How Many Hands Does it Take to Rub a Butt?

My husband did a brave thing tonight. He overcame his apprehension about giving me a shot and took the plunge, pardon the pun. I was a bit nervous as he prepared for the task. I knew he and my sister were getting the syringe ready. They tried hard to hide it, but I'm fairly observant which consequently makes it hard to pull a fast one on me.

I was quite pleased with myself that I was better able to control my nerves and face the needle without tears or other signs of anxiety. In truth I've pretty much just resigned myself to dealing with it.

Without the usual fanfare, Arie dove right in and delivered the shot to the left side of my butt. Where the whole experience departed though was in the pain. Previously, I've not actually felt the needle. Arie however, had never given a shot before and moved just slow enough that it pinched. He definitely learned his lesson.

I'd like to give a nod to two people who helped him tremendously: my sister and my 17.5 month-old son. Because Arie was uncertain where to stick the needle, my sister grabbed a black Sharpie marker from the side of the refrigerator and drew a large circle on each side of my butt! I said, "Did you just draw on my butt with a Sharpie?" "Yes," she said. I'll spare you the photo she took afterward to show me. Our little boy, whom I affectionately call Bubba was even more helpful. After Arie pulled the needle out and began to rub my butt so as not to leave a knot, Bubba walked in the kitchen and reached up to help Daddy rub it in. He's such a big helper! :)

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Getting Pregnant: Our IVF Experience

Today was the day my sister and brother-in-law have been waiting for a long time. As I laid in bed this morning I began to ponder what the appropriate outfit is to wear on the occasion of becoming a surrogate for your sister, using her eggs and her husband's sperm. It's not like I needed to don lingerie (though I didn't honestly think of that one until we were nearly to the clinic). I started to wear jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, then thought better of it. That would have been way too casual. I eventually opted for slimming black jeans and a pinkish cashmere sweater. Someday these things might matter. LOL

When I finished dressing myself, I reached for the card I'd bought Val. A week ago I'd visited Hallmark looking for the perfect card that says "I'm ready to loan you my body for nine months - and I'm actually happy about it." Not surprisingly, it doesn't appear there are cards that fit that category. Pouring through the store, I finally found the one. It was yellow with some black writing on the front that says, "NICE." The inside sports the words, "Way to go!" The whole thing is accompanied by the song Whomp!(There it is!) by a group named Tag Team. Something about it seemed right as I was busting a gut in the middle of the store. The only real problem was I couldn't decide whether to give the card to Val or to Aaron. Of course I knew I would have to come up with my own version of a Hallmark mushy card to say all the other heartfelt things I wanted to say. So I stood in my bathroom and wrote a letter to my little sister. I think I effectively conveyed how much I love her.

Looking in the mirror I realized that I needed to accessorize my sweater. I reached for a necklace that was given to me by a close friend as I left Japan. It's two silver circles resting on top of one another holding a single pearl in the lower curve. I stared at it thinking how much it looked like an egg in a womb. Perfect! My friend Tomoko would be so pleased to know I wore it today. I threw on my pearl earrings and the ensemble was complete. It's been a long time since I thought that hard about what to wear. I'm really not that into my clothes. My life is pretty simple and doesn't normally call for special wardrobe consideration. Today was just...well, different.

Val, Aaron, and I paused for a short time in the kitchen to take some photos before she and I headed out the door. We wanted to document the occasion. Whether we become pregnant or not, it was still a momentous day.

On our long drive we joked about it being a covert operation. I could imagine her talking into her wrist like the Secret Service saying, "The package is delivered." I told her I suddenly felt like I was in protective custody. In essence I guess that was true. Had we recorded the conversation, we would have a great addition to a baby book. I wish I could recall all the details. The most important part is that we spent nearly an hour laughing together and having a good time. There were times she was actually laughing and crying at the same time, but that was partly due to the pain she was in.

Unfortunately, Val was uncomfortable during the whole drive, just as she has been since Tuesday. The stimulation of her ovaries left her with Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome. It is a painful condition that can be quite serious. In fact, an ultrasound today revealed that her ovaries are so large they are rubbing against each other. It's called "kissing ovaries". Hopefully her symptoms will subside within a week from now. For now she's not very mobile and is moving very slowly. She has a positive attitude though and has been an inspiration through the whole IVF process. No matter what she's encountered she has done so with grace.



When we arrived at the Jones Institute, we were placed in a pre-op area and changed into our designated OR garb. We cracked out our cameras and took tons of photos of each other and the staff. It was a fun time even while we waited. The laughter continued right up to the moment they rolled me back into the OR.

After the nurses situated me on the table, Dr. Sergio Oehninger (our doctor) and the embryologist doctor both came in. Within a few moments the embryologist walked out and flashed the eggs, as viewed through a microscope, up onto a large screen. We had less than a minute to admire them, during which Val took a nice photo.



The doctor walked back in shortly afterward and with movements as careful as if he were disarming a bomb, he handed the pipette to Dr. O. who then threaded the pipette through my cervix as we watched on the ultrasound screen. I could see the white line of the long tube moving up into my uterus. Suddenly there was a puff that shot out the end of the tube and Dr. O said something like, "There they go." The entire procedure lasted roughly two minutes or less.

Dr. O stepped out and came back in carrying a certificate for Valerie, as well as the petri dish that held the eggs. He gave it to her saying, "This is their first cradle." It was pretty neat and of course brought a smile to Val's face. Once I was transferred to another bed, they rolled me out. Valerie was walking behind me when a nurse named Donna said something to her that stopped me mentally in my tracks. She turned to look at Val and said, "Come on, Mom." I said, "Wow, Val. I think that's the first time you've ever been called Mom." We were both tickled. Suddenly I think she felt pregnant. I know I did a little. That was a memorable moment for her.

As usual, we were barely in the post-op area when my phone rang and it was Mom calling to see how things were going. Her timing is always spot on! She definitely has a sixth sense about her when it comes to her kids. We told her we were done and she shared a funny story. Apparently she had just spoken with an older lady and told her she was a grandmother again today. They lady asked the obvious next question, "Was it a boy or a girl?," to which Mom replied, "We don't know yet - they were just implanted." LOL Imagine the confusion on that woman's face. I'm sure Mom went on to explain.

I think our family became a little more like glue today. We spoke with Mom, Dad, and our brother Ross. They were all so excited. It's great to feel their hopeful anticipation. It's amazing to think that in 11 days we may have another family member or members on the way. We all can't wait!

Progesterone Panic!

I tend to think of myself as a pretty strong person. I've held strong to Philippians 4:13 which says, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." Therefore my strength is not my own. Tonight however, all that seemed to leave me. Let me recount the story . . .

We were running late for our Boy Scout meeting after going to the gym for a run and a swim. I bolted through the door and began running around like a crazy woman to prepare dinner - baked salmon. All was going well when I turned and saw a frightening sight - the syringe and vial of progesterone. I began having a fist fight with the air in front of me, looking quite like a schizophrenic person. My sister was concerned and asked in an alarmed voice, "What's wrong?" I told her, "You have to give me the stupid shot! I have to have it before I leave for Boy Scouts." To say I was slightly freaking out was probably an understatement.

I grabbed the syringe, prepped it, and set it on the counter. Val said she needed a minute to prepare herself. She's given lots of shots, but never to someone she cared about. I think she was feeling guilty about inflicting pain on me. Meanwhile, I was trying to keep moving making dinner, but getting more anxious by the second. When she was finally ready, I had Ritz cracker crumbs all over my hands and they began to tremble. I didn't cry, but I felt a surge of panic and thought I might hyperventilate. I washed the crackers off my hands and grabbed the counter as best I could. She pulled down the waistband of my running shorts and rubbed the alcohol on the upper part of my butt toward my hip. At first, she began to pat firmly on the skin. It felt like it was taking forever and I was getting more panicked and light-headed. I said, "Hit it harder!" She hauled off and smacked me hard on the butt and plunged the needle in. It was great! My butt was still stinging from her hand (which might have left a welt for all I know) so much that I didn't even feel the needle. Talk about a relief. I think over time this is going to get much easier. Now I just have to pep talk my husband into giving me the shot. He's a little apprehensive.

After the shot, we were joking about the whole thing. It really is ridiculous how anxious I get. I just can't stave off my healthy respect for needles. So much for having strength for all things. Thank God for sisters who are willing to stab you in the butt when the situation calls for it. I guess I'd still rather be stabbed in the butt than in the back. LOL

Does a Progesterone Shot Count as Nutrition?

The reproductive clinic called today and said my progesterone levels are too low. Since I'm going in on Friday to implant the eggs, they need my levels to come up. They said I'll have to give myself shots of progesterone suspended in oil. I nearly went into an anxiety attack thinking about having to stick myself with more needles. I was on the phone crying with the nurse. I wound up having to drive an hour back to the clinic to pick up the medicine and syringes from the pharmacy at the adjacent hospital.

I stood at the pharmacist's window and stared at one of the syringes. I even turned around and showed it to the lady behind me and said, "Do you see this?" She said she's not sure if she could give herself that shot and she's a nurse! The needle was so big to my eyes! I began to feel faint just thinking about having to stab myself in the butt with it! Thankfully, my nurse offered to give me my first shot. I've done the shots in my stomach in preparation for the pregnancy, but those were butterfly needles and fairly easy to do. Seriously doubting my ability to give myself this shot, I decided to head back to the clinic. When Beth, my nurse, came out to get me she hugged me and said she was sorry. I felt comforted.

We stood in a patient room discussing how the medicine is suspended in sesame oil. I started to cry and overheat when she was talking to me about how to give myself the shot. I blurted out that we had to shut the door so I could pull off my clothes. As the door shut, I was already throwing off my baseball cap, exposing my seriously flat hair. Then I yanked off my shirt and was beginning to sweat. Turning around to the bed, I stepped between the stirrups that were protruding from the end. I pulled down the waist of my pants, grabbed the sides of the bed, and began to cry. I said, "Let's just get it over with." She stabbed that needle into my butt like a dart. It didn't hurt at all! I was obviously relieved and began to relax somewhat. Then something strange happened. Right after she stuck me, I found myself wondering if I would need to log the calories from the sesame oil and how I would do that. How many calories are in 1 cc of sesame oil anyway? I couldn't believe I was having that thought! Man, talk about being dedicated to my nutrition! I mean who does that? LOL

The Scary Woman with No Nipples

I went to the YMCA today with the kids. I've avoided getting into the pool for months because the only bathing suit I own is a black Speedo that accentuates all the wrong parts of my body. Additionally, the last time I wore it it was horribly tight and a little girl accused me of being pregnant. Wow! To say I hate that suit is an understatement. Today however, I chose to overcome myself in order to play with Koen in the pool and have some "us" time. I was excited to share those moments with him.

Having gone through bootcamp, I was able to get over being naked in front other others since we regularly changed and showered with other girls. Living in Japan as well offered opportunities to spend time at various onsen, which are public bath houses where naked is the rule and not the exception. The onsen are segregated, so it can be likened unto a tropical, steamy spa full of women lounging in hot tubs, steam rooms, and stone beds in their birthday suits. Suffice it to say that I'm really over the naked thing, though I don't go out of my way to show off what my Mama gave me.

I changed in the bathroom stall since I had consumed a lot of water in the hour before hitting the pool and frankly I needed to be in there anyway. :) I was pleasantly surprised that my bathing suit is fitting much nicer after losing 20 pounds. It's amazing what those 20 little boogers can do for a person - or not do, depending on where you are. It was great to feel that difference. My weight loss efforts are paying dividends.

After spending time in both the pool and the hot tub, I headed back into the locker room to peel out of my suit. Where an hour before there had not been more than a few people in the room, suddenly there wasn't a private spot to be had. As I stood there contemplating changing my clothes, it occurred to me that I was feeling anxious. It made me pause. I'm not accustomed to feeling nervous in this type of scenario. I wondered what lay at the root of my sudden modesty. It didn't take long to realize that I was concerned about someone seeing my breasts.

My breasts look like road maps now with long scars that wrap around toward my back. They are slightly misshapen because of my recent surgery and I don't have any nipples. As I was pondering my own feelings about revealing my body in front of strangers, a little girl walked in. She looked squarely at me, as had several other people. I thought, "What if this little girl stares at me with question marks in her eyes?" What if others notice as well. Will the obviously missing nipples create a discomfort in them that would be awkward? Would they stare? If so, would I want to say something to set them (or myself) at ease? I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to tackle that possibility. It's not that I'm uncomfortable to talk about it or even to show another woman who wants to see the scars. In that moment though I couldn't tell how much of me was hiding, versus simply wanting to spare others the awkwardness and questions.

I don't ever want to avoid the discussion. I guess I just want to do it with the right timing so that the impact on others is positive, not confusing. I would never want to be the scary woman with no nipples.

Dripping Joyous Sweat

Yesterday I ran. I wasn't the fastest one on the treadmills at the gym, but I might have been the happiest. Who knew that dripping sweat could be such a joyous occasion? Stepping off that treadmill I felt triumphant. I felt like I crossed a milestone and left an old part of me behind. The more I move forward and look at my life and old attitudes in the rear view mirror, the more I can see the old me disappearing out of sight. The choices I make today are healthier than they've ever been. Daily I'm overcoming myself and pushing on to a future that's bright!

How Can I Call Myself These Things?

When I was a little girl I used to dance around the room holding a hairbrush, pretending it was a microphone. Music spoke to every part of my soul. If it was an emotion or experience of any kind, I could choose a song to relate it to. It was my outlet, my comfort, my connection to life.

I recall the first time I told someone, "I'm a singer." Part of me felt like a fake because they looked at me as if to size up whether or not I was lying to them. At that moment I felt a need to explain that I wasn't a recording artist, but a singer none-the-less. Why did I have to explain myself? Why did I feel like I was absconding with a title I hadn't earned? Actually, the real question was, "Am I really a singer?"

The same applies to my writing. Now that I tell people I am a writer I get the same type of look as before with my singing. People want to know if I'm published. Well, no I'm not, but does that make me any less a writer?

I've come full circle on these questions and here is the conclusion I've come to. When I wake up in the morning, I have a song on my lips. I sing: in the car, in the shower, to wake the babies and to put them to sleep, when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm inspired, walking through Wal-Mart, or any other time as the urge hits me. In essence, I'm a singer because I sing.

Why then am I also a writer? Throughout the day I make notes about topics to write about. It's an ongoing joke with my family when I say, "You know I'm gonna have to write about that," and they know I'm serious. I regularly e-mail myself writing ideas. I ponder book ideas. By the end of the day, all I can think about is stealing time to write. In fact, I often fall asleep in my recliner, laptop open on my legs, fingers still on the keys banging out the most recent inspiration. Essentially, I'm a writer because I write.

When I wake up in the morning or go to sleep at night, when all I can think of is singing or writing, that IS who I am. It is who God created me to be. So whether I am recorded or published or not is irrelevant. I am these things because of my passion for them and their movement within me. This is in part, my definition of me. These are two of the parts I most wish to share with the world.

Butterfly Needles & Anxiety Attacks

I've been giving myself shots of Lupron for the surrogacy for exactly two weeks now. Giving myself shots is something I never thought I'd be able to do. It was surprising to me how easy it was to do the very first one. All was going beautifully until a few days ago when I must have hit a nerve going in. Ouch! That one stung.

The next day I prepared my syringe and wiped my belly with an alcohol pad before pinching up the skin to administer the shot. As I held the syringe with the needle hovering over my skin, I suddenly had a hot flash and began to sweat. I began to see white spots and felt slightly light-headed. What was happening to me? Was I really on the verge of a panic attack over this little butterfly needle? After about five minutes of hesitation and telling my husband I wasn't sure if I could do it, I finally popped the needle in and called it done. I was relieved - and then came this morning . . .

I didn't start off feeling anxious about the shot this morning. I simply grabbed my supplies and headed to the kitchen to retrieve the Lupron from the fridge. After preparing the syringe, I once again stood frozen in fear with the needle taunting my skin. Again I was struck with mild symptoms of an anxiety attack. For nearly ten minutes I would put the needle down and walk away, come back and try again, then walk away again. Numerous times I tried to fake myself out by counting, 1 - 2 - 3. It didn't work. I tried to say, "I have to do it before the water boils for the oatmeal." Then I tried to say, "I have to do it before the timer goes off and the oatmeal is finished cooking." The oatmeal finished cooking and I was still holding that evil little syringe with one hand and pulling the pot off the burner with the other. "@&(*$^, sigh." Okay, I thought, I'll call my sister. Crud, she's not home. Well I'll try my mom instead. Thank God! She answered!

"Mom, I am standing here holding this needle and just can't do it! This is ridiculous! It's been two weeks. Why am I having such a hard time with this?" She encouraged me, though mostly I don't remember what she said except, "Wow, there's still some weenie left in you." Had I not been in such psychological distress, I might have pondered that comment more and even found it humorous. I'd already been crying on the phone with her for several minutes as the twins toddled around my legs, intermittently reaching up pointing to my belly and grabbing for the syringe. They were probably thinking some baby version of "Mama is losing her mind." They kept staring at me like they did when Koen fell on the floor writhing in pain after stubbing his toe. Clearly they were concerned. I kept telling myself to pull it together and just get it done. Dragging it out was only making it worse. Then, Mom asked if it would help if she counted to three. "Yes, I think so," I said. 1 - 2 - 3 - I hesitated perhaps a nano second after 3 and thrust the needle into my belly. Imagine my relief when I literally didn't feel a thing! Whew, it was over!

So what lessons have I learned from all of this?
1. Mom is always there for you.
2. Counting to 3 and stabbing yourself doesn't work because you know it's coming.
3. Babies are very in tune with the emotions of their moms.
4. It takes 5 minutes to cook oatmeal, but sometimes 20 to give yourself a shot.
5. I'm capable of willingly inflicting pain on myself, both physically and mentally.
6. It's easy to make mountains out of molehills.
7. Most mountains ARE molehills.
8. I REALLY love my sister! :)

Tomorrow has to be a better day for Lupron shots. After talking with my sister, I understand she has also been having issues with her shots. Commiserating with her made me feel so much better. It's nice to feel like you're in the boat with someone else - and we are most definitely in this boat together!

Scars: to Reveal or Not to Reveal

I went to the YMCA today with the kids. I've avoided getting into the pool for months because the only bathing suit I own is a black Speedo that accentuates all the wrong parts of my body. Additionally, the last time I wore it it was horribly tight and a little girl accused me of being pregnant. Wow! To say I hate that suit is an understatement. Today however, I chose to overcome myself in order to play with Koen in the pool and have some "us" time. I was excited to share those moments with him.

Having gone through boot camp, I was able to get over being naked in front other others since we regularly changed and showered as a group. Living in Japan as well offered opportunities to spend time at various onsen, which are public bath houses where naked is the rule and not the exception. Suffice it to say that I'm really over the whole naked thing, though I don't go out of my way to show off what my Mama gave me.

I changed in the bathroom stall since I had consumed a lot of water in the hour before hitting the pool and frankly, I needed to be in there anyway. :) I was pleasantly surprised that my bathing suit fit much nicer. I guess dropping those 20 pounds was helpful. It was great to feel that difference. My weight loss efforts are paying dividends.

After spending time in both the pool and the hot tub, I headed back into the locker room to peel out of my suit. Where an hour before there had not been more than a few people in the room, suddenly there wasn't a private spot to be had. As I stood there contemplating changing my clothes, it occurred to me that I was feeling anxious. It made me pause. I'm not accustomed to feeling nervous in this type of scenario. I wondered what lay at the root of my sudden modesty. It didn't take long to realize that I was concerned about someone seeing my breasts.

My breasts look like road maps now with long scars that wrap around my back. They are slightly misshapen because of my recent surgery and I don't have any nipples. As I was pondering my own feelings about revealing my body in front of strangers, a little girl walked in. She looked squarely at me, as had several other people. I thought, "What if this little girl stares at me with question marks in her eyes?" What if others notice as well? Will the obviously missing nipples create a discomfort in them that would be awkward? Would they stare? If so, would I want to say something to set them (or myself) at ease? I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to tackle that possibility. It's not that I'm uncomfortable talking about it or even showing another woman who wants to see the scars. In that moment though I couldn't tell how much of me was hiding, versus simply wanting to spare others the awkwardness and questions. I think I would have felt the need to explain myself had anyone noticed.

It reminds me of a man we met a couple years ago. We had seen him around the military base but hadn't spoken with him until one day when Koen stared long at the man's facial scars and loudly asked what was wrong with his face. I asked him if he would like to ask the man what happened to his skin, and Koen did want to speak with him. The man's name was John. He had been severely burned as a kid by an auto accident that killed both his mother and little brother. We enjoyed knowing him during our time in Japan. He was a lovely person and I'm glad we took the time to get to know him, scars and all.

I don't ever want to avoid the discussion about my breasts if it comes up. I guess I just want to do it with the right timing so that the impact at that moment is positive. Making others comfortable has always been important to me. Truth be told though, down deep inside I think there was a part of me that was afraid to be that person. You know, the one everyone is staring at and afraid to talk to because they are obviously different and no one knows how to ask the question.

Next Step in Surrogacy: Lupron Shots

This morning a momentous occasion occurred. We took the next step in the surrogacy (IVF) procedure. I gave myself the first shot of Lupron.

The first step of this whole process began on September 30, 2010, when I took the first progesterone pill. Taking the progesterone caused my body to have a menstrual cycle, which I don't normally have. Unlike previous times when I've taken progesterone, I felt remarkably non-hormonal and didn't observe any mood swings. This was a relief.

The second step involved starting birth control pills, which I've been on for one month. Thankfully, I haven't noted any side effects from them either. No weight gain, nausea, or mood swings. Years ago when I took birth control I experienced mood swings and weight gain. I will continue taking birth control for six more days, while also injecting one dose of Lupron each morning.

Lupron is a drug that is used (in my case) to suppress my own ovulation. Since the eggs we are using are my sister's, we don't want my ovaries to release any eggs. I will take the Lupron for exactly two weeks. The day following my last dose, I will begin applying Vivelle dots (estrogen patches) to my abdomen. After about 8 days of estrogen, I will have an ultrasound to check the lining of my uterus to make sure it's thickening properly. The estrogen patches will be changed every two days until the end when my sister's eggs will be retrieved. In the last week before the transfer, I will also be taking a estrace pill (more estrogen) vaginally. All of this estrogen is to prepare my endometrial (uterine) lining to receive the egg(s).

It's all getting closer and more real now. The transfer should be around December 2-3, 2010. Wow, it's hard to believe it's so close, only about 33 days left. The whole thing is so exciting! I don't think I was this excited when we were trying to conceive using Clomid back in 2008. It's different knowing that this is for Val. I'm actually starting to feel a little anxious. You know that feeling when you're in your bathroom waiting for the pregnancy test stick to finish doing its thing and give you the news. That's sort of how I'm feeling even now. I'm hopeful, nervous, and excited.

I'm doing everything I can now to keep myself healthy. I've backed off from drinking coffee and have cut out all caffeine. I'm not eating processed foods, but mostly fresh fruits, veggies, lean meats, lower-fat dairy, whole grains, etc. I've dropped from 198 to 178 and am glad to have another month to lose more weight. I want to be at the healthiest weight I can be so that pregnancy is easier and healthier.