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L is for...

I had my Endometrial Receptivity Array (ERA) done today.
For those of you who don't know what that is, hold tight, I will explain in a minute, but I still need to tell you what L stands for. Today, L is for Lobster.

So the ERA:
This is the same procedure as the "scratch", which *may* aid in implantation ... but the sample is sent for testing instead of being discarded. When I had the scratch done leading up to my 2nd transfer, they had to clamp my cervix because apparently, it moves too. Who knew? This resulted in me almost succeeding in breaking my mothers hand, while trying not to jump off the table and away from the pain, all while swearing profusely (semi) under my breath.

So how does it work? In a nutshell, you take all of the injections leading up to a transfer, but instead of transferring an embryo, they take a biopsy of your uterine lining—with no anesthesia or pain meds (OMG OUCH!) and send it out for testing to see when your personalized "window of implant…
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S is for...

Yesterday was Mother's Day here in the US.
It was hard. Shitty even. S is for shitty. 
You'll get the pun in a few.
Also, this post is not censored for profanity. I let it fly freely.

It started off like any other family gathering day.
Well, after I could rally myself to get out of bed. I'd much prefer to just lay there with Tallie.
Wake up, eat breakfast, down some coffee, start (or finish) whatever dish I was tasked with taking.
This year was dessert - cupcakes for everyone!

...Then I wished a group of fellow IVF'ers (most with newborns or babies on the way) Happy Mother's Day. Of all the people I talked to, these were the people I least expected an insensitive comment from. I thought wrong. Fuck her. I muted the chat.

Chad was off running errands and came home to me in meltdown mode. My instinct was to "frost the fucking cupcakes" and start drinking. At 9am. We didn't have to be anywhere until 2, so I would have been real far gone by that point. Oh…

W is for...

Today I had my first ultrasound in almost a year.
Well, except for the emergency room visit.
W is for Wanda. Everyone's favorite friend.



Dr. B was running a little late. Darn those other women and their eggs. I remember my Nurse Coordinator telling me that ovaries don't know what day it is (about working holidays). Apparently they don't know what time it is either...
So I waited. Half naked. Covered by an over-sized paper napkin. Just me and the ultrasound machine. Wanda. Should I play with her? Roll the giant track ball around a bit?  Would they know? I mean, it's not like they can have cameras in there, right?
I grabbed my phone. I checked Etsy. I messaged my transfer groups and talked about the horrors of cervical clamping that may be in my near future. I waited.  I was bombarded with photos of babies.  I love babies.  I'm still waiting.
I always feel so awkward waiting there. Trying to decide if I should let my feet dangle, or put them in the stirrups. One dow…