Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son

CD 2…Or IS It?


Or: The Plot Thickens and The Lining Does Not Thin

What’s going on with my uterus? Who even knows anymore?

After a crabby day of light, intermittent flow on Saturday and a night of worsening cramps, I decided enough was enough and headed into the Baby Factory just barely in time for morning monitoring hours today. Dutifully rolled up my sleeves and pulled down my trousers, only to be told by this week’s Dr. Sunday (whom long-time readers may remember as Dr. “Why Hasn’t Someone Removed Your Septum” — wish granted, buddy; you may thank my son) that my ovaries are nicely quiet but my lining is still so intact that he’s not convinced this really counts as my period yet. It wouldn’t count for a lupron cycle, for instance. For the purposes of a “natural” FET (pause to snort again at the use of the word natural to describe reproduction in any context involving so many machines and embryologists), it may do; we’ll see what the estrogen numbers are. Could things be topsy-turvy from all these sinus drugs, I asked. Could be indeed.

So. Either back next week or presumably sooner, I guess. [ETA: Estrogen is wicked high, so back Tuesday to see if my for real period is rolling by then. Bodies! Whatcha gonna do?]

Meanwhile, is this the worst possible magazine pairing for a fertility clinic waiting room? Nice to see the virgin/whore dichotomy is keeping on keeping on.


I spotted the “whore” one and commented on it to the woman in the next chair, who pointed out that The Fecund Princess had been next to it before she picked that one up herself.

Seeing as how the ice was broken and I seem to be experiencing the manic side of prednisone this morning, I said that in case she had not been pregnant before, just for the record, my son had not ruined my life. I also mentioned that he had come from this factory, and she smiled, evidently cheered. She does not have children yet, she said. I know people have different feelings about the appropriateness of bringing children to even the waiting room of REs’ offices, I said, but I remember a woman who had her toddler with her during the IVF cycle that got me pregnant. She made sure to tell us all he had come from that clinic, which I found encouraging.

There’s a baby here today, she said, and at first I felt sad about that, but then I thought, Wait a minute. They’re from here.

(Sidebar: it was a really cute baby, a 24-pound 9-month old named Lucas who doesn’t sleep well. Like I said: I am CHATTY today.)

And that, with a side of soapbox ranting about reproductive freedoms belonging to everyone, not just those who can prove they “deserve” to have children by virtue of their ability to afford babysitting all the time, is why I am pro-baby in the waiting room. In a world that so often seems determined to tell us our children or putative children will somehow be inferior to those “natural” ones made in nicely middle-class bedrooms by rank amateurs, it’s nice to be reminded what hogwash that is. Or so say I, conceived, I have been told far too many times, in a campground near Yorktown, Virginia, with the help of quite a bit of Clomid.

8 thoughts on “CD 2…Or IS It?

  1. Bodies are confusing!

    Clinic One is the only clinic that we visited that allows children in the waiting room. In fact, they have toys and a playhouse set up. I found it cheering but, then again, I also wasn’t really in the throes of infertility.

    Also, what great magazine choices.

  2. I do find it strange when clinics have a no-baby policy in the waiting room but then stock their waiting room with magazines featuring pregnant women, babies, etc. Either remove the stimuli entirely and make us look at gardening magazines, or allow the stimuli recognizing that some need to see the goal to remember why they’re putting themselves through what they’re putting themselves through…

  3. It suddenly occurs to me that an RE’s waiting room would be the PERFECT place for those cellophane-wrapped-baby DuPont ads. RIGHT? (For those who have not yet seen these fantastic items – Better things for better living… through chemistry! – be horrified and amazed.)

    As for the magazines, I suppose they just wished to supply all the options: baby good! baby bad! Don’t be a trashy reality TV star!

  4. Jesus, sounds like things are all kind of awful up in your body. So sorry! (I gotta say, though, I came down firmly on the side of I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR BABY back before I was a baby hoarder. My clinic didn’t have an actual policy, though…that’s why I take my kids there to play, as often as possible.)

    • We’re hoping to apprentice the Bean to the embryology lab. It’s like those “But it was Made By A Teacher!!!” cold cures: who better to handle your embryos than someone who was recently one himself?

      I do think reasonable people can disagree on the waiting room issue. I liked the kids there even before I had one, but I recognize that my time in the trenches was relatively short.

  5. I used to hate seeing women with toddlers in my clinic’s waiting room, so I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to bring E. But I like the idea of constantly announcing that he came from there. Maybe that would make it better.

    The worst conversation I have ever had with Q’s family was about IVF. Q’s Mum and Aunt don’t know about our infertility. So when they first met E. they talked about how glorious he was and how wonderful he was. And then Q’s aunt said: “Not like those poor IVF babies.” “Bad blood,” said Q’s mother. “That’s what our dad would say. Bad blood.”

    I think it has scarred me for life.
    (PS. I have a picture post of E. up unlocked for the next week or so- I’d like to reciprocate all of your pictures of the Bean that you share!)

    • I think I might have scarred THEM for life. People are amazing. The Bean’s BFF’s mother has said some pretty dumb things about whether or not various twins are “natural” to ME, who obviously didn’t get knocked up in the usual manner. When I pointed out that her language was problematic, she seemed to genuinely have no idea what I might mean.

      (The pictures are great! I will try to manage a comment later — too brain-dead when looking at them last night, wishing the Bean would go to sleep already.)

  6. Pingback: The Smaller Roller Coaster | Bionic Mamas

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