Truckin'...

Well ladies and gents, I am finally, mostly recovered from the trip to the new IVF Clinic for the all-day screening. I suspect that my having chosen to fly rather than drive or take the train resulted in more stress than there really needed to be, but it was an adventure anyway.

We left the house around 5:30 Thursday evening – BAMF and The Ginge being kind enough to not only drive us to the airport, but bring Pooka along as well, so she could see us off. Mama agreed to stay at the house with Pooka, so that she’d have a responsible adult near at hand. I saw on the Facebooks that Mama and Pooka sat up a little after bedtime to finish watching an episode of “American Horror Story.” Good show, that.

Meanwhile, Hubs and I flew down to Washington-Dulles, had an hour layover, then flew back up to Newark, where we caught a cab for the 20-minute ride to our hotel. We arrived just after midnight. Not my favorite thing ever. The hotel was nice, though. Very modern. Lots of bright pastels and large photos covering literally the entirety of one wall in each area. The only downside was that when we went to flush the toilet in our bathroom on Friday morning, the bottom of the tank sort of exploded water everywhere. Now THAT was a sight to see. Ha!

We got breakfast with Mum and Dad (read: Intended Parents) early-ish on Friday morning, for which they refused to let us pay. I suspect Hubs may have anticipated that, so he only ordered a bagel and coffee. I, on the other hand, expected to pay for our breakfast, so I got a tasty egg white and veggie ciabatta sandwich with a side of fresh fruit.  We had a great conversation and lots of laughs, as per the usual.

After breakfast we took the hotel’s complimentary shuttle down the road to the IVF Clinic where we met with a very nice social worker who, as I predicted, asked us all the same questions we went over on the phone. And Hubs and I took the same personality profile as last time; after which the social worker informed us that neither of us are crazy, so that was good.  We did blood work, the results for which won’t be available till either this coming Friday or Monday. I doubt there’s anything wrong with either of us, though.

We also met with the social worker and Mum and Dad all together and went over everything that Mum and I discussed and decided early on. No, I’m not going to argue about terminating the pregnancy if the parents and doctor think it best. No, I don’t mind if they attend every single OB appointment. Yes, they can obviously be in the delivery room. Yes, I’ll carry twins. Blah, blah, blah. Mum and I had a giggle over all those questions, simply because we had already agreed on the answers.

I also got to have another sonohysterogram. That’s where they fill my uterus up with sterile water and check it out via ultrasound. Normally it hurts and makes me crampy, but the doctor who did it must have magic instruments because I didn’t even flinch. He said everything looks… Guess the word, folks? That’s right; perfect. MUAHAHA! Mum was of course pleased to hear it over lunch, which they ordered out. (Pizza is my downfall, and yet I managed to stick to one piece only! Huzzah!)

As we were finishing up our lunch, one of the nurses came in to discuss medications and the like. It’s VERY different than the last IVF Clinic’s regimen. I’ll be back on “dinosaur shots” (leuprolide, which BAMF once thought said, “liopleuridon,” hence “dinosaur shots”) even though this is a frozen cycle. They’ve decided to keep me on Estrace pills and Vivelle patches because they worked well for WiggleWorm and Tempest, but they want me to do the progesterone as intramuscular injections. Mind you, I’m not much bothered by needles, but If they’re going to keep me on the same type and dosage of estrogen, why not keep the progesterone the same, too? Additionally, they’re going to give me seven days worth of steroid shots post-transfer, to ensure that my body doesn’t reject the embryos. Clearly they don’t know me well. I joked that if they put me on steroids to prevent rejection of the embryo, they’ll more likely ensure that BOTH embryos will implant. But I was only half joking. I don’t call it the Uber-Ute for nothing!

The new IVF Clinic also apparently feels it necessary to do a kazillion ultrasounds in addition to the regular bloodwork to monitor beta hCG (pregnancy hormone) levels. Thankfully, I can have all of that done close to home, and won’t need to go back to the Clinic except to undergo the embryo transfer. After which, I will be instructed to go back to my hotel room and lounge around for 24 hours. That’s also new. The last Clinic sent me home about an hour after the transfer. Ah well; if the doctor says “be lazy,” then I’m gonna be lazy.

The trip home was long but good. We flew from Newark to Chicago, and got to spend a couple minutes with my in-laws, who we get to see far too rarely. We tried to see if there was a slightly later flight so we could spend some extra time, but we wouldn't leave Chicago until 9:00pm Central Time, and it would cost an additional $150 to switch the flights. From Chicago, we flew back into the Queen City, where Mama picked us up and drove us, at long last, home.

On an unrelated note, I’ve spent this month learning to work out and eat healthier. It’s. Working. By my measurements, I’ve lost about five inches off my midsection, not to mention whatever has slipped off my thighs, arms and other fat-lumps I’ve been dying to burn for years. I haven’t lost diddly as far as the scale is concerned, but frankly I don’t care. I’m watching myself get smaller, and I love it! I’m not starving myself – if anything, I’m eating MORE, but better. As I type this, I’m pausing intermittently to spoon plain Greek yogurt with a bit of honey and raspberries into my mouth. Best. Diet. Ever.

I’m also learning to break my empty-carb addiction. It turns out that I may have a mild sensitivity to wheat gluten. Just enough to make my face and fingers swell a little after eating them. Having switched to mostly gluten-free or at least sprouted grains, I can now fit my wedding and engagement rings easily onto my thumb.

Well readers, it’s been real. It’s been fun. It’s even been real fun. But it’s also almost 11:00 and I still need to jump in the shower before I can crash for the night, so for now… Th-th-th-that’s all, folks!

All Sorts of News!

I got to talk to Mum on the phone for a little while the other day. It turns out her egg retrieval went better than expected and the clinic has lots of high-quality embryos. The IVF Doctor is therefore suggesting that Mum try one more IVF cycle before they go through with impregnating me. Mum says that neither she nor the IVF doctor are hopeful that a pregnancy will stick, but they’re going to try it anyway. The reason Mum called was to basically ask for my blessing on it.

I guess I kind of feel like there has to be SOME hope of a pregnancy sticking, or it would be a total waste of Mum and Dad’s time, not to mention one last emotional rollercoaster for them before a really, REALLY big roller-coaster with surrogacy. Regardless: How could I NOT give them my blessing? I mean, the purpose of all this is to make them parents. If they can do it without me, GREAT! It means they’ll have better luck with a second baby if they decide to try for one down the road!

Mum says I’m wonderful for thinking this way, but I can’t imagine a surrogate who wouldn’t. I’d say I made out pretty well on this deal. I got to meet two incredible human beans, and Mum has assured me that we’ll stay in touch, no matter what happens. (She’s also promised to compensate me for my time, but it’s not like I’ve lost any, even if I didn’t take into account that meeting them was totally worth the tiny bit of time I’ve spent on this so far. Hubs, Pooka and I were already in Boston when we had breakfast together – which Mum and Dad paid for - and it’s not like she ate up a lot of minutes or data with texting, phone calls and emails. Ha!)

The testing is going ahead on October 25^th, despite all this. It makes sense: Mum and Dad want to cover all of their bases. I spoke to my very favorite Coordinator at The Agency about travel arrangements. I could be misinterpreting, but it seems like Mum and Dad are very, VERY accommodating. The new contract says they’ll pay for airfare, cab and hotel arrangements. What I didn’t realize in reading the contract was that this means that The Agency will arrange and pay for the airfare and hotel out of Mum & Dad’s escrow account, AND send me the funds to cover cab fare and meals allowance. With WiggleWorm & Tempest’s contract, we paid up front and got reimbursed.

The new IVF Doctor called me today to chat about my history and the process, etc. He seems nice enough, if extremely soft-spoken. I had to turn my desk phone’s volume up to the max to hear everything he had to say. We talked about my medical history, and I told him what worked best during the last three IVF cycles, as far as administering medications. I also told him that at the Other IVF Clinic, they transferred 3 frozen embryos for the last two cycles, but that I suspect they did this because the embryos had been frozen for the better part of two years. In Mum and Dad’s case, the embryos will only have been frozen for a couple of months.

The IVF Doctor seemed a little surprised by how much I knew about the process, and pleased that I was able to tell him how often and in what manner I took the medications, as well as remembering the names of the medications themselves (Estradiol, Vivelle patches and Crinone gel). I guess other carriers just do what they’re told, and don’t pay attention to the process itself? It does seem to be an American trend to not want/need to take note of the procedures we undergo. Personally, I like to be informed rather than blindly trust someone else with my care.

Anyway, we’re on for the 25^th! Mum and Dad had airfare and cab fare written into the contract in addition to the normal reimbursement for expenses and stuff. On top of that, the arrangements are being made by The Agency, and everything is being paid for up front, so we don’t have to pay anything out-of-pocket. HOW COOL IS THAT! So if I understand it correctly, Hubs and I will fly down to The Clinic on the 24^th, do testing and psych evals for 5-6 hours on the 25^th and then fly home. WHEE!

Repetitive, Redundant...

So, in the dictionary under, “redundant” it says, “see redundant.” (Thank you, Robin Williams, for that little nugget. It’s one of my favorites.)

I called the social worker at the new IVF Clinic today. She asked me a bunch of questions about my home life, like: “You’re married, right? How long have you been married?” And “How many kids do you have? How old are they?” Then we moved on to the more pressing matters, like: “Do you have a history of drug or alcohol use?” And, “How do you think you’ll feel about relinquishing the child after it’s born?” The answers to these respective questions, by the way, are: Yes. Three years. One. Thirteen. I imbibed as teenagers do, but quit after my first semester of college. And as with the last two, I’m confident that I’ll be fine, since I can’t really relinquish a baby that isn’t mine.

It just seems like we could (and probably will) do this line of questioning at the all-day screening appointment; which by the way is confirmed for October 25^th.

The social worker seems very nice, to be fair, and I’m sure this is all just standard procedure; I’m just whiny because I’ve done all this before; I don’t see a need to do it all over again.

I Like Ta Move It, Move It!

At long last, my records have made their way down to the new IVF Clinic! Poor Mum has been anxious to get the process started, but it’s nothing but a game of hurry-up-and-wait at this point. I can’t be a preggosaurus again until late December/early January.

Even so, there are screenings to do, apparently both over the phone and in person. I have one with the social worker on the 25^th, presumably to discuss my previous experiences as a surrogate, and to make sure I’m mentally stable enough to handle a third gestational carrier cycle. Then on October 10, I have a short phone call with the IVF Doctor at the new clinic. I have no idea what we’ll discuss; I’ve gone over my medical history with his nurse, in triplicate. They probably just have to be really, REALLY sure that I’m healthy or something.

Then on the 24^th, Hubs and I will drive down to the new IVF Clinic’s area and crash overnight in a nearby hotel, so we can start the all-day screening process. If I’m being absolutely honest, I’m not excited about the screenings. The physical exams and blood work make sense; as does the review of medications I’m going to have to take. This clinic has a thing for intramuscular injections, whereas the previous one only did Leuprolide (dinosaur shots, as my friend BAMF calls them) via injection. And since Mum and Dad just had some embryos frozen, I don’t think I’ll need to do that. But I digress.

The part I don’t happily anticipate is the hours-long “personality test” they make me do – the MMPI2. Honestly, anyone with half a brain can tell what the test is trying to determine, based on each question. I could make them think I was absolutely batty if I wanted to mess with them. Plus, the social worker usually grills me and Hubs about what we expect from the experience, how we’d react in rhetorical situations, blah, blah, blah. It’s dull and pointless. I’ve proven twice now, that I don’t consider the immediate postpartum hand-off as “giving the baby up.” It’s not mine to begin with, so I can’t give it up. All I do is hand him/her off to his/her actual parents and get wheeled off to take a nap and get spoiled by the nurses for a couple of days.

Oh well. Part of the process, I guess. LOL.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman!

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce a smaller, lighter… ME! Since my last prenatal weigh-in, I have lost 25, that’s right: TWENTY FIVE POUNDS, ladies and gents! No, I haven’t starved myself, and I just started really exercising hard this week. I have to say, though, that the discovery of the aforementioned weight loss has definitely made me want to continue exercising hard.

I should clarify that by “exercising hard” I mean “jogging.” I started this Couch-To-5K program on Monday and oh. my. GAWD, does it kick my butt. I’ve done it twice, and it really IS doable, it just sucks while it’s happening. The first week, you do a 5-minute warm-up walk, then alternate jogging for 60 seconds and walking for 90 seconds. You do this for 20 minutes, then do a 5-minute cool down walk. Repeat three times per week. Frankly, I hate it; but only while I’m doing it. Afterward, I feel all accomplished and sweaty. I’ve done it twice. I think I’m gonna need to repeat the first week though. I can do it without being too out of breath, but my legs get super sore (Yes, Lord Bear, you were right about sore legs. But Flo Rida’s “Sometimes I Get A Good Feeling” is a FABULOUS walking/jogging song, and that helps me keep going.)

Last night was a friend of Pooka’s birthday, so he and his brother came over to hang out (his party is later). We had Wife Soup – a creamy steak and potato soup I concocted a couple years back – and chocolate cake and ice cream. Of course, I completely pigged out, so to counteract it, I went for a 40-minute walk to the beat of “Sometimes I Get A Good Feeling.”

Anyway! Baby stuff!

Tuesday evening was my six-week checkup (and that was where I learned how much weight I lost). One of Hubs’ coworkers is this lovely, adorable little preggosaurus, with an absolutely gorgeous sleeve tattoo – I’ll call her Ink – and she agreed to go with me to my appointment, so she’d get an idea what to expect when she visits The Big Hospital.

Dr. Mischief was fairly amused during my exam. I’ve been poked and prodded and examined and inspected so many times by now, that I knew what he was going to do and when, so before he got a chance to say, “You’re going to feel a little pressure,” as most OB’s do, I announced, “Now I’m going to feel a little bit of pressure” and so on. I don’t think he’s used to patients doing his usual play-by-play. Ha! His nurse got a couple giggles out of the whole thing too.

Everything looked great, according to Dr. Mischief, and he gave me the green-light to go ahead and do another cycle in December. Needless to say, Mum was pleased to hear it when I emailed her and The Agency to let them know. I’m sure the new IVF Clinic will need some form of written clearance, but a verbal is encouraging.

After the appointment, Ink and I went out to dinner at this super yummy farm-to-table restaurant in The Queen City, and found me some running shoes. The store I went to wasn’t the one that was recommended by my coworkers and friends who run, but the associate was very helpful and I tried on a bunch of shoes before I picked out a pair of dark blue and bright pink Ghost 6’s by Brooks. Let me tell you, folks, those buggers make running and walking and standing SO much more comfortable! And they’re lighter than my sandals, even. I was really surprised when I tried them on, because they look bulky, but I went to pick up my foot to walk, expecting to have to lift half a pound per foot or something, and wound up stumbling because it was like lifting a bare foot. Ha!

So I guess jogging might actually be for me in the long run, and further weight loss is in my future. Don’t worry; I’ll ease up a little once it’s time to get preggo again. But not too much. I don’t want to wind up going backward!

Schlemiel! Schlemazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!

(Yes, I am indeed aware of what the Yiddish words in the title mean. However, I am making a pop culture reference from the 1970's, so their definitions aren't intended to apply to this post.)

Got a copy of my previous surrogacy contract from The Agency this morning, so I could look it over and let them know what I wanted to change, money-wise, before it goes to “my” lawyer for a higher level of scrutiny. Personally, I’m confident that my thinkmeats are functional enough to be able to decide for myself what the contract should look like, as I’ve read it through carefully on two separate occasions. But The Agency wants my proverbial buns covered, so it’s going to a lawyer up in the Queen City once The Agency and my new Intended Parents (IPs) have put it together to their satisfaction. Anyway, I emailed the Coordinator back to ask a few questions and make sure things tied out properly.

Yesterday, during our chat with our new IPs (*SQUEE!* I love the sound of that already!), we learned that their previous experience with a carrier had not gone the way they had hoped. It’s not my place to share specific details, but suffice it to say none of it worked out. In the end it boils down to: No wonder the Coordinator emailed me. I don’t mean to sound conceited, but clearly Mum and Dad need someone stable; someone who’s going to stick it out no matter what. And I am that. I am stubborn if absolutely nothing else. I will. Not Quit, until I am pregnant and have confirmation that the baby is healthy and the pregnancy is normal.

It was interesting to learn that Mum and Dad were as nervous about me accepting or rejecting them as I was about them accepting or rejecting me. Granted, it helps a lot that apparently The Agency thinks highly of me, but there’s always a sort of natural fear of rejection. As it turns out, The Agency thinks highly enough of me that they emailed me last week to ask if they could give my email address to a new surrogate who wanted to talk to an “experienced” one. Hee hee. Even that sounds odd to me. I’ve had two babies in as many years, and that makes me experienced. I wonder if it’s got something to do with my obsessive need to research the bejesus out of anything I plan to do, before I do it. Hmm…

Anyway, back on topic: I will admit I was a little hesitant about working with a straight couple at first. Not because I have anything against straight people, but because I wasn’t sure how another woman would react to me carrying her child for her. I mean, it can’t be easy to watch someone else do something you desperately want to do for yourself, even if she’s doing it for you. So I asked Mum on the phone on Saturday about that. Well, round-aboutly, anyway. Her response was honest, which I appreciate, and optimistic. She confided that she did find it difficult to discover that she can’t carry a baby, but she’s excited to share in the process anyway. Men don’t understand what it’s like, so it’s not quite the same talking to them. With a gestational carrier, she has the chance to talk to someone who really does get it, and can share in her enthusiasm. That pretty much took care of any reticence I had.

Besides, like I said before: We have a LOT in common. I’m not the only one who does her research (I saw that you checked out my LinkedIn profile, Mum!). We’re both serious list-makers and neatniks. We both love big projects, and we’re both a couple of Irish spitfires. Our hubses tend to sit back when we get wound up and wait patiently for the temperamental flare-up to die out before bothering to approach again. We’ll be doing the Wizard-of-Oz skip and singing the theme song to “Laverne and Shirley” in no time.

Let's Do This Like Brutus!

Getting up at 1:00 in the morning is harder than staying up until 1:00 in the morning. We had to, though, to get to the airport in time to pick Pooka up on her return from California. Thankfully, Hubs is very good at staying up late, so that's what he did. He stayed up and let me sleep, then drove down to the airport. We listened to standup comedy the whole way. Good times.

Pooka's flight arrived ten minutes early, much to my delight, and I got good hugs once she got off the plane. Little monkey had to borrow an additional carry-on bag from my mother just to fit all of her loot. We got her baggage in a lot less time than I'm used to. The airport up in the Queen City is deathly slow by comparison. 

From the airport, we shuffled off to a nearby hotel for breakfast at their little restaurant with the previously mentioned potential Intended Parents. Food was good, but truth be told, the company was the best part. Turns out Mum and I have a lot in common, and we operate very similarly. Dad and Hubs seem to share some personality traits too.

We talked for the better part of three hours, about nearly everything under the sun. Well, not really, but we covered all the important stuff and then some. There was a lot of laughing. Hubs, Pooka and I were very imoressed. Mum and Dad are very easy to get along with and very likeable. Needless to say, by the end of our visit we agreed to have The Agency draw up a contract.

So, come December/January if all goes well, I should be on a new adventure with two parents instead of just one.