was the best $235.00 I ever spent.

In addition, I want to thank Bugsy for "tagging" me. Just as soon as I work out what the hell that means, I will get working on it! I also wondered if anyone could tell me how to start a blogroll? I want to add you girls to my site, but have no clue how to go about it.
Thank you & smooches all round.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Patch At 'Ems

So, the cigarette thing.
I went to my GP this week and spoke with him about Nicotine patches. I was willing to give them a try. Anything to help curb my Sch-moking habit. Doc agreed they could be of great assistance. I marched on into the Pharmacy & purchased my weekly supply. Expensive little suckers! I joked to the cashier that it was cheaper to smoke. Some Incentive! Back at home I unwrapped my first hit. I have to admit that my initial desire was to roll that little patch up and Smoke it.
Be Strong dammit! Strong!

The good news in: "Wow. They work." I have only had one cigarette in 48 hours. Without so much as a sweat.
The bad news in: The side effects include acid-trip dreams. All night. You know those sweeping, epic type dreams? Hollywood style? Dreams so vivid, bizarre & on such a grand scale that they deserve their own soundtrack? I wake up approximately 3 times a night with my heart pounding against my sternum, Eyes spasmed open & left blinking into the dark night. They are not scary dreams. Just hectic & emotionally draining. In the past 48 hours my dreams have transported little old me to Post World War 2 China. I was aboard a speeding, rickety train with 2 gazillion Chinese folk, only alighting to rip down statues & search for rice. I have been to George Bush Snr's empty house for a New Year's Eve party with all of my friends & Snoop Dog (?) The party was thrown without George's consent. As a result I had to sprint & hide with my posse when George arrived home unexpectedly. I have gallivanted through the streets with my old school friends, like a wild pack of yahooing maniacs and then nearly drowned in a sudden, torrential downpour. This morning I dreamt that my mother visited. She began telling me that my Nail Artist was pregnant. I was really upset because my mother barely knows my her and, and, AND my sneaky, lying Nail Artist continually tells me that she is NOT EVER having children. Her husband & her decided long was a Child-Free marriage for them. Child-Free my arse! That bitch! She knows all about my infertility struggles. I have confided in her for years. She was supposed to be my friend! How is she going to look me in the eye on our next appointment??? Not only that, her 17 year old sister was pregnant too. And miserable about it. She doesn't even know who the father is! It's Maury Povich for you, trashy! It got worse. Is it possible... you ask? Well, I also dreamt that another male acquaintence was going to be a father. Consider this, he's never even kissed a girl (well, not many) he does not have a partner and at 42 years of age is still living at home with his parents. YES! I know! What does he know about having babies? It suddenly seemed mighty unfair that he was getting a Child before me. I woke up whimpering. Did you hear me?
See what I mean? Crazy times. These nicotine patches are supposed to help you STOP smoking, not leave you so traumatised that you wake up near sobbing, fevered & dazed needing 2 cigarettes & a shot of whiskey just to get you out of bed.
For the love of Gd, tonight, may I dream of kittens, daffodils, new shoes or at the very, very least.......... something erotic.
I miss you, dreamless nights. I miss you, Winfield 4's.
Sweet Dreams y'all.

Saturday, August 13, 2005


I love Omens.
Admittedly, I only acknowledge the positive ones. Sometimes I will unsuspectingly stumble upon an Omen & put the good vibes into my pocket for later use. My pockets get full. You see, I can turn a simple daily event into a stroke of good fortune. For example: If I look at a digital clock & it reads 12.34. That, my friends is a good omen. True! It sounds easy, but it is a skill that I have acquired over many years of clock glancing. If the clock reads 1.11 or 2.22 etc this is also a tremendously good sign that something great is going to happen! Do you realise the agony of checking the time only to discover it's 12.35 & you just missed out on a prime opportunity by a mere 60 seconds? That really upsets me. I have many other recipes for finding good Omens, but I can't share all of them or else they will just become common place. Quick! Look at your clock!

NASA had scheduled the return of the Space Shuttle for August 9. The very same day that we were going to our IVF appointment! I decided that the Shuttle return was going to be my good omen. An indicator of how things would pan out for us. Like a giant, flying Magic 8 ball. If the Shuttle returned home sucessfully it would represent good luck for our IVF journey. If it disintegrated upon re-entry, I would be furious. A sure sign of bad kharma. Damn those astronauts & that piece of Space Junk. The world rejoiced at the safe return of the Shuttle & crew & I did an extra little jig for my own lucky omen.
Our appointment went very well. And no wonder. While we were waiting in the Clinic, Peter & I were reading over the "Community Noticeboard" checking out brouchures & information & "For Sale" goodies. Imagine my delight when Peter pointed out a trick looking pram for sale. The Bertilini SHUTTLE! (Don't hold me to that Brand name) but a SHUTTLE nonetheless! Right on NASA! You really are looking out for us! Another Omen right there in Black Texta! I didn't tell Peter about my abstract omen theory. He thinks I'm pretty intelligent & I'd like to keep it that way. We got to talking about how Male Doctors seem to dominate Gyno & Fertility practices & how it seemed odd that more Women didn't treat. I admitted that I'd never had a Lady Doctor look at my Lady parts. I'd like a Lady Doctor I began to think & then another good omen smacked me in the face. "Mr & Mrs Negative" a female voice called from the counter. It was our Doctor! A she! Oh NASA! Please stop spoiling me with all these wonderful omens! Keep some for another hopeful couple. Our Doctor is lovely. She insists on being called by her 1st name. Whatever makes you happy girlfriend. If she can get me pregnant I'll call her any damn name she likes. We go back in 4 weeks. We have a series of test to do before then & all going well we can begin a cycle in October.
I'll be staring at my digital clock with a new ferocity. And every kooky omen I believe in will be held tight over the coming months. Better get some bigger pockets.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005


What a day.
It began so easily........
So there I was, waiting in line at our local supermarket. Daydreaming, feeling upbeat, almost smug. This time next week I wistfully pondered, I will be at our IVF appointment & soon after, who knows? I might be pregnant! I have felt the tingle of excitement on & off for the past few weeks. Hopeful & eager to begin. I glanced over at the Magazine rack & my eyes scanned the trashy covers "Paris.. this" & "Oral Sex School ..that"....then I spied "Princess Mary forced to Cover Royal Bump"...with that simply, pathetic headline, I deflated a little.
It's crazy the things that can make you feel so sad as an infertile. The smallest of moments can bring a gut wrenching, barrage of hurt stomping down on your head. Making your heart explode. I like Princess Mary. The beautiful, bright Australian "Commoner" who met a Danish Prince in a Sydney Pub, bewitched him like Jezabel, married him & then fell pregnant with astonishing timing. What did I care if she has to now forcibly cover her bump? I don't care! But.....I did care! I huffed & bawked at such ridiculous sensationalism & muttered under my breath that I won't cover my bump ever...not for royalty or anyone.
That's if I ever get a Bump. There's the catch. That's where the hurt lies. What if I don't ever get a bump? Stupid Mary! Don't hide your Bump! Don't!! Do NOT!! Oh, be proud of it! What I would give to have your bump.....and so on.

Later in the day I was strolling past another shop. I had long since composed myself regarding Mary & I innocently looked at a clothes rack sporting itty, bitty outfits. Baby Outfits. In the colours of your favourite football team, complete with tacky Logo. Right at the front was a teensy Black, White & Orange ensemble. A Tiger's Onesie. My husband is a fanatical Tiger's supporter. An image of Peter watching the football on a Sunday afternoon filled my head. There he was, swiggin' beer & yelling obscenities at the TV screen while bouncing our future Child on his knee. The child clad in his (or her) ugly Orange Tiger's onesie. cool. How impossible. Will I ever get a little Tiger? Dismay again.

I also learnt today that my beloved SIL is pregnant.
I love her. I love the children she produces. Already I have 2 amazing nephews. I want her to have 1000 babies. But today, that happy news just sent me tailspinning into further despair.

I am trying desperately to give up smoking, a hideous habit that I battle with constantly. As I picked up the packet, untouched so far today, the warning label laughed at me "SMOKING WHILE PREGNANT MAY HARM YOUR BABY"
I lit up. Inhaled & hated myself all over again.