Thunderbirds Are Go

Today was my ultrasound to make sure we're on track for next week.  I got the call this afternoon that everything looks good and was given the go-ahead to contine the protocol.  Woo Hoo!  I am a mere 3 shots and 6 days from transfer.  Along with the call came the million dollar question--how many are we going to transfer?  We decided on three.  I told the nurse, "We're terrified, but it's what Dr. D recommended and that's what we're paying him for, so we're gonna do it."  She laughed and said she understood.  She's pretty much heard it all.  So, we're playing the odds and hoping they work in our favor, but not too much.  Ridin' that roller coaster!  Wheeee!

The Unplanned Plan

I began my shots for this latest FET attempt on January 18.  I wasn't sure what to expect since I have had varied responses to the Lupron.  Fortunately, this time around, Mutant M returned.  Outside of the fact that I still suck at giving myself shots, even after all of this practice, I have had no reactions or responses to the meds.  Yay!

I have been doing my best not to plan and let things fall as they will this time around.  Today, I had my blood drawn for my estrogen levels to make sure my system is adequately suppressed.  The magic number was below 50, and I was at 30.  The nurse noted that last time I was at 29, and commented that I appear to have a pretty consistent response to the medication.  Anyway, because the blood work was good, we set about scheduling the FET.  Dear readers, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.  My FET is scheduled for Valentine's Day.  The day after Ash Wednesday, when Phil's (other) busy season officially begins.  The day one year ago when we were excited because our first beta had come back positive.  I rather expect that, even without being hopped up on hormones, I would have been pretty emotional that day.  Now, it's pretty much guaranteed.  And, with the whole Lenten element this time, there will be plenty of stress to try and avoid.  Still, I can feel the excitement growing; the hope building.  Third time's the charm, right?!  I have been trying to keep my feelings in check, knowing that there are no guarantees.  It doesn't matter.  I am who I am, and I am a person who hopes and dreams big, even if it means my feelings get horribly dashed when things go wrong.

We do have one last, rather important, decision to make, though.  Two or three.  The doctor has recommended we transfer three embryos given my history and age, and I have researched the recommended protocols and confirmed that three is perfectly appropriate under these circumstances.  And, since it increases the odds of success, it increases the odds that I don't ever have to do this again.  So, for many reasons, three is the way to go.  But, it takes us back to the big question--could we handle multiples if they all stuck around?  The answer is, technically, yes.  We have the ability and capacity to do it.  Nevertheless, it would be extremely challenging.  Certainly, I am less afraid that I would actually end up with triplets now that I have had a completely failed cycle and knowing that, each time we go back, the embryos we are using are considered of lower grade than the ones previously.  Still the idea of triplets scares me.  Enough to stick with two?  I'm not sure yet, but we have to decide soon; probably within the next 12 days so that the center knows how many to thaw.

Even so, the news is good and exciting.  I start taking the hormones tonight.  We are underway.  The 18-day countdown has begun!  And so, I leave you with my hope, my wish, and my sense of humor.  Because, you see, I have figured out what I am giving up for Lent this year.  I am giving up not being pregnant.

A Reminder of What's Important

Being a rather stubborn, get-what-I-want-come-hell-or-high-water kind of person, I can get a little focused on a goal and forget to see other things.  This has been brought home to me quite clearly as of late.  As the total number of family/friends I know who are pregnant continues to grow (now above 12), I've gotten more and more focused on getting another child and my frustration at being denied that which I so desperately desire.  Unfortunately, this narrow focus has made me forget to take pleasure in that which I already have--namely, Lil' Bit.  Don't get me wrong, I have been loving playing with her and watching her develop and taking joy in her.  But I've been taking it for granted.  I assume, as we all do, that there will be a tomorrow.  And, although the odds are on my side, it's not a given.

We've all heard that once you pass that 13-week threshold of pregnancy your odds of delivering a happy, healthy baby are much higher.  But, it's no guarantee.  And yet, most of us go through pregnancy sure that there is a next day, and a next, until we reach the finish line.  Recently, a friend of a friend lost her baby at 20 weeks' gestation.  I know other people who have lost babies at 15 and 17 weeks and even as late as 38 weeks.  The truth is, there is no "safe" period.  Not even birth.  Many a parent has lost their child shortly after birth or in the first few months.  But none of us dwell on it.  In fact, generally after the first 6 months, when the risk of SIDS is over, we all move through life even more sure of every tomorrow.

Back when Lil' Bit first went to the hospital, I had my first moment of remembering not to take each day for granted.  With her health diagnosis, the need for surgery, the actual surgery, and all of the other health issues that have come, I have been reminded that every day is not a given.  And yet, when she is being a sassy toddler and running me out of what little patience I have left, I forget.  I forget to marvel in her existence.  I forget to tell her how much I love her.  After yesterday, however, I am making a firm commitment to remember.  Every day.

See, some dear friends of mine lost their 3-year-old child quite unexpectedly.  When I saw the news, I had to read and re-read it many times before it sank in.  My mind just couldn't accept what I was seeing.  I could  see pictures of this beautiful child--so close in age and personality to my own--from just days before.  How could she possibly be gone?  Phil and I sat in the house trying to digest this news.  My very first thought was, "I can't even imagine."  But, the truth is, I could imagine.  That was why it was so painful.  I could easily see it having been me.  And I was terrified.  In that instant, I didn't care whether my FET was successful.  My focus was Lil' Bit and making sure I held her and that she knew how much I loved her.

And so I find myself in a very different space today.  My goal is still to go forward with the FET.  And I will still be sad it isn't successful.  But as of this moment, it is no longer the most important thing in my life.  There are way more important things--loving Lil' Bit and Phil and making sure they know how much; loving my friends through their loss and through the hard times ahead; living my life in remembrance of the fact that today could be the last day--whether mine or someone else's.  I will plan for the future, but I will live for today.  I will remember.

Things Can Only Get Better

***Warning--the following includes what some may consider over-sharing***

Hello, 2013.  We are not off to a great start, but that is not entirely unexpected.  I previously mentioned that I was starting the year with major outpatient surgery.  More specifically, I had major hemorrhoid surgery.  Thus, the very slow, very painful, recovery I am currently experiencing is a literal pain in the ass.  I badly needed this surgery.  When I went to the doctor for my surgical evaluation after a visit to the urgent care for two very thrombosed hemorrhoids, he indicated that although their policy is to avoid a hemorrhoidectomy at all costs, that was not an option for me.  After the surgery was done, the doctor reiterated to Phil that the surgery had definitely been necessary.  So here I sit, er lay, trying to recover.  I am having to be patient and sit (lay) still and it's driving me bonkers!  Phil is doing an amazing job taking care of Lil' Bit, but I feel like I'm falling down on the job.  That's right.  I am feeling guilty because I am recovering from surgery!  Cognitively, I know that's twisted, but it doesn't stop me from having those feelings.  Although I haven't figured out how to stop them, I do have a better understanding of how parents forget self-care.  Thus, one of the things I am trying to do while I recover is make sure I am taking care of myself.  After all, had I taken better care of myself earlier in life, I likely would not have needed the surgery.  So, I am trying to use the painful recovery as an object lesson in making sure I do a better job at self-care.  Here's hoping!

Also approaching is the date I start my shots for our next FET.  Honestly, this date will not come soon enough.  I have at least eight friends and relatives who are all pregnant.  Add in all the celebrities--Duchess Kate, Kim Kardashian, Jessica Simpson--and I am an emotional puddle.  On the plus side, I am no longer angry at those who are pregnant.  I am joyful that they are happy and, at least as far as I know, were easily successful in their endeavor.  Still, I am tired of being happy for everyone else.  My joy for them seems to only compound my anger and frustration at being stuck in a holding pattern.  When is it my turn?  Why am I forced to pay thousands of dollars to do what reality stars on MTV do by accident?  While friends and bloggers I follow are all closing down their baby-making factories and having surgery to prevent any more kids, I am angrily fighting against time to get one more in before the clock stops.

So, what has my angry, pitying self done during this recovery period (when not working from home, that is)?  Tortured myself with episodes of TLC's A Baby Story, that's what.  So, let's recap.  I'm in pain and feeling guilty for taking the time necessary to recover from surgery while feeling totally inadequate because my infertility is keeping me from that which I desperately want and my only solution keeps failing.  So, come on January 18.  Get here so I can get started; so I can hope and dream again; so I can feel like I'm doing something productive--something, hopefully, REproductive.  Save me from myself.  Let's make this a year to remember--hopefully for the better.


9 days and counting...

Beginnings and Endings

Dear Readers,

This has been a rough year.  It began with my one-year-old healing from open heart surgery and us learning how to function giving her meds six times a day.  It continued with a miscarriage, a second failed FET, two trips to the ER while out of state, and a stomach bug that made Lil' Bit quit taking her heart meds for several days.  Needless to say, I am ready for this year to be over.  In fact, I don't remember ever being so ready for a year to end.

On the plus side, this year saw Lil' Bit have her first birthday party not in a hospital, and we finally got her off the sinus infection/antibiotic treadmill.  I also got to see my brother and his family for the first time in a year-and-a-half, and Lil' Bit got to play with her cousin.

Sadly, the year ahead starts with major outpatient surgery for me.  Not exactly something to make me want to run into the new year with open arms.  But--January is also the start of our next FET.  Shots begin again on the 18th!  I'm excited and hopeful, and yet, some piece of me feels it's folly.  After all, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Nevertheless, we try again because, in truth, it's not the same thing every time.  Besides, my heart simply cannot take anymore pregnancy announcements.  For cripes sake Kim Kardashian and Kanye West are having a kid!  I want it to be my turn.  Need it to be my turn.  I want to crawl out of this emotional black hole triumphant and expectant.  Hopefully, 2013 is my year.

But, regardless of whether I end up with anther child, it will be my last year of fertility treatments.  We only have enough embryos for two tries, and I'm too old (and, quite honestly, unwilling) to do another fresh cycle.  So, if the February FET isn't successful, my plan is to turn around and do the last one and be done.  Then, I can close the chapter on this part of my life, get my surgery, and get on with raising Lil' Bit and whomever else shows up.

So, regardless of outcome, 2013 is going to be a big year for me.  I'm hopeful for a great year, but I will settle for one that's better than 2012.  For now, I will savor the last day of this year and all the hopes for the year ahead.  And, if you want, you can join me in the new year on my next trip down the rabbit hole.  18 days and counting!

To Share or Not to Share; That is the Question

Having waited, talked, prayed, and listened, the long and short of it is, we paid our deposit and we're on the calendar for another FET in February.  Given the general timing of things, it looks like we're probably talking mid-February, which means making sure to miss Ash Wednesday since it falls nice and early on the 13th this coming year.  Other than that, I'm trying to do my best not to calculate or plan anything and just go with the flow.

I'm also trying to let 2013 be a new year, with new hopes and dreams; trying to leave my fears and disappointments from the failed FETs behind.  But, it's hard not to think about Oliver, since he was a February FET, too.  In fact, because of that, I was pretty conflicted about doing another February FET.  However, the plan was to follow the guidance we received, and that guidance said February.  So, emotional conflict or not, February it is, with shots starting sometime next month.

With that said, I don't know yet how much of the process I'll blog.  I'm just not sure what there is to say that I haven't already said.  I've already documented all the conflict, the excitement, the great roller coaster of hormones and emotions, the hope of success, the fear of failure.  I've already learned I'm tough enough to do this.  I already know how hard it is and how wonderful it is to have support.  I've already explored success, loss, and complete failure.  What I haven't explored yet is privacy.  I'm wondering what it's like to keep more of the process intimate and personal and not share as much.

In that vein, I'm interested in your thoughts, dear readers.  Do you want to come along again, or are you just as happy waiting for the big reveal?  Although I write for myself, I have been told that others have found my blog helpful.  So, tell me, is it helpful getting the day-to-day stuff, even if some of it is repetitive?  What do you find interesting?  What do you want to hear about?

In any event, for now, I'm still sharing.  And what we have to share is this:  We're trying again in February.  Here goes everything.

See You at the Top

Yesterday was our last FET.  The doctor transferred two good, growing embryos-one 8-cell and one 6-cell.  I'm now on bed rest for two days and then still have a few restrictions.  The most difficult is that I can't lift my daughter for four days!  It's meant rearranging our schedule and trying to explain to a toddler why mommy can't pick her up or put her to bed at night.  Still, it's only a few days, so I know we'll manage.

Blood tests are scheduled for October 1 & 3.  However, as with the last one, I intend to poas (pee on a stick) starting September 28.  Results will not be announced until the official blood test, however.  That way, if we do get a positive early, we have a few days to enjoy the knowledge ourselves and, if we get negatives, we can disregard them until we get the official word.

So, here I am.  In my last tww (two week wait).  I realize that it's only a 7-day wait to some degree given my choice to poas, and it's only 10 days until the official test.  Still, in pregnancy land, we have standard language that everyone understands, so we stick with it.  Besides, it doesn't matter if the wait is only 2 days, it feels like forever.  This time around, I find myself both more and less anxious to know.  Much like Schrodinger's cat, as long as I don't look, there's still the possibility that there's a baby in there.  But, for now, I know that there are 2 babies in there.  Only they can decide how long they plan to stay, but I keep talking to them, letting them know that we're ready and we hope that one or both of them choose to stick around.

And the truth is, we mean it.  Would twins be hard?  Yes.  Would another child with medical issues be hard? Yes.  Do I have any idea how I would handle it?  No.  But I do know that I can handle it.  I am capable of handling whatever comes.  Would I prefer easy?  Yes.  Wouldn't everyone?!  But, ultimately, we'll get what we get.  And so we wait.  Anxious.  Excited.  Happy.  Terrified.  Just like both times before.

Having sped down the first giant hill and flipped through a couple twists, we have arrived at the slow, anticipatory climb up the next big hill.  It serves as time to both catch our breath and freak out about what is up ahead.  But as we climb, I notice that the top of the hill flattens out a bit and splits off in two directions.  One way has a quick drop that then heads directly back to the station.  The other drops into some loops and heads off toward more hills and twists in the distance.  Since I don't know which one we're going to get, I am going to try and sit back and enjoy whatever time I have left on this ride.  See you at the top.

Finding Peace Amid Sorrow and Joy

Last week, I went for my ultrasound to make sure everything was on schedule for my FET this week.  It was all good news and we "are go," as the Thunderbirds used to say.  I was 10 mm--they like to see at least 8--with an ideal triple stripe pattern.  There I go, overachieving again.  So, where does this leave us?  Well, tonight was my last shot.  Barring gestational diabetes that needs insulin, I am all done with self-injections.  Can I get a Woo Hoo?!  Tomorrow I start progesterone, Tuesday I start antibiotics and steroids, and Thursday is our "professional installation."  Being our last round, this is a pretty big week for us.

As it turns out, it's also a very emotional week for other reasons, as I rejoice and mourn for myself and several of my friends.  On the joyous side, one friend will have her first ultrasound this week and get her first view of her baby(ies?).  On the difficult side of things, Thursday would have marked 35 weeks with Oliver and will also be the anniversary of another friend's miscarriage.

It is a reminder to me that joys can be tinged with sadness.  But I also remember that joys can feel so much greater when they come after experiencing so much adversity.  So this week, as I prepare for my last chance at becoming a biological mother, I will lift up in prayers and celebrate strong women everywhere.  Women who have experienced infertility.  Women who are denied the children they so desperately want.  Women who have lost children too soon, at whatever time and whatever age.  Women who have provided for their children as best they know how by giving them a life with someone else.  Women who have raised children without help from families or community.  Women caring for special needs children.  Women struggling with their own chronic or terminal illness while trying to meet the needs of their children.  Women doing the best they can with the life they have been given.

And whether this week brings joy, or sorrow, or some of both, I know that I will get through it.  Because the one lesson I have learned over and over--as I struggled with infertility, gave myself shots, weathered my daughter's health issues, and survived a miscarriage--is that I am so much stronger than I ever thought possible.  And so, as I go into this week of sorrow and joy, of beginnings and endings, of life and death, I will find peace in the knowledge that I am strong enough, come what may.

The Demise of Mutant M

So, back in January when I was undergoing my previous FET, I mentioned how my doctor had pronounced me a mutant because I didn't seem to experience any of the side effects of the medicine and, lo, Mutant M was born.  Sadly, Mutant M seems to have passed.  This time around, I have had headaches, stinging and slight rash at the injection site, and, most frustratingly, become an emotional wreck.  Every time I get into my car to go somewhere--work, the store, day care, dairy queen--I get all teared up and sad.

Now, there are any number of reasons for this.  One possibility is that I am totally stressed, which is making me emotional.  Possible.  But, honestly, if stress were going to cause it, I think I would have experienced it back in January when we were still learning how to cope with Lil' Bit post-surgery with meds and everything.  My personal theory?  My anti-depressants.  I am physically, chemically different than I was the last two times I took the Lupron and, since side effects are essentially chemical responses or reactions, it makes logical sense.  Ultimately, though, it doesn't really matter what has caused it.  And, at least now I can empathize with all the other ladies who experienced these symptoms.  Still, I (and likely Phil) am sad to see Mutant M go.  On the plus side, since this is our last try, I don't have to worry about whether it will bother me in the future.

So long Mutant M.  It was nice while it lasted.

18 days, 14 shots, and counting...

Marching Orders

[This post is going to look very similar to the one from January, because the protocol is identical.  We're mostly just changing the dates around.  Still, a plan is a plan.  So, here it is.]

This morning I had my blood drawn to check my estrodiol (estrogen) levels.  It needed to be under 50 and mine was 29.  Yay!  You might notice a discrepancy between the necessary levels for this test, and the one I talked about in January.  The difference is that the test can be run on cycle day (CD) 1, 2 or 3.  This time, I had the blood drawn on CD 1, whereas last time it was on CD 2.  The levels should necessarily be lower on CD 2, than CD 1.  Hence, the difference in the level I needed.

I contacted the fertility center and left the pertinent information in a message.  The coordinator called me back and we began calculating when my procedure would be.  We then counted back 18 days from that date to determine when I start my additional meds.  Why do it this way?  Because they only do FETs on Tuesday through Friday (because they have to thaw the embryos and give them time to grow and don't want people to have to come in on the weekend to do it).  So, they don't want people to begin taking meds on a day when their procedure would fall on a Monday or a weekend.  Go figure.  Anyway, we determined that the earliest I could start the meds was tomorrow, but then day 18 would fall on a Monday (the 17th), which is a no go.  The 18th was out because Phil had something on his calendar.  I didn't want Friday the 21st, because I need two days of bedrest (transfer day and the next day), which meant I needed two weekdays so  that Lil' Bit would be in daycare.  That left the 19th and 20th--exactly what I predicted back in June.  Am I good or what?  As I noted in that June post, this transfer date makes for a June baby--roughly June 13th, give or take how they calculate the age of the embryo and everything.

But, what this means for me more immediately is that I have only 18 shots left!  Woo Hoo!  *happy dance*  For those looking for technical details, the protocol is as follows:

• I cut my Lupron dose in half beginning tonight.
• On 9/3, I begin taking estrogen, with the dose increasing on days 6 and 10.
• On day 11 (9/13), I will have an ultrasound to make sure everything is developing appropriately for the transfer.
• Assuming everything is on track, I continue the Lupron and estrogen for 4 more days (including 9/13).
• On day 15 (9/17), I stop the Lupron, reduce the estrogen, and start progesterone.
• On day 16, I start taking antibiotics and steroids in addition to everything else.
• Day 18 = Transfer Day! Followed by the dreaded two-week wait (TWW).

The excitement is building.  We are only 3 weeks away from transfer!  Can you feel that?  It's the roller coaster slowing down as we near the top of the first hill.  Fellow travelers, get ready to raise your hands up over your head, scream as loud as you can, and enjoy the ride.

One Last Ride

Well, it's official.  We've signed up to take one last ride on the IVF rollercoaster.  We've decided not to try until September because otherwise, either the shots, the procedure, or the due date would interfere with something else already on the calendar.  And, since we get to pick, why the heck not make it most convenient for us, right?

So, you probably have some questions.  Like, what made us decide we wanted to try again?  Or perhaps, how do you know it will be the last time?  Fortunately, we have some answers we're willing to share.  So, here goes.

When we did the FET (frozen embryo transfer) last time, we pretty much agreed that we would get what we get and be done.  So, if I didn't get pregnant, we would stop, but if we did, then we'd have however many kids we got and call it a day.  We hadn't planned on there being another alternative.  But, there was.  I can't speak for Phil, but for me, getting pregnant and then losing Oliver only made me really want to try again.  As heavy as the loss hit me, I knew that I wanted another child.  I reached my decision long before Phil did.  But, since this really isn't a solo endeavor, he had to be on board.  Otherwise, we weren't doing it again.  I was smart enough not to try to get a decision out of him during Lent/Easter or the few weeks thereafter.  But after that, we started to talk about where we were.  One problem both of us had was that we were so exhausted by Lil' Bit and the rest of our lives, we couldn't imagine having any energy for another child.  Then, as you may recall, I discovered anti-depressants.  Oh, brother!  I suddenly had energy for me, for Lil' Bit, for work, and some left over.  It was a freaking miracle as far as I was concerned.  Suddenly, I felt like I could handle another one.  At some point, Phil reached the same conclusion, and we moved forward and got our names on the calendar.

Another factor that played in to this decision for me was Lil' Bit's condition.  I finally broke down and asked her doctors what they thought her life expectancy was.  Obviously, because of her conditions, there is no real group of people to compare her with, but they both said the same thing.  Given how great she's doing and the fact that she has never showed any symptoms, they don't see any reason at this point why she won't grow to adulthood.  This was very important to me.  I didn't want to be having a potential "replacement" child, and I didn't want a child that would feel second-banana to a sick older sibling.  I also didn't think I could bring a child into the world knowing that they were going to have to experience the loss of their sibling.  Certainly, there is no guarantee.  There are many ways to lose a child, even a healthy one, long before they reach adulthood.  But that risk is inherent with all children and not unique to Lil' Bit.  So, it's one I was willing to accept.

And now we reach the million dollar question--how do we know this will be our last round.  Well, several reasons.  First, I am not willing to undergo another "fresh" cycle.  The cost monetarily, physically, and emotionally are more than I am willing to endure.  So what, you say.  You have seven frozen embryos left and you're only going to use two.  True.  But, given Lil' Bit's congenital defect and the high likelihood that Oliver miscarried because of a genetic abnormality, and given that the clinic always uses the best and strongest embryos each time, chances of a viable pregnancy with the remaining five would be slimmer each time.  Don't get me wrong.  There are people who utilize each and every one and get healthy pregnancies with "lower" grade embryos.  It's not a given.  But it's a percentages game and it's one I'm not willing to play.  So, this would be the last round I would want to use the frozens and I'm not willing to do another fresh.  (And, in case you're wondering, provided that the clinic is willing to accept them, our plan is to donate the remaining ones for others to use.)

More than that, though, is that whatever result we get, we'll be emotionally and physically done.  There are three possible results:  no pregnancy; miscarriage; baby.  If I don't get pregnant, we'd be looking at another procedure.  Even if we did another FET, there is a high physical and emotional cost and I'm not getting any younger.  As I creep closer to 40 and with Phil being five years older than I, it doesn't seem right to spend more assets on attempts for children that, if successful, would result in their reaching college age around the time we want to retire and, if not successful, simply depletes our assets when we have a child who requires ongoing medical care.  If we miscarry again, I will be done.  There is no way I could put myself through that again.  And any new attempt would invariably have that risk.  I am willing to take that risk once more, but that's all I can take.  Finally, if we get pregnant and have a baby (or babies), we'll be done.  We will have achieved our goal.  No reason to do it again.  Finally, attendant with each of these decisions is also the fact that, once we're done, I can finally have my hysterectomy and stop having all these problems.

So there you have it.  Why we decided to try again, but why this will be our last try.  Welcome to our one last ride.  Come along and join the fun.

We Have a Plan

And there was much rejoicing (at least, by the piece of me that needs/yearns/longs to plan)!

I had my blood drawn this morning.  They were checking my estradiol (estrogen) level.  It needed to be under 25 and, as an overachiever, mine was 12.  I dutifully called the fertility center and left a message with the coordinator with all of the pertinent information.  She called me back and said I could start my additional meds today!  This is good news because it means:

• we're underway.  Always exciting!  
• I am, with minimal give or take, 17 days away from transfer day!  OMG!  That is freakishly soon!
• FEWER SHOTS!  Again, with minimal give or take, I now have only 14 shots left.  Can I get a "Woo Hoo"?!  That is like passing "Go" and collecting $200.  

Okay, now for the plus or minus caveats.  I am scheduled for an ultrasound on the 26th, at which point they will determine whether my lining is sufficient.  If not, they could push things out a little further, which would involve additional shots.  However, according to the doctor, it is unusual for things not to be spot on.  So, although there's a chance for a few additional shots and some pushback in the schedule, we're looking at a February 2 procedure.  As the person always thinking ahead, my first thought (and I'm sure your's too) was:  "What would this mean in terms of due date?"  I frantically scoured Google for the answer because, well, it's me.  It's what I do.  This really should shock none of you by now.  Anyway, the answer is, roughly October 22.  I say "roughly" not just because due dates are always estimates, but because I don't know exactly how the due date is calculated for an FET and the on-line FET calculators ask whether it's a 3-day or 5-day FET.  I *think* it will be considered a 3-day, but I don't know and, honestly, it isn't going to make that big a difference.  *Gasp*  Did I just say that?  Yes, I did.  Who am I?!  Well, likely, I'm still me because the truth of the matter is, they will tell me my "official" due date when the time comes, so this rough guesstimate is fine for now.

Finally, for those interested in the technical details:

• Today I started taking estradiol pills and tonight I will cut my Lupron (the shot) dosage in half.  
• The Lupron will stay the same, but the estradiol will increase on days 6 and 10.  
• On day 11, I have an ultrasound (the 26th for those paying attention from earlier).  
• If everything is fine, I continue the estradiol and Lupron 4 more days  (including the 26th, so through the 29th).
• On the 30th (day 15) drop Lupron altogether (NO MORE SHOTS), cut back on estradiol, and begin progesterone supplements.
• Day 18 (Feb 2)--Transfer day!

Now comes the hard part.  Now that we have a plan in place, I have to acknowledge I'm not in control!!  Gah!  Memo to me--plan does not equal control.  *Sigh*  At least I can maintain a semblance of control by making sure all my meds are timely.  Right?  Who's with me?  *crickets*  Fine.  But hey, we're on our way.  And not even my lack of control and burst that bubble today!  Woo Hoo!