L called just as I was leaving the office. She had a high beta: 286!

B. F. P. !!!

We are shocked, thrilled, and very grateful. I am at the airport now. I will write more on the plane and post it tonight.

The countdown continues.

Over the last couple of days while I’ve been on the road, L has been dutifully reporting to me on her status / symptoms. She continues to have swollen and sore boobs, fatigue, some nausea (especially in the morning), bloating, and constipation. The cramps that she experienced over the weekend and early this week have subsided.

Pregnant or progesterone? That is the question.

Either way, we’ll know tomorrow. And, I’ll post the results here by tomorrow night.

Meanwhile, the men have arrived…

Welcome to my fellow brothers of infertility!

In the last day or so, I’ve had my first comments on the blog from men. Of course, I love the ladies who visit here too. But, it’s nice to see the fellas.

I’m optimistic that the male voice on infertility will expand and grow in the IVF blogosphere.

In the last day or so, L’s been complaining of increasing symptoms, seemingly associated with her progesterone shots. Or, they might be indicative (according to the Mayo Clinic) of her being pregnant. These include: sore/swollen breasts, fatigue, nausea, constipation, and (in the past day or two) slight cramping.

The reality is that there’s really no way to tell at this point.

And, she’s going to follow official advice by not peeing on a stick.

So, we wait: four more days to initial results.

And, I’m leaving town…

I’ve mentioned in the past that we live in Florida. However, I haven’t mentioned that I work for a company in Minnesota. That was the deal—I’d work for the company, if they’d let me commute.

This means—in addition to “usual” business travel to meetings and events—I travel a fair amount extra to see my staff and participate in meetings at headquarters. Fortunately, I have some flexibility in how I arrange my schedule. As such, I was able to be home during the retrieval and transfer process. However, I can’t just not travel for months at a time.

So, this week I’ll be heading back up to Minnesota.

The PIO shots won’t be a problem as we have a pinch hitter to assist with that.

I leave tomorrow and return Friday afternoon. Fuck.

At the time that I set my schedule, this made sense (to me at least). In part, we expected (being naïve, optimistic, dumb asses) that we’d have a five day transfer. This would have meant that the blood test would have been on Sunday, not Friday. Opps.

If we get a positive result, I’ll most likely learn about it at the airport. This is not exactly L’s idea of the best way to share the news. Although, it probably is apropos given the amount of time I spend on planes and in airports.

If we get a negative result, I won’t really be available to comfort L. To me this is the worst case scenario. Double fuck.

Or, I might just be sitting on an airplane for a few hours not knowing whether or not we’ve won the parenthood lottery.

Lesson learned. Next time (fingers crossed there won’t be a next time), I’m not traveling during “results week.” Period.

Oh well. At least I got my first class upgrade. So, I’ve got that going for me.

I’ve noticed a common theme in reading other infertility blogs (written mostly by women) over the past weeks and months: a keen awareness of, and emotional reaction toward, other women’s pregnancies.

Obviously, there are the shared congratulations and excitement when a fellow member of the infertile sisterhood trips the BFP light fantastic.

That’s not what I’m talking about…

No, I’m talking about the—often emotional—reaction to pregnancies by seemingly uber-fertile sisters, cousins, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances. Or, more generally, any “bitch with a bun in the oven” shopping at stores like Babies ‘r Us, Pottery Barn Kids, or Pea in the Pod.

That’s what I’m talking about…

In terms of emotion, I’ve read reports of everything from depression to jealousy to anger. (Anger: especially in the case of said mother-to-be handing out well-intentioned, but dumb-as-fuck advice). That said, the overarching theme seems to be a poignant sense of “why not me” and the enveloping sadness associated with that emptiness.

A little closer to home…

L and I have never talked about this particular aspect of infertility.

But, it got me to thinking: does she have a similar reaction?

I was now curious. So, I explained my observations to her the other night.

She confirmed a similar set of feelings:

She sort of shrugged. “Yeah. It makes me sad. It’s sort of like when I was young and other girls had boyfriends before me. I’m not unhappy about their happiness. I just want my happiness too. I think: when will it be my turn?”

My perspective as a man…

I can’t say I share a similar response—or really any response—to other pregnancies or childbirths. I try to look interested and act pleased. Heck, sometimes, I genuinely am happy for them or really do think “it’s the cutest baby ever!”

But, I mostly don’t give a shit.

Maybe it’s because I’m less exposed to this sort of thing as a man? No, I don’t think so. For example, at my office, I recently had three co-workers go on paternity leave for their birth of their children. We also have at least six more “blessed events” slated through the remainder of the summer. I’ve looked at ultrasound pictures (mostly alien-like). I’ve seen the baby pictures (mostly cute). I’ve not touched any bellies—because I think that’s just creepy. But, suffice it to say, I am fully aware.

Yet, I really just don’t give a shit.

Are most men (in infertile couples) like this: blissfully unconcerned?

Is this a fundamental difference between women and men?

Am I crazy?

I have no data points. So, I’m left wondering.

Have you seen this news story? A 66-year old British woman, who conceived through IVF, recently gave birth to a healthy baby boy. She sought the IVF treatment in the Ukraine, because British infertility clinics refuse to treat women over the age of 50.

It seems to me that the British clinics have it roughly right.

I’ve heard of cases in which an older woman serves as a surrogate for a younger couple, such as a mother doing it for her daughter. That’s a generous and loving gift. This isn’t one of those situations.

No, this is a single divorcee who, at the age of 66, has become a mother for the first time. Statistically speaking, she’s unlikely to live to see her child reach adulthood. Obviously, bad things can happen to any parent. But, to set out on a course that will likely result in your child not having a parent by age 10 or 12 just seems selfish and irresponsible.

I’m sympathetic to anyone who wants a child but has been unable to conceive.

However, simply wanting a child is not always sufficient justification for having one.